Kate Ramsay, former dancer/full-time assistant in Harold’s Store/occasional trainee teacher, has spent the past few weeks moping around after she failed to join her beloved Mark Brennan, the good looking-in-an-obvious-sort-of-way detective with OCD, in a witness protection programme. They were happy and in love until Mark discovered the shocking truth that Kate had lied to the police to protect Rebecca, mother of the fake Declan (long story) and wife of Paul Robinson, who had accidentally pushed her one-legged, two-timing, blackmailing excuse of a husband off the balcony of Lassiters (though to be fair it was a gentle shove and the builders who installed the flimsy glass safety barrier were really at fault).
The pushing of Paul Robinson off the balcony of Lassiters led to amnesia, months of speculation, more blackmail, cunning deception and excruciating hours of Paul’s equally no good and oddly Scottish/Aussie accented son Andrew accusing pretty much everyone of “pooshing ma daaah”, until Rebecca, after a doomed fling with the surfing headteacher of Erinsborough High, Michael, was finally whisked away by the fake Declan, his brother Oliver and the former nightclubbing nun turned Mafia veggy seller Carmella, leaving poor Kate to confess her part in the whole sorry saga.
Mark took it well and dumped her, had a one night stand with Jade, regretted it, regretted it even more when Kate found out (what were the odds of that happening?), and turned in a fellow police officer for dodgy dealings, putting his life in vaguely mortalish danger. No sooner had Mark been talked into entering a witness protection programme by a rather dodgy detective with yet another odd Scottish accent, he was passionately reunited with Kate and mere minutes later told her he was leaving and would Kate and her younger sister Sophie join him in his new life who knows where, living as who knows who and doing who knows what? Kate said yes and was sure her sister would agree to it. Alas, sensible Sophie was less keen. By the time Sophie had been badgered into agreeing to the crazy plan they had but minutes to join Mark somewhere on the other side of Erinsborough before he would be driven off by the dodgy detective with the odd Scottish accent to live a new life who knows where, living as who knows who and doing who knows what, never to be seen or contacted again, not even by his poor mother. Naturally fate conspired against them (Sophie fell over) and by the time they got to the rendezvous site, Mark had gone.
Thankfully Kate is blissfully oblivious to the fact that Toadie overheard a policeman telling the dodgy detective with the odd Scottish accent that Mark had been found dead. Did the dodgy detective with the odd Scottish accent play a part in his demise? Will Kate find out? Will Sophie ‘cop’ the blame for Mark’s death after trying to contact him in a desperate attempt to sort things out and make her sister happy? Is he really dead? Who knows.