Carla let out a deep sigh as she relaxed into her husband's arms and snuggled in close to him, the soft folds of the duvet enveloping them both in a warm and cosy cocoon.

"What a day," she said, running her fingers lightly down his chest.

"It's definitely been an eventful one," Peter agreed with a soft kiss to the top of her head. "Now we're finally alone you can tell me–"

"Peter, no, please."

"What? Can't I ask my wife how her visit with her daughter's possible half-brother's mother went? You didn't give any details earlier."

"I just want to cuddle with my husband; no more talking, no more teenage angst," Carla said, the exhaustion evident in her voice. "Is that too much to ask?"

"Five minutes," Peter promised. "Five minutes of talking and then I'll leave you be for the rest of the night."

"Okay," Carla resigned herself to her fate. "Five minutes."

"Tell me then – and be honest, it's just you and me now – how did Maria react?"

"Maria…"

"You what?" Maria stood, her mouth hanging open, aghast at what Carla had just told her. "You had Liam's baby?"

"Yes…Maybe. She might be Tony's."

"And you gave her away?"

"How many times am I gonna have to– Look, I did what I thought was best for her at the time, all right? I gave her to someone who could give her a loving home, something I couldn't give her."

"Well, that's no big surprise, is it?" Maria asked, her eyebrows raised and arms folded as she stared in judgement at Carla. "You've always been selfish."

"You're right," Carla admitted, nodding ruefully. "You're absolutely right. I am selfish. But what I'm asking you, it isn't for me."

"I can't believe you're doing this to me again."

"I–" Carla was taken aback. "Do what to you? I'm not doing anything to you, Maria."

"You know what I went through with Tony," Maria cried. "How he wormed his way into my life, into my son's life, after he killed his father. All because of you."

"Maria!"

"If you'd said something, anything, the first face my son saw when he was born wouldn't have been the man who took his father from him."

"I'm sorry, Maria. I've apologised a million times. And besides, this was all years ago; I thought you'd moved on."

"Moved on?" Maria couldn't believe her ears. "You might be the kind of person that can move on from… I'm not like you, Carla."

"But you have moved on, Maria. I mean, look at you. You're happily married. Don't pretend you've been desolate over Liam this whole time. Look how quickly you jumped into bed with Tony."

"I didn't know who he was. But you," Maria pointed her finger at Carla; "you knew. And now you're dragging it all out again. You're asking me to relive the worst experience of my life…for you."

"Don't think of it as doing it for me," Carla pleaded with her. "Think of it as giving a thirteen-year-old girl the peace of mind of knowing where she comes from. Everyone deserves that, don't they?"

"And what do I tell Liam?" Maria was grasping at straws now, searching for excuses. "I can't tell him the truth, how would I even start?"

"He goes for regular check-ups, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Just… I don't know, tell him they're standard tests the doctor does on kids his age. Tell him whatever you want. I really don't care what you tell him. All I want is the truth. Please, Maria, you're my only hope."

"She agreed in the end though?" Peter asked. "To get the DNA test done?"

"Oh yeah," Carla confirmed. "She wasn't happy about it, but she said she'd take Liam to the doctors first thing. I'll take Liv in tomorrow as well. I want this done soon as. No more uncertainty."

"Good."

"I can't really blame her," Carla reflected on her conversation with Maria. "She's right, she went through hell because of Tony. And I could've prevented it."

"You can't blame yourself, you were scared."

"Roy was scared as well, but he did the right thing. Me, on the other hand…" Carla shook her head at the memory. "I ran away. It's what I do, it's what I always do. I did it with Tony, and then I did it with Olivia."

"You were doing what was best for her."

"Maybe," Carla shrugged. "And maybe I was just being true to form and running away from my problems."

"You're too hard on yourself."

"Peter! Stop trying to soft soap me. I know my behaviour back then was beyond the pale. It was inexcusable. And it's not like I learned my lesson. I mean, what did I do after that, hmm? I tried – very very hard I might add – to seduce my good friend Leanne's husband."

"You know it wasn't that simple."

"Sure it was," Carla declared. "Carla Connor saw something she wanted… and Carla Connor took it, consequences be damned."

"And I had no say in the matter?"

"No."

"No free will?"

"None at all."

"I was…what? Just an inanimate object waiting to be stolen."

"That's right."

"And the fact I want to kiss you right now?"

"That's all on me."

To test Carla's hypothesis, Peter drew her body in close to his and kissed her softly on the lips.

"That was you?" he asked her.

"Mmm hmm…"

"How about…" he left a trail of light kisses across her cheek and down her neck, ending with him nuzzling gently on her chest, right at that spot where her breasts began to form.

"And that?" he quizzed her, looking up at her face.

"Absolutely."

"In that case, I'll just wait right here until you decide what I do next."

He rested his head against her breasts and, for a few moments at least, they were both relaxed, safe in each other's arms.

"Oh, Peter!" Her mind running in overdrive, Carla couldn't quite keep her mind off the life-changing tests they were planning for the morrow.

"What's up now?"

"What if it is Tony?"

"Try not to think about it."

"Don't– how can I not? There's a fifty-fifty chance I'm going to have to explain to my daughter that her father is… let's not mince words now: that her father is a homicidal maniac. How on earth do I do that?"

Homicidal maniac

The words rung in Olivia's ears as she stepped back in shock from the bedroom door she had been crouching behind, straining to hear the conversation beyond. As so often happens, the listener heard nothing good about themselves. To Olivia's mind, the knowledge that her father might be a homicidal maniac – whatever that meant – immediately transferred to herself some level of guilt. If he was, then what was she, as his offspring? Had she inherited his psychotic tendencies? The genetic properties of the criminally insane were one of the many thoughts that kept Olivia awake – running through her mind like wild fire – on her first night in England; her first night under her mother's roof.