It was sooner than Chris had expected when he was able to have the house to himself. Joseph's nanny was capable enough despite his claims to the contrary, and she had taken the boy off to school before Zo‘ and Frankie had managed to wind their weary way down to breakfast. Idly drinking coffee in the somewhat surly company of Terry Woods, Chris looked up at them as they came in. Clearly they were very much the worse for wear, which was hardly surprising given the late hour of their return home. Frankie threw herself into a chair, and dropped her head down onto the table. A long, low groan came from her, sounding muffled by the pillow of her arms. Chris smirked.

"Raring to go?"

"Shut up." She lifted her head by a fraction of an inch, glaring at him through bleary eyes. "I want to go back to bed and sleep for a week."

"Just a week?" Terry couldn't help smiling, having been hung over often enough himself to know exactly how the young woman was feeling. It was an amused form of sympathy that led him to laugh at her misfortune, and she seemed to understand. Certainly there was no animosity in the mock glare she shot at him in return. Zo‘ put a cup of coffee down beside her.

"Drink that." Unlike Terry she showed no signs of sympathy, having limited her own drinking the night before. Frankie scowled at the mug, as though it were responsible for her misfortunes.

"I don't think I ever want to drink anything again." She took a reluctant mouthful of the hot brown liquid, and winced. "Do I really have to into work today?"

"If I can so can you." Zo‘ took a piece of toast from the rack on the table, and took a bite from it as she headed for the door. "Come on. I'll give you a lift into town." The only answer was an indistinct mumble. Chris smirked, with a characteristic lack of sympathy. Frankie glowered at him.

"One day," she proclaimed with foggy dignity, "you'll be the one with the hangover. Then we'll see who's smirking into their coffee."

"I don't get hung over." He said it with his usual air of superiority, coupled with that unshakeable confidence which remained a part of his character through thick and thin. The claim certainly seemed to be true enough. Chris drank more than most people, but never seemed to suffer any ill effects as a result. There was, Frankie thought with scowl, no justice. She made it to her feet, glaring all the while, and drank as much of the coffee as she could before coming up for air. It made her head swim, which was hardly an inspiring reaction to the concept of movement. She couldn't really see herself getting much work done today. With a heavy sigh, she trailed towards the door in Zo‘'s wake.

"I think I should stay here today." She had to focus with extra care and attention in order to put the mug down beside the sink without letting it fall to its certain doom upon the floor. "I can sleep, and then catch up on the work tomorrow."

"I'm going in. You can too." Zo‘ grabbed her keys from where she had left them the night before. "Next time maybe you won't drink so much."

"I had to!" Righteous indignation coloured the younger woman's voice. "I couldn't let Jason beat me. It was a race."

"It was a farce." Zo‘ opened the door, standing aside so that Frankie could leave first. Chris could not resist a parting shot.

"Never mind Frankie." His voice shone with a lack of sincerity. "Maybe Scott will take pity on you. He might take you to the diner for a nice greasy breakfast." Frankie turned a startling shade of green.

"Chris..." Zo‘'s voice was dark with warning, but her wayward brother did not look in the slightest bit perturbed.

"I hear that Carlos does a very good full English," he commented with a great deal of relish. "Sausages, eggs... lots of greasy bacon."

"Chris!" This time Zoe's glare was sharp enough to pierce steel. "If she throws up in the car, I will not be impressed."

"I don't feel so good." Frankie leant against the door frame. Terry clapped her on the back.

"You've looked worse. Just amuse yourself thinking about how much this'll annoy Scott."

"True." She smiled blearily up at him. "I suppose I'll be going then. I'll see you later."

"Yeah. Just keep your head down and you'll be fine." He wagged a finger at her. "And no throwing up over the engines. I don't think that your customers would be too impressed."

"You could be right there." She staggered across the driveway to join Zo‘ at the car, only to receive a look from her girlfriend that was so disapproving, it offered conclusive prove that there were closer ties between Zo‘ and Chris than just the mere fact of their surname. Frankie scowled.

"You really look like your brother sometimes, you know that?"

"Thankyou so much." Zo‘ climbed into the car and started up the engine, hoping that the slight deepening in Frankie's unhealthy shade of green was just her imagination. The car bumped away over the drive, and Chris went to the door to watch it go. Terry looked down at him.

"So where do we start today then, boss?" He sounded raring to go. Chris glanced up, disinterested in the other man's enthusiasm.

"I want you to make a phone call for me." He turned about, heading away from the door and back towards the interior of the house. Terry followed on.

"Who to?"

"The police." Chris was frowning, as though thinking hard. "If there's any way to make sure that Spalding doesn't get sent down here, make sure that you jump at it."

"Why do you want the police?" Terry was still trailing after him, surprised by this change to the routine. He was used to Chris being eager for the off, charging around the countryside for the whole of the day in the interests of a more profitable firm. This business of staying at home was simply not how it was supposed to be.

"Terry, did I ever say that I was paying you to ask questions?" Chris spun around to face the older man, staring up at him with the faintest glimmer of contempt in his dark eyes. Terry glowered, once again made to feel less than three feet tall. He sighed deeply, struggling to remain civil.

"What do I tell the police?" he asked. Chris frowned.

"Tell them that I have some information for them - or that a... a friend does."

"Charity?" Terry wasn't sure what had made him ask the question, but he was sure that this must be about her. His employer frowned.

"Yes. She saw something, and now somebody is putting pressure on her to keep quiet. She's asked for my help, and I plan to give it to her."

"Developing a conscience?"

"No." If Chris was stung by such a jibe, he showed no sign of it. "If I want to help somebody, Terry, I'll help them. Stay on the right side of me and you might find me going to all kinds of lengths to help you out. You'd be wise to remember that."

"Really." Terry could not imagine a situation when he would ever be willing to turn to Chris Tate for help. Charity must really be at a low ebb, he decided, to have made any kind of a deal.

"Really." Chris spun around again, heading off down the corridor. "I'm going to meet Charity at the stud farm. We'll be back here in a few minutes. Put the kettle on, there's a good chap." He paused. "Oh, and Terry? Don't go telling the police anything untoward about Charity. If there's anything that needs to be said, she's a friend of yours. Got it?"

"Yeah, sure." Terry stared hatefully at the retreating back. Perish the thought that anybody should find out that it was Chris seeing the prostitute - but apparently it was okay for them to think that Terry Woods had turned to such avenues. Just because he was less likely to get dismembered by Zac and Cain didn't seem like a good enough reason for taking on that kind of a mantle. He sighed though, knowing even as he moved towards the phone that he would do just as Chris asked. Terry needed the job, and that simple fact, as he was rapidly discovering, was something far stronger than the lure of something as pointless as honesty - and didn't Chris know it. Terry heaved a sigh, and headed for the telephone. He would make the call, and summon the police as required - but he couldn't help wondering what would happen if, instead of requesting that Spalding not be sent, he asked specifically for the services of the dedicated DI. A smirk found its way onto Terry's face. Maybe the presence of Inspector Spalding was just what was required to wipe the superior smile from Chris's face. He allowed himself a little laugh.

Yeah, whispered his rarely seen, far more spiteful side. Why the hell not?