The sounds of cutlery clinking against crockery and the strangely amplified chewing and swallowing actions of the four people sat around the Barlow's dinner table hung heavy in the air. The regular chit chat of a weekday tea time seemed inappropriate given the many unanswered questions and possible answers that swirled around the minds of all present. Nevertheless, Peter gave it his best shot.

"So, Si," he put on his best curious father voice as he turned to his son, "tell us about this course you went on, what–"

"Did you ever love him?" Olivia's tongue loosened the moment Peter had broken the tense silence; ignoring the father and son, she directed her question at Carla.

"Who?" Carla asked rather fearfully. She didn't want to lie to her daughter, but the thought of the pain the truth might inflict made her hesitate.

"Tony. My dad."

Carla sighed; here, at least, she could tell the truth. "Yes, sweetheart, I did."

"But you loved Liam more?"

"Umm… it's more complicated than that."

"No, it's not," Olivia declared, her worldview still very much black and white. "If you loved him like a wife should love her husband, then you wouldn't of gone with Liam."

"I don't–"

"And then my dad wouldn't of killed Liam."

"How did you–"

"And he wouldn't of gone to jail. And that whole factory thing, that wouldn't of happened."

"You're oversimplifying things."

"None of it would of happened without you."

"Olivia," Peter finally interjected, determined to defend his wife, "you're not being fair. Carla–"

"It's okay, Peter," Carla said, placing her hand gently on Peter's arm, "Olivia's allowed her opinion."

"Thank you!" the young girl exclaimed.

"I will ask you one simple question," Carla countered, "if you don't mind?"

Olivia wasn't sure if she wanted the tables turned and the questions directed at her, so she remained silent.

"Olivia?" Carla pressed her. "Liv?"

"Whatever," Olivia shrugged.

"Tell me, honestly, do you think murder – cold-blooded, premeditated murder – is a… a proportional response to being cheated on?"

"Dunno." Olivia knew the truth, but refused to admit it, even to herself.

"Peter," Carla turned to her husband, "you should know: what, in your opinion, is a proportional response to finding out your partner is cheating on you?"

"Why are you asking me?" Peter was immediately defensive.

"Peter!"

"Fine, ahhh… first I would expect yelling – lots of yelling … then crying … a slap or two wouldn't be unusual … anger, lasting hate…well, at least five years of hate … divorce … booze."

"Murder?"

"No." Peter shook his head slowly and turned to Olivia. "Look, I'm not trying to excuse what Carla and Liam did, really I'm not. But Liam didn't deserve to die; Maria didn't deserve to lose her husband; and little Liam, he sure as hell didn't deserve to never know his father."

"What about me?" Olivia cried, exasperated by what she viewed as blatant hypocrisy. "I've never known my father either."

"I'm sorry," was all that Carla could offer as recompense.

"And it's all her fault!" Olivia pointed her accusation at Carla and then, without waiting for a reply, she jumped up from her seat at the table and ran to her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

"That went well," Carla observed wryly as she sat, defeated by how quickly Olivia had turned on her.

"She's in shock," Peter tried his best to rationalise the situation. "She didn't mean it."

"Oh, she meant it all right."

"Should I…" Simon interjected himself into their conversation, having until that moment quietly observed the escalating drama, "should I go talk to her?"

"Thanks, Si," Carla smiled weakly at her step-son, "leave her be, yeah, give her some time to calm down."

"She's right," Carla admitted as she took the freshly washed plate from Peter's hands and began to dry it with the tea-towel she was holding: "Liam is dead because of me. And everything that happened after he died happened because of me. Because of what I did."

"Love," Peter disagreed with his wife, "you are not responsible for someone else's actions. You know that, and Liv knows it as well."

"I hope so, Peter, I really hope so."

With his dad and step-mum's attention focused on a combination of washing the dishes and discussing their latest drama, Simon quietly opened the freezer and grabbed a tub of ice cream. Adding two spoons to his haul, he tiptoed out of the kitchen and towards the bedrooms.

"Liv?" he called her name softly as he tapped on her bedroom door.

"Come in."

"Hey," he smiled at her as he opened the door and held up the ice cream tub, "fancy some pudding?"

"What's the flavour?"

"Cookies and cream."

"Okay, then."

With wisdom beyond his years, Simon sat in comfortable silence with Olivia as they ate the ice cream. It wasn't until their spoons were scraping the sides of the tub that Simon dared to speak.

"You know I hated Carla when she first got with my dad," he admitted.

"Really?" Olivia looked at him curiously. "Why?"

"Because I blamed her for breaking up my family, for driving my mum away. Even after she and dad had been together for years and gotten married and all, I even blamed her for dad cheating on her."

"Your dad cheated on Carla?"

"Yeah, it's a long story."

"Why are they still together?"

"They weren't for a long time. Carla hated dad for years. But, I dunno, I guess when you love someone that much, even when you hate them…" Simon shrugged. "It's not logical I know."

"It's really not," Olivia laughed.

"Fact is, Carla should never have forgiven dad for all the awful things he did."

"But she did forgive him?"

"Yeah, she did."

"I don't understand why."

"Because…because she loves him. Because they belong together. No matter what he did, or she did, they both did some crappy things, they always end up back together. And sometimes figuring that out, figuring out that this one person is your person, it can get messy, you know, and people get hurt. Do you get what I'm trying to say?"

"I guess."

"No one's perfect is all I'm saying."

"I understand, it's just… it's not fair."

"What isn't?"

"I came all this way looking for my family," Olivia explained, "but every step I take it seems like I'm walking backwards, and I feel like I'll never have a proper family."

"You've got Carla. And dad. And don't forget about me."

"I know. And I'm really happy that I met you, but… it's not the same. And I know he – my dad – did some pretty… evil things, but…"

"He's your dad. I get it."

"I wish I could've met him, just once. Maybe…"

With a newly formed idea in her head, Olivia rose to her feet and made a beeline for the kitchen.

"My dad," she addressed Carla directly. "Did he have a family? He must have … a mum and dad … brothers … sisters?"

"Umm… yeah," Carla nodded as she understood what Olivia wanted, "he had a brother."

"A brother?"

"Pat – Patrick."

"I've got an uncle?"

"Yes."

"Uncle Pat…" she allowed herself to daydream for a moment about this newly discovered connection before making her declaration: "I wanna meet him."