Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Carla’s legs dangled over the edge, the water below calm, calmer than the storm of thoughts raging in her mind.

Me and this baby inside me aren’t enough. We have no chance. We have not one chance.

There’s nothing we can do now. I’m sorry.

The wind tugged at her hair, cold and unforgiving. She stared down at the dark water below, wondering if it would swallow her whole. Maybe then the noise inside would finally quiet. Maybe then the ache inside her chest would stop pounding so hard.

Would it hurt? Would it be fast?

Her fingers tightened around the rough edge of the bridge. The city buzzed far behind her, life moving on, unaware.

Car after car drove past her, no one stopping, no one looking back. But what did she expect? This wasn’t Weatherfield. Weatherfield was far away now. Weatherfield wasn’t safe anymore. It wasn’t home, not really. And honestly, she never thought anywhere would be, ever again.

She wasn’t sure what she was waiting for. She was here, right on the edge. All it would take was to stand and jump. But something held her back, something invisible gripping tight, stopping her.

Every terrible thing she’d ever lived was crushing her, dragging her down until her lungs burned and her body felt like lead. There was no good left, no memories worth clutching onto as she fell.

Everywhere Carla Connor went, destruction followed, destruction of her own life and the lives of others. The baby, that should have been the one good thing, the one thing she could’ve done right, or at least tried to. But no. Her dark heart destroyed that too. Every bad fiber of her being ruined the one thing she wanted most. She didn’t even realise she wanted it, wanted her, until she lost the baby. Until she lost her daughter.

The darkness consumed her, a suffocating shadow that had been creeping in for so long it felt like part of her. It was this darkness, the relentless weight of pain, guilt, and despair, that had driven her to this edge, leading her step by step to this moment. It was both her prison and her only escape.

Who would really care? Who would even miss her? No one, that’s who. She had pushed everyone she ever loved away. Rob was locked up in prison for murder. Peter, well, he was the reason their daughter was gone from inside her. She had Michelle, and of course Roy, her beloved Roy, the one man who had never hurt her, never would. But they’d move on. They’d have each other. They’d be sad, they’d grieve, but eventually the tears would stop. One day, they’d think of her, and nothing would come.

No one would even know. They probably thought she was in LA, chasing some better life, running from her mess. But the truth was far uglier. She was in London, drinking to deaden the pain, and now she sat on the edge, torn between holding on to whatever was left or finally falling into the void.

Carla’s heartbeat thundered in her ears, loud enough to drown out the distant hum of the city. The night wrapped around her like a shroud, thick and suffocating, yet strangely comforting. Here, on this ledge, she was invisible, a ghost caught between two worlds.

Her mind flickered back to moments she barely dared to hold onto. A laugh shared with Michelle, soft and innocent. Roy’s steady presence, a rare flicker of warmth in the cold chaos. But even those sparks felt distant, like echoes from a life that didn’t belong to her anymore.

She pressed her forehead against the cold metal railing, tasting the bitterness of tears she wouldn’t let fall. The edge was close, too close, and yet the pull to step back was stronger than the urge to leap.

Maybe it was hope. Or maybe just fear.

A sudden noise, footsteps approaching, jerked her from her thoughts. She looked up to see a figure stop a few feet away. A stranger, or maybe someone sent by fate. Someone who might just see her, really see her, before she disappeared.

The footsteps grew closer, steady and deliberate. Carla lifted her head, squinting through the darkness. A woman in uniform appeared.

“Evening,” the officer said gently, her voice calm but firm. “You okay?”

Carla let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Oh, peachy. Just enjoying the view and thinking about a dive.”

The officer’s eyes didn’t waver. “That sounds serious. Mind if I stay for a bit?”

Carla smirked despite herself. “Sure, why not? Could use an audience for my grand finale.”

The woman took a cautious step closer but kept a respectful distance. “You don’t have to do this. Whatever’s got you here, there’s help. People who want to listen.”

Carla’s sarcasm softened, replaced by a flicker of something fragile. “Help, huh? Sounds like a joke.”

The officer nodded, unshaken. “Maybe it’s not for you yet. But it could be.”

Carla glanced back over the edge, the water dark and silent below. Then, back at the woman. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel completely alone.

“If I’m going to be your audience, maybe I should know who I’ll be cheering for?” the officer asked with a grin.

Carla almost laughed. It was actually kind of funny, and she appreciated the moment of lightness. It gave her a break from her own spiraling thoughts, even if just for a few seconds.

“CC. Let’s just go with that,” Carla replied.

“Okay, well, CC, I’m Lisa. Lisa Swain.”

Carla raised an eyebrow. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but you did kind of interrupt my plans.”

“I do apologise, but I had about ten phone calls this evening about a woman sitting on the edge of a bridge. And, well, I knew the calls wouldn’t stop unless I came out here to investigate, so here I am.”

“Okay, well yes, there is a woman on the edge of a bridge. You’ve investigated, so you can go now. I’m sure you’ve got a coffee and some doughnuts waiting for you back at your station.”

Carla watched as Lisa moved closer, only slightly. Not enough to spook her, but just enough to close the gap a little.

“Doughnuts, really? Watch a lot of American cop shows, do you?”

“I might’ve watched one or two.”

“I can’t stand them. It’s like a busman’s holiday for me. And it drives me mad when they get protocol wrong. Then I’m sitting there shouting at my TV. Once, I got so frustrated, I threw the remote at the screen. Let’s just say I was in Argos at 9:30 p.m. buying a new TV, because God forbid we didn’t have one for Saturday morning cartoons for my toddler.”

Carla knew exactly what Lisa was doing. She could see right through the distraction techniques, and she hated to admit it, but they were working. Of course, she was still painfully aware of where she was sitting and what she had come here to do, but Lisa’s voice was slowly pulling her focus away from the thoughts that had brought her to this point.

“Saturday morning cartoons are a rite of passage,” Lisa said, her tone light. “I mean, they’re not nearly as good as they were when we were growing up. Do you remember Wacky Races?”

“I always wanted to be, and I’ll deny this if anyone ever asks, but Penelope Pitstop. Or maybe I just fancied her. Either way, that stays between us.”

“Well, considering there’s only one way I plan on leaving this bridge,” Carla said with a dry smile, “I’ll take your secret to the grave.”

She stood up slowly, eyes fixed on the water below. Just one step. That was all it would take. One step forward, and it would all be over.

But there was a problem.

Lisa.

She was the one thing, unexpected and infuriating, that was keeping Carla from moving.

Carla sat down again, this time a little closer to the edge.

“Change your mind?” Lisa asked gently.

“For now,” Carla replied.

“What changed it?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Don’t get smug and think you’ve succeeded,” Carla said, shooting her a look. “But I have a feeling that if I jumped now, you’d climb down those rocks and get into the water to try and save me. And, well, I wouldn’t have achieved anything, except getting us both wet. So I’m going to wait, until you give up and leave.”

Lisa shook her head. “Well, two things. One, I wouldn’t be getting into the water. I can’t swim. That would do neither of us any good. The only thing that would do is leave my daughter an orphan, and I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t want that on your conscience.”

Carla frowned, saying nothing.

“And two,” Lisa continued, her voice steady, “I’m not leaving.”

“Well, you’ve got to leave eventually,” Carla said. “I mean, you just told me you have a daughter, and you wouldn’t want to leave her an orphan. So, I’m going to think like a cop, like a good one, not the kind you hate from those American shows. You said you wouldn’t want to leave your daughter an orphan, which tells me you’re probably a widow.”

Lisa didn’t interrupt, so Carla continued, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

“You wear your wedding ring on your right hand, where widows often move it. So, your husband’s dead. You most likely have a friend or family member watching your daughter right now, and, well, it wouldn’t be fair on them if you stayed here all night.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “You were doing so well. I mean, you definitely picked up on the small details, important for a detective. But there’s one thing you got wrong.”

“What’s that?”

“My husband didn’t die,” Lisa said calmly.

Carla paused, confused. “You said ‘orphan’ and ‘widow,’ so… what did I get wrong? Oh.” Her voice softened. “Not a husband. You were married to a woman. I’m… I’m so sorry.”

Lisa let out a short, sharp laugh. “Sorry I’m gay? I mean, maybe I should walk away and let you jump.”

Carla blinked. “No, no, not that you’re gay. My younger sister’s a lesbian. I meant I’m sorry for assuming you were married to a man.”

“Oh, your younger sister’s a lesbian? What’s her name, maybe I know her?”

“Kate Connor.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Kate Connor? Oh yeah, I know her.”

“Really?” Carla asked, surprised.

Lisa gave her a look and shook her head. “Being a lesbian isn’t some elite club where everyone knows everyone.”

“Kate told me it was. She said, ‘Pick a lesbian, and I can name five others they’ve slept with.’ And every time, she nailed it.”

Lisa smirked. “Okay… maybe that is true.”

“See?” Carla chuckled. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“This,” Carla said, gesturing vaguely between them. “It’s painfully obvious why I’m here. And yet, you’ve made me laugh. Twice. I wasn’t even sure I was capable of that anymore. And right now, here, at my absolute lowest, you’ve got me laughing.”

“Maybe I should give up being a detective and become a comedian,” Lisa said with a faint smile.

Once again, Carla noticed Lisa shuffle a little closer. The movement was barely noticeable, but it was there.

“That actually sounds like a brilliant idea. You should make the career change now. There’s no time like the present,” Carla replied, her voice edged with sarcasm.

“Nice try. I’m not leaving, CC. So why don’t you climb back over the railing and we talk on this side, where it’s safer,” Lisa said gently.

“The thing is, I don’t want to be safe. Safe is the last thing I want right now. Actually, no, being alive is the last thing I want,” Carla said, her voice quiet but steady. “And you’re stopping me from getting what I want. So please, Lisa, just leave. Go back to your station, write a report that says no one was on the bridge, and forget I was ever here, because soon, I won’t be.”

Lisa didn’t flinch. “We both know I can’t do that. And it’s not going to be just you and me out here for much longer. Dispatch knows where I am. They know why I’m here. And soon enough, you’re going to hear sirens, fire engines, more officers, maybe even an ambulance. So, no, we won’t be alone.”

“There’s no point wasting time or money sending any of those,” Carla muttered. “They should just send a coroner’s van. I mean, if they find my body, that is.”

She turned slightly and saw Lisa sitting down behind her. Their backs touched through the cold metal railings.

“Come on, CC,” Lisa said softly. “Let’s turn off the sarcasm and the jokes. Let’s have a real chat. Tell me what you’re feeling. Tell me what’s going through your head.”

Sarcasm had always been Carla’s armour, her default. Her way of keeping people at a distance. If she could joke, she could pretend she was in control. It made her seem strong, stronger than she ever truly felt. And now Lisa was asking her to drop that armor, to be honest. To be real.

And that terrified her more than sitting on the edge of the bridge.

“I should probably tell you my name is Carla before I tell you how I’m feeling. And now that you know my name, I’m feeling nothing,” Carla said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. “I feel nothing but numb.”

Lisa was quiet for a moment. Then, gently, “Why?”

“Because everything in my life has broken me,” Carla said, her voice cracking. “Every time I’ve picked myself up, the universe seems to decide, ‘Nope, she doesn’t get to be happy,’ and throws something else at me. And honestly, maybe the universe is right.”

“I’m used to it. My life’s just been one traumatic event after another. And I don’t have the money to unpack it all in therapy. And truthfully, I wouldn’t want to. So I’m here. Taking my life into my own hands and ending it. Or I would be, if you’d just leave.”

“How many times do I have to say it?” Lisa said gently but firmly. “I’m not going anywhere. I have a duty of care. But even if I didn’t, what kind of person sees someone on the edge of a bridge and just walks away?”

“One who knows how to mind their own business,” Carla snapped.

Lisa gave a small smile. “Yeah, see, I’ve never been good at that. My nose is in everyone’s business. Comes with the badge. So, sorry. I’m not going anywhere.”

Of course, Carla thought. She would get the one police officer who actually cared.

“What will it take for you to leave?” she asked, exasperated.

“For you to come with me.”

“Not gonna happen. So what else would it take?”

“Carla, I’m staying right here. And I won’t be leaving until you’re on the other side of these railings and in my car, so I can drive you to the hospital.”

Carla scoffed. “Hospital? I’m not sick.”

Lisa’s expression stayed cold and steady. “Maybe not in the way you think. But this kind of pain? This numbness? It’s a heavy weight, not nothing. You deserve help, not judgment, and definitely not silence. You’re suicidal, and I’m certain if I let you walk away tonight, you’ll try again. I can’t let that happen. Taking you to the hospital is the only way I know to keep you breathing.”

“I don’t want to be alive. What part of that don’t you fucking get?” Carla spat, eyes burning.

Lisa’s voice dropped, sharper now. “If you truly wanted to die, the second you climbed over that railing, you would have jumped. No hesitation. No second thoughts. No sitting down to debate your feelings. You wouldn’t still be here. So I don’t think you want to die. I think you’re screaming for help in a way you don’t even understand.”

“You don’t know me. You don’t have a clue what I’m feeling.”

Lisa’s eyes darkened with a haunted memory. “Because ten years ago, I was in this exact spot, drowning in the same darkness as you. I was ready to let go.”

Chapter Text

“Because ten years ago, I was sitting in this very spot with the exact same thoughts and feelings as you. I was ready to end it all.”

Not one other person knew that. Not one. Ten years ago, almost to the day, Lisa had stood in this exact spot, wrestling with the same darkness, the same desperation.

“You’re just saying that,” Carla said, voice sharp and bitter. “Trying to relate to me, telling me it’ll get better. But how will I know if I don’t climb over these railings and get the help I need?”

“I’m alive, yes. But I wouldn’t say things are better. My daughter isn’t an orphan, but I carry the weight of my grief every single day. Ending it was the only way out in my eyes, but it would have caused more damage than good. Yes, I would have been free of my pain, but my daughter? Her pain would have doubled. She would’ve lost two parents. I couldn’t do that to her.”

“Well, I don’t have a daughter,” Carla snapped, defensive.

“Okay. But you must have a family. Someone who would miss you. Someone who would grieve.”

She tread carefully. Over the years, Lisa had talked down many jumpers, some she couldn’t save. She always knew the difference. The ones truly ready to end it all, and the ones who were hurting, blinded by darkness, desperate for relief. The woman behind her wasn’t the first. She wasn’t ready to jump. She wanted help. She wanted the pain to stop. The hurt to fade. But she didn’t want to end everything.

“I have family, yes. That doesn’t mean they’d miss me,” Carla replied.

“Well, how about you step back over this side of the railings and don’t give them the chance to find out.”

“No, I’m fine where I am. So, what brought you to my side of the bridge?” Carla asked.

Lisa took a shaky breath. “My wife died just over ten years ago. Car accident. She was three months pregnant with our second. A drunk driver hit us, the car tumbled into the woods, flipped, and landed on the roof. I managed to get out, but Becky… she was trapped. Our three-year-old daughter was too. I tried to get her out, but Becky told me to take Betsy to safety first, then come back for her.”

She paused, her voice trembling.

“I did what she said. I got Betsy out and left her by the side of the road with some bystanders. Then I ran back down to get Bex. But I was too late. The car caught fire. I couldn’t get her out. I failed her. I failed them both.”

Lisa’s voice cracked as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. This was the first time she’d spoken about that night in years.

“I’m so sorry,” Carla said softly.

“Yeah… but the point is, if I can survive that, if I can wake up every day and keep going, then whatever you’re fighting, it can be beaten too.”

“This isn’t a damn competition,” Carla snapped, banging her hand on the railing. “You don’t get a medal for being more fucked up than I am.”

“I’m not saying it’s a competition, and I’m not trying to dismiss what you’re feeling,” Lisa said gently. “I’m just saying, you’re stronger than this. Don’t let your demons win.”

Carla’s voice cracked as she snapped back. “You don’t know anything about me. How can you say I’m stronger than my demons when you have no idea what’s going on in my head? You don’t know what it’s like to wake up and feel disappointed you’re still alive. To feel like you’re drowning every second of every day. I’m not living, I’m just going through the motions, barely surviving. And sometimes I think maybe if I stepped into traffic at just the right moment, it would finally end. Or if I’m behind the wheel, I could just… steer off a bridge. Or drink until I disappear.”

Lisa wasn’t handling this the way she usually did. She was known for staying calm in situations like this, steady, composed. But then again, none of the others she’d talked down from the edge had known her story. Over the years, she took pride in her professionalism, in keeping her emotions in check. Yet here she was, laying bare her most painful memories to a stranger.

“You are stronger than your demons because you are still here. You are doing the hardest thing in this world, simply living. You are sitting on the edge of this bridge, and yet you haven’t moved, you haven’t jumped. That tells me that deep down, beneath all the pain and suffering, you are stronger than it all. You do want to live. You just might need a little help realising that.”

“You’re going to do that, are you? Help me realise?”

“I’m not leaving until you’re back over that railing and standing next to me. So yes, I’m going to help you realise that you are needed in this life,” Lisa stated.

“Needed,” Carla whispered as she pushed herself to stand. “What if I don’t feel needed anywhere? What if… what if I’m just a burden?”

Lisa turned to see Carla standing, so she stood as well. “No one who’s ever felt this way is a burden, and that includes you. I know you can’t see it right now, but feeling lost doesn’t mean you don’t matter. It means you’re hurting, and that’s okay. It’s okay to admit when you’re struggling and to ask for help.”

“It’s hard to believe that when every day feels like a battle I’m losing.”

Lisa nodded, her own eyes reflecting the struggle she’d come to understand in herself and others. “It is hard. But sometimes, the strongest thing you can do is hold on through the storm, even when it feels endless. And you’re not alone.”

“I am alone. I’ve lost everything and everyone I care about. Now it’s just me and this bridge, the final part of my journey. So, if you don’t mind, I think it’s about time you headed off and left me to it.”

“I don’t think you get it. I’m not going anywhere. I’m stubborn. Once, I didn’t speak to my parents the whole drive from London to Scotland because they wouldn’t let me bring more than one book…”

“What book was it?” Carla asked.

“Little Women. It was a favourite of mine back then. That, and The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, and Pippi Longstocking. I wanted to take all of them, but they said no. So the whole drive was silent. My parents were already arguing, and with my silent treatment on top of that, let’s just say it was the longest drive ever.”

“Pippi Longstocking?”

“Yes, I wanted to be just like her. I wanted to shoot a revolver and sail the seven seas.”

“Sounds like an interesting person to look up to. So, why did you become a copper?”

Lisa hesitated. She knew she should lie, make up some story, something safe and mundane. But the moment she opened her mouth to speak, what came out surprised even her. It was something she hadn’t told anyone. Well, except Becky.

“My dad was one,” she said quietly. “He died on duty when I was twelve.”

Carla’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, that must have been hard.”

“It’s okay,” Lisa said, as she started playing with her necklace. “I used to think if I followed in his footsteps, I might understand him better. Like I could finish what he started.”

“That’s a hell of a reason.”

“Yeah. Not quite Pippi Longstocking,” Lisa added with a faint smile. “But here I am.”

“I’m sure he would be proud of you,” Carla said.

“I don’t know about that. I’d like to think I’m making him proud,” Lisa replied with a sigh.

They stood in silence for a moment. Carla sat back down, and Lisa followed, the two of them sitting back to back once again. The quiet settled around them, just the sound of their breathing, leaves rustling in the trees, and the water moving gently below.

“His daughter, following in his footsteps. I’m sure he would be very proud,” Carla said softly.

Lisa didn’t respond right away. Then she spoke.

“Maybe. Well, Carla, we’ve reached a crossroads. So what’s it going to be? Are you going to jump, or are you going to let me help you?”

“Straight to the point,” Carla said, a faint trace of a smirk in her voice.

“Yeah, sorry about that. My frankness tends to get me into trouble. But I can’t sugarcoat things, not now. I told you I’m not going anywhere. And you told me you’re not planning to do anything while I’m here. So… what are we going to do?”

She turned slightly to glance over her shoulder.

“Because I think I have a solution. One that’s actually good. One that doesn’t involve us sitting here all night, waiting to see who gives in first. And by ‘who,’ I mean you. So you might as well give in now.”

Carla let out a slow breath. “Alright then… what’s this great solution of yours?”

Lisa shifted her body to face her, her tone calm but firm.

“You come back to mine for the night. Just that. We’ll have a cuppa, you can take a hot shower, maybe get some actual sleep.”

Carla turned slightly and raised an eyebrow, sceptical.

“And in the morning,” Lisa continued, “I’ll call the mental health team. I’ll let them know I’m bringing you in. That way, they’re expecting us, and you’re not stuck waiting around for hours in some cold hospital corridor tonight, feeling worse than you already do.”

Carla stared at her, quiet.

“It buys us both some time,” Lisa added gently. “Time for you to breathe. To just be human for a night. No pressure. No forms. Just a cup of tea and a comfy bed.”

Still, Carla didn’t say anything. Lisa waited.

“It’s not perfect,” she said finally. “But it’s better than this.”

Lisa let out a quiet sigh of relief. For a moment, it had been touch and go. She wasn’t sure if Carla would give in. But thankfully, she had.

Lisa knew she was breaking protocol. She’d been trained not to get personally involved, instructed to follow procedure, bring them straight to the hospital for a mental health assessment. But something about Carla made her hesitate.

It wasn’t just a gut feeling. It was more than that. She knew the sterile environment, the long wait, the strangers asking loaded questions under harsh lights. It would do more harm than good tonight.

So, against her better judgment, Lisa made a decision. Just for tonight, she wasn’t a police officer. She was just a Good Samaritan trying to keep someone alive.

Lisa watched as Carla slowly began to stand, her movements cautious and hesitant. Lisa rose with her, mirroring the motion, then quietly extended her hand.

Carla looked at her, then down at the offered hand, and back up to meet her eyes. Lisa could see the hesitation, the internal battle playing out behind her expression.

“It’s just a hand,” Lisa said gently. “Just to help you over the railings.”

“I got over here by myself. Pretty sure I’m capable of getting back over on my own.”

Carla turned away from Lisa’s hand and stepped toward the railing. She gripped it, threw one leg over, and began to shift her weight, but her foot slipped on the damp metal.

“Shit.”

Before she could fall, Lisa lunged forward and grabbed her, one arm wrapping firmly around Carla’s waist, steadying her.

“I’ve got you.”

Carla froze, her breath caught in her throat.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Carla’s fingers clutched the rail tightly, but she didn’t try to pull away.

“You okay?” Lisa asked, still holding her.

Carla nodded slowly, her voice barely audible.

“Yeah. Just… wasn’t expecting that.”

Lisa gave a small smile.

“That’s why I offered my hand.”

Carla let out a shaky breath, then finally allowed Lisa to help her swing her other leg back over. Once her feet were firmly on solid ground, she stepped away, brushing herself off like nothing had happened.

“Don’t say it,” she muttered.

Lisa held up her hands, suppressing a grin.

“Didn’t say a word.”

They walked in silence to Lisa’s car. Carla climbed into the back seat without a word, settling into the corner like she was trying to disappear. Lisa slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and glanced at Carla in the rearview mirror.

“You always make your guests sit in the back?” Carla asked.

“Only the ones I suspect might bolt.”

“Right. Or maybe this is your thing. Pick up vulnerable women off ledges, drive them into the woods, and bam, you’re actually a serial killer. That’s how you find your victims, isn’t it?”

Lisa let out a short laugh. “You caught me. This is exactly how my Netflix documentary starts.”

Carla chuckled and reached for the door handle, just testing. It didn’t budge. She blinked, then looked up sharply.

“Wait. Why is the door locked? Oh my God… you are a serial killer!”

Lisa glanced back. “Relax. It’s child locked. I had to drive my nephew around last weekend. He’s six and has the attention span of a hamster on sugar.”

Carla raised an eyebrow. “Sure. That’s what all serial killers say.”

“Look, I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to help. That’s all.”

There was a pause. Then Carla asked, quieter this time, “Why, though? Why are you being nice to me?”

Lisa didn’t answer right away. She kept her eyes on the road, her fingers tightening slightly around the steering wheel.

“Because someone should be,” she said softly.

The drive was silent. Lisa wasn’t sure what to say. Carla had kept her name to herself for most of the night and offered little about who she was. Lisa didn’t want to push. Not now. This was a woman who clearly didn’t want to be known. Not yet.

“Are you hungry?” Lisa asked, glancing into the rearview mirror.

Carla was staring out the window, her face unreadable. She didn’t respond.

Lisa didn’t press. Whatever was going on in Carla’s head, it wasn’t something she could force out.

Less than five minutes later, Lisa pulled into her drive, cut the engine, and turned to face the back seat.

“We’re here,” she said gently. “Do you want to come in now, or do you need a minute?”

Carla shrugged, her expression still distant.

“Alright. How about this. I’ll go in, put the kettle on, make us both a nice mug of sugary tea, find you some pyjamas, and make some buttery toast. Then I’ll come back out in five minutes and see if you feel ready to come inside.”

Carla didn’t speak, but she gave a small nod.

Lisa offered a soft smile. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

As Lisa stepped out of the car and quietly shut the door behind her, a wave of memory crept in before she could stop it.

Ten years ago, she’d been in almost the exact same position, curled up in the back seat of someone else’s car, silent, brittle, barely holding herself together. She could still remember the way it felt to not want to be seen, to feel like letting someone help was a kind of failure.

She took a slow breath and pushed the thought aside. This wasn’t about her. This was about Carla.

Lisa walked up the path, unlocked the front door, and stepped inside. The house was quiet, the familiar comfort of her space offering a sense of control she hadn’t felt all night.

She flicked the kettle on, grabbed two mugs, and started pulling out tea bags and sugar. Then she went to the guest room and rummaged through a drawer, finding an old pair of soft flannel pyjamas. They were too big, but clean and warm.

By the time the kettle clicked off, she had the toast in the toaster and the mugs waiting to be filled.

Five minutes, she reminded herself. Just five minutes to let her breathe. Then try again.

Before the five minutes were up, Lisa paused. She took a few steadying breaths, forcing herself to push down her own feelings and focus entirely on Carla. This wasn’t about her past, or how familiar this all felt. This was about getting Carla to a place where she could see that going to the hospital, being assessed by the mental health team, was the right step.

She took one final deep breath, then walked back down the path toward the car.

As she opened the door, Carla looked up at her, eyes red and puffy, her expression guarded but vulnerable, like a lost puppy unsure whether to flinch or stay still.

Lisa didn’t say anything. She simply held out her hand.

This time, Carla didn’t hesitate. She reached for it.

Less than ten minutes later, Carla was changed into the spare pyjamas, now curled up in an armchair in Lisa’s living room. A warm mug of tea rested in her hands, steam curling softly in the air.

She hadn’t said much, just a quiet “Thank you” when Lisa handed her the tea.

No other words were exchanged. But Lisa didn’t mind. For now, silence was enough.

Carla had started to fidget. She was clearly agitated, shifting in her chair, her breathing quicker and louder than before, fingers anxiously picking at the skin around her nails.

Lisa noticed it immediately. She walked over, knelt beside her, and gently placed her hands over Carla’s.

“Hey, hey… it’s okay. Just breathe. You’re alright,” Lisa said softly, her voice calm and steady.

Carla shook her head, eyes wide and glassy.

“It doesn’t feel like I’m okay. It feels like I want to crawl out of my skin. My head won’t stop. It’s too loud. The thoughts, the feelings… everything is too much. Too much. I need to go. Please, let me go.”

Lisa tightened her grip just slightly, grounding her.

“No. Just stand up for me. I want to try something, if you’ll let me. If you trust me.”

Carla let out a bitter, broken laugh.

“Trust you? I barely know you.”

Lisa met her gaze, steady and unflinching.

“I know. But please, just give me this one moment.”

Carla stared at Lisa for a long moment, breathing hard, her hands trembling beneath Lisa’s.

Then, slowly, she stood, unsteady, like her body didn’t quite know how to be in the room.

Lisa stood too. She hesitated for only a second before stepping forward and wrapping her arms tightly around Carla, pulling her into a firm, anchoring hug. Not soft or tentative. Tight. Contained. Secure.

Carla stiffened instantly, caught off guard.

“What are you…?”

“It’s something I saw once,” Lisa said quietly, holding her close. “A woman was having a panic attack, and they hugged her tightly. Pressure, like a weighted blanket. It’s what they do to cows before they’re slaughtered. It calms them. Something about the nervous system.”

Carla gave a shaky laugh into Lisa’s shoulder. “That’s incredibly dark.”

“Yeah, well. Welcome to my bedside manner.”

Carla didn’t pull away. In fact, after a few seconds, Lisa felt her lean into the hug, just slightly. Her breathing was still uneven, but her hands had stopped picking.

“Better?” Lisa murmured.

“A little,” Carla whispered. “Still feels like I’m falling apart, but… not as fast.”

Lisa didn’t let go.

“Then we’ll just take it one slow piece at a time.”

After about ten minutes of standing like that, held in silence, Carla finally murmured, “I’m okay.”

Lisa eased her grip, slowly stepping back.

“You sure?” she asked gently.

Carla gave a small nod. “Yeah… that cow hugging thing really worked. Where did you even learn that?”

Lisa gave a sheepish smile. “An episode of Grey’s Anatomy.”

Carla blinked. “So… not even real life?”

“Nope. TV magic,” Lisa said with a shrug. “I just had faith. And hey, hugs are usually comforting.”

“Well, yes, unless you hate being touched. Then they’re just awkward and claustrophobic, and they make the person being hugged feel worse, and the person doing the hugging feel ridiculous.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “That your subtle way of telling me I made you feel worse?”

“No. I’m saying you could have. But… you didn’t,” Carla replied.

“I’ll take it.”

“Thank you… would it be okay if I took a shower?” Carla asked softly.

Lisa grinned. “Why, so you can wash my scent off you? I don’t smell that bad.”

Carla managed a small laugh. “Actually, you smell really nice, so it’s definitely not that. I just… I feel like I need to wash this awful day off.”

“Fair enough,” Lisa said with a nod. “Bathroom’s at the top of the stairs, first door on the right. There should be towels in the cabinet. Feel free to use any of the products, except the ones labelled ‘Betsy.’ She might only be thirteen, but she guards her shampoo like it’s the Crown Jewels.”

Carla smiled, the smallest crack in her guarded expression. “Got it. Avoid Betsy’s stash or face the consequences.”

“Exactly,” Lisa said with a playful wink. “And once you’re done, I’ll make you some buttery toast, if you’re feeling up to eating.”

Carla gave a small nod, already turning toward the stairs. “Yeah… I think I might be.”

Lisa watched as Carla disappeared up the stairs, her footsteps soft and uncertain. Once she was out of sight, Lisa turned and made her way into the kitchen.

She pulled out her phone, hesitated for a second, then dialled a number and held it to her ear, bracing herself for the conversation that was about to come.

The line rang twice before Lisa’s mum picked up.

“Hey love, everything alright?”

“Yeah, all fine. Just calling to say I won’t be by tonight to pick up Betsy. I’ll come in the morning, if that’s okay?” Lisa said, already opening a cupboard and pulling out the bread.

“That’s fine, but… is everything really alright?” her mum asked.

Lisa paused.

“I’ve got someone here. A girl. Well, a woman. Her name’s Carla. Found her tonight on the bridge.”

There was silence for a beat.

“Jesus, Lisa… did you take her to the hospital?”

Lisa rubbed at her temple and leaned back against the counter. “No. Not yet.”

“Why not?” her mum asked.

Lisa hesitated, eyes drifting toward the staircase.

“She reminds me of someone,” she said quietly.

“Alright. Just… be careful. And make sure you do take her in, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Lisa said. “In the morning. I’ll call ahead so they’re expecting her. I just think… one night of warmth and quiet might do more good than a waiting room full of sick people and questions.”

There was a soft sigh on the other end of the line.

“You’ve always had your dad’s heart. Just don’t carry more than you’re meant to, alright?”

“I won’t.”

They both knew it was a lie. But neither of them said so.

Lisa ended the call and slipped her phone onto the counter.

A moment later, she heard footsteps from upstairs, soft and unhurried. Carla was out of the shower.

Lisa turned her attention to the toast, buttering it quickly and placing it on a plate at the table. Just as she set it down, Carla appeared in the doorway.

She was back in the spare pyjamas, her hair damp and falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She looked not relaxed exactly, but steadier, like whatever storm had been raging in her mind had eased just a little.

Lisa gave her a small smile. “Perfect timing. Toast’s still warm.”

“Thank you, Lisa. For all of this,” Carla said quietly, her voice sincere.

Lisa waved a hand, trying to play it off. “Don’t mention it. I mean, you were my 100th jumper, so now I get ten extra holiday days. Bit of a milestone, really.”

Carla blinked, then gave a dry chuckle. “Is that how it works?”

“Pretty sure it’s in the small print,” Lisa grinned. “Right next to the free coffee machine and the medal.”

Carla shook her head, but a small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She slid into the seat at the table, and Lisa sat across from her.

Carla began to nibble at her toast while Lisa fixed her gaze on a faint mark in the wood grain, doing her best not to stare.

“Come on then,” Carla said, breaking the quiet. “Tell me something else about yourself. The silence is too much. It makes my thoughts too loud. Give me something to distract myself. Tell me about Betsy. I mean, parents love to gush about their kids… well, unless you’re my mother, of course. But seriously, anything.”

Lisa gave a hesitant smile. “Are you sure? Because once I start talking about her, I don’t shut up. It can get boring really fast.”

“Lisa,” Carla said gently, “if I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t have asked. Yeah, distraction would be nice, but I’m also genuinely interested.”

Lisa hesitated. She knew she shouldn’t. She never spoke about her family in depth, and tonight was already crossing every line she’d drawn for herself. But something about Carla made it hard to say no.

“Well…” Lisa began, her voice softer now. “She’s a typical teenage girl, into makeup, skincare, and hair stuff. I miss the days when I could get her toys for Christmas and the pile under the tree looked enormous. Now it’s all clothes, lip gloss, serums, and books. She absolutely loves to read.”

Carla smiled. “Takes after her mother then.”

“Not so much these days. I haven’t picked up a book in forever. I just don’t have the time. And it’s sad because I really miss it. Getting lost in a world of characters, shutting off the noise in my own head, that used to be my favourite escape. Especially after my dad died. I’d spend hours in the library. It was my safe place. The one place where everything else could just disappear.”

“What’s Betsy’s favourite book at the moment?” Carla asked.

Lisa smiled, shaking her head slightly. “Oh, that’s a loaded question. She’s got three or four on the go right now, each a different genre or just for whatever mood she’s in. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you any of the titles off the top of my head. She tells me, but she reads so fast it’s hard to keep up.”

She paused and glanced at Carla. “But I think it’s time you answer a question about yourself. Don’t worry, I won’t ask anything heavy.”

Carla raised an eyebrow.

“Okay… I mean, I probably know more about you than you wanted to share already, so I appreciate you being so open, even if you probably shouldn’t be. So, what do you want to know?”

“Do you believe in fate?”

Carla rolled her eyes. “And you said nothing heavy.”

“That wasn’t my question,” Lisa said, laughing. “My real question was pineapple on pizza: yes or no? Honestly, I don’t know why I even asked about fate.”

“Pineapple on pizza is a crime against humanity. Absolutely no. And as for fate… I’m not sure. Why’d you ask?”

Lisa’s expression grew serious. “Crime against humanity? Are you joking? And well, tonight I wasn’t supposed to be on duty. I was covering for my partner and just about to clock out when the phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Eventually, I gave in, and then I got all these calls about you.”

She looked down for a moment before meeting Carla’s eyes again.

“And I just think finding you today, almost ten years to the day since I stood in that exact same spot, thinking the same thing you were, it feels like more than coincidence. Like the universe knew you needed me, and maybe I needed you too. Or maybe it just knew I needed to help you.”

Carla huffed, crossing her arms as she leaned back in the chair, the crusts of her toast still sitting in front of her.

“I think the universe is messing with me,” she muttered. “It knew my plans and decided to send the nosiest, most stubborn police officer it could find just to ruin my day.”

Lisa sipped her tea. “Well, it’s not the first time I’ve been called nosey or stubborn. So I’ll take it. But I don’t think I was sent to ruin your day, Carla. I think I was there to stop you from making a choice you’d regret.”

Carla gave a bitter scoff, her eyes fixed on a spot on the table as she spoke.

“I wouldn’t have regretted it,” she sighed. “I’d have been dead. My mind would be quiet. The screaming thoughts would’ve finally stopped, and the pain would be gone. I wouldn’t be hurting anymore.”

Lisa stayed quiet, giving her space.

“I wouldn’t have to think about why I wasn’t enough for my husband,” Carla continued, her voice low and shaking. “Why he cheated on me with the babysitter? Why wasn’t I enough to keep my baby safe inside me? Why didn’t she want to stay?”

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t stop.

“Why I wasn’t good enough to be a mum. Why I still miss my brother, even after what he did. He murdered the babysitter. Cold blooded. And he’s in prison where he belongs, but I miss him. Isn’t that messed up?”

She laughed bitterly, eyes glassy but defiant.

“And I miss him too, my husband. After everything. After everything he broke and burned down. I still miss him. I miss the life I thought we had. And I hate that I do.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, the silence that followed heavy and unmoving.

“I just want it to stop,” she whispered. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

Lisa leaned over, placed her hand gently on Carla’s, and gave it a squeeze.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything that happened to you. But Carla, dying isn’t the way out. We all go through horrible things. It’s the way the world works. People die, people lie, people cheat. People get hurt, and people hurt us. But if everyone took the easy way out, if everyone decided that death was the answer to pain, this world would be a very empty place.”

She paused, her voice soft but firm.

“I know it seems impossible right now. I know you think you’ll never get over this, that you’ll never smile or laugh or love again. But you will. One day, the storm clouds will pass, and you’ll see the sun. I’m not saying every day will be sunshine and roses. You’ll still have bad days among the good. But moving forward, trying to live in spite of it all, it’s hard, yes, but worth it. And on your bad days, you’ll look back on the good ones and remember that they exist. That you made it through once, and you will again.”

Carla’s eyes narrowed.

“Do you?”

Lisa blinked. “Do I what?”

“Have bad days and use your good ones to remind yourself? Or are you just feeding me a bunch of nonsense to make me feel better? To make yourself feel better?”

There it was again. Lisa stepping over invisible lines, sharing pieces of herself she usually kept locked away, especially from strangers. But something in Carla’s question pierced through her. She swallowed hard.

“Yes. Honestly, I do,” she said quietly. “When Bex first died, every day was a bad day. I rotted in bed, day after day. I didn’t see Betsy. I couldn’t. And do you know how much of a failure that made me feel? My three year old daughter needed comfort, and I couldn’t even look at her. And I hate myself for admitting this, but in my mind, she was the reason Bex was gone. Saving her meant I couldn’t save Becky.”

Lisa looked down, ashamed, her voice barely above a whisper now.

“I know it’s not rational. Of course I do. It was never Betsy’s fault. And when I couldn’t blame Betsy anymore, because she needed me, I blamed Bex. Because she told me to save Betsy. She begged me to get her away from the car. She wouldn’t let me put Betsy down. She wanted her far enough away in case the car exploded. And I get it now. She was protecting her. But at the time, I saw it like she chose to leave us. Like she didn’t let me try for both of them.”

Lisa drew in a shaky breath.

“The only person I should’ve blamed was the drunk driver. The man who got behind the wheel when he was five times over the legal limit. He suffers every day, though. He didn’t just kill my wife and unborn child. He killed his own wife and two kids. And now he lives with that for the rest of his life.”

She looked up, eyes tired but honest.

“So now, ten years on, the good days outweigh the bad. But in the beginning, I didn’t even recognise myself. My mum had to move in for nearly two years because I couldn’t function. I couldn’t do it alone. And I’m grateful Betsy was so young. She doesn’t remember much from that time. But she can never know. Never find out that, for a while, I hated her. Even now, it kills me to admit it.”

Carla rubbed her thumb gently over the back of Lisa’s hand.

“I’m sorry you went through all of that. But I’m also sorry that me being here is opening up old wounds. I never meant for that to happen. You’ve been so kind to me, and here I am punishing you by making you dig up your past,” she said with a sigh.

Lisa gave a faint smile. “I mean, you didn’t exactly ask for all the ins and outs. But there’s just something about you that makes it so easy to talk.”

“It’s because I’m almost as messed up as you,” Carla quipped.

“Only almost?”

“Yeah, only almost. But there’s still time, I suppose,” Carla replied with a small smirk.

Lisa tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eye. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“It means,” Carla said dryly, “you should quit being a police officer slash part time comedian and become a therapist.”

Lisa chuckled. “Way too much listening for my liking. But seriously, Carla, I’m really glad I’ve managed to talk some sense into you. That you’re seeing even a flicker of light at the end of the tunnel.”

Truthfully, Lisa wasn’t entirely sure if Carla was being honest or just telling her what she wanted to hear. But if it meant Carla was going to the hospital tomorrow without a fight, then Lisa would take it. That, to her, was a win. Reluctant or not, Carla was going, and hopefully she’d finally get the help she needed.

Lisa tried to stifle a yawn, but it escaped anyway. She glanced at the clock, almost midnight. Definitely later than she was usually awake.

“Are you ready for bed, or do you want to talk some more?” she asked.

“Lisa, you look like you’re about to fall asleep on your nose,” Carla said with a faint smile. “And we both know I’m going to be doing a lot of talking tomorrow, so why don’t you just show me where I can sleep, or lie down and stare at the ceiling contemplating life, and I’ll get out of your hair. You’ve already gone above and beyond. I’m pretty sure there’s a row waiting for you when your superiors find out you brought me home instead of taking me straight to the hospital.”

“Not so much a row, more like a stern reminder that boundaries exist and to remain professional at all times, blah blah blah. If I’ve heard that speech once, I’ve heard it a thousand times. But hey, rules are meant to be broken.”

“Probably not the best philosophy to have as a copper,” Carla quipped.

“Yeah, maybe keep that our little secret,” Lisa smirked. “Right, come on then. Let’s get you into bed.”

She led the way out of the kitchen, Carla close behind. They walked upstairs, down the hallway, and stopped at the last door on the right. Lisa pushed it open, stepping aside to let Carla in.

“Wow,” Carla said as she looked around. “Fancy guest room.”

“It’s my mother’s room,” Lisa explained. “Well, it was when she lived here. She likes things a certain way, so I let her decorate it however she wanted. After all, she was doing me a favour by moving in. She still stays over every now and then, so it didn’t really make sense to change anything.”

“It’s lovely,” Carla said, walking over to the dressing table. She picked up a photo frame and studied it. It showed Lisa with two other women, one older, one much younger. “Wow, your genes are strong. You’re the double of your mum. And is that Betsy? She’s literally a mini you.”

Lisa smiled. “Yeah, that was taken a few years ago. Back when I could actually convince Betsy to take pictures with me. Now she’s way too cool for that, unless there’s a Snapchat filter involved.”

Carla set the photo frame back down and made her way over to the bed. She sat on the edge as Lisa stood in front of her.

“There are spare pillows under the bed, and a thinner quilt too, in case you get warm. You know where the bathroom and kitchen are, so help yourself to anything, unless it’s got Betsy’s name on it,” Lisa added with a small chuckle.

“I promise to keep my hands off Betsy’s stuff,” Carla said with a faint smile. “But honestly, I’m hoping to just get some sleep.”

“Well, there’s a telly at the foot of the bed if you can’t, or you can head downstairs and use the one there. We don’t have normal TV, but we’ve got every streaming service known to mankind.”

“Thank you, Lisa. And… goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Carla,” Lisa said softly, easing the bedroom door shut behind her.

She paused for a moment, her hand resting on the handle, then leaned gently against the wood. A quiet breath escaped her lips as she closed her eyes.

Even if it was just for tonight, she had made a difference. She had stopped Carla from doing something irreversible. Lisa didn’t know what tomorrow would look like, or how heavy the morning might feel, but right now, Carla was asleep.

Safe.

Alive.

And for tonight, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Carla tossed and turned. The thoughts in her head were too loud, her chest felt like someone was sitting on it, and lying in this bed, someone else’s bed, was too much. She shot upright, climbed out, and began pacing. She didn’t want to be here. She shouldn’t be here. She should be at the bottom of the river, where the thoughts and all the pain she was feeling would finally stop.

But instead, she was in a police officer’s house, in a guest room, wearing pyjamas that weren’t hers. Her thoughts were louder than ever, but this time, they weren’t the ones that had led her to the bridge. No, these were different. These thoughts were telling her to leave, not to run away, but to run home. To go back to Weatherfield. To heal there. Or at least try.

She hated to admit it, but maybe Lisa had talked some sense into her. She did miss Michelle and Roy, the factory, even her staff, though she’d never tell them that. She hadn’t missed Peter, and seeing him again wasn’t something she was looking forward to. But if she was going to move forward, she had to face her demons.

She had no intention of anyone ever finding out where she’d really been or how far she’d fallen. As far as they were concerned, she’d been in L.A. She could explain the lack of a tan by saying she’d spent most of her time in the hotel or at the spa. Hopefully, they’d believe it.

Carla glanced around the room, her chest still tight but her mind made up. On the small desk near the window, she spotted a notepad and a pen. She sat down slowly, the cool air brushing her skin, and tore off the top sheet.

Her hand trembled slightly as she wrote.

Lisa

Thank you for being a nosy, stubborn police officer and making sure I didn’t jump. I know what I need to do now. I know how to move forward. I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye. I thought it would be easier that way.

I hope you keep fighting your demons, every single day.

Carla x

She stared at the words for a moment, then folded the note and left it on the pillow. Moving quietly, she found her clothes folded neatly on a nearby chair. She dressed quickly, pulling her coat on over yesterday’s jeans and jumper. Her boots made the faintest sound on the wooden floor as she crept toward the door.

She paused in the hallway, listening. The house was silent.

Guilt pricked at her. Lisa had done more than she ever had to, and now Carla was leaving without even saying goodbye. But she knew that if she waited any longer, she might change her mind, and who knew where she’d end up then?

She slipped out the front door, closing it gently behind her. The street was quiet. She pulled her coat tighter around her and walked down the street without looking back.

She didn’t remember the journey back to Weatherfield. It felt like she blinked, and suddenly, she was stepping onto the cobbled street again. She stopped. For the first time since leaving Lisa’s, and packing up her life in London, she truly stopped.

She hadn’t let herself before. Stopping meant thinking. Thinking meant feeling. And feeling, feeling meant spiralling. It meant bridges, any bridge, and the terrifying notion that next time, Lisa wouldn’t be there to pull her back.

Was this the right move? Was coming home what she truly needed, or just what she thought she needed at the time? She hadn’t been back since she lost her baby.

7 Months Ago

The hospital room was too white. Too bright. Too still. Carla lay in the bed, motionless. Her hands rested on her stomach. It felt flat now, so suddenly, so cruelly.

The monitor had been turned off. There were no more heartbeats, no more hope.

A nurse stood at the foot of the bed, her voice gentle but hollow. “There’s nothing we can do now. I’m sorry.”

Carla didn’t cry. Not then. Her eyes were dry, too dry, like her body had gone into some kind of shutdown. She stared at the ceiling, her lips pressed together, holding in everything. The grief. The anger. The blame.

Present Day

The memory faded, but the ache remained, deep in her chest, a wound that never quite closed.

As she turned onto Victoria Street, everything looked the same, and yet completely different. Her eyes flicked over Roy’s café, Street Cars, and then up toward her flat. Her chest tightened.

Was this the right decision?

Should she be doing this now?

Should she just turn away, leave, pretend she never came back?

The pavement felt cold under her boots. The door to the flat loomed in front of her like a question she wasn’t sure she could answer. She stared at it, keys in her hand, fingers trembling slightly.

She took a breath. Then another.

And she turned the key.

The flat smelled stale and untouched. No one had been here since she’d left. Dust clung to surfaces. Her coat, the one she hadn’t taken, still hung by the door. It was like stepping into a version of her life she no longer fit inside.

Her wedding ring still sat on the kitchen counter, unmoved, exactly where she’d left it the day she walked out of the flat and left her husband, her street, and her life behind.

She dropped her bag by the sofa, walked to the window, and looked out over the cobbles. The streets were quiet. Comforting. Real.

It wasn’t going to be easy. There’d be questions. There’d be Peter. But she wasn’t here to fix everything in one day.

She headed back into the kitchen, opened the cupboard, and pulled out a glass, followed by a bottle of wine. She poured herself a drink and downed it in one go before pouring another, something to settle her nerves.

Carla sat at the kitchen table, the second glass of wine untouched in front of her. The room was quiet, too quiet, and the weight of it all pressed down on her shoulders. She stared at her phone for a long moment before finally picking it up and opening a message.

Carla: I’m home.

She sent it to Michelle before she could talk herself out of it. Five minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Carla’s heart pounded. She stood slowly, unsure if she was ready, but she crossed the flat and opened the door anyway.

Michelle stood there, breathless, as if she’d sprinted the whole way. Her eyes searched Carla’s face, relief and worry battling for dominance.

“Carla,” she breathed, stepping forward instinctively, pulling her into a hug before Carla could react.

For a second, Carla froze. Then she let herself sink into it.

Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to.

“Right, come on. We’ve sat in silence long enough. Where have you been? And don’t give me any crap about being in L.A. I spoke to Suzie.”

Carla gave a half-smile, eyes dropping to her glass. “Well, clearly Suzie’s been gossiping again. Typical.”

Michelle didn’t flinch. “Carla.”

“I just needed a break, that’s all.” She stood, took her glass to the sink, more for something to do with her hands than anything else. “Sunshine, spa days, overpriced coffee… you know the drill.”

Michelle folded her arms. “You think I don’t know when you’re lying?”

Carla sighed, resting her hands on the counter, back still to her. “Does it matter where I was? I’m here now.”

“It matters,” Michelle said quietly, “because I was scared. We all were. And you disappearing like that, no texts, no calls. Carla, we thought the worst.”

Carla turned slightly, jaw tightening. “Yeah, well… the worst wasn’t far off.”

Silence settled between them. Heavy. Real.

Carla turned fully now, leaning against the counter, arms crossed tight over her chest like armour.

“I’m not ready to talk about it, Michelle,” she muttered. “So either drop it or go.”

Michelle stared at her in disbelief, eyes narrowing. “Then why text me, Carla? If you didn’t want to talk, if you didn’t want to see me, why tell me you were home?”

Carla looked away, her voice low. “I don’t know. I just… I thought I could handle it.”

Michelle shook her head, hurt flickering behind her frustration. “You don’t get to dangle that and then shut down the second someone cares enough to show up. I came running. Because I care. Because I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“I didn’t ask you to come.”

“No, you didn’t. But you wanted someone to.” Michelle’s voice cracked slightly. “You just don’t know what to do with it when they do.”

She stepped back. “You know where to find me, when you’re done pushing everyone away.”

She opened the door but didn’t wait for a reply. It closed behind her with a quiet but final click.

Carla stood motionless, staring at the space Michelle had just left.

The weight of it all hit her like a wave.

She dropped to the floor, her back against the cold cupboard door, arms wrapped tightly around her knees.

And then she cried.

Silently at first, then harder, tears she’d buried for months breaking free, raw, ragged, and real.

She was home.

But she had never felt further from it.

It wasn’t long before she pulled herself together. Wiping her face, she pushed herself up off the floor and made her way to the bedroom. But the moment she opened the door, she stopped in her tracks.

Her world crumbled all over again.

There, laid neatly on the bed, was a baby outfit, the one she had picked out for her daughter. Michelle had called it the “coming home” outfit. A tiny white sleep suit, scattered with delicate white and brown bunnies. Beside it sat a little white bunny teddy, its stitched smile now unbearable to look at.

Carla’s breath caught. The pain came rushing back, sharp and unforgiving.

Carla stood frozen for a moment, staring at the tiny outfit and the stuffed bunny like they were ghosts, fragile, quiet reminders of everything she’d lost. Her chest tightened. Her throat burned.

And then something inside her snapped.

With a guttural scream, she grabbed the outfit and flung it across the room. The teddy followed, slamming into the wardrobe with a dull thud. She swept her arm across the dresser, sending picture frames and perfume bottles crashing to the floor.

The lamp. The chair. The mirror. She didn’t care.

She tore the duvet off the bed and hurled it aside, fists pounding against the mattress like it had betrayed her.

She was supposed to be home with a new-born right now.

Sleepless nights. Cradling soft skin against hers. The ache of breastfeeding. The warmth of a baby curled against her chest in the dead of night. Crying, nappies, lullabies… love.

A bubble of exhaustion and wonder. A life.

Instead, she had silence.

A cold bed. Empty arms.

She sank to the floor, her back against the frame of the bed, sobs wracking her body. She wrapped her arms around herself as if that might fill the void. As if that might bring her baby back.

I should be holding her right now. I should be holding her. Not this. Anything but this.

The room around her was a mess, but not as much as she was inside.

And for the first time in a long time, Carla didn’t try to pull herself together.

She let herself fall apart.

Chapter Text

Lisa stood in her guest room, now empty. Just hours ago, a sleeping brunette had been lying in that bed.

Throughout the night, Lisa had quietly checked on Carla more than once. She wasn’t even sure why, only that something in her gut told her she needed to see, with her own eyes, that Carla was still there. That she was still breathing. Still okay.

Each time, she’d found Carla fast asleep, her chest rising and falling in the dim light.

So, just after 3:30 a.m., Lisa finally gave in and climbed into her own bed. She reached for her phone and, like she did every night, opened her notes app and began to type a message to Becky.

She knew it was silly, of course she did. But it was a ritual, one that helped her stay grounded.

They used to end every night lying in bed, talking. About their day. About Betsy. About their feelings, the future, and all the little things in between.

When Becky died, Lisa hadn’t just lost her partner, she’d lost that quiet connection, that space where her thoughts were safe.

She quickly realised that jotting down a small note each night, as if she were still talking to Bex, gave her back a piece of that connection. It helped.

It reminded her she wasn’t entirely alone.

Once she had left her nightly message for Bex, she fell asleep and didn’t wake until after her alarm. That was very unlike her. It was then that she found the empty room. It looked untouched, as if no one had ever slept in it. Lisa would have thought she had dreamed it all, meeting Carla, bringing her home, opening up to her, promising to help, if it weren’t for the note left on Carla’s pillow.

She picked it up and read it several times before slipping it into the pocket of her dressing gown. Then she stripped the bed, gathered the bedding, and headed downstairs. She threw the washing into the machine and turned it on, before finally making herself a cup of coffee.

Lisa placed Carla’s note gently on the kitchen table and sat down, staring at it like it might suddenly change. She read it once. Then again. And again. Each time hoping that new meaning would appear between the lines. But the words stayed the same, silent, vague, and empty of answers.

She had no idea where Carla was. No idea if she was safe. Or alive.

Had she gone through with it? Had Lisa failed her? Or was there a chance she’d actually listened, taken what Lisa said and gone home?

But there wasn’t time to spiral. Betsy would be home soon. Lisa had to pull herself together.

Still, the urge to act was unbearable. She wanted to call hospitals. Drive the streets. Knock on doors. But what would she even say? “Hi, I’m looking for a woman I just met who vanished overnight after hearing my life story”? Carla was a stranger. A stranger who had somehow become more than that. Who now lived in her head like someone she’d known for years.

A stranger who knew her darkest truths.

Lisa sat in silence, her hands curled around her coffee mug, long gone cold. The weight of it all sat heavy on her chest, Carla’s disappearance, the guilt, the helplessness. She barely registered the vibrating and ringing of her phone until it startled her back to the room. The number on the screen wasn’t one she expected, especially not today. A call from her boss on her day off couldn’t mean anything good.

She took a few deep breaths and prayed, something she never did, that this wasn’t a call about Carla.

She answered, already bracing herself. “Guv? Everything okay? It’s my day off.”

“Everything’s fine,” her boss replied. A little too casually for Lisa’s liking. “Just following up on something we discussed a while back. About your interest in a promotion, and relocating. You’d said you were open, if the right opportunity came along.”

Lisa blinked, struggling to process the shift in conversation. “Yes… I mean, I haven’t changed my mind. I just assumed it wasn’t happening. I never heard anything else.”

“Well, there’s an opening at Weatherfield Nick. DI position. The current DI’s a good friend of mine, he’s retiring early. He asked me if I knew someone who could fill his shoes, and I thought of you immediately. Honestly, the candidates there aren’t strong. You’ve more than earned this, Lisa.”

He paused, then softened his tone.

“I know it’s a big move. Uprooting everything. I want you to have time to think, but not too long. He needs an answer by the end of the month, and he’d want you to shadow him before he leaves.”

Lisa didn’t reply right away. Her throat felt tight.

This was everything she’d worked for. Every sacrifice, every late shift, every missed bedtime, every time she’d told Betsy, “I’ll make it up to you.” Every birthday she wasn’t there. Every Christmas dinner she ate in a break room. All of it had been for this.

And now that it was real, it didn’t feel like a victory. It felt like a question she didn’t know how to answer. Because it wasn’t just her anymore. It was Betsy. Her whole world. Moving meant changing her school, her friends, if she even made new ones. And what if she didn’t?

“I’ll need to speak to Betsy,” Lisa said quietly. “See how she feels. Then I’ll let you know.”

“Of course,” her boss replied. “Just take the time you need. But really consider it, Lisa. This could be a fresh start. A good one.”

“Thanks, Guv.”

She ended the call and set the phone on the table, staring at it in silence. Of all the days. Her mind was already consumed with worry about Carla, and now this, this life-altering decision, had landed in her lap.

If Becky were still alive, Lisa wouldn’t have thought twice. They would’ve made the move together, as a family of four. But now, it was just her and Betsy. And she couldn’t make a decision like this without her daughter.

She expected resistance, maybe shouting, slamming doors, dramatic screams. What teenager would want to leave everything they knew behind and start again somewhere new? Part of her was tempted to just keep the offer to herself, thank her boss politely, and say the timing wasn’t right.

But when would it ever be right?

She and Becky had thought they had forever. They were planning a future. And then, in the blink of an eye, it was all gone. Lisa had become a single mum, losing her wife and unborn child in one cruel stroke. She never imagined life turning out this way.

Maybe it was time to stop letting fear steer the wheel. Maybe it was time to take the leap.

The front door opened and shut, pulling Lisa out of her thoughts. A few seconds later, Betsy was standing in front of her, waving a hand in her face.

“Sorry, love, I was miles away. Where’s your nan?” Lisa asked, blinking up at her.

“She had a doctor’s appointment. Dropped me off and left,” Betsy replied.

“Right… I was hoping to talk to her too.”

“Everything okay, Mum?”

Lisa hesitated. “You should probably sit down,” she said, getting up to pour herself another cup of coffee before returning to the table.

Betsy raised a brow. “Who’s died?”

Lisa looked up. “Nobody! Why would you ask that?”

“You’ve got that ‘someone just died’ face plastered all over you.”

“I do not,” Lisa protested. “And I didn’t even know I had a face for that.”

“You totally do,” Betsy said, deadpan. “Lillypad, Nanny Gaynor, Uncle Tim… even the neighbour’s dog. You made the exact same face. Now I just assume the worst whenever I see it.”

“There is no way I made the same face telling you that your two-week-old hamster died as when I told you about your great-grandma and your uncle.”

“Oh, you did,” Betsy grinned. “Exactly the same face. So now I never know whether I’m mourning a pet or a person.”

Lisa couldn’t help it, she laughed, shaking her head. “You’re terrible.”

“But I’m not wrong,” Betsy said with a smirk.

Lisa exhaled, the laughter easing some of the tension in her chest. But the truth still sat there, waiting to be spoken.

“Okay,” she said softly, “but no one’s died. I just… need to talk to you about something big.”

“Are you okay? You’re not sick, are you?” Betsy asked.

“Love, I’m not sick, and nobody’s died. This is good news, well, I think it’s good news. You might think it’s the end of the world. I want to talk about it with you openly, before any decisions are made,” Lisa said.

She braced herself, wrapping her hands tightly around her coffee cup.

“I’ve been offered a promotion,” Lisa said.

“As a DI?” Betsy asked.

“Yes. DI Bennet has a friend retiring early. None of the officers at his station are in a position to take over, so he recommended me,” Lisa explained.

“Mum, that’s amazing! But wait, why did you say I’d think it was the end of the world?”

“I haven’t said yes yet, okay? I’d never agree to anything without speaking to you first. But… the job’s in Manchester. Weatherfield.”

“Manchester?”

“Yes. Like I said, I haven’t accepted it. I have until the end of the month to decide,” Lisa replied.

“I say go for it,” Betsy said.

“Excuse me?”

“Mum, this house has never really felt like home. Not completely. I mean, I don’t remember Mum, but it’s like her ghost has always been here, keeping us from being truly happy. And you’ve never dated anyone either. You can’t keep using me as the reason you’re still single. If this is what you really want, I won’t stand in your way.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about this, Bets?”

Betsy smiled softly. “Of course I’m sure. You’ve always put me first. If this is something you want, really want, then I’m behind you one hundred percent.”

Lisa exhaled, relief and gratitude flickering across her face. She reached over and gave Betsy’s hand a squeeze.

“Right,” Betsy said, brightening. “Let’s look at houses!”

She turned and grabbed her laptop off the kitchen counter, setting it down between them at the table.

“Let’s see what we’ve got near the station in Weatherfield,” Betsy murmured, scrolling. “We’re not moving somewhere with zero decent takeaways, just so you know.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Lisa agreed. “That’s non-negotiable.”

Suddenly, Betsy stopped scrolling. “Wait… this one. Number 6, Coronation Street. It’s only a few minutes from the station.”

“Coronation Street?”

“Sounds nice,” Betsy admitted. “Look, it’s cute. Three bedrooms, large garden with a conservatory too.”

Lisa studied the screen. “Yeah… it does. Feels sort of… settled. Like somewhere you could build a proper life.”

“Come on, Mum. It’s a sign. You get the promotion, we move here, and start fresh. It’s fate.”

Lisa laughed. “You’re a bit dramatic, you know that?”

“Runs in the family.”

Betsy tapped a few more keys, her eyes lighting up. “I looked it up. There’s a pub, a bistro, a cafe, some takeaways, shops… and even a knicker factory all within walking distance. I could maybe even get a job at the knicker factory there when I’m sixteen.”

Lisa chuckled softly. “A knicker factory? That’s… unexpected.”

“Yeah, but it sounds like a proper little neighborhood. Everything you’d need, all close by.”

Lisa nodded slowly, a smile tugging at her lips. “Alright, Betsy. You’ve sold me. I’ll take the job, and we’ll move to Coronation Street.”

Betsy’s face lit up with excitement. “Yes! This is going to be great.”

Lisa took a deep breath, feeling a hopeful flutter inside her chest. “A fresh start. For both of us.”

Betsy closed the laptop and gave her mum a quick hug. “We’ll make it work, I promise.”

Later that night, the house was quiet.

Lisa lay in bed, her back against the headboard. Betsy had long since gone to bed, buzzing with plans and dreams of Coronation Street and the new life that lay ahead.

But for Lisa, it wasn’t excitement that kept her awake, it was the weight of goodbye.

She reached for her phone and opened the Notes app, her fingers hesitating for a moment before she began to type.

Becky,

I’ve decided to take the promotion. We’re moving to Weatherfield, Coronation Street .I hope you understand. I love this house, our house, but it hasn’t been our house for years. It’s been a long time, and I think… it’s time. Time for a fresh start. For Betsy. For me. I’ve been trying to hold on so tightly to what we had, to what we lost. But maybe moving forward doesn’t mean letting go of you, it just means making room for something new.

If this is okay… just give me a sign. Something small.

Love always,

Lisa x

She stared at the screen for a moment longer, then locked her phone and set it on the bedside table.

The room fell still again.

Then, a soft knock came at the window, followed by the low rustling of leaves. Lisa turned her head and smiled faintly.

It was just the tree outside, its branches swaying in the night breeze like it did every night.

But tonight… it felt like more than just the wind.

She whispered, “Thank you,” and turned off the lamp.

Eight weeks later, the moving van sat outside Number 6 Coronation Street. Betsy had given up helping, she’d moved her bedroom things inside but quickly lost interest after that. Lisa picked up the last two boxes from the van, carefully making her way along the pavement. The boxes towered above her, and she barely noticed where she was going, fully focused on balancing them.

Suddenly, she collided with someone.

Boxes nearly slipping from her grip, Lisa stumbled back and quickly set them down.

“I’m so sorry!” she said, looking up, and froze.

Standing right in front of her was Carla.

Lisa blinked in surprise. “Carla?”

Chapter Text

Lisa’s eyes widened. “Carla…?”

Carla couldn’t speak. The world tipped sideways for a moment. She hadn’t seen Lisa since she’d pulled her back, literally, from the edge of the bridge at her lowest, 8 weeks ago.

Now here she was. In Weatherfield. On her street.

Before Carla could even find the right words, the screech of tyres cut through the thick silence.

A taxi stopped just feet away. Her stomach sank before she even saw the door open.

“Carla!” came the voice she’d been dreading.

Peter.

Of course it would all come crashing down on the same day. Peter had left Weatherfield a month before she returned, off helping a mate out on a boat for three months, trying to clear his head. Naturally, he’d painted himself as the victim. Ken had mentioned to Peter that Carla was back, and told Carla that Peter was planning on returning as soon as possible, something she wasn’t exactly looking forward to. And now, it seemed “as soon as possible” meant today.

He stormed out of the taxi. “We need to talk, now.”

Carla turned sharply, anger and panic flaring up in equal measure. “Peter, not here.”

Then she remembered Lisa was still standing right in front of her, watching, confused and concerned.

Carla swallowed hard, her voice quieter now. “This isn’t a good time.”

Lisa said nothing. She just turned away, pretending it was nothing more than two strangers bumping into each other, no one at fault, no reason to stop.

Carla turned and walked toward the flat. Peter followed closely behind. She unlocked the door without a word, stormed up the stairs, then unlocked the second door and stepped inside. Peter entered after her, and she shut the door behind them.

“I don’t appreciate you shouting at me in the middle of the street,” Carla snapped.

“I don’t appreciate waking up one morning to a note and your wedding ring on the kitchen counter, telling me you’d left, that you wanted a divorce, and that I should move out of our flat,” he shot back.

“Don’t stand there and act like the fucking victim, as if I blindsided you. That’s not what happened. You cheated on me.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Oh, right, you’re sorry,” Carla snapped. “So that’s it? Everything’s fine now? We just forget that you screwed the babysitter and I lost our baby?”

“Love, please,” Peter said quietly. “We can move past this.”

She grabbed a photo frame from the kitchen counter and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the wall.

“Don’t you dare call me ‘love,’” she hissed. “You think we can just move past this like it’s some stupid argument? You have no idea what I’ve been through these last seven months. No idea, Peter. And it’s all because of you. So no, we’re not moving past anything.”

Peter stood there, motionless, the silence between them heavy.

“I’ve said I’m sorry,” he muttered, barely able to meet her eyes. “I was a mess. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

Carla’s laugh was sharp and humourless. “Yeah? You didn’t know? That’s your excuse for cheating on me with a twenty-three-year-old on our wedding night and every time afterwards?”

Peter flinched. “It wasn’t like that.”

She stepped closer, her voice trembling, eyes glassy with rage and grief. “It was exactly like that. I miscarried, Peter. Our baby fucking died. And whether you like it or not, the stress from your betrayal caused it.”

Her breath hitched, but she pressed on, voice gaining a dangerous edge.

“I collapsed in the street from cramps so violent I thought I was dying. And you know what the worst part was? I didn’t even want you there.”

She jabbed a finger toward his chest, her face contorting.

“I told you to stay away. I was on my way to the hospital, and I couldn’t stand the thought of you sitting beside me like you still had the right to care. I didn’t want your hand in mine. I didn’t want your voice in my ear. I wanted you gone because the sight of you made me sick.”

Her voice cracked, quiet now, gutted.

“And yet when they came in and told me it was over, I still looked at the door. I still half-hoped you’d walk through it, even though I told you to leave me alone. Even though I hated you. Because some part of me was still stupid enough to wish you could make it better.”

She paused, breath shaking, eyes brimming.

“But you couldn’t. You already broke it. You broke everything.”

“Jesus, Carla…” he whispered.

“No. Don’t you dare act horrified now,” she snapped. “You weren’t horrified when you unzipped your pants for the babysitter. You weren’t horrified when I told you I lost the baby.”

Peter’s voice cracked. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to…”

“You didn’t want to,” she spat. “So I left. The day after. Packed a bag and walked out and you didn’t even notice because you hadn’t even come home.”

“I thought you needed space…”

She cut him off with a bitter laugh. “I needed a husband, Peter. I needed someone to hold me and tell me it wasn’t my fault. But instead, I had to drag myself out of hell by my fingernails. Alone. Because the man I loved turned out to be a coward who ran into the arms of a slapper.”

“I made a mistake,” he said, voice low and ashamed.

Carla’s eyes flashed. “A mistake? No. A mistake is locking your keys in the car. A mistake is burning dinner. You made a choice, Peter. A conscious, selfish, gutless choice.”

He swallowed hard, guilt settling into every line of his face.

“I hit the kind of bottom that people don’t come back from,” she said, her voice quiet now, almost cold. “The kind where the air feels like glass in your lungs and waking up is the hardest thing you do all day. And I still got up. Every single day. Without you.”

Peter stepped forward, desperate. “Carla, please, just tell me how to fix this.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes hollow.

“You can’t,” she said simply. “There’s nothing left to fix.”

She walked to the door, opened it up, then turned back to look at him.

“Do yourself a favour, Peter. Find a bottle of whisky and drown whatever version of yourself still thinks this is salvageable. Because I don’t care anymore.”

And with that, he said no words and just left.

Carla knew this wasn’t the end, of course she did. But for now, it was enough. She had said her piece, and he had left. She wanted to cry, to scream, but she couldn’t. The last seven months had taken everything from her, and there wasn’t a tear left to fall.

Instead, she opened the kitchen drawer, rummaging for paper, a pen, and an envelope. She made her way to the kitchen table, sat down, and stared at the blank sheet in front of her. She didn’t even know what to say, where to begin, or if this was even the right thing to do. But Lisa had moved onto her street. They would see each other, whether they wanted to or not. It was only a matter of time before they bumped into one another.

Carla needed to clear the air. She had to make sure she and Lisa were on the same page. For months, she had kept her whereabouts a secret from everyone. And after Michelle left, Carla knew she owed her an apology. But she also knew Michelle well enough to understand that an apology alone wouldn’t cut it.

It needed to come with an explanation, one Carla wasn’t ready to give. But she had already lost her baby. She had lost her husband. She wasn’t going to lose her best friend too. Michelle was the one person she needed now more than ever.

8 Weeks Ago

Carla cleaned up her bedroom in silence, her movements slow, mechanical. Then she sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the tiny sleep suit and the bunny teddy. She hugged them tightly to her chest, squeezing them like they might somehow put her back together, like they could bring it all back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t keep you safe. That was my one job, to protect you, and I failed. I think about you all the time. Every day. What you would have looked like… what I would have named you… whether I’d have breastfed you or given you bottles. If you’d have been a good sleeper, or if you’d have needed me right there next to you. God, I would have loved that. I wouldn’t have minded. I would have done anything.”

Her shoulders trembled, her hands clutching the fabric tighter.

“I should be holding you in my arms right now. I should be singing to you, watching you breathe. And I’m not. I’m sorry I’m not. I’m sorry you never got the chance to be a person, to exist, to know what it felt like to be loved by me. Because I would have loved you with everything I had. Every part of you. No matter what. You would’ve always had me. Always.”

Tears slid down her cheeks, but she barely noticed.

“I thought about you that day on the bridge,” she said, her voice barely audible now. “I wondered if I’d ever get to meet you, if there really is a heaven. If you’d be there, waiting for me. I don’t know how it works. You were so small when I lost you. Would you still be small? Or would you be bigger, older? I like to think you’d be a real little baby, with fingers and toes and sleepy eyes, just waiting for me.”

She lowered her head, pressing her face into the soft stuffed bunny.

“I wish I could hold you. Just once. I wish you knew how much I wanted you.”

She wiped her eyes, placed the sleep suit and teddy gently into a box, and tucked it away on top of the wardrobe. Then she cleaned herself up, straightened her clothes, and told herself it was time. She needed to talk to Michelle.

It wasn’t long before she was pushing open the door of the Rovers, silently praying it was quiet. She didn’t have the energy for small talk or to come up with more lies about where she’d been. She was here for one reason, and one reason only.

Carla stood at the bar, her hands clasped in front of her, waiting patiently as Michelle served a customer. Her heart pounded in her chest, too loud, too fast. She should turn around. Go back to the flat. Hide. But she couldn’t. Not this time.

She’d missed Michelle more than she’d let herself admit. While she was in London, the distance had been a shield, but now that she was back, that shield was gone. She needed Michelle. Needed her support more than ever.

“Drink?” Michelle asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, thank you. Just… a word,” Carla murmured.

Michelle gave her a long look, then lifted the bar hatch. “Come through to the back.”

Carla stepped behind the bar, her legs heavier than they should’ve been, and followed Michelle into the back room.

“Have a seat,” Michelle said, gesturing to the sofa.

Carla sat down, perching herself on the edge of the sofa. “I’m sorry,” she muttered.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Michelle asked, arms folded.

“Chelle, don’t make me say it again.”

“No, go on. I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m sorry,” Carla repeated, a little louder this time.

“And what exactly are you sorry for?” Michelle asked, her voice sharp.

“Seriously?”

“Yes. You really thought I was going to make it easy for you?”

Carla sighed, eyes fixed on the floor. “I’m sorry for leaving the way I did, okay? I’m sorry for not keeping in touch. And I’m sorry for coming back and shutting down.”

Michelle was quiet for a moment, then said, “So… where were you?”

“London,” Carla admitted.

Michelle raised an eyebrow. “Right. Okay. If you’re not going to be honest, then you might as well go.”

“Chelle, I’m serious. I was in London,” Carla insisted. “I rented a little flat and stayed there.”

“Doing what?” Michelle asked, her tone still sceptical. “I mean… no offence to London, but it’s not exactly Carla Connor, is it?”

“That was the point,” Carla said quietly. “I didn’t want to be Carla Connor. Carla Connor’s husband cheated on her. Carla Connor had a miscarriage. Carla Connor’s brother got arrested for murder. Her life was falling apart. So in London… I was just CC. No one needed to know anything about me. And, honestly, no one cared.”

She swallowed hard, her voice trembling.

“I spent my days sleeping, barely getting up to eat or shower. And my nights… they were spent at the bottom of a bottle, or in bed with a stranger when the thoughts got too loud. For a little while, I could forget everything I’d been through. I could lose myself under some man and pretend, just for a minute, that my world hadn’t completely shattered. And it was nice… forgetting. But then the darkness always crept back in. And the truth is…”

She paused, her eyes welling.

“The only thing I really wanted to do… was die.”

Silence fell over the room like a heavy blanket. Carla stared at the floor, unable to look at Michelle.

“Forget I said anything,” Carla mumbled. “Let’s just pretend I was in L.A. or something. That everything was fine. That I was fine. That I’m okay now.”

“No,” Michelle said firmly. “We can’t just forget. I can’t forget.”

She reached over, resting a hand on Carla’s.

“Okay,” Carla said, her voice low and shaky. “Well… I tried. More than once. I tried to end it.”

Michelle pulled her into her arms and held her.

And Carla broke.

But for the first time, it didn’t feel like falling apart. It felt like a release. And with Michelle by her side, for the first time in a long time, Carla believed she might just survive this.

Present Day

Carla picked up her pen and began to write. She thought the words would be hard to find, but just like talking to Lisa, it came surprisingly easily. The sentences flowed out of her, one after another, and before she knew it, she’d filled an entire page. She paused, smiling faintly to herself, and decided she should probably stop before she bored Lisa to sleep. Carefully, she folded the letter, slipped it into an envelope, and wrote Lisa’s name on the front. Then she sealed it and placed it gently on the kitchen table.

Carla walked slowly down the street, the letter warm from her hand as she approached Lisa’s house. She paused at the door, her fingers brushing over the envelope one last time before slipping it quietly through the letterbox. As it fell inside with a soft thud, she lingered, her hand resting against the door for a moment. She was still struggling—God, she was still struggling—but she was breathing. And that had to count for something. Maybe she wasn’t okay, not yet, but she was here. She was trying. And maybe, just maybe, that meant she could start to move forward.

Chapter Text

Lisa placed the last plate in the cupboard and looked around her kitchen. Everything was put away, everything had its place, and she was proud of the progress she had made. It was only one room, but one room was better than nothing. She didn’t start at the station for another week or so, which meant she had plenty of time to get the rest of the house in order.

Organising the kitchen had been the distraction she desperately needed. The universe, it seemed, had a dark sense of humour, because what were the chances that she’d move onto a new street and the first face she’d set eyes on was Carla? Carla, she’d met only once. Carla, who had stood on the edge of a bridge, ready to jump. Carla, who Lisa had talked down, convinced her to come home with her, shared pieces of herself she hadn’t told another soul.

After that night, Carla had disappeared, leaving Lisa with nothing but questions. For the past eight weeks, she’d tried to find her. She’d called every hospital within a 200-mile radius, every mental health facility, even every morgue.

And now, here she was. A ghost from a single night that had never left Lisa’s mind.

The sound of the letterbox snapping shut pulled Lisa from her thoughts. She closed the cupboard and made her way through the house to the front door, where a single white envelope lay on the mat. Her name was written on the front, no address, no stamp. It had been hand-delivered. She knew exactly who it was from. No one else on this street even knew her name.

She picked up the letter and headed upstairs to her bedroom, well, what would eventually be a bedroom. Right now, it was just a room with a mattress on the floor. Betsy had refused to help put Lisa’s bed together until she’d sorted out her own bedroom first, claiming she couldn’t focus on someone else’s mess while hers was still a disaster.

Lisa pushed open the door, dodging the piles of half-unpacked boxes, and sat down on the edge of the mattress. She turned the envelope over in her hands before carefully opening it. She wasn’t sure what to expect, a couple of lines, maybe a short paragraph. But when she unfolded the paper, she was surprised to see a full page of A4, covered in Carla’s handwriting.

She traced the words with her fingertips. Carla had beautiful handwriting, of course she did. She looked like the type. Not that that made any real sense. How could someone look like they had nice handwriting? But Carla did have nice hands, so maybe that translated somehow. Lisa sighed. She knew she was overthinking it, grasping at distractions to avoid reading what was actually written. She wasn’t even sure what she was afraid of.

“Pull yourself together and read the damn thing,” she muttered.

Dear Lisa,

I’m not sure what to say, where to start, or even if I should. I never expected to see you again, let alone have you living down the street from me. Talk about the universe playing games.

I guess I should start with an apology. That feels like the logical place. So here it is. I’m sorry.

I’m not sorry I left, because in a strange way, it brought me home, and that’s what I needed. But I am sorry I left without saying goodbye. I know I left a note, but it didn’t really explain anything. I didn’t expect you to look for me, but if you did, if you called hospitals, checked with mental health services, or tried to find out if I was okay, then I’m sorry for putting you through that. For taking up your time. You’d already done more than enough. You saved me that night, and maybe that should’ve been the end of it.

Honestly, I don’t even know the point of this letter. I’m writing it after an argument with my husband, so this probably isn’t the clearest I’ve ever been. But I guess what I’m trying to say is, I need us to be on the same page.

Nobody here knows where I really went. Well, they think they do. They believe I was in L.A., sunning myself, drinking cocktails, taking a much-needed break. We both know that’s not true.

The only person I’ve told is my best friend, Michelle. You’ll probably meet her. She owns the Rovers with her husband, Steve. I told her because she wouldn’t speak to me until I did. But beyond that, no one on this street knows where I was, or how far I fell, and I want to keep it that way.

I truly appreciate what you did for me. You didn’t just talk me down, you talked to me. You were honest about your own struggles, and that helped me find a way forward. A way that didn’t end in the river. I will always be grateful to you for that.

But I think, for both our sakes, it’s best if we pretend we don’t know each other. It’s not really a lie. We don’t really know each other, not in any real-world, everyday way. What happened that night was intense, life-altering even, but it was one night. A moment. And I need that moment to stay private.

I have a reputation to uphold. I can’t let my family, friends, or staff know how close I came to the edge, how I couldn’t see a way out. And you knowing that… it’s risky. For me. Maybe for you too.

I hope you find what you’re looking for on this street. It is a good place. The people are kind. But as for us, I think it’s best if we stay out of each other’s way. That way there’s no risk of either of us letting something slip that we’d rather keep hidden.

Thank you again, for everything. I will never forget what you did for me.

Carla

Lisa placed the letter beside her on the mattress. Of course Carla had a point. This was supposed to be a fresh start, for both her and Betsy. The last thing Lisa wanted was for anyone, especially Betsy, to know what she’d been through… or how, in her darkest moments, she’d blamed her daughter for Becky’s death. Carla clearly had her own reasons for keeping the past buried too.

Lisa considered writing a letter in return. That would be the polite thing to do, acknowledge Carla’s words, let her know she understood why they needed to pretend. But letter writing had never been her thing. She wouldn’t even know where to start. A short note, maybe. I understand, we’re on the same page. But that felt too small, especially after the effort Carla had gone to. Still, her mind was too tangled to deal with it now.

It was nearly dinnertime anyway, and she needed to feed Betsy. Lisa herself wasn’t particularly hungry, but there was a kebab shop practically on their doorstep, and it would be rude not to try it.

She stood up, lifted the corner of the mattress, slid the letter underneath, and let the mattress drop back down. Then she headed out of her room and down the hallway to Betsy’s door.

She knocked.

“I’m busy,” Betsy called from inside.

“Well, if you’re that busy, I guess I’ll just head to the kebab shop on my own,” Lisa replied, walking away. “You can find something in our very bare kitchen to eat.”

The bedroom door flew open.

“No! Don’t go without me. I’m wasting away!”

Lisa turned and smirked. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Can we go for a walk first?” Betsy asked, already catching up. “Just see what’s around?”

Lisa raised a brow. “I mean, I’ve got a mountain of unpacking to do. Which I seem to be doing alone because you have way more important things going on. Not sure what’s more important than helping your mum settle into a new house, but okay.”

“Making my room perfect. And FaceTiming Shannon. She asked to see the house.”

Lisa scoffed. “Ah, well, now it makes sense. No help because God forbid you go more than five minutes without speaking to Shannon.”

“Mum, you know she’s like my right arm. Now I don’t get to see her every day, I have to be in constant contact. It’s the only way to keep her updated… and to stop myself from going through withdrawals.”

Lisa shook her head but smiled despite herself. “Come on, you ridiculous creature. Let’s go get a kebab and chips before I hide your phone in one of the unpacked boxes.”

An hour later, they were back home, sitting in what would eventually be their living room. For now, though, they were each perched on a cardboard box, with another one between them acting as a makeshift table. Their new sofa hadn’t arrived yet, and neither had the dining table and chairs Lisa had scheduled for delivery today. She had originally planned for everything to arrive bright and early, but an email last week informed her that the shipment had been delayed by a week. So, it was going to be a week of sitting on boxes, or the floor.

“So, what do you think of the place?” Lisa asked.

“Pretty decent. I definitely get the whole ‘everyone knows everyone’ vibe. Did you see how they all looked at us? Like we were aliens from another planet,” Betsy chuckled.

“Well, one of us is,” Lisa replied, popping a chip into her mouth.

“The kebab shop is good, though. I mean, you’re the kebab connoisseur, but the food is good,” Betsy said.

“It’s definitely one of the better ones I’ve had,” Lisa agreed, taking a sip of her Coke.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it,” Betsy said, springing to her feet and leaping over the boxes like she was navigating an obstacle course.

A few seconds later, Lisa heard from the hallway, “Let me just get my mum,” followed by fast-approaching footsteps.

Betsy burst into the living room. “Mum, there’s a woman outside, way too smiley, holding a lasagne. Says she made it for us. Please go get rid of her, she’s freaking me out.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Betsy, be nice. She’s being neighbourly.”

“She’s being culty,” Betsy replied. “Nobody smiles that much unless they’re selling something or hiding a body.”

Lisa sighed, wiped her mouth on her sleeve, straightened her jeans, and headed for the door.

And okay… Betsy might have had a point.

Standing there was a woman with a Stepford-wife smile, holding a glass Pyrex dish like it was the Holy Grail.

Lisa mustered her best friendly new neighbour face. “Hello.”

“Hi!” the woman chirped. “I’m Sally Metcalfe, Number Four! I just thought I’d pop over and introduce myself. I made you a lasagne! Fresh ingredients. It’s always nice not to have to cook your first night, right? Just pop it in the oven and voilà, instant comfort!”

Lisa blinked at the lasagne like it might explode. “Well… that’s very kind of you. I’m Lisa Swain, and the teenager who just sprinted away like she saw a ghost is my daughter, Betsy.”

“Oh, teenagers,” Sally nodded knowingly. “Moody but loveable. I’ve got two of my own, grown now, flown the nest, living their own lives. I’d be lucky to see them at Christmas, but they always manage to text when they need money. So! Will we be meeting your husband soon?”

And there it was. The husband question. Lisa mentally rolled her eyes. It always came, like clockwork.

“No husband,” Lisa said casually. “Dead wife.”

Sally’s face froze mid-grin. For a brief, glorious second, Lisa thought she’d broken her. Then, bam. Smile back. Stronger than ever.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. Was it recent? I didn’t mean to pry. My daughter’s a lesbian, actually! I’m a huge supporter of the LGBTQ+ community. We’ve got a few gays on the street. Not many lesbians though, and no trans folk that I know of. I always get confused about the ‘plus,’ but I support the whole alphabet. Even got a mug to prove it. Says ‘Ally AF.’ Got it from Etsy.”

Lisa nodded slowly, suppressing a smirk. “That’s… very supportive of you.”

“Absolutely! Visibility matters, right? I always say, love is love, unless it’s on Love Island, because let’s be honest, that’s mostly just abs and betrayal. Though, I’ll admit, the abs are nice to look at. Well, for me anyway. Maybe not for you? Or maybe they are? I mean, you could be bisexual. I shouldn’t just assume you’re a lesbian because you had a wife. Sorry, I’m rambling. I tend to put my foot in it sometimes. Just ignore me!”

Lisa couldn’t help herself, she laughed. “It’s okay, and for the record, I’m a gold star lesbian.”

“Gold star, right, that means you’ve never slept with a man. I’m very up on the lingo! Like I said, my daughter Sophie’s a lesbian, so I try to stay current with all the terms, for when she eventually decides to come round again. So, dinner at ours soon? Nothing fancy, just a roast and probably too much wine. You’re welcome to bring your daughter. Unless she’s still in hiding.”

“She’s not hiding, she’s just allergic to social interaction. But thanks. We might take you up on that.”

“Wonderful! Oh, and if you need anything, sugar, directions, the lowdown on the neighbours, I’ve got it all. Just knock.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Lisa accepted the lasagne with both hands and watched Sally walk back to Number Four.

She shut the door and turned to see Betsy peeking from the bottom of the stairs.

“Well?” Betsy asked. “Was I wrong?”

Lisa held up the lasagne. “She’s intense. Stick this in the fridge and we can eat it tomorrow.”

Betsy shrugged. “Fine. But if I start hallucinating rainbows or signing up for the neighbourhood watch, I’m blaming her.”

“Do they even have a neighbourhood watch?”

“I have no idea,” Betsy said, “but if they did, she’d definitely be in charge.”

Dinner eaten and Betsy was already back upstairs in her room, no doubt FaceTiming Shannon and giving her a full rundown on their new neighbour, probably complete with dramatic re-enactments.

Lisa tidied away the food, then grabbed a piece of paper and a pen before rummaging through one of the office boxes to find an envelope. Five minutes later, with everything gathered, she headed into her bedroom, lifted the corner of the mattress, and pulled out Carla’s letter.

She reread it slowly, just to refresh her memory, every word, every nuance, then set it down beside her and began working on her own reply.

Once she’d finished writing, Lisa folded the letter neatly and slipped it into the envelope, sealing it with a quiet breath. She hadn’t gone overboard, just said what needed saying. Honest. Straightforward. No drama.

She pulled on her trainers, grabbed the envelope, and stepped out into the street.

Carla’s flat was only a short walk, the kind of distance that didn’t give Lisa much time to talk herself out of it. Lisa wouldn’t admit it, but she had kept an eye out for Carla when she and Betsy were wandering the street. She spotted her slipping into the flat above the cab office while they waited for their kebabs.

She reached the front door, glanced up at the flat, then bent down to slide the envelope through the letterbox.

Just as she was letting it go, the door creaked open from the inside. Lisa straightened sharply, caught in the act, the envelope still between her fingers.

Carla stepped out into the street. She looked just as surprised to see Lisa as Lisa felt to be seen. Her gaze dropped to the envelope.

“You didn’t have to write back,” Carla said.

“I know,” Lisa replied. “But I wanted to.”

Carla took the letter, her fingers brushing Lisa’s for the briefest moment. She looked down at the envelope like it might say more on the outside than it actually did.

A silence settled between them. Not quite awkward, but teetering on the edge.

“I’ll read it,” Carla said finally. “Later.”

“No rush,” Lisa said, stepping back. “I just wanted you to know I understood.”

She turned to leave, walking away from the flat. Her footsteps sounded too loud in the quiet. She didn’t look over her shoulder, though she could feel Carla still standing there, watching her go.

“Lisa,” Carla called after her.

But Lisa didn’t stop. She lifted a hand in a vague wave without turning around. “Don’t worry. Still strangers.”

And with that, she kept walking, head down, heart pounding louder than she liked to admit. The letter had been the right thing to do, but that didn’t make any of this easier.

Chapter Text

The letter sat on the kitchen table. Carla hadn’t expected a reply, and now that she had one, she wasn’t sure she wanted to read it. Strangely, she was more unsettled by Lisa’s presence than the envelope itself. Lisa didn’t seem like the type to gossip, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t. She didn’t owe Carla anything. Nobody really knew Lisa, or her past. Everyone, however, knew Carla. She couldn’t sneeze without someone knowing and forming an opinion about it. And during the seven months she’d been away from the street, no one had known a thing. She’d very much like to keep it that way.

She still hadn’t wrapped her head around the fact that Lisa was here, living on her street. Two strangers whose worlds had collided at the most unlikely time were now orbiting each other again. But this time, Carla was determined not to be pulled in. She was keeping to herself, and more importantly, keeping far away from Lisa.

The letter could wait until later. Or tomorrow. Right now, all she wanted was a shower and to crawl into bed, just to switch her thoughts off. She was doing better. She wasn’t all the way there yet, but she was taking each day as it came. One day at a time. One foot in front of the other.

She headed into the bedroom, stripped off her clothes, and walked to the bathroom. As she turned on the shower, her phone pinged. An email. Usually she ignored them at this hour, but she’d been waiting for a message about a supplier meeting. She closed the shower door, walked back into the bedroom, and sat on the bed. She picked up her phone, opened the email, and froze.

It wasn’t from the supplier.

It was from Mamas & Papas. Months ago, she and Peter had entered a competition to win a baby hamper full of essentials. They’d done it on a whim, back when she was still trying to wrap her head around being pregnant. They hadn’t expected to win. It was just for fun. And when they never heard back, she forgot all about it, until now.

They’d won.

She deleted the message, tossed her phone onto the bed, and returned to the bathroom.

“Nice one, universe. Kick me while I’m down,” she muttered.

The warm water soothed her aching muscles as she stepped into the shower. She washed her hair mechanically, couldn’t even place the scent of the shampoo. She rinsed and repeated, again and again, far more times than necessary. But she was in her head, locked in, and couldn’t escape.

She stood under the water for far too long. It pelted her skin like rain that wouldn’t stop. She tried to move, to step out, but her feet felt cemented in place. Eventually, somehow, she found the strength. She stepped out, wrapped a towel around herself, and went straight to the kitchen. She opened the cupboard, pulled out the last bottle of wine, made a mental note to buy more, and sat on the sofa in just her towel.

She drank.

And drank.

But the alcohol didn’t numb her the way she’d hoped.

Eventually, she stood, went back into the bedroom, picked up her phone, and scrolled to the contact she needed.

Carla: I need a distraction. You’ve always been good for that. Up for helping a girl out?

She didn’t wait for a reply. Still wrapped in her towel, she walked back into the living room and sank onto the sofa. Doubt crept in almost immediately. Maybe she’d made a mistake. She probably should’ve just gone to bed. He wasn’t coming, clearly. And really, she couldn’t blame him.

She stood up, ready to call it a night, just as the intercom buzzed.

Without thinking, she rushed over and hit the button to buzz him in.

Carla opened the door and kissed him before he had a chance to speak, her lips pressing against his with urgency. He didn’t pull away, just as she expected. He was a man, after all, being offered sex without questions. He didn’t care why. He was ready to take whatever she was willing to give.

He stepped inside, and the door had barely clicked shut before Carla was on him again, kissing him hard, fingers tangled in his shirt. He responded with the same urgency, hands gripping her waist, pulling her flush against him as they stumbled backward through the hallway.

Her towel slipped, loosened by the friction, and dropped silently to the floor.

She didn’t stop.

Neither did he.

Their movements were clumsy, breathless, driven by something unspoken. Every step toward the bedroom was another second neither of them paused to think. When they reached the bed, he didn’t hesitate. He lifted her easily, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

Then he threw her down.

The mattress caught her with a bounce, hair splaying across the sheets, chest rising and falling in sharp rhythm. She looked up at him, daring him, needing the distraction she’d asked for and now demanding it without words.

He stood at the edge of the bed, eyes locked on her as he reached down and undid his jeans, pushing them down his hips. Carla watched him, her body tense and waiting, skin still damp from the shower, the cool air brushing over her.

This was what she wanted, what she’d asked for.

A distraction.

But as he climbed over her, settling between her legs, his mouth finding the curve of her neck, Carla’s mind refused to quiet.

Her fingers grazed his back, automatic, going through the motions, but her thoughts spun wildly, back to the letter on the table, the email she had deleted, the life she had almost had, the one that had slipped through her fingers like water.

She wanted to be here. She needed to be here.

But part of her was somewhere else entirely.

Why isn’t this working?

His hands roamed, his breath warm against her skin, and still her thoughts jabbed at her like splinters under the surface. She wanted the weight of him, the pressure, the heat, to drown it all out.

But the silence in her own head was louder than anything happening in the room.

She shut her eyes and tried to pretend, to focus on the rhythm, the sensations, the fleeting comfort of skin against skin. But it wasn’t enough.

She moved with him, matching his rhythm, letting her hands slide over his back, her breath catching in all the right places. She knew the cues, the timing. It wasn’t the first time she’d done this.

And when his breathing grew heavier, more ragged, she let out a soft gasp, her body arching, her fingers curling against his skin.

She faked it.

She gave him what he needed, what he expected.

And a few seconds later, he shuddered above her, letting out a low groan as he came, pressing his forehead against her shoulder, breath hot and uneven.

Carla stared up at the ceiling, her eyes dry, her jaw clenched.

There. That’s done.

She’d hoped for a release, not just physical but mental, something to dull the ache inside her, to replace it with something simpler, even if just for a moment. But instead, she felt emptier than before, like she’d given something away without getting anything in return.

His weight rested against her for a moment before he rolled to the side, arm flung across the mattress, sated and silent.

Carla rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed, exhaling a long, tired sigh.

“I think you should probably go.”

“Are we going to talk about this?”

“No,” she said, without turning around. “It was a mistake. I needed a distraction. Peter would’ve thought it meant something, but you and I…” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “We have an understanding. You’ve used me before. Now I’ve used you. So thank you, Adam. I appreciate the help. But we both know it’s nothing more than that. No need to drag it into anything else.”

“Right. Okay.”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, pulled on his boxers, then quickly got dressed. Within moments, he was gone. The door slammed shut behind him.

The second the sound echoed through the flat, Carla felt like she could finally breathe.

Yes, it was reckless. Yes, it was probably stupid.

But it had been what she needed in that moment, something to quiet the noise in her head, to let her feel something, anything, without thinking too much.

It didn’t help. Not really. The silence that followed felt heavier than before, pressing in on her chest like a weight she couldn’t shift. The ache in her body was nothing compared to the one in her heart, the sharp, hollow kind that distractions couldn’t touch. As she sat there, wrapped in the quiet, she realised she didn’t feel calmer at all. She felt worse.

Sleep would help, surely sleep would quiet her mind, if only for a bit. She was tired, drained, utterly exhausted, and she hoped that sheer fatigue might finally silence her thoughts. She lay back down, eyes fixed on the ceiling, and before she knew it, she was asleep.

Morning came far too quickly. Carla stretched and yawned. She had slept, slept through the entire night, but she didn’t feel rested. No, she felt just as drained as she had the night before. Her morning started how it did every other morning, with a shower.

The shower was hot, scalding, almost, but Carla welcomed the sting. It gave her something to feel that wasn’t fatigue.

She dried off slowly, dressed in silence, then padded barefoot into the kitchen. She made herself a cup of coffee. The smell was comforting, familiar, but the warmth in her hands as she cradled the mug didn’t reach any deeper.

By the time she reached the factory, the morning haze was starting to lift, but her mind wasn’t any clearer. She brought Lisa’s letter. It had sat on the kitchen table untouched since the day before. Too afraid to read it, too guilty not to. But this morning, this grey, forgettable morning, felt like the right time. Or maybe just the inevitable one.

She pushed open the door, walked through the factory with practiced ease, nodding and smiling absently to those who passed her. No one asked questions. They knew better. She slipped into her office, closed the door behind her, and sat down heavily in her chair.

She pulled out the letter from her bag. Her fingers trembled slightly as she slid her thumb under the flap.

She took a breath.

And began to read.

Dear Carla,

Thank you for your letter.

I won’t lie and say it wasn’t a shock to see you, but not a bad one, just unexpected. I’m not sure what to say. I’ve read your letter more than once now. Each time, I sit with it a little differently. Sometimes with a knot in my chest, other times with a strange sort of peace.

First, I want to say, I accept your apology. And I understand why you left. Truly. Sometimes the only way out is through, and sometimes “through” looks like disappearing. I don’t hold it against you for doing what you had to do to survive. If anything, I’m glad you did survive. I won’t lie. After that night, I did wonder what happened to you. I didn’t chase you, no, but I worried. You can’t be part of something like that and walk away untouched. But I also knew I didn’t have a right to your story. Not then. Not now.

You’re right about a lot of things. That night was a moment. A heavy one, yes. But it doesn’t define either of us. And no, we don’t really know each other in the day-to-day way. But sometimes, that one night kind of knowing goes deeper than years of shallow small talk.

Still, I hear what you’re asking. And I respect it.

I won’t speak of it. Not to Michelle, not to anyone. I understand the weight of reputation, of privacy, and of just wanting to move on without dragging the past behind you like a shadow. You don’t owe me anything beyond what you’ve already said.

But I do want to make one thing clear.

You didn’t waste my time. You didn’t take anything from me. What I gave that night, I gave freely. Not because I wanted thanks or loyalty or lifelong connection, but because I saw someone in pain and I knew what that pain felt like. And if I’d walked away, I don’t think I’d have been able to look at myself the same again.

So don’t carry guilt for something that wasn’t a burden. Not to me. If we’re to be strangers on this street, I can live with that. If you ever change your mind, I’ll be here, but only if you want. Until then, I’ll nod politely, keep my distance, and pretend like we’ve never met. But know this. I don’t regret that night, or helping you through it. I never will.

Take care of yourself, Carla. Truly.

Lisa

For a police officer, Lisa definitely had a way with words. Carla wiped a stray tear from her cheek, one she didn’t even realise had fallen, and popped Lisa’s letter into the drawer. She wasn’t sure whether she should reply. Did Lisa even want a reply? Carla knew she did want to respond. She knew exactly what to say. Maybe she should just write it and not post it, but then what would be the point in that? She grabbed a pen, paper, and rummaged through her drawer for an envelope before working on her reply. Once she was finished, she folded the letter and popped it into the envelope and placed it in her bag. She hadn’t decided whether to post it, but for now it was written and ready to go if she did decide.

The day dragged.

Emails poured in, each one more tedious or demanding than the last. Phone calls bled into meetings, and meetings bled into more decisions Carla didn’t feel equipped to make today. Her head throbbed with the dull ache of too much thinking and not enough feeling.

By the time the factory emptied out and the silence crept in, she was still at her desk, staring blankly at a spreadsheet she had no intention of finishing.

She couldn’t face the Rovers. Not tonight. Not with Michelle behind the bar, all soft eyes and probing questions disguised as harmless chat. Carla didn’t have the energy to play along.

Instead, she found herself walking toward the bistro, quiet, dimly lit, less friendly. She slipped through the door just after seven, ordered a glass of wine without a word, and turned to scan the room.

And that’s when she saw her.

Lisa.

At the bar, shoulders stiff, eyes darting sideways while two men, loud, leering, closed in on either side. One reached to touch her arm. She smiled tightly, gave a polite shake of the head, but they didn’t back off.

Carla didn’t hesitate.

She crossed the floor with a cold precision, wine glass still in hand.

“Nick, get those two out. Now.”

He followed her gaze, frowned, and moved. The men grumbled, one muttered something foul under his breath, but Nick didn’t give them a choice. They were ushered out with practiced efficiency, the door clicking shut behind them.

Lisa let out a breath, barely audible.

“I had it handled,” she said without turning.

Carla took a sip of her wine. “Sure looked like it,” she said dryly. Then she glanced over, met Lisa’s eyes. “Look, I’m not trying to be a hero. I just thought maybe I owed you one.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow, but didn’t speak.

“You saved me,” Carla said, softer now. “So… that was me, evening the score.”

She finished the last of her wine in one measured swallow, set the glass down, and turned to go.

“See you around, stranger,” she muttered as she walked out.

Chapter Text

It had been a few days since Lisa had last seen Carla, since Carla had “saved” her, as she put it. Lisa didn’t see it that way. She was a police officer, for God’s sake. She didn’t need saving. Not from two drunk guys promising her the night of her life and refusing to take no for an answer. She’d even threatened to arrest them, but that only seemed to excite them more. So yes, Carla’s timing had been impeccable, annoyingly so.

Lisa hated that it was Carla who had come to her rescue, especially when she had been handling it. Or at least trying to.

It was just after 10:00 p.m. when Lisa heard voices outside her house. Curious, she looked out the window. There was Carla, standing with her back to a man, the man who had shown up the day Lisa was moving in.

Lisa narrowed her eyes, watching closely. She didn’t want to interfere, not yet. But then the man grabbed Carla’s arm. The grip looked tight. Carla flinched, just slightly, but it was enough. From the look on her face, Lisa guessed it was more than a friendly touch.

Lisa took a deep breath, slipped on her trainers, and headed outside.

The air was sharp with tension.

Lisa exhaled sharply, tugged on her trainers, and headed outside.

As she approached, the man’s voice rose, thick with betrayal.

“Fucking Adam, Carla? My nephew?” he shouted. “How could you cheat on me, on us, after everything? After the way you lost your mind when it was me?”

“I didn’t cheat,” Carla said firmly. “We’re not together anymore. Now let go of my arm, you’re hurting me. Go home and sober up.”

“We’re still legally married, Carla, so yes, it was cheating,” Peter snapped, his grip tightening as he began dragging her away.

Lisa stepped down the path and planted herself firmly in front of him.

“Do you mind moving?” Peter barked.

“I’m pretty sure she’s already asked you to let her go.”

“What’s it got to do with you?”

“Well,” Lisa said, pulling her badge from her pocket and flashing it, “considering I’m a police officer and you’re currently assaulting this woman, I’d say it has everything to do with me.”

“I’m not assaulting her, am I, Carla?”

Carla’s voice was cold. “Peter, you are hurting my arm, so yes.”

Lisa took a small step forward. “So unless you want to spend the night in a cell, I suggest you let her go, head home, and sober up. Maybe then, you can have this discussion like an adult tomorrow.”

Peter hesitated, anger burning in his eyes, but finally released Carla’s arm. He muttered something under his breath, turned, and stalked off into the night.

Lisa turned to Carla, eyes softening. “You alright?”

Carla didn’t answer right away, just nodded, rubbing her arm.

“Come inside,” Lisa said quietly. “Just for a minute. You don’t have to talk. Just come in.”

“Thank you,” Carla said quietly.

“Well, we were even, and I don’t like to lose,” Lisa replied with a faint smile. “So, it was my turn to save you. Come on, let me take a look at your arm.”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing,” Carla sighed.

“That wasn’t really a suggestion.”

Carla rolled her eyes but followed Lisa as she started walking.

“We’re doing a great job pretending not to know each other, aren’t we?” Carla muttered as they stepped into Number 6.

“I don’t know you,” Lisa said, smirking. “I’m just doing my duty, protecting a citizen of Weatherfield. Besides, what were you doing out so late?”

Carla pulled a folded letter from her coat pocket and placed it on one of the unopened moving boxes by the door. Her voice was quieter now.

“Being a postwoman, apparently. I didn’t know if you wanted a reply, but I wrote one anyway. I’ve been debating whether to deliver it or not, and tonight, I bit the bullet.”

Lisa looked at the letter, then at Carla. The air between them shifted, tense, uncertain, but not entirely unwelcome.

“Have a seat,” Lisa said.

“Where?” Carla asked, looking around.

“Pick a box. The rest of the furniture’s being delivered tomorrow, thank God. I’m getting tired of eating dinner on my lap while balancing on cardboard.”

Carla chuckled. “I was going to say, I love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Take your top off.”

Carla raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“So I can check your arm. You’re wearing long sleeves, and I’m guessing it’s not exactly the easiest top to roll up. I won’t look. I’ll turn around. Then you can drape it over yourself if you’re worried the dyke cop might perv on you.”

Carla narrowed her eyes but didn’t argue. A few seconds later, she pulled off her top and dropped it to the floor with a soft thud.

“I’ve got a good body. I’m not ashamed of it,” she said evenly. “And, for the record, it’d be pretty big-headed of me to assume that just because you’re a lesbian, by the way, hate the word dyke, that you’d even find me attractive. I mean, I don’t fancy every man I see.”

“No, just ones related to your husband apparently,” Lisa quipped.

“Not even funny,” Carla muttered. “It’s not what it sounded like.”

“Oh? So you didn’t sleep with your husband’s nephew?”

“Well, no, I did,” Carla admitted, folding her arms. “But we’re technically separated, and Adam and I have an unspoken agreement. We help each other out every now and again.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Hey, it’s none of my business. We’re strangers, remember?”

She turned toward the kitchen. “Right, let me get you some ice for that arm. It’s going to bruise. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

As she disappeared around the corner, Carla called after her, still half-dressed in the middle of the living room. “No, just my arm. He’s not abusive or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s an alcoholic, back on the bottle again. I wouldn’t let him come to the flat to talk. Didn’t listen to him, so he grabbed me.”

Lisa rummaged in the freezer, wrapped a bag of frozen peas in a tea towel, and came back in, handing them over. “Just realised I don’t actually have any ice. Peas will have to do.”

“I’ll be fine. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on your vegetables,” Carla smirked.

Lisa laughed. “They’re only in the freezer for when mum guilt kicks in and I feel like I need to chuck something green on Betsy’s plate. Frozen peas are the fridge equivalent of cucumber. You’d be amazed how many times I shoved some cucumber in her lunchbox just to convince myself she was getting something healthy. Especially when she went through her mac and cheese phase, cucumber was a staple.”

She shook her head fondly. “I mean, it usually ended up up her nose, or in her ear, or on the floor, but it made me feel a bit better feeding her the same beige meals over and over.”

“She was fed. That’s all that matters,” Carla said softly. “I’m sure you were a great mum.”

Lisa’s smile faded slightly. “Yeah. When I wasn’t in a pit of depression, blaming my kid for her mother’s death, I was fantastic.”

Carla looked up sharply. “Alright. Enough of the self-pity. We’re not doing that. Thank you for the peas. They’re helping the throbbing.”

Lisa gave a half-shrug. “Don’t mention it.”

A quiet beat passed before Carla broke it.

“So, how do you like it here?”

Lisa gave her a look. “Are we really doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Small talk?”

Carla smirked. “Alright, no small talk. How about local gossip, then? You know this house is known as the House of Horrors on the street?”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Why do you think it was going for such a cheap price?”

“The seller wanted a quick sale?”

Carla raised her brows. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Lisa narrowed her eyes. “Alright, I’ll bite. What exactly happened in this so-called House of Horrors?”

Carla leaned back against the box, peas pressed to her arm, and gave her a look. “Well, for starters, your front room used to be a crime scene. Multiple times, actually.”

Lisa blinked. “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” Carla said, almost cheerfully. “Do the names Charlie Stubbs and Tracy Barlow mean anything to you?”

“Tracy Barlow. She’s the florist, right? Blunt fringe, zero social filter?”

“That’s the one. Used to live here. She also used to date Charlie Stubbs, a bit of a violent bully. Anyway, she ended up killing him. Right there. With an ornament. Bashed his skull in.”

Lisa looked at her, stunned.

Carla shrugged. “Self-defence, she said. Jury didn’t quite agree. She went down for murder. Of course, she got out eventually. But yeah, that happened right here. Blood on the carpet and everything.”

Lisa glanced down at the floorboards beneath her feet.

“And before that,” Carla added, “there was Katy Harris. Lived here with her family. She killed her dad, Tommy, smacked him over the head with a wrench or something. It was a whole thing. Didn’t happen in the house but she still lived here.”

Lisa’s face shifted, half horrified, half fascinated. “Jesus.”

“Told you,” Carla said dryly. “House of Horrors.”

Lisa shook her head. “And I thought the cheap price was just good luck.”

Carla smirked. “It’s Weatherfield. If a house doesn’t come with a body count, it’s considered a bargain.”

“They just let me move in without so much as a ghost warning?”

“You’re not local. They assume anyone who’s been here longer than five minutes already knows the street’s cursed.”

“Remind me to burn some sage in the morning.”

Carla chuckled. “Might want to smudge the whole street while you’re at it.”

“How’s the arm?” Lisa asked.

“Better. Your guilt peas seem to be working,” Carla replied.

“Well, good to know they have a purpose. Usually they just roll around Betsy’s plate like tiny green regrets,” Lisa said.

“Appreciate it. I should get going,” Carla said, standing up slowly.

“Are you sure? I could pour you a glass of wine.”

“Friends drink wine. We’re strangers. Strangers nod from a distance and avoid eye contact.”

“Well, technically, right now you’re in my house. This is a safe space. It’s 10:00 p.m., nobody knows you’re here, so come on, just one glass. That way I’m not sad and alone, drinking wine on top of a cardboard box.”

Carla paused, then gave a small nod.

“One glass,” she said. “Then I’m going.”

Lisa nodded and turned toward the kitchen. “Fair enough.”

Carla glanced down and sighed, only just now realising. “Right. Still no top.”

She picked up her shirt from the floor and slipped it on without comment. The silence settled comfortably between them.

From the kitchen, Lisa’s voice carried back, calm and casual. “Red okay?”

“Sure,” Carla replied, adjusting her sleeve. “Anything’s fine.”

A moment later, Lisa returned with two glasses and handed one to Carla.

“To whatever this is,” she said quietly.

Carla accepted the glass. “Right.”

They clinked, softly.

They each took a sip.

Lisa sat across from Carla, cradling her glass. “So, the arm’s really okay?”

Carla nodded. “It’ll be fine. Just bruised. Nothing dramatic.”

Lisa swirled the liquid in her glass, watching the light catch the edges. “How’ve you really been, though? Since you came back to Weatherfield.”

Carla let out a breath that was almost a laugh, but not quite. “Well, I haven’t tried to throw myself off a bridge or anything, so I suppose that’s progress.”

Lisa blinked, unsure whether to smile or frown. “That’s something.”

“It’s strange. Everyone kept saying ‘welcome home,’ like it means something. But it doesn’t feel like home. Not really.”

Lisa’s eyes softened. “Too much has changed?”

“Or maybe not enough.” Carla glanced at her. “The buildings are the same, the pub’s still terrible, the rain still hasn’t let up, but I feel like a stranger in my own story.”

Lisa nodded slowly, her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass. “Well, maybe it’s time to change the story, then.”

Carla gave a hollow laugh. “You make it sound easy.”

“I didn’t say it was,” Lisa replied, her voice steady. “But it’s still yours to change.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence settled between them like fog, soft, familiar, slightly uncomfortable.

Then Carla downed the rest of her wine in one go, the glass clinking as she set it on the floor. “I should go.”

Lisa blinked. “You don’t have to rush off.”

“No,” Carla said, standing up and brushing her hair back. “Really. I should. Thanks for the wine. And the peas. For the arm.”

Lisa managed a half-smile. “They’re yours to keep.”

Carla chuckled under her breath, already at the door. “Lucky me.”

She didn’t look back as she opened it.

Lisa stood for a long while after the door clicked shut, staring at the empty space Carla had left behind. Then, without a word, she noticed the letter resting on one of the moving boxes by the door.

She picked it up gently and headed upstairs, her footsteps quiet against the wood. Once in her room, she sat on the edge of the bed, the bedside lamp casting a low amber light, and unfolded the paper.

Dear Lisa,

Who knew a copper would have such a way with words? Thank you. I appreciate every line and the time you took to write more than you know.

Thank you as well for respecting my privacy. It means a lot. Around here, people seem to want to know everything about everyone, and I’d really like to keep my time in London where it belongs, back there.

Maybe, just maybe, one day we could talk, get to know each other properly. And who knows, maybe even become friends. Not now. Everything still feels a bit too fresh, too close. But someday soon.

Take care,

Carla

She read it again, slowly this time, her thumb tracing Carla’s careful, uncertain handwriting. Short and sweet. She placed the letter under her mattress and climbed into bed. She had a busy day of furniture building tomorrow and hopefully by the time the day ended her house resembled less of a cardboard box warehouse and more of a home.

ay ended her house resembled less of a cardboard box warehouse and more of a home.

Chapter Text

It was Monday, and like she had done all weekend, Carla checked the letterbox. Still no letter. She wasn’t even sure why she cared, she hadn’t exactly said anything that warranted a reply, but the lack of response still disappointed her.

Sighing, she opened the door and headed to Roy’s for breakfast. She’d been doing an awfully good job of avoiding the older man. She had hurt him when she upped and left, and unlike Michelle, it was proving a little harder to make it up to him. He still didn’t know where she really was. He thought it was LA, and she intended to keep it that way.

She pushed open the café door and was surprised to see Bernie behind the till.

“A bacon barm and a coffee when you’ve got a minute, please, Bernie. No Roy?” she asked.

“Cash and Carry,” Bernie replied.

“Oh, right. I’ll be over here when it’s done,” Carla said, before moving to the table by the window. She sat down and stared into space.

Nine months ago

“Peter, I’m serious, get it away from me. The smell is making me want to throw up,” Carla gagged as Peter bit into his egg and bacon barm.

“Our little boy doesn’t like egg, then?” he teased.

“No, our little girl doesn’t,” Carla shot back.

They’d been going back and forth for days, arguing about the baby’s gender, baby names, how much maternity leave Carla should take. Baby books had taken over the kitchen table. Yes, she was finally excited, but it didn’t make things feel any less overwhelming.

She just wanted five minutes where she didn’t feel nauseous or wasn’t being asked something baby-related. It seemed like everyone had an opinion, on breastfeeding, on what she should eat, how she should sleep. When had her body become everyone else’s business?

And she still had so long to go. Then it would be parenting advice. Use a dummy, no don’t. Let them self-soothe, no, co-sleep instead. Take more time off, take less, on and on.

Truth was, she wasn’t prepared for any of it.

Peter leaned back in his chair, chewing slowly, watching her over the rim of his coffee cup.

“You know, you don’t have to do all this alone,” he said gently.

Carla rolled her eyes. “I’m not doing it alone. I just…” She paused, pressing a hand to her stomach as a wave of nausea rolled through her again. “I just want to feel like me for five minutes.”

Peter nodded, setting his cup down. “I get that. But… I kind of like this version of you.”

“This version?” she raised an eyebrow.

He gave her that lopsided grin. “The one who’s sneakily ordering baby grows at two in the morning and pretending she’s not excited.”

She let out a reluctant laugh. “I wasn’t excited. I was… distracted.”

“Right. And the matching booties and hat were a distraction too?”

Carla folded her arms, but there was no real heat in it. “Okay, maybe I was a bit excited.”

They sat in silence for a beat, the kind that comes when you’re both thinking the same thing but afraid to say it first.

Then she finally spoke. “I don’t think I’m going to be any good at this.”

Peter’s smile softened. “Carla…”

“No, don’t sugar-coat it. I know I’ll love this baby. That’s not the issue. It’s all the other stuff. The patience. The soft voice. The routines. The putting someone else’s needs first all the time. I’m not built for that.”

Peter reached across the table and took her hand. “Hey. Look, I’ve done this before with Simon, yeah. But that was years ago. And if I’m honest, I barely knew what I was doing half the time back then either.”

Carla looked at him, surprised by the admission.

“This?” he continued, gesturing gently toward her tiny bump. “This is new for both of us. And I’m not expecting either of us to be perfect. We just show up. Do our best. Together.”

Carla blinked quickly, swallowing down the lump in her throat. She hated how easily he could cut through the panic with a few words and a warm hand.

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

Peter nodded. “So am I. But we’ve made it through worse, haven’t we?”

She didn’t reply, just tightened her fingers around his. That, for now, said enough.

Present Day

“Carla, love,” Bernie said gently.

“Sorry, I was miles away. Thank you, Bernie,” Carla replied with a small smile.

Carla picked at the edge of her bacon barm, appetite slow to catch up with her thoughts. She took a small bite, chewing absentmindedly, then washed it down with a sip of coffee. The warmth helped, just a little. It grounded her, even if the silence still felt too loud.

The café buzzed quietly with early morning chatter, but Carla stayed in her own bubble by the window, watching the street outside. People moved on with their lives, school runs, work commutes, routines that didn’t involve checking letterboxes or dodging emotional confrontations.

Once her cup was empty and the sandwich half-eaten, she stood, thanked Bernie again with a distracted nod, and made her way toward the factory.

The air outside was cool and crisp, and the walk helped her reset. As she reached the factory doors, she straightened her jacket, tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and braced herself for the day ahead.

Inside, everything was as it always was, phones ringing, machines humming, the usual chaos barely kept at bay. Carla walked across the floor, nodding at a few staff, her mind already running through meetings and deadlines.

She’d just settled into her office, flicking through a stack of order sheets and trying to ignore the dull ache in her arm, when there was a knock at the door.

Sally poked her head in. “Mrs Connor, there’s someone here to see you, DI Swain. Says it’s official police business?”

Carla blinked, frowning slightly. “Right. Send her in.”

Lisa stepped in a moment later, flashing her badge briefly before tucking it away again.

“DI Swain,” Carla said, sitting up. “What can I do for you?”

Lisa gave a slight smile. “Actually… nothing official. I just didn’t know if you’d see me otherwise.”

Carla raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. “Bit dramatic, using the badge, don’t you think?”

Lisa gave a sheepish shrug. “Force of habit. Also, it works.”

Carla smirked despite herself. “So if it’s not official, what brings you by?”

Lisa’s eyes dropped briefly to Carla’s left arm, still stiff and bandaged beneath her sleeve.

“I wanted to check in. After what happened… I just wanted to see how the arm was.”

Carla hesitated, surprised by the concern. “It’s fine. Still sore, but I’ve had worse.”

Lisa tilted her head. “That’s not really the point though, is it?”

There was a pause. Carla glanced away, then back again.

“Well,” she said, voice softer now, “thanks for stopping by. But I’m fine, really.”

Lisa didn’t look convinced. “You don’t have to be.”

Carla held her gaze, not replying. The office felt suddenly quieter, like the world had tilted just slightly.

“I brought this too,” Lisa added, before placing a letter in front of Carla and turning to leave. “I’m glad your arm is feeling better.”

Carla watched the door close behind her, then leaned back in her chair with a sigh. She hadn’t asked for concern. But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t the worst thing to have.

When she was sure she wouldn’t be disturbed, she picked up the letter, opened it, and read Lisa’s words.

Dear Carla,

Thank you, your note meant a lot. I’m glad my letter reached you the way I hoped, and I appreciate you saying so.

You did the right thing by asking for privacy. I respect that completely and will keep your time in London exactly where you placed it, in the past and yours alone. No questions, no prying. Just quiet respect.

I’d like to get to know you properly someday too, when it feels right for you. No rush, no pressure.

Until then, take all the time you need to heal and settle.

Take care of yourself, Carla.

Lisa

Chapter Text

Her first week was completed, it took a bit of getting used to, new place, new colleagues and even more coming in as their boss, but everyone had been friendly enough. So much so, they had invited her to the Rovers for a drink, which she begrudgingly accepted. She was their superior officer, but she also didn’t want to be alienated in her first week, and it would be nice to find out more about the people that would be working under her.

Lisa sat at the table, savouring her wine while facing Craig and Jess, both PCs. They appeared friendly enough. Craig had taken to calling her Swain Rooney, a nickname he believed to be unique. She didn’t have the heart to inform him that she had heard it countless times before. Jess, on the other hand, was pleasant but had a reputation for being tough when it came to handling suspects. Still, she was undeniably skilled at her job.

Then there was Kit, the DS who had aspirations for Costello’s position. He seemed confident that the job was his for the taking, but then the past caught up with him. A scandal involving a childhood friend emerged. Kit had gotten his buddy’s girlfriend pregnant, and after seventeen years, the truth was revealed. The friend went on a violent spree, killing a police officer, then escaping from prison, only to confront Kit. The encounter left Kit battered and nearly killed, which made Costello doubt his readiness for the role. Lisa wouldn’t voice it, but who could really blame him?

Lastly there was Dani. She was new too, started the same day as Lisa. She seemed nice, a bit quiet, but Lisa chalked it up to nerves. They hadn’t spoken much, but when they did, it was over something unexpected, dead spouses. Dani’s husband had been killed on duty a few years ago, more recent than Lisa’s loss. Lisa hadn’t planned on telling anyone about Becky. That was supposed to stay in London. This move was meant to be a fresh start. But when Dani shared the reason for her transfer, Lisa found herself opening up. She told Dani about Becky and her death. It wasn’t the same, not exactly, but still, bonding over dead spouses seemed to ease the tension for both of them during that first week.

Kit had cancelled last minute, claiming he’d offered to cover a shift, but Lisa knew that wasn’t the real reason. He just didn’t want to spend time with the woman who had flown in and taken his job. She didn’t blame him.

She sipped her wine slowly, letting the warmth settle in her chest as she looked around the pub, the one that would, in all likelihood, become her local. It seemed decent. Clean enough, lived in, in the comforting way good pubs usually were. The staff smiled, even when they didn’t need to, which she took as a good sign.

She didn’t know any of their names yet, well, apart from Michelle, but that was only because Carla had gone on about her.

She watched them behind the bar. There was a blonde guy, dramatic, expressive, loud in a way that took up space. “Too gay to function,” Betsy had said, half laughing. Lisa had winced, told her off, only to get a quick fire lesson in Mean Girls quotes. Lisa had said it couldn’t be that iconic if she didn’t remember it. Betsy had rolled her eyes and told her she was probably scrolling on her phone instead of actually watching.

Then there was the younger man, all charm and easy good looks. She understood now why Betsy had insisted on coming back for hotpot three nights in a row.

A woman behind the bar sang while she worked, always smiling, like happiness was a default setting. Lisa didn’t know her name, something like Gertrude, she thought she heard, which didn’t seem to match. The name felt old, heavy. The woman did not.

And then there was the youngest of them. She thought her name was Gemma. She’d heard it called out a few times, usually when a ginger man, probably her husband, came in complaining about one of their quads. Lisa didn’t know what the child had done, only that it had caused enough drama to echo across the bar.

Overall, they seemed nice enough. Friendly, a little chaotic maybe, but in a way that felt honest.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden arrival of a tray of shots. Craig set them down with theatrical flair.

“Come on, Swain Rooney,” he said, eyes dancing. “Weatherfield Nick initiation. Six shots. One minute.”

Lisa blinked at the tray, then at Jess, then Dani.

“You’re not serious,” she said.

“Deadly,” Dani replied.

Jess leaned in, grinning. “Come on, Boss. Show us what you’re made of.”

Lisa laughed under her breath. She already knew this was going to be a terrible idea. Regret was practically guaranteed, maybe not just in the morning, maybe halfway through shot four. But it was just one night. One stupid challenge. And maybe a little chaos was exactly what she needed.

“Fine,” she said. “Set the timer.”

Craig didn’t hesitate. He pulled out his phone, tapped in the countdown, and placed it on the table like it was a bomb about to go off.

Lisa reached for the first glass.

“To my first week of work,” she said, raising it with a little flourish. “And to questionable decisions.”

Then she threw it back.

Lisa downed shot after shot, barely pausing until she reached the last two. She hesitated, just for a second, then caught sight of the countdown ticking away and threw them back in quick succession. She set the final glass down with a clink.

“Done,” she announced triumphantly, before attempting to sit down.

Well, she thought it was sitting down. In reality, it was more of a controlled slump.

A long week, no dinner, two glasses of wine, and now six shots in sixty seconds, she was seeing double. Maybe even triple. Hard to tell.

She knew she should call it a night. Quit while she was ahead, before she did or said something she’d regret. But for the first time in what felt like forever, she was having a good time. There was a warm buzz in her chest, laughter in the air, and people who didn’t feel like work. She didn’t want to ruin it.

She sipped her wine, leaned back, and opened the bag of crisps Craig had bought her.

“So, how are you finding Weatherfield?” Jess asked, nudging her gently out of her thoughts.

“It’s quieter than London, which I expected,” Lisa said. “But it’s nice. London was fast, loud, a lot of stabbings and drugs. Here doesn’t seem quite so crime heavy.”

Jess raised an eyebrow, but it was Craig who jumped in.

“Oh, we get the good stuff up here. Murders, rapes, hostage situations. The kind of crimes you can really sink your teeth into. We tend to skip the petty stuff.”

Lisa laughed in spite of herself. “Well, I’ve moved into Number 6 and I’ve already been brought up to speed on the infamous curse of the house.”

“Who told you that?” Jess asked, curious.

Lisa immediately wished she hadn’t said anything. She didn’t want to mention Carla. They were still keeping their connection quiet.

“Sally,” she said quickly. “Lives in Number 4, I think? She dropped off a lasagne, introduced herself, and told me I needed to buy some sage to properly cleanse the place.”

Jess snorted. “Sounds like Sally.”

Craig leaned in, grinning. “Was it at least a good lasagne?”

Lisa smiled. “Honestly? Best part of my week, present company excluded, of course.”

“Oh yes, Number 6 has definitely had its fair share of… shall we say, problems. But not nearly as much as Underworld over the years,” Craig said, lowering his voice slightly.

“Underworld? That’s the knicker factory, right?” Lisa asked.

“Yes,” he said, taking a sip of his pint. “It’s owned by Carla Connor. Or Barlow. Not really sure what she’s going by these days. She’s a walking disaster, her, but I didn’t say that. Michelle’s her sister-in-law, or ex sister-in-law. Still thick as thieves, though.”

“She sounds interesting,” Lisa said, raising an eyebrow.

Craig leaned in, warming to the subject. “Oh, she’s on husband number three now, I think. Number one cheated on her, and she was in love with his brother Liam anyway. Then the husband Paul died in a car accident. Then there was husband number two. Pretty sure she cheated on him before they even got married, with her brother-in-law again. Liam ended up getting killed. Her fiancé arranged it, went to prison, escaped, held Carla hostage in Underworld, and then died in an explosion during a fire.”

Lisa blinked. “Wow.”

“And then there was almost-husband number three. But that’s not really my place to say,” Craig hesitated, then leaned in again. “He was murdered by his own mother in Underworld. And now she’s married to Peter, who cheated on her with the babysitter and, well, caused her to have a miscarriage.”

He sat back, satisfied, like he’d just recited the plot of a ten-season drama.

Lisa stared at him for a beat. “And I thought London was dramatic.”

“Craig, you shouldn’t have told her all that,” Jess whispered, glancing around.

“No, you really shouldn’t,” came Michelle’s voice from behind the bar. “Come on, I think that’s enough for you for one night.”

“You can’t kick me out for talking about things that are common knowledge,” Craig said, turning to face her.

“Last time I checked, this is my pub, and I can do what the hell I like,” Michelle snapped. “Did it not cross your mind that maybe Carla doesn’t want her private life shared with strangers?”

“It’s not private if everyone already knows about it,” Craig muttered.

“There’s no need to kick him out,” Jess said quickly. “We were just leaving anyway. Come on, Craig.”

She finished her drink, gave Lisa an apologetic smile, and led Craig toward the door.

“I’m probably going to head off too,” Dani said, downing the rest of her wine. “I’ll see you Monday.”

“See you Monday,” Lisa replied, watching her go. She looked around the now quieter pub and gave a soft laugh.

“And then there was one.”

Seconds later, Michelle came over and sat beside Lisa.

“What he said about Carla, it doesn’t sound great, I know, but it’s not as bad as he made it out to be.”

Lisa held up a hand gently. “I’m going to stop you there. I’m not even sure who Carla is, so how about we pretend he told me nothing. I’ll finish my glass of wine and head home, because I’m fairly certain there aren’t two of you sitting across from me. Those shots were definitely not my best decision.”

She could only assume Michelle didn’t know about her and Carla’s previous interaction. Lisa was fairly sure Carla would prefer to keep it that way, and so would she.

“Thank you,” Michelle said softly. “Carla, well, she’s an enigma. If you ever do meet her, I think you’ll see that for yourself. She’s not her past. She’s so much more than that. The things she’s been through, the things she’s overcome, honestly, how she still gets up every day baffles me. But she’s private. Or she would be, if people on this street could keep their mouths shut.”

“I have no idea who Carla is or anything about her,” Lisa replied, keeping her tone light.

“Thank you,” Michelle said simply, before standing and heading back behind the bar.

Lisa, meanwhile, had gone from seeing double to seeing triple, something she hadn’t even known was possible. She was suddenly very grateful that Betsy had gone back to London for a few days to visit her friends. It meant Lisa could go home, collapse into bed, and not move until Monday.

She already knew the hangover was going to be brutal; she hadn’t drunk like this in a long time.

She pushed the table forward and slid out from behind it, carefully trying to keep her balance. The attempt failed the moment she stepped outside and stumbled straight into someone.

She didn’t have time to register who it was. Her stomach lurched violently, and within seconds she was bolting around the corner of the pub, barely making it in time before she threw up.

A moment later, she felt a hand on her back and another gently holding her hair.

“One too many glasses of wine, Detective.”

Lisa said nothing. She threw up again. And again. Then a third time, just for good measure.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then onto her jeans, before slowly standing up. When she finally looked up, she found herself face to face with Carla.

“I’m fine now, thank you,” Lisa said stiffly, and began the slow walk home.

It was going surprisingly well until she reached the cobblestones. Suddenly, it felt less like walking and more like tightrope balancing while blindfolded. Each step became a battle to stay upright.

She stumbled and nearly went down before a pair of arms wrapped around her waist, catching her just in time.

“I was enjoying watching you struggle a little too much,” Carla said, holding her steady. “But we probably don’t want the residents of Weatherfield thinking their police force has been left in the hands of a drunk.”

“I am perfectly find.”

“I think you mean fine.”

“That’s what I said.”

“If you say so. Now, where’s your front door key? Because by the looks of you, you’ve had a skinfull and are likely seeing double, so the chances of you getting the key in the lock are pretty slim.”

“I’ll have you know I’m very experienced when it comes to getting things in holes,” Lisa replied, smirking.

“If you say so. Key?”

“Back pocket. I don’t need you to get it,” Lisa started to say, but Carla’s hands were already in motion, rifling through her pocket and pulling out the key.

“Nice jeans, by the way,” Carla said casually as she unlocked the door.

“Right, well, thanks for all your help. You’ve saved me again. I’d say we’re even, but at this point I’ve lost track of the score.”

Lisa wasn’t sure why she and Carla kept showing up in each other’s lives at the exact moment things were going wrong or when one of them needed help. But that seemed to be the pattern with them.

She stood there for a moment, looking at Carla. Craig’s gossip echoed faintly in her mind, but it was Michelle’s words that stuck, calling Carla an enigma. And now, standing here in the quiet of the night, Lisa could actually see it.

Lisa turned and stepped through the front door, but before she could fully settle, she tripped on the threshold and crashed face-first onto the hard floor. The sharp sting of impact shocked her senses. Moments later, Carla burst into the room and quickly crouched to help her up.

“Why is my face wet?” Lisa asked, her voice shaky as she touched her cheek, feeling the warmth of fresh blood.

“You’re having a nosebleed. That’s going to leave a nasty bruise tomorrow.” She glanced around, then headed into the kitchen to grab a tissue. “Here, pinch your nose firmly and lean your head between your legs, at least I think that’s what you’re supposed to do.”

Lisa obeyed, the metallic taste of blood sharp on her tongue as she tried to steady her breathing. The room felt suddenly too quiet except for the thumping of her heart.

“Well, I’ve stopped seeing double,” Lisa joked, her voice muffled slightly by the tissue pressed to her nose.

“Yeah, nothing like a bump to the face to sober you up,” Carla replied, slipping an arm under Lisa’s and helping her to her feet. “Come on, let’s get you up to bed. That top’s going to need soaking if you want the blood to come out.”

Without hesitation, Lisa tugged the stained shirt over her head and tossed it vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. “That’s tomorrow’s problem.”

Carla shook her head, half amused, half exasperated. “Right. Well, lead the way, and I’ll help you into bed. I’ll grab you a glass of water and some painkillers. Should help with the hangover and whatever’s going on with your face.”

“I’m more than capable of getting myself into bed.”

“Lisa, shut up and just accept the help.”

“Yes, boss.”

Carla guided Lisa to the edge of the bed and gently pushed her down to sit. Lisa wobbled slightly but caught herself with a hand on the mattress.

“Alright, boots first,” Carla muttered, crouching down and tugging at the laces.

Lisa watched her with a lazy smirk. “First you get my top off, now you’re on your knees taking off my boots. Maybe we should leave the trousers on before this turns into something scandalous.”

Carla rolled her eyes but didn’t look up. “Please. If I was going to seduce someone, they’d be conscious and not bleeding from the face.”

“Fair,” Lisa mumbled, leaning back on her elbows. “But it’s nice to know I’ve still got it.”

“You’ve got something,” Carla said, yanking off the second boot and standing up with a grunt. “Mostly blood and bad decisions.”

Carla gave Lisa a steady look. “Alright, into bed.”

Lisa flopped back on the mattress with a grin. “No dinner? No sweet talk? You really know how to treat a girl.”

Carla sighed, pulling the blanket up over her without reacting to the comment. “You hit the floor face-first twenty minutes ago. You should be in pain not flirting.”

Lisa chuckled. “Maybe I just like the attention.”

“I’m sure you do,” Carla said, smoothing the blanket down. Her voice was calm, almost gentle, but distant enough to remind Lisa this wasn’t that kind of moment. “Try to get some sleep. You need it.”

Lisa watched her for a minute, then let out a softer laugh, more tired than flirty. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m fun when someone’s not bleeding.”

Lisa closed her eyes, voice low. “Thanks for looking after me.”

Carla paused at the edge of the bed. “Of course.”

Then she turned off the light.

Chapter Text

Carla sat behind her desk, staring into space. She had been trying to solve one problem after another. The latest disaster was an oversight on an invoice, which meant a client ended up paying forty percent less than the agreed price. When Carla tried to push him into paying the original amount, he flatly refused. She wanted to tell him to shove it where the sun didn’t shine, but forty percent less was still better than losing the contract entirely.

It had been a few days since she’d helped a drunken DI Swain home, and she hadn’t seen the blonde detective since. Not that Carla had been anywhere herself. Most of her time had been spent either at the factory or at her flat. Even on the short walks to and from work, there had been no sign of her. She wasn’t exactly looking for Lisa, not deliberately, but if they happened to bump into each other, as they often seemed to, Carla wouldn’t have minded checking in on her.

Shaking the thoughts of the detective from her mind, Carla forced herself to focus on the task at hand. She needed another client, someone who could make up for the forty percent loss Eli had left her with. If she could land a contract with a client with deep enough pockets, she might even break even this month. Things were tight, and she knew she had only herself to blame. The moment her life had fallen apart and she had fled to London, the factory had slipped through the cracks.

She had already lost the child that once lived inside her, and now she was letting the one she had built from the ground up die too. The factory had always been different. It was steady, reliable, the one constant that hadn’t let her down. When the world around her felt like it was collapsing, the hum of the machines and the rhythm of the work had been her lifeline. Losing it now felt like losing herself all over again. She needed to pull it back, to get it running at full strength, not just for the business, but for the fragile thread of purpose it gave her. Without it, there was nothing, just the echo of everything she had already lost.

A knock at the door snapped her back to reality. “Come in,” she called.

She half-expected Fizz, Sean, maybe even Izzy, but instead, she found herself staring at a rather embarrassed, bruised detective, who managed a weak smile and a quiet, “Hi.”

“How was the hangover? I was starting to think you might have died or something. I haven’t seen you around the last few days. Everything okay?” Carla asked.

Lisa wandered over to Carla’s desk and pointed at the chair. “May I?”

“Knock yourself out,” Carla said with a smirk.

Lisa dropped into the chair with a dramatic sigh. “The hangover, the one that refuses to leave, is still very much kicking my arse. Honestly, I remember why I don’t drink now. I’m not nineteen anymore. Recovery takes longer than the actual night out.”

Carla laughed. “So basically, you’re saying your party girl warranty expired?”

“Completely void,” Lisa groaned. “At this point, I need a full body reboot and maybe a new liver and potentially a new nose. How did that happen, or don’t I want to know?”

“You really put it away, or so I heard. I didn’t catch the actual drinking, just the aftermath. Which, by the way, included you face-planting the second I got you through the door. Michelle said you were knocking them back, DI Swain, trying to keep up with the young ones. Shots, huh? Bet they felt like genius moves, right up until they staged their comeback.”

Lisa clapped a hand over her mouth, looking queasy. “Don’t remind me. They were lethal. It was the perfect storm: no food, barely any sleep, and way too much alcohol.”

Carla grinned. “So basically just a Tuesday night for me. What brings you by anyway? I mean, not that I’m not happy to see that you are in fact alive, but I didn’t think social calls were your thing.”

“Well, I do actually have a reason for coming over, and I’m not sure if it’s overstepping, but I didn’t know who else to ask. First, though, I owe you an apology for my behavior the other night. And a thank-you for getting me home and, I’m assuming, into bed, because I genuinely don’t remember much after about my fourth shot.”

She gave a sheepish smile. “I really do appreciate it. I don’t know many people here, and I can’t picture anyone else being so kind as to help me home and, uh, undress me.”

Lisa groaned into her hands. “God, that sounds bad. What I mean is, usually when a woman undresses me, I actually remember it. And it usually involves a lot more than being tucked in like a drunken toddler. So, um, did I say or do anything I shouldn’t have? Because when I drink, I tend to get handsy and flirty. And I would really, really hate if I crossed a line with you.”

Carla tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Well, you were definitely flirty. But I’ll give you this, you managed to keep your hands to yourself. Mostly.” She smirked. “Although, you did mutter something about me being on my knees.”

Lisa’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God. Please tell me you’re joking.”

Carla leaned back, grinning. “Nope. But to be fair, I was on my knees taking your boots off.”

Lisa buried her face in her hands. “That is not helping.”

Carla laughed softly. “Relax, Lisa. If that’s your idea of crossing a line, I think we’re both in the clear.”

“Okay, well, that’s good to know. At least I didn’t completely humiliate myself or overstep. So now that that’s cleared up and I’ve apologised,I should probably get going,” Lisa said, pushing her chair back a little too quickly.

Carla tilted her head. “Hang on. I thought you came here because you wanted my advice about something?”

Lisa avoided her eyes. “I did. But honestly, I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one week.”

Carla leaned forward across her desk, resting her chin on her hand with a faint smirk. “Lisa, you’ve seen me at my absolute lowest. Trust me, I can handle you being a little red-faced. Now stop stalling, sit down, and tell me what’s eating at you.”

Lisa hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip before reluctantly lowering herself back into the chair. She fiddled with the sleeve of her jacket, eyes firmly on her lap. “It’s nothing major.”

Carla arched an eyebrow. “Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

Lisa drew in a breath, then blurted in a low mumble, “I’ve joined a dating site.”

Carla blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

Lisa sighed and finally looked up, her cheeks pink. “I joined a dating site.”

Carla’s lips curled into a slow grin. “Ah. Now that explains the squirming. What’s the matter? Afraid I’m going to start proofreading your profile?”

Lisa groaned and dropped her face into her hands. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“Oh, give over,” Carla said, holding out her hand. “Give me the phone and let me take a look. But tell me, if you’re this embarrassed about it, why set one up in the first place?”

Lisa hesitated before finally passing her the phone. “Betsy. She told me it was about time I put myself out there. And she’s right, I suppose. It’s been ten years since I lost Bex, and there’s been nobody since. I didn’t want there to be. I was fine, happy enough on my own.”

She exhaled slowly, her voice softening. “But Betsy’s getting older. With this move, she’s spending more time in London with family and friends, and I’ve been alone. And it would be nice to have someone. Not for the sex, not really—that’s not what I miss. It’s having someone to talk to at the end of the day. Someone who actually listens, who’s interested, who doesn’t just grunt at me before going back to scrolling their phone.”

Carla studied her for a moment, her expression gentler than Lisa expected. “So you’re not looking for a fling. You’re looking for a partner.”

Lisa gave a small, embarrassed shrug. “Yeah. Something like that. I don’t do casual and I’m too old to be playing games.”

Carla flicked through the phone with a mischievous little grin. “Alright then, let’s see what you’ve got here.”

Lisa immediately reached forward. “Carla, don’t.”

But Carla was already scrolling, her eyes darting across the screen. “Hmm. Alright, decent photo, though you look like you’re about to tell someone off rather than flirt with them.”

Lisa groaned. “It was the only picture Betsy said didn’t make me look like a police mugshot.”

Carla smirked. “Bio’s not bad. Dedicated, loyal, looking for connection. Not a single joke, though. You know you’re allowed to sound fun, right?”

Lisa crossed her arms. “I’m not auditioning for stand-up, Carla.”

“Maybe not, but you don’t want to sound like you’re advertising for a flatmate either.” Carla kept scrolling, clearly enjoying herself far too much.

Lisa buried her face in her hands. “This was a mistake.”

Carla chuckled and set the phone down for a moment. “No, no, it’s not bad. Really. But it does make me wonder.” She tilted her head, studying Lisa. “What type of woman is your type?”

Lisa froze, blinking at her. “My type?”

Carla leaned back in her chair, clearly savoring the moment. “Yeah. Blonde, brunette, tall, short, sporty, brainy. Come on, Lisa. If I’m going to play wingwoman, I need to know what I’m working with.”

“Who said anything about you playing wingwoman?”

“Why else did you come here for my help if you didn’t want me to?” Carla shot back, smirking.

“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t really know anyone else, and I thought maybe you could stop me from accidentally going on a date with a serial killer,” Lisa admitted, her cheeks warming. “So I screenshot a couple of women who are sort of my type. You know, ones who don’t look like they’d try to murder me. I thought if you knew them, you could help me decide if I should actually message any of them.”

Carla raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. “Are we friends?”

Lisa paused, then shrugged awkwardly. “I don’t know. I mean, we’ve moved past being strangers who just keep saving each other, right?”

Carla chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah. I guess that’s one way to put it.”

“So, I don’t know what that makes us,” Lisa said, her voice quieter than she intended, “but I would really appreciate your help.”

The word friend hovered on the tip of Carla’s tongue, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to say it. At the start, she had sworn to keep her distance from Lisa. Distance meant safety, meant no new attachments that could unravel later. Yet the strange thing about distance was that it had a way of collapsing in on itself. No matter how far Carla tried to hold herself apart, somehow she and Lisa kept finding their way back into each other’s orbit.

And that was the problem. Carla had already reached her quota for letting people down this year, possibly for the next several years if she was honest. Opening the door to one more person, no matter how easy Lisa made it seem, felt reckless, dangerous. It was far better, Carla told herself, to keep things simple. She would help Lisa with this dating thing, draw the line there, and then they could both retreat back into the safety of their own worlds.

With that decision locked tight in her chest, Carla handed Lisa’s phone back across the desk and pushed her chair back. She stood, smoothing out the creases in her leggings as she crossed the room. The sofa sagged as she dropped into it, leaning comfortably against the cushions. She patted the space beside her and glanced up at Lisa.

“Come on then,” she said, nodding toward the phone. “Show me who’s managed to catch your eye, and I’ll tell you if I recognise any of them.”

Lisa hesitated a fraction too long before following. When she finally sank onto the sofa, she unlocked her phone and handed it back over without meeting Carla’s gaze. “There’s five. Just scroll.”

Carla obliged. Her thumb flicked slowly across the screen, profile after profile flashing by. She noticed the pattern almost immediately: brunettes, every one of them, each with sharp cheekbones and soft smiles, the kind of women who looked like they’d been carefully pulled from the same template. Pretty, slim, eyes that had that lingering quality, like they wanted to tell you secrets.

“You definitely have a type, don’t you?” Carla chuckled, scrolling to the last picture. “They’re all really pretty. Number five though, stay clear.”

“I tried to go for something different, someone that didn’t remind me too much of Bex, but I couldn’t picture myself with a blonde or redhead. Brunettes have always done it for me. And number five, why is she a serial killer?”

“No. You know your neighbour Sally, the one whose daughter Sophie’s a lesbian? That’s Paula. Sophie’s ex and still a friend of Sally’s. Probably best to steer clear. Otherwise, you risk ending up with a girlfriend and a Sally. Next thing you know, she’ll have you both roped into wine, nibbles, and late-night hot-tub sessions.”

“Okay, stay clear of Paula. Got it,” Lisa chuckled, leaning back slightly. “I mean, Sally seems lovely enough, but only in small doses.”

“Keep your voice down. She’s like Beetlejuice. Say her name three times and she’ll appear in the office,” Carla replied.

“Really?” Lisa asked.

“Yes. She has a habit of popping up when she’s not wanted. Lucky for you, she’s on annual leave this week.”

“Good to know. Okay, well, out of the four left, who should I swipe on? I mean, that’s how it works, right? I swipe, they swipe, and then it’s ding, a match? I’ve literally never done this before,” Lisa said, frowning at her phone.

“Why don’t you just swipe on all of them? Actually, scratch that, stay clear of number one. The rest? Go wild.”

Lisa raised a brow. “What’s wrong with number one? She looks cute.”

“She’s got a cat,” Carla deadpanned.

Lisa blinked. “That’s hardly a crime.”

“And her idea of a good time is hiking up a mountain to watch the sunrise. Voluntarily.”

Lisa snorted. “Okay, yeah, that’s suspicious behaviour.”

“Exactly. Anyone who gets up at 4 a.m. to walk uphill for fun? That’s not romance material, that’s a hostage situation waiting to happen.”

Carla smirked at her own joke, watching Lisa’s thumb hover indecisively over the screen. For a moment, the heaviness that usually clung to her loosened its grip, replaced by something almost foreign, something lighter. She found herself wondering what it might be like if this didn’t end here, if Lisa kept showing up in her life. Not because of what had happened that night, not out of some unspoken debt or obligation, but because Lisa was easy to talk to, easier than most. Maybe it would do them both some good to have someone new.

“So number two, three, and four it is,” Lisa said at last, flashing a grin. “Thanks, wing woman.”

She tapped her screen with a triumphant little flick, then stood and turned to walk away. “Seriously, I owe you one.”

“You’re welcome,” Carla said. She hesitated, then added, “And if you ever wanted to keep me updated on your progress, you could.”

Lisa tilted her head, amused. “That sounds like something you’d do with a friend.”

Carla met her gaze and, after a small pause, nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

Lisa’s smile lingered, softer this time, before she turned for the door. The room felt a little quieter once she’d gone, the air settling back into its usual stillness, but the weight on Carla’s chest wasn’t quite as heavy as before.

Chapter Text

Lisa stood in front of the mirror, fastening the buttons of her shirt. Black, silk, and tucked away in her wardrobe for as long as she could remember, it had finally been pulled from the hanger tonight. She had paired it with dark denim jeans and black boots, a date night outfit for an actual date. Her first in over twenty-five years.

What on earth was she thinking? She hadn’t done this in decades. The last time she had gone on a first date, it had been with the woman she eventually married.

Flashback

Lisa sat at the bar, the humming of the music filling her ears, the sticky varnish of the bar top beneath her fingertips. She had been nervous, nursing a glass of red, trying not to stare too obviously at Becky across the table.

Becky, confident in a way that made Lisa’s chest ache, leaned in close to be heard over the jukebox. “So,” she said with a grin, “are you always this shy or am I just special?”

Lisa had blushed, stammered something half-coherent, and Becky laughed, not unkindly, but with warmth that made the room shrink down to just the two of them.

Later, when the crowd had thinned and the bartender was stacking stools, Becky reached for Lisa’s hand. Simple, certain. And Lisa had known right then that this was the start of something that could change her life.

Present Day

“Wow, Mum, you look incredible,” Betsy gushed, leaning against the doorway of Lisa’s bedroom.

“I do?” Lisa asked, smoothing the silk of her shirt, unsure whether to believe her. It felt strange to dress like this again, to be seen.

“Of course. She’s not going to know what hit her.”

Lisa gave a half-smile, though her chest felt tight. “Are you sure it’s still okay for you to stay at River’s tonight? I can always cancel, and we could have a film night just the two of us. Popcorn, old movies…”

“Mum, it’s fine,” Betsy interrupted gently. “River’s mum is picking me up in about half an hour. You’re only going to the Bistro. You’ll be close enough if I need you, which I won’t. Don’t use me as an excuse. It’s okay if you’re nervous, but this is good for you. Even if it doesn’t turn into something romantic, you might make a new friend. And you’re always telling me you can’t have too many friends.”

Lisa studied her daughter, struck by how grown-up she sounded. Betsy wasn’t a little girl anymore, yet somehow she was the one steadying her mother. She knew Betsy was right, of course she did. But the second her daughter turned to leave, Lisa felt her resolve crumble.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, reached for her phone, and opened WhatsApp. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, her pulse quickening.

She typed a short message: I’m so sorry, I can’t make it tonight. Betsy isn’t well. I can’t leave her.

She read it twice, guilt prickling, before pressing send. The message sat there on the screen, two blue ticks appearing almost immediately.

Lisa exhaled slowly and set the phone aside. She wouldn’t tell Betsy she had cancelled. Instead, she would walk out the door as though everything was fine, pretend she was going to the Bistro, and head to the Rovers instead. She could sit in the corner with a quiet drink until she knew Betsy had gone, then come home.

The truth was, she wasn’t ready. Not yet. And although she told herself it was okay to feel like that, a heavy wave of shame rolled through her. Ten years had passed since Becky died. Ten years of birthdays, school runs, and nights alone. She should be ready to move on. Shouldn’t she?

She pressed her hand flat against her chest, as though she could steady the ache that lived there. Dressing up, putting on lipstick, pretending she was ready for someone new, it felt like trying on a life that no longer fit.

She pressed a kiss to Betsy’s head, smoothing the soft hair at the crown as if that single gesture could steady her. In the narrow hallway she paused and checked herself in the mirror, adjusting the neckline of her shirt and the collar of her jacket.

She opened the front door and walked the few steps across to the Rovers. She pushed the door open and made her way straight to the bar.

“A glass of red wine, please, Michelle.”

“If you go grab a seat I will bring it over,” Michelle replied, wiping a glass with a practiced motion and offering a small smile.

“Thank you,” Lisa answered. She chose a seat by the door, where she could see anyone who came in and slip out if the panic started. The plan was simple. Wait the right amount of time, drink the right amount of wine, then go home before the night grew heavy with what ifs.

She sat and sipped her wine when the door opened and Carla walked in. Carla glanced at Michelle, nodded, then scanned the room. Her eyes landed on Lisa, and she hesitated with that curious expression that always made Lisa feel exposed and seen.

“Mind if I join you?” Carla asked. She was casual, but her tone carried the kind of directness that cut through small talk. “I mean, unless you are waiting for a date. You look rather dressed up to be sitting alone in the Rovers.”

Lisa’s fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. “I’m dressed for a date,” she said.

“Oh, right. Well, in that case I will leave you to it,” Carla replied, already turning away.

Lisa grabbed her hand before Carla could step out of reach. The sudden motion surprised them both, raw and unconscious. “Please, sit. I don’t like drinking on my own. I cancelled the date. I couldn’t do it. It just didn’t seem right,” Lisa admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“In that case, I will join you,” Carla said, and the simplicity of the reply made something in Lisa unclench.

“Thank you. Let me buy you a drink.”

“Just a water will do,” Carla replied, already leaning toward the bar. “Chelle, a glass of water and salt and vinegar crisps please.”

Michelle raised an eyebrow. “Water? You alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“So come on then,” Carla prompted once she sat down. “Tell me why you cancelled the date but are sitting in here looking like that rather than being at home.”

Lisa stared into her glass.

“Betsy was excited for me to go on the date,” she said finally. “I didn’t want to tell her I’d chickened out, so I thought I could hide here until she went to her sleepover. Then I could go home, open a bottle of wine, stare at Becky’s and my wedding album, and ask her how the hell I’m supposed to move on. I haven’t been on a date for years. I don’t know how to do this.”

“Okay, enough of the pity party. Yes, that is harsh, but someone needed to say it. You are still in the prime of your life. You are beautiful, kind, and funny in a not-obvious kind of way. You are a great mum, despite what you think. There is nothing that says you have to go on a date right now or meet someone new. It’s been ten years, and you can take all the time you need. You thought you’d be with Becky forever, and that didn’t happen. That’s not your fault. But you are doing yourself and the lesbian community a disservice by closing yourself off completely. Someone great might be out there, and they might not be on a dating app. They might just drop into your world when you least expect it.”

Lisa’s jaw dropped, partly from the truth of the words and partly from surprise that they came out of Carla’s mouth. She blinked.

“Yeah, I’m not sure when I got so wise either, but it’s true,” Carla continued, a small self-deprecating smile tugging at her lips. “For the time being you’ve got me. We are friends now. I mean, it was inevitable, we keep bumping into each other. However, I am not so happy you left me on read or whatever the equivalent of not writing back is.”

“Not writing back? What are you talking about? I thought you hadn’t written back, so I just assumed we weren’t doing that anymore,” she confessed.

Carla shook her head slowly. “I wrote back and left it with you the day I took you home, you know, the day you were drunk. I left it on your dressing table.”

“Really? I didn’t see it.”

“Yes. I’m not sure how to explain it, but I really enjoy writing to you,” Carla said, her voice softening.

“Well, if there is a letter then of course I will find it, read it, and send one back. I really enjoy writing to you as well,” Lisa admitted. Relief and a glimmer of hope warmed her face. The plan to hide in the Rovers suddenly felt less like cowardice and more like a pause, a breath before the next thing happened.

Carla sipped her water, Lisa her wine. They sat in a comfortable silence, neither of them feeling the need to fill it with words. Just being there together was enough. For Lisa, it felt like a small relief. Moving had been hardest when it meant having no one. But with Carla, she could imagine a friendship taking root.

An hour slipped by before Lisa decided it was time to head off. She had been out long enough that Betsy wouldn’t suspect she had canceled. Tomorrow, she would tell Betsy that the evening hadn’t gone well, that they wouldn’t be meeting again.

“Thanks for keeping me company, but I think I should head off,” Lisa said.

“Thank you for a nice evening,” Carla replied. “I thought I was going to sit here alone and drown my sorrows. But I’m trying to cut back on alcohol, so thank you.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Carla smiled faintly. “I think I’ll head home too, less temptation there. Shall we walk together?”

Lisa chuckled. “I mean, I live just over the road, but yes. I’d like that.”

Carla stood from her chair and turned back to the bar where Michelle stood polishing glasses.

“Night, Chelle.”

“Night, love.”

Together, Carla and Lisa stepped out into the cool evening air. They walked side by side, an easy rhythm between them, neither hurrying the moment.

At Lisa’s door, Carla paused. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “For letting me invade your night. I didn’t realise how much I needed the company until now.”

Lisa smiled, unlocking her door but not stepping through yet. “You can invade my night anytime,” she said, the words slipping out more naturally than she expected.

Carla’s expression softened. She gave a small nod, then turned to head off down the street.

Lisa lingered a moment before stepping inside. She slipped off her shoes, climbed the stairs, and made her way to her bedroom.

She leaned over the dressing table, and right at the back was a white envelope. She tried to reach for it, but couldn’t. Pulling the table out, she grabbed the letter and sat on the edge of the bed.

Lisa,

Thank you. I can’t tell you how much it means to be given space without judgment or curiosity.

It reassures me to know that when the time feels right, there will be no expectations, only the chance to talk honestly and maybe share a little of ourselves. For now, I’ll keep taking things one step at a time.

I’m glad we crossed paths. Who knows where I’d be if we hadn’t. And for a nosy copper, you’re really not so bad.

Carla

Lisa let out a soft breath as she finished the letter, her eyes lingering on the playful line about being a “nosy copper.” It made her smile, but it also stirred something deeper. She read it again, slower this time, letting the words sink in. Since that first letter, she and Carla had become more than strangers. Maybe not quite friends yet, but something that lived in the space between two women who seemed to keep crossing paths, pulling one another back from edges neither of them wanted to face alone.

Lisa liked to think it was friendship, or at least the beginning of it. Perhaps even something more complicated, though she wouldn’t dare name it yet. A part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that meeting Carla before moving to Weatherfield hadn’t been coincidence at all, that maybe it was meant to happen, that all the mess and upheaval had led her exactly here.

With that thought, Lisa set the letter gently on the table. She didn’t want to leave Carla unanswered, the written equivalent of leaving her on read. So she reached for a piece of paper, a pen, and an envelope. If Carla had trusted her enough to write, then Lisa owed her words in return.

Chapter Text

Carla sat on the living room floor, empty wine bottles scattered around her. The wedding album lay open in her lap, its glossy pages catching the lamplight. Today should have been a celebration. She and Peter should have been dressing up, deciding whether to spend the evening in town or tucked away in a hotel. Instead, she was sitting alone on the carpet, two bottles down, replaying every moment that had led her here.

Her phone rested beside her hand. She wanted to pick it up, to call Peter and scream until her voice broke. She wanted to tell him about every single thing that had unraveled since he betrayed her. He deserved to know the weight of her grief, the hollowed-out ache he had left her with, the kind of pain that didn’t end but kept gnawing at her night after night.

No, a phone call wouldn’t work. He could hang up at any second, and even if she kept calling, he probably wouldn’t answer. This had to be done in person. She finished her glass of wine, the liquid burning a warm trail down her throat, and poured another. It went down just as quickly, heat and courage mingling in her chest.

Finally, she pushed herself off the floor, gripping the sofa for balance as the room spun around her. Her hand rattled over the back of the chair, snagging her coat and yanking it on. Keys clattered in her other hand, a metallic reminder of the world outside this apartment. She stumbled toward the front door, every step unsteady.

Carla stumbled down the narrow hallway, her hand scraping along the wall for balance. Every step down the staircase felt heavier than the last, her legs uncertain, her vision blurred. She wasn’t sure if it was the drink or the grief that made her sway. Maybe both. When she finally reached the front door, she yanked it open and staggered into the night. The air was sharp against her skin.

The street was quiet, too quiet. Her boots stomped against the cobblestones as she crossed toward Ken’s house. Peter’s house now. Or at least that’s what she thought of it whenever she pictured him inside, pretending life had gone on without her. He had moved in there after the split. After Tina. After everything.

She reached the door and began pounding on it with her fist.

“Open up!” she shouted. Her voice echoed in the empty street.

Nothing. She hit the door again, louder this time. Her heart was racing, her stomach twisting. What if he didn’t answer? What if he did?

The door finally opened, and her stomach dropped. Not Peter. Tracy.

“What do you want?”

Carla blinked at her, trying to steady her breathing. “I need to talk to Peter.”

“You’ve broken him, and now you’ve turned up here on your anniversary to talk to him? You’ve got some nerve.”

Carla felt something inside her snap. “I’ve broken him? Do you hear yourself? Don’t you think that him sticking his dick inside Tina had something to do with this?” Her voice cracked on Tina’s name. The image was still there, still burned into her mind, the whispers, the looks, the truth she couldn’t unsee. “I’m not explaining myself to you. I want to talk to Peter, and I want to talk to him now.”

Tracy smirked. “I can see why he went for the younger model. You’re completely crazy.”

“Crazy?” Carla took a step closer, her breath hot in the cold air. “If you don’t get him out here now, I’ll show you just how crazy I can be.”

For a moment, neither woman moved. Then a shadow appeared behind Tracy. Peter.

“Give it a rest, Tracy. I’ll handle it,” he said, his voice low, tired.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Carla let out a small, bitter laugh. “Didn’t realise you needed a guard dog.”

Peter’s eyes met hers. The same eyes that used to make her feel safe now just made her feel sick. “What do you want, Carla?”

“Thought you might want to see your wife. It’s our anniversary,” she said, her lips trembling.

His face hardened. “Are you serious? Carla, you haven’t come here to reminisce or celebrate. You’ve come for a fight. How much have you had to drink?”

She stared at him, feeling the sting of humiliation rise in her chest. “Not enough.”

“I think you should go home and sleep it off. You’re just making a fool of yourself.”

A fool. That word hit her harder than it should have. She had been so many things in her life, ruthless, clever, strong, but never a fool. Except with him. “I’m making a fool of myself?” she shouted. “You’re the one who had to move back in with your father. You’re the one who blew everything up. You’re the one who cheated and caused me to lose our baby.”

Her voice broke on the last word. Baby. The silence that followed was unbearable.

Peter looked down, his voice quiet. “Carla, we can’t keep going round in circles. It happened. I’ve said sorry. We need to move forward. I’m not going to stand in the street and have a screaming match with you.”

“Move forward?” she repeated softly, almost to herself. “How can I move forward when I’ve lost everything?”

The night seemed to close in on her. She remembered the hospital room. The emptiness. The sound of the monitor going flat. The words from the nurse. She had thought she’d never stop crying, but then she did, and that was worse.

Peter’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Carla, just go home.”

She looked up at him, eyes glassy. “You wouldn’t be saying that if I told you I came here to have sex. I bet you’d be ushering me upstairs and onto the bed within seconds, because that’s the type of man you are. Cheat on your new wife on your wedding day. Have sex with your drunken, grieving wife. Come on then. Let’s go have sex. Let’s go back to the flat and celebrate our anniversary.”

Her words were slurred, cruel, but they came from a place deeper than anger. She wanted to hurt him the way he had hurt her. She wanted to feel something, anything, that wasn’t this emptiness.

Peter sighed, looking at her with pity. That pity was worse than any insult. “Carla, just go home. Sleep it off and we can talk in the morning.” He pushed her gently back and closed the door.

The sound of the latch turning was final.

Carla stumbled backward and fell onto the pavement. The world blurred. She pressed her palms against the cold ground and felt the tears coming faster now. She didn’t know what else there was to do.

Seconds later, an arm slipped around her waist, pulling her up.

“Bets, go home. I’ll help Carla, then I’ll come back,” Lisa said softly.

Carla tried to pull away. “I don’t need your help. You helping is what got me here in the first place. Why couldn’t you just let me jump? End it. Leave this miserable life. Because if you had, I wouldn’t be here, begging my husband, my ex-husband, I don’t even know what he is anymore.” She stopped, her voice shaking. “But I do know one thing. I hate him. I hate him so fucking much.”

Lisa said nothing. The street was silent except for Carla’s sobs.

Inside, behind the door, she imagined Peter standing there, listening. Maybe he was relieved. Maybe he felt guilty. She hoped he did. Because in that moment, she couldn’t feel anything but the hollow ache where love used to be.

The walk back to the flat was long and silent. It shouldn’t have felt this long, but the cold night air and the amount Carla had drunk were clearly catching up to her. She stumbled slightly on the uneven cobblestones, her balance wavering with every few steps.

When they finally reached the front door, Carla swayed and pulled away from Lisa’s steadying hand.

“I’m okay. I don’t need help to get inside,” she slurred, fumbling for her keys.

Lisa folded her arms. “You helped me home when I was drunk. I think it’s only fair I repay the favour. Now, give me your keys and I’ll unlock the door and help you inside.”

Carla sighed, a sound halfway between annoyance and exhaustion. “I really don’t want any help.”

“Well,” Lisa said, her tone firm but not unkind, “what you want and what you need are two different things, sadly.” She slipped the keys from Carla’s hand and unlocked the outer door. “Right then, let’s tackle these stairs, shall we?”

Carla slouched against her, finally admitting defeat. Lisa guided her carefully up the narrow staircase, one slow step at a time. By the time they reached the landing, Carla’s head was drooping onto Lisa’s shoulder. Lisa unlocked the flat and helped her inside.

“Come on, sofa’s right here,” she murmured, easing Carla toward it. Carla flopped down heavily, the motion pulling Lisa off balance so that she landed awkwardly on top of her. For a split second their faces were only inches apart. Lisa’s breath caught before she pushed herself upright, standing quickly and smoothing her hair.

“Sorry,” Carla mumbled, eyes half-closed.

“It’s okay,” Lisa replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “Are we getting you into bed, or…?”

“I’m fine here,” Carla muttered, curling up on the sofa. Within seconds her breathing began to slow, the room spinning just enough to make her sink deeper into the cushions. She could hear Lisa moving somewhere nearby, the faint click of a light switch, the rustle of her coat, but it all blurred together.

Her last clear thought before sleep took her was the warmth of Lisa’s arm still lingering against her side and the quiet comfort of knowing she wasn’t alone.

Chapter Text

Lisa rolled over and reached for her phone, squinting at the screen as the time glowed back at her. It was early, far too early to be awake on a Saturday. Especially a Saturday that fell on her weekend off. Normally she would have groaned, rolled over again and stolen another hour of sleep, but today was different. Today was exciting. Well, exciting for Betsy anyway. Georgia was coming to stay.

It was the first time the girls would be seeing each other since the move. Betsy had originally begged for both Shannon and Georgia to come, but that hadn’t been possible, so she had reluctantly settled for just Georgia. Even that had been enough to send her into a week-long spiral of excitement.

Lisa pushed herself out of bed, pulled her dressing gown tight around her waist and padded downstairs. The house was still and quiet, the kind of quiet that only existed early in the morning before the day truly started. She flicked on the coffee machine, the familiar hum filling the kitchen, and dropped a slice of bread into the toaster.

While she waited, her thoughts drifted, as they so often did, to Carla.

She hadn’t seen the factory owner in a few days. Not since she had helped her home. Lisa wondered how she was, whether she was eating properly, whether she was sleeping. She had thought about reaching out more than once, had even headed over to the flat but never buzzed. Life had got in the way. Work, Betsy, everything else. Now it felt like too much time had passed and she didn’t know how to bridge the gap.

The toaster popped, jolting her back to the present. She buttered the toast generously and took a bite, perching herself on one of the stools at the kitchen island. The silence was comforting. She planned to enjoy every second of it, because in a few hours the house would be filled with the sound of two teenage girls shrieking, laughing and trying to drag her into filming TikToks.

At least Georgia’s aunt Ella was coming too. She had agreed to stay for the weekend, which meant Lisa would have some backup.

Ella had become Georgia’s guardian after her parents had died in a car crash. Lisa had known her for years, in that sideways way you know someone who’s always been present but never central. Georgia’s guardian. The adult in the background of birthdays and school events, polite conversations at the door, the occasional shared glass of wine when Georgia stayed late. It would be nice to spend time with a familiar, friendly face. Adult conversation with someone who understood their past, who knew what Betsy had lost and how much change she had been forced to navigate. And it would be good for Betsy too, to spend time with someone who wasn’t Lisa.

If she was honest with herself, Lisa knew Betsy was struggling. She tried so hard at her new school, putting herself out there, smiling through it all, but she was still the new girl. The girl with the lesbian mum and the other mum who was dead. Apart from one girl called River, who Betsy had clicked with almost instantly, most people kept their distance.

Lisa was pulled from her thoughts by heavy footsteps thundering down the stairs, loud and completely lacking any attempt at subtlety. A moment later Betsy appeared beside her, already shoving her phone inches from Lisa’s face.

“Georgia’s sent me their ETA. I’ve put fresh bedding on my bed and on the spare, my room’s tidy, so once I’ve had breakfast can I have some money to go to the shop and get snacks?”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Bets, it’s only just after eight. What time did you get up?”

“Oh, I’ve been awake since about half five,” Betsy replied, helping herself to a piece of toast from Lisa’s plate and taking a bite.

“So you do know there is a half five in the morning and not just in the evening then?” Lisa said, smiling.

“Haha. Very funny, mother. Honestly, you should give up your job and become a comedian.”

“Funny enough, that’s not the first time I’ve been told that.”

“Who else lied to you?”

“Oh, it was nobody.”

Lisa didn't want to go there. Talking about that would mean explaining Carla, and Carla’s past, and that was not her story to tell. Carla had wanted her private life kept quiet. Nobody needed to know how close she had come to the edge, how she had sat with her legs dangling over a bridge, convinced the world would be better off without her. Lisa swallowed the thought and let it go.

Betsy leaned against the counter. “So… where are we on the money for snacks?”

“Put a wash on and there’s twenty quid in my wallet,” Lisa replied. “I’d give you a tenner, but with the prices Dev charges for a bag of Skittles I don’t think that would get you very far.”

“Thanks, Mum. You’re the best.”

Lisa smiled softly. “It would be nice to hear that once in a while.”

Lisa finished her coffee and stood, stretching slightly as she carried her plate to the sink. She rinsed it quickly, left it on the drainer and glanced at the clock on the oven. Still early, but not early enough to linger. She could already feel the shift in the air, the quiet slipping away as the day began to gather momentum.

“I’m going to jump in the shower,” she called as she headed for the stairs. “Try not to burn the house down while I’m gone.”

“No promises,” Betsy shouted back, already half distracted by her phone.

Upstairs, Lisa closed the bathroom door behind her and turned on the shower. Steam began to curl through the room as the water heated, fogging the mirror. She stepped under the spray and let out a slow breath as the warmth hit her shoulders. For a few moments she allowed herself to just stand there, eyes closed, letting the water beat against her skin.

Her thoughts, unhelpfully, drifted back to Carla again. Lisa wondered whether she was awake yet, whether she was alone this morning too. She pictured her standing in her kitchen, coffee in hand, trying to hold herself together. The image settled heavy in her chest. She pushed it aside, reminding herself she had a house full of people arriving any minute. Today was about Betsy.

She shampooed her hair, rinsed and reached for the soap, moving on autopilot. The sound of running water drowned out the rest of the house, cocooning her in temporary calm. She lingered a moment longer than she should have, knowing full well it would come back to bite her.

When she finally stepped out of the shower, the bathroom was thick with steam. She wrapped herself in a towel and wiped a clear patch on the mirror, checking her reflection briefly before heading into the bedroom. She pulled on a pair of jeans, a soft jumper and some clean socks, drying her hair roughly with the towel as she went.

She was halfway through brushing her hair when a shout echoed up the stairs.

“Mum!”

Lisa froze, brush mid-stroke.

“Mum!” Betsy yelled again, louder this time. “They’re round the corner. Like literally round the corner. You need to hurry up.”

Lisa glanced at herself in the mirror, then at the clock. “Betsy, I’m nearly ready,” she called back.

“No, you’re not. You say that every time,” Betsy replied, her voice sharp with excitement. “Georgia’s just sent another message. Ella’s car’s already on our road.”

Lisa groaned softly, grabbing her phone and shoving it into her pocket. She slipped her feet into her trainers without bothering to tie the laces properly and gave her hair one last tug with the brush.

“I’m coming,” she shouted, heading for the door. 

“You’ve got thirty seconds,” Betsy called back, already halfway to the front door.

Lisa shook her head, smiling, and hurried downstairs, the sound of Betsy’s excited pacing and muffled giggling drifting through the house as the long-awaited visit finally began.

Georgia burst into the house first, dumping her bag and announcing she was starving. Betsy followed, immediately slipping back into best-friend mode, the two of them talking over each other as if no time had passed at all.

Ella lingered by the door.

“Hi, Lisa,” she said, smiling.

“Hi,” Lisa replied, surprised by the small jolt it gave her. “Long drive?”

“Not too bad. Georgia controlled the music, though.”

Georgia scoffed from the hallway. “You loved it.”

Ella’s smile softened. “I survived it.”

The girls didn’t hang around.Within minutes Betsy was already dragging Georgia back towards the front door, talking a mile a minute about everything she wanted to show her.

“We’ll be back later,” Betsy called out, already halfway outside. “I’m showing Georgia the park and the precinct and we’re meeting River for milkshakes.”

“Text me when you get there,” Lisa replied automatically.

“Already planning on it,” Betsy shot back, her grin unmistakable even as the door closed behind them.

The house fell quiet again, the sudden stillness almost jarring after the burst of energy. Lisa stood for a moment, listening to their laughter fade down the street, then turned back towards the kitchen.

“Tea?” she called out.

Ella appeared in the doorway, shrugging off her coat. “I mean, after that drive I could really do with something stronger,” she said with a tired smile, “but seeing as it’s still early, tea now and wine tonight seems like a fair compromise.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out two bottles, holding them out to Lisa. “I brought these to say thank you. They’re from that wine shop in town. The one that does your favourite.”

“You remembered?”

“Of course,” Ella replied, simply.

Lisa smiled, something warm settling in her chest as she set the bottles carefully on the counter. She filled the kettle and switched it on, the quiet companionable hum of the kitchen filling the space between them.

“Make yourself at home,” Lisa said, reaching for mugs. “Milk? Sugar?”

“Milk, no sugar,” Ella replied, leaning back against the counter. She glanced around the kitchen, taking it in properly now. “It’s a lovely place. Betsy seems really settled here.”

Lisa nodded, though there was a flicker of something else beneath it. “She’s trying,” she said. “That’s what matters.”

Lisa handed Ella her mug and watched as she wrapped both hands around it, fingers lingering against the ceramic as if she was savouring the warmth.

“Perfect,” Ella said. “You make a good cup of tea. That feels like an underrated skill these days.”

Lisa smiled. “Years of practice. It’s basically my greatest achievement.”

Ella laughed softly and took a sip, her eyes lifting to Lisa over the rim of the mug. “I don’t know about that. Betsy seems pretty great. That doesn’t just happen by accident.”

There was something in the way she said it. Gentle. Intent. Lisa felt a small flicker of heat in her chest and immediately told herself not to be ridiculous. She was probably imagining things. Ella was ten years younger than her, for a start. And besides, Ella had always been friendly. Warm. That was just who she was.

Still, Lisa noticed the way Ella watched her when she thought she wasn’t being obvious. Little glances held a second longer than necessary. A smile that didn’t fade straight away.

They stood opposite each other at the kitchen island, steam curling up between them. Ella rested her elbow on the counter, chin propped lightly on her hand.

“You look well,” Ella said. “You always have, but you look settled here.”

Lisa hesitated. “I think I’m getting there.”

Ella nodded, eyes soft. “It suits you.”

Lisa took a sip of her tea, more to give herself something to do than because she needed it. Her mind felt suddenly loud. She told herself, again, not to read into it. Ella had been around for years. This was nothing new.

And yet, her thoughts drifted back through time, replaying moments she had never questioned before.

School events where Ella had chosen the seat beside her even when there were plenty of others free. Birthday parties where she had ended up talking to Lisa for most of the afternoon, ignoring the rest of the adults. The way she always asked how Lisa was, properly asked, as if she genuinely wanted to know the answer.

Then there was the night Betsy had broken her arm. Lisa could still remember the panic, the bright hospital lights, the endless waiting. Betsy had needed surgery, and Lisa had been running on adrenaline and fear when Ella had arrived, breathless, shrugging off her coat.

Georgia had insisted, she had said. Had refused to settle until Ella came.

Ella had stayed. All night. Sitting beside Lisa in those stiff plastic chairs, passing her cups of terrible vending machine coffee, keeping her talking when the silence threatened to overwhelm her. At one point, when Lisa’s head had dipped forward from exhaustion, Ella had gently touched her arm, grounding her. Lisa had told herself it was kindness. That Ella was just being supportive.

Now, standing in her quiet kitchen years later, she wondered if she had simply been oblivious. She looked up and caught Ella watching her again, her expression open, something unguarded there before she quickly smiled and lifted her mug.

“You okay?” Ella asked.

“Yeah,” Lisa replied, a little too quickly. “Just thinking.”

Ella’s smile softened. “You do that.”

Lisa laughed quietly. “More than I should.”

But even as the conversation drifted on, Lisa couldn’t shake the sense that something had shifted. That maybe she hadn’t imagined it at all. That maybe Ella had always been there, waiting patiently, while Lisa had been too busy surviving to see what was right in front of her.

A few hours later the girls were back. They had requested pizza for dinner and Lisa and Ella exchanged a look before agreeing that it made life considerably easier. Lisa opened the app and everyone added what they fancied. By the time the order was complete Lisa joked that she would need to take out another mortgage to pay for it, but she placed the order anyway.

Ella offered to pay half, already reaching for her phone, but Lisa waved her off. She insisted that they were her guests and besides it would probably be takeaway again tomorrow, so Ella could pay for that one if she really wanted to.

The pizza was delivered and eaten with very little conversation, the kind that comes when everyone is hungry and impatient. Wine was opened once plates were cleared. A film was chosen with little enthusiasm and then abandoned halfway through when Georgia sighed dramatically and declared that it was “boring in a sad way, not a fun way.”

“We’re going upstairs,” Betsy announced, already on her feet. “We’re going to make TikToks.”

Georgia did not even hesitate. “Coming.”

“You’re just leaving?”

Georgia grinned over her shoulder. “You’re adults. You’ll cope.”

And then they were gone, footsteps thudding up the stairs, laughter echoing down the hallway before a bedroom door slammed shut. The house felt instantly quieter, though the muffled music and shrieks of laughter still filtered down.

Ella reached for the bottle and topped up Lisa’s glass. “And then there were two,” she joked lightly.

Lisa smiled, then after a moment spoke more seriously. “Thank you for today. It was nice to have some company.” She took a sip of her wine, fingers tightening slightly around the stem. “I haven’t really made many friends. Okay, any really. It’s been a bit lonely.”

It was not entirely true. She had met Carla, after all, but she was not sure what they were to each other yet. Friends, something else, something undefined and fragile. With Ella things felt easier, comfortable, familiar in a way she had not realised she missed.

“Of course,” Ella said warmly. “I really enjoyed myself. I’ve missed our chats. You were the only sane mum from the school. The one I could actually be myself with without feeling judged.”

Lisa laughed softly. “I’ve missed them too.”

Silence settled between them, not awkward but thoughtful. They sat and sipped their wine, listening to the girls upstairs dancing, singing, laughing. It was a sound Lisa had missed more than she had allowed herself to admit, especially from Betsy.

“You’ve changed,” Ella said eventually, breaking the quiet.

Lisa tilted her head, curious rather than defensive. “Good or bad?”

“Just changed,” Ella replied. “Happier, maybe. More settled.”

Lisa smiled into her glass. “That took work.”

“I can see that.”

Their knees touched. Neither of them moved away. Lisa noticed it immediately, the warmth of contact, the way her body reacted before her mind had time to intervene.

It happened slowly, then all at once. A look held for a second too long. A shared laugh that faded into something quieter. Ella reached out, hesitating only briefly before brushing her thumb across Lisa’s lip, as if wiping away a drop of wine. The touch was barely there and yet it sent a shock through her.

“I…” Lisa started, unsure what she was about to say.

Ella leaned in.

The kiss surprised them both. It was soft at first, tentative, like a mistake that hadn't yet decided what it was. Then it deepened, warmer and more assured, tasting faintly of wine and something unmistakably intentional. Lisa’s hand came up without conscious permission, fingers curling into the fabric of Ella’s top. Ella exhaled against her mouth and responded without hesitation.

Tops shifted. Fabric lifted. Skin met skin.

And then clarity crashed in.

Lisa pulled back, breath uneven, heart racing hard enough to make her light headed. The room felt suddenly too small, too bright.

“No,” she said quietly, more to herself than to Ella. “I’m sorry. I… this is…”

She stood abruptly and pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to ground herself. “It’s probably best if we stop.”

The silence that followed felt enormous, stretching and heavy.

Ella did not look embarrassed or angry. She simply nodded, steady and calm, anchoring the moment rather than letting it spiral.

“You’re right,” she said gently.

Lisa swallowed. “I didn’t mean for…”

“I know,” Ella interrupted softly. “Neither did I. And we don’t need to make it more than it was. We can blame the wine and never talk about it again.”

“Blame the wine,” Lisa repeated faintly.

“Yes,” Ella said with a small smile. “The wine can take the blame and we can go back to being friends. Friends who never almost crossed a line.”

“Thank you,” Lisa said, relief and disappointment tangled together. “I think I’m going to head to bed, if that’s alright. Make yourself at home.”

She turned and started for the stairs before she could second guess herself.

“Lisa, wait,” Ella called after her.

But Lisa was already halfway up the stairs. She shut her bedroom door behind her and leaned against it as the emotions finally took over. That was the first time she had kissed another woman in ten years. What the hell was she thinking? She wasn't ready for that step. Or maybe she was. She hadn't pulled away. She had been the one to tug at Ella’s top.

She could go back downstairs. She could ask Ella to come to bed with her. The thought sent a rush through her, quickly followed by fear. What if when it actually came down to it she froze? What if she realised she wasn't ready after all?

No. It was better to leave it where it was.

Instead she grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and sat on the edge of the bed. She began to write, pouring every thought and feeling onto the page. She wasn't sure it was a good idea to be writing a letter to Carla while slightly intoxicated, but she had started now and there was no stopping her.

Chapter Text

Carla slumped onto the sofa, an extra-strong coffee in hand. She needed it this morning; she hadn’t slept well. Her thoughts had circled relentlessly all night, leaving her drained and restless. She took a long sip before placing the cup on the coffee table, her gaze drifting to the stack of unopened mail. Bills, takeaway flyers, the usual junk.

The past week had dragged. She’d been moody, snapping at herself and anyone else who happened to cross her path. She knew the reason for it, even if she refused to admit it. Peter was dating again—or recycling girlfriends, as Carla preferred to call it. He was seeing Leanne. Of course, she’d known it was only a matter of time before he moved on, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

Her attention returned to the small pile of envelopes in front of her. She flicked through them absentmindedly until one caught her eye: a letter from Lisa. Even though they were having more face-to-face interactions, they had discovered they actually enjoyed writing to one another. Their correspondence wasn’t constant, and it had been weeks since Carla had sent her last letter.

Carla pushed the rest of the mail aside. Her hands hovered over Lisa’s envelope, lingering. 

Finally, she tore it open. The familiar, looping handwriting spilled across the page. The words were raw, candid, unmistakably Lisa. Thoughts she had no one else to share with. Confessions that made Carla’s throat tighten. She leaned back in her chair, coffee untouched, and read every sentence, letting the tension in her shoulders ease slightly.

Dear Carla,

I hope you’re okay. I keep thinking about you and then stopping myself, like I’m not allowed to, like it would be crossing some invisible line. I haven’t seen you in a few days, not since you were outside shouting at Peter, and I keep replaying that in my head, wondering how you’re doing, whether you’re eating, whether you’re sleeping, whether you’re sitting alone with too much noise in your thoughts the way I am tonight.

I don’t really know why I am writing this. I’m not even sure I will post it. I just know that I can’t keep all of this inside my head anymore.

There’s a woman downstairs. She is beautiful, kind, familiar in a way that feels dangerous. I kissed her tonight. I could’ve taken her to bed and she wouldn’t have stopped me. I did stop it though. I panicked. It was the first woman I’ve kissed since Bex. Ten years, and I still felt like I was doing something wrong. I know that makes no sense. I know she’s been gone for a decade. I know she’d want me to live. But the guilt hit me so hard it took my breath away, like I was betraying her memory, like I was choosing someone else over the life we had.

The kiss was different. Soft, warm, and it felt good. That’s what scared me the most. Nice isn't the right word. It felt like something I could’ve leaned into if I’d let myself. And I didn’t. I pulled away and now I’m sitting here wondering whether that makes me loyal or just cowardly.

I feel ridiculous writing this to you. I don’t know what I’m asking for or what I expect you to say. I just feel lost. I have all these thoughts and feelings and nowhere to put them. I’m so tired of being the strong one, the sensible one, the one who has it together for everyone else.

You’re the closest thing I have to a friend here. That feels strange to admit, but it’s true. You see parts of me that most people don’t, and I trust you more than I probably should. I just needed someone to know what’s going on inside my head tonight.

If you read this and think I’m a mess, that’s okay. I am. I just hope you’re alright.

Lisa

The letter felt like a lifeline, pulling her out of the fog. It reminded her that someone was thinking of her, really thinking of her, in ways that no one else had in a long time. She traced the ink with her finger, reading parts aloud softly, savouring Lisa’s voice in the words.

She placed the letter beside her coffee and decided she wouldn’t spend the morning moping. Today was supposed to be a self-care day, a day just for her. She needed to head into town to find a dress for the Businesswoman of the Year awards and that's just what she was going to do.

A few hours later, Carla had visited more shops than she could count, yet her hands remained empty. Nothing had truly stood out.

By mid-afternoon, her feet ached, and her patience was wearing thin. She was just about ready to admit defeat when a small shop caught her eye, tucked between two larger stores.

“This is the last one, and then I’m going home,” she muttered as she pushed the door open.

Inside, racks were spaced neatly. It felt calmer somehow, less frantic, just what she needed. As she browsed the racks, her fingers brushing over silks and satins, something deep crimson caught her attention. She pulled the dress free.

It was a red satin dress. Short. Bold. Confident. Impossible to ignore.

Moments later, she stepped into the changing room, wriggling into the dress with some effort. The fabric clung more tightly than expected. She paused and spun around until she could see the label in the mirror.

Wrong size.

“Oh, you’ve got to be joking,” she muttered.

She tried to pull it back off. The dress refused to cooperate. Carla twisted one way, then the other, tugging at the fabric. It wouldn’t budge past her shoulders. She huffed, blowing a strand of hair from her face.

“Come on… move.”

More tugging, more twisting. The dress only seemed to tighten its hold. Slightly flushed and thoroughly irritated, Carla pushed open the changing room curtain and attempted an awkward hop into the shop’s main floor, arms half-trapped and movements restricted.

And promptly collided with someone.

“Oh—!”

The impact made her stumble, and she looked up, straight into Lisa’s surprised eyes.

For a moment, they simply stared at one another.

“Carla?” Lisa blinked, clearly fighting the urge to laugh. “Are you… stuck?”

Carla exhaled sharply, mortified.

“Yes. Obviously.”

“Right. Let’s fix this before you suffocate.”

Lisa stepped forward, gently guiding Carla back toward the changing room. With careful hands, she loosened the zipper and helped ease the stubborn fabric over Carla’s shoulders. After a brief struggle—and a great deal of Carla’s huffing—the dress finally slipped free.

Carla stood there catching her breath, hair slightly disheveled, dignity in tatters.

Lisa held up the red dress, studying it thoughtfully.

“It’s stunning,” she said. “Maybe just… in the right size next time.”

Carla suddenly realised she was standing there in nothing but her underwear. Her eyes widened, and she quickly snatched up the dress, clutching it to her chest.

“Yes—probably a good idea,” she said hurriedly, her cheeks burning. “And thank you for the help, but… erm, I should probably get dressed.”

Lisa blinked, then immediately stepped back. “Right. Yes. Sorry.”

The curtain fell closed between them, leaving Carla alone with her racing heartbeat. She let out a long breath, pressing a hand to her face before letting out a quiet, mortified laugh. Only she could go dress shopping and end up half-naked in front of Lisa.

Outside, she could hear the faint shuffle of Lisa’s footsteps and the soft rustle of clothes on the rack, as if she were politely pretending nothing at all had happened.

Once fully dressed, Carla returned to the rack where she’d found the dress. After a brief search, she found her size and lifted it from the hanger.

She walked over to where Lisa was browsing a row of fitted suits.

“Do you really think it looked okay?” Carla asked, holding up the dress.

Lisa glanced at it, then at her, and smiled. “It looked incredible, scout’s honour. Whoever you’re buying it for is a lucky guy.”

Carla let out a small laugh. “Thank you, but it’s not for a date. I’ve been nominated for Businesswoman of the Year. Considering I haven’t exactly been very business-minded this past year, I’m not entirely sure how that happened.” She shrugged lightly. “Apparently I’m a shoe-in to win. Honestly, I’m convinced it’s rigged.”

“Maybe they’re basing it on previous years?” Lisa suggested.

Carla raised an eyebrow. “Then it wouldn’t be called Businesswoman of the Year, would it?”

Lisa laughed. “Good point.” She paused, then gestured toward the suits. “Now that I’ve helped you with your crisis, fancy returning the favour and helping me? If you’re not in a rush, that is. I’ll treat you to coffee and cake. There’s a lovely café not far from here.” Her smile turned playful. “I won’t tell Roy you’ve cheated on him if you agree.”

“Lisa, you don’t need to bribe me with coffee and cake,” Carla said, shaking her head with a small smile. “We’re friends—I’d help you anyway. Although…” she lifted the dress slightly, “coffee and cake does sound great.”

She hesitated. “Are you looking for a suit for a date? With the woman you kissed?”

The words came out sharper than she intended.

Carla wasn't sure why the thought of Lisa kissing someone else unsettled her. The feeling twisted quietly in her chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome.

“No, that was a non-starter,” Lisa said with a small shake of her head. “We agreed it shouldn’t have happened and blamed the alcohol. This,” she gestured to the suits, “is for a work do. I had no intention of going, but it wouldn’t look great if the new DI didn’t show up.” She sighed.

“Why didn’t you want to go?” Carla asked, scanning the rack before pulling out three fitted suits. “These look about your size. Go try them on—I’ll pay for my dress and come help you choose.”

Lisa took the suits, eyeing them with mild suspicion. “How about we save that conversation for coffee?” she said. “I’ll just try these on so we can get out of here. Shopping is the bane of my life.”

Carla laughed softly. “You and me both.”

By the time they reached the café, Carla was grateful for a moment to sit and relax. Lisa had settled on tight black trousers paired with a crimson blazer. Carla couldn’t help but point out that the blazer matched her dress.

Carla took a bite of her cake before leaning across the table. “So… why don’t you want to go to this work do?”

Lisa sighed. “I don’t have a date. Normally, I wouldn’t care, but everyone else will have someone. It just feels… awkward, standing there alone.”

“You don’t strike me as the type of person who cares about what others think,” Carla said, watching Lisa stir her coffee.

“I mean, I don’t. But I’m a widow,” she said softly. “Which is a known fact to everyone. And standing there alone? It screams… lonely old widow. You know, one step away from adopting a cat.”

Carla blinked, caught off guard by the vulnerability behind the joke. She studied Lisa quietly for a moment, feeling a tug of something she couldn’t quite name. “Okay,” she said finally. “Well, we can’t have that, can we? How about I come… and be your date?”

Lisa froze, fingers tightening on the mug. “Carla, I can’t ask you to do that.”

Carla leaned back slightly. “You didn’t ask. I offered.” Her gaze lingered on Lisa. “When is it?”

“Saturday,” Lisa said finally.

“That’s fine,” Carla replied, keeping her voice easy. “Just let me know what time we need to leave, and I can meet you at yours.”

She didn’t mention that Saturday was the Businesswoman of the Year awards. She could tell Lisa needed someone, and that mattered far more than an award she wasn’t sure she deserved.

“Are you sure?” Lisa asked.

“Of course,” Carla said, smiling gently. “What are friends for, besides… well, look at it as me returning the favour. You know, saving me and stopping me from suffocating earlier.” She laughed softly, letting the memory of the changing-room fiasco ease the moment.

Lisa’s lips curved into a small smile. “Okay… it’s a date.”

Carla’s chest tightened ever so slightly at the words. “A date,” she muttered under her breath.

Chapter Text

 Lisa sat at her dressing table while, behind her, Betsy carefully wrapped another section of hair around the curling iron. The overwhelming scent of hairspray lingered in the air.

“So it’s not a date?” Betsy asked, watching her mother’s expression in the mirror.

 “No, it’s not a date, Bets. Carla just offered to come with me so I don’t look like some sad, lonely widow — that’s all.”

Betsy released the curl, letting it fall gently against Lisa’s shoulder. “You know, it would be okay.”

Lisa paused, mascara wand hovering near her lashes. “What would?”

“If you wanted to date Carla,” Betsy said, her voice softer now. “Mum’s been gone for ten years. That’s a long time to be alone.”

Lisa blinked slowly and returned her attention to the mirror, brushing on another coat. “I’m not alone. I’ve got you.”

Betsy rested her hands lightly on her mother’s shoulders. “That’s not the same, and you know it,” she said gently. “I just mean… if you wanted to date Carla, it would be okay.”

Lisa met her daughter’s eyes in the reflection, her expression tender but tired. “Bets, Carla is straight. And she already has a lot going on in her own life.”

“But you like her?”

Lisa wasn’t sure whether it was meant as a question or a statement.

Before she could respond, a knock sounded at the door.

“Saved by the bell,” Lisa joked, checking her reflection one last time before sliding off the chair and leaving the bedroom.

“This conversation isn’t over, Mother,” Betsy called after her.

Lisa hurried down the stairs, slowing at the bottom. Betsy’s words echoed in her mind. She shook her head, telling herself not to be ridiculous — this was simply one friend helping another. Nothing more.

When she opened the front door, Carla stood with her back turned, bent awkwardly as she struggled with the strap of her heel and muttered under her breath.

“Everything okay?” Lisa asked.

Carla jumped and straightened abruptly. “Shit — you scared me.”

“Sorry,” Lisa said with a small smile. “What’s the problem?”

“These stupid heels,” Carla grumbled, adjusting her balance. “It’s been years since my feet wore anything other than boots or flip-flops. I nearly fell on my arse crossing those cobblestones — they’re lethal.”

“You didn’t need to go to all this trouble for me,” Lisa said, stepping aside to let her in. “You look amazing, and that dress is incredible, but I thought it was for your Business Awards?”

“It was,” Carla admitted casually. “What I didn’t tell you when I agreed to be your date is that my Business Awards are tonight.”

 “Carla, why didn’t you tell me? I would've never let you miss something like that just to keep me company.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you,” Carla said with a knowing smile. “Now, are you ready?”

“No. I mean, yes, but I’m going to drive you to your awards and then go to my thing alone,” Lisa said firmly.

“Absolutely not. They’ve already started, and turning up late is worse than not turning up at all. So come on, let’s get going,” Carla insisted.

Lisa wanted to argue, to refuse outright, but although they hadn’t known each other long, she had already learned that Carla Connor was incredibly stubborn. And there was no time for a debate.

“Fine,” Lisa huffed. “Come on, then.”

“You don’t like not getting your own way, do you?” Carla teased.

“No, she doesn’t,” Betsy’s voice called from upstairs.

Lisa looked up. “Don’t you have some homework to do?”

“Yes, but I’m taking it to River’s,” Betsy replied, appearing at the top of the stairs and making her way down.

“Do you need a lift?” Carla asked.

“She’s more than capable of walking,” Lisa answered quickly.

“That’s because she doesn’t want me opening my big mouth.”

“Right. We really should be going,” Lisa replied.

“Wait. You both look really beautiful. Let me take a picture,” Betsy insisted, already pulling out her phone. “Stand together.”

“Do we have to?” Lisa asked.

“Yes.”

“Come on,” Carla said gently. “A quick picture and we can go.”

“Fine,” Lisa sighed.

“Stand next to each other. Move a bit closer, Mum. Carla’s not going to bite.”

Lisa reluctantly shuffled closer. Carla immediately slipped an arm around her waist, her hand resting lightly on Lisa’s hip. Lisa caught the subtle scent of her perfume — or maybe her shampoo — warm and unfamiliar.

“Yes, that’s it. Smile. Now do a funny one,” Betsy ordered, shifting her phone to capture different angles before lowering it and flicking through the images.

Lisa and Carla leaned in beside her.

“These are good,” Carla said. “Our outfits actually match perfectly. Oh, I love this one — send that to me, Betsy.” She took the phone and quickly added her number.

“You look like a couple,” Betsy observed.

“Right,” Lisa said quickly, cheeks warming. “We really have to go.”

Before anyone could reply, she took Carla’s arm and practically dragged her out of the house.

The drive across town was filled with a comfortable sort of silence, broken only by the quiet hum of the engine and the occasional sound of the satnav giving directions. Lisa found herself stealing glances at her passenger more often than she cared to admit.

Carla was spread out in the passenger seat, one heel already kicked halfway off her foot as she flexed her toes.

“Regretting your footwear choices already?” Lisa asked.

“Deeply,” Carla replied. “If I lose a toe tonight, I’m blaming you.”

It wasn’t long before they pulled up outside the venue, the building looked unusually dark. A few people lingered near the entrance, clustered together in small groups, some checking their phones, others getting into taxis. She noticed Craig and Kit stood between the crowds, she pulled the car up beside them.

“Nobody told me this was an outside event”

“Very funny boss, it’s cancelled, there's been a leak in the main hall. Burst pipe, they’ve had to shut everything down” Craig explained.

“Cancelled?” Lisa repeated.

“Yeah, we are all going to head back to the Rovers if you want to join” Kit stated.

“I think we will probably head home.”

“Go home?” Carla repeated.

“Yes,” Lisa said before waving goodbye to Kit and Craig and closing her window up. “It’s been a long day, and you clearly hate those shoes.”

Carla looked down at her heels, then back at Lisa.

“Absolutely not.”

Lisa blinked. “What?”

“We both spent far too long getting ready,” Carla said firmly. “We look incredible, and I nearly broke my neck on cobblestones for this outfit. We are not wasting it.”

“So what exactly do you propose?”

“We find a bar,” she declared. “Somewhere with decent music, strong drinks, and a dance floor.”

She glanced at Lisa.

“We both look hot,” she added casually. “We might as well be seen before I take these heels off and never put them on again.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet,” Carla said, leaning over and nudging Lisa's shoulder, “you’re still here.”

Lisa hesitated only a moment before sighing in surrender.

“Fine,” she said. “One drink.”

“That’s how it always starts.”

The bar Carla chose was warm and buzzing with life. It was lively without being overwhelming. Intimate.

“Perfect.”

They found a space at the bar, shoulders brushing as they leaned forward to order.

“A small glass of red,” Lisa told the bartender. “I’m driving.”

Carla raised an eyebrow. “Sensibly rebellious.”

“Someone has to drive us home”

“That’s what taxis are for.”

They stood side by side, sipping their wine. Conversation flowed easily — work stories, Carla’s disastrous relationship with formal footwear. Lisa found herself laughing more than she had in weeks.

A man approached them not long after — tall, confident, the kind of easy smile that suggested he was used to getting what he wanted.

“Can I buy either of you a drink?” he asked, his attention fixed on Carla.

Carla gave him a polite but brief smile. “That’s kind, but no thank you.”

He lingered. “You sure? It would be a shame to waste a night like this.”

Carla’s expression softened, but her voice was firm. “I’m here with her.”

She gestured to Lisa, stepping slightly closer so their arms touched. The message was unmistakable.

The man glanced between them, gave a small shrug, and moved on.

“You could have accepted a free drink.”

Carla took a slow sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving Lisa’s. “Why would I? I’m here with you.”

The music shifted then, something slower but with a steady rhythm, and Carla held out her hand.

“I love this song, dance with me.”

Lisa hesitated. “I don’t dance.”

“That’s a lie,” Carla said simply, taking her hand anyway. “You just haven’t met the right partner.”

She led Lisa onto the small dance floor before she could protest.

At first, Lisa kept a careful distance between them, moving stiffly, self-conscious of every step. But the crowd pressed closer, the music wrapped around them, and Carla’s hand found her waist, steady and guiding.

They moved together, closer, then closer still.

Lisa could feel Carla’s breath near her ear, the warmth of her body through the thin fabric of their clothes. Her hands settled uncertainly on Carla’s shoulders, then slipped lower without her quite meaning them to.

Panic took over. She needed to get out of there.

“I need some air,” Lisa murmured suddenly, stepping back. “I’ll just… the toilet.”

“I’ll be here.”

Lisa hurried away, her pulse racing. She splashed cold water on her wrists, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

Get a grip, she told herself.

She stood staring at her reflection for several minutes, trying to find the courage to go back out and enjoy her evening, yet her feet remained frozen to the spot.

This was ridiculous. It was just dancing.

Just Carla.

She didn’t have time to overthink as the toilet door banged open behind her.

Two women stumbled in mid-argument. One — tall, dark-haired, eyes blazing — shoved the door shut with more force than necessary. The other, blonde, shorter, mascara slightly smudged.

“You knew exactly what you were doing,” the dark-haired woman snapped.

“Oh my God, not this again,” the other shot back. “I was talking to someone. That’s allowed.”

“Not when you were practically hanging off her!”

Lisa froze at the sink, unsure whether to leave or pretend she wasn’t there. 

“You don’t get to tell me who I can talk to,” the shorter woman said, voice rising. “You disappeared for an hour!”

“I went to get a drink—”

“—with your ex!”

Their voices overlapped, growing louder, angrier. The shorter woman shoved past, knocking into a hand dryer with a loud clatter.

“Don’t walk away from me!”

“I’m not doing this with you when you’re acting insane—”

Lisa turned, instinct kicking in as the dark-haired woman grabbed the other’s wrist.

“Hey,” Lisa said quickly, stepping between them. “Okay, that’s enough.”

“This isn’t your business,” the dark-haired woman said, though her grip loosened.

“Maybe not,” Lisa said gently. “But this is a tiny bathroom with very hard surfaces, and you both look like you’re about to regret something.”

“She always does this. Turns everything into a fight.”

“I’m trying to talk to you,” the other insisted “You just never listen.”

Lisa raised her hands slightly, a quiet barrier between them.

“You’re both upset,” she said softly. “That usually means you actually care about what the other thinks. But grabbing each other and shouting in here isn’t going to fix anything.”

The dark-haired woman released the wrist she’d been holding. The shorter woman rubbed the spot, breathing hard.

“Why don’t one of you step outside for a minute,” Lisa suggested. “Get some air. Then talk when you’re not ready to explode.”

A long, tense silence followed.

Finally, the shorter woman nodded. “Fine. I need a cigarette anyway.”

She pushed past them and left. The door swung shut behind her, the slam echoing.

The dark-haired woman lingered, shoulders tight, then muttered a quiet “Thanks” before following.

The bathroom fell silent again. Lisa glanced toward the door. She hoped Carla hadn’t upped and left. She’d only meant to be gone a couple of minutes. Panic fluttered faintly in her chest at the idea of returning to an empty space on the dance floor — of that moment between them dissolving into nothing.

After a few steadying breaths, she returned to the bar. The scene she walked back into made her stomach drop.

Carla was leaning heavily against the man from earlier, they were near the edge of the dance floor. His arm was wrapped around her waist, his other hand roaming far too freely over her side as he murmured something in her ear. Carla’s head lolled slightly, her movements sluggish, unfocused — nothing like the sharp, controlled woman from minutes earlier.

She pushed through the crowd immediately. “Hey, she’s with me.”

The man looked irritated. “She doesn’t seem to mind.”

Carla barely reacted, her eyes unfocused, her body swaying unsteadily.

“Yes,” Lisa said sharply, wrapping an arm firmly around Carla’s shoulders and pulling her away. “She does.”

Carla sagged heavily against her, her body limp and her words slurring into half-formed sounds as she tried to speak. Supporting her weight, Lisa wrapped an arm tightly around Carla and slowly guided her toward the exit, out into the cool night air and across the street to the car park. Her hands trembled as she fumbled with her keys, the sharp click of the lock echoing in the quiet. Gently, she helped Carla into the passenger seat, carefully fastening her seatbelt before hurrying around to the driver’s side.

Lisa started the engine with shaking hands.

The dashboard lights flickered to life. Carla’s head had lolled against the window, breath slow but uneven, lashes fluttering as if she were fighting to stay awake.

“Stay with me,” Lisa murmured, pulling out of the car park. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Carla made a faint sound — something between a hum and a confused protest — her fingers twitching weakly in her lap.

Lisa had seen this before. Too many times. The disorientation, the sudden exhaustion, the loss of control over simple movements. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. She should never have left her alone.

A wave of anger surged through her chest—hot, sharp, protective. She could still picture the man hovering too close. She was grateful she’d arrived just in time;a few minutes later he might have led Carla out of the bar to God knows where. She’d wanted to arrest him, but at that moment her only priority had been Carla. By the time she turned back to get a good look at him, he had already vanished into the crowd.

She forced herself to focus on the road, though every few seconds her eyes flicked sideways. Carla’s chest rose and fell—good. Her head shifted slightly, a soft groan escaping her. Still conscious. Good.

“Nearly there,” Lisa said quietly, though they were still several streets away. “I’m taking you to mine. I can keep an eye on you there. Just hang on.”

The drive stretched endlessly, each red light an obstacle, each slow-moving car in front of her unbearable. The music from the club still echoed faintly in her ears, replaced now by the quiet hum of the engine and the sound of Carla’s breathing.

At the next set of traffic lights, Carla stirred more noticeably, her hand fumbling blindly toward the door handle.

“Hey — no, no,” Lisa said gently, reaching across at the next stop to take her hand. “You’re safe. You’re with me.”

Carla’s fingers curled weakly around hers, clinging with surprising strength. Her eyes opened halfway, unfocused, searching.

“Lisa…?” she whispered.

“I’m here.”

The simple reassurance seemed to settle her. Her grip loosened, her eyes drifting shut again, but her breathing remained steady. Lisa swallowed hard and pulled back onto the road.

She mentally ran through procedures, instincts clicking into place. Keep her awake if possible. Monitor breathing. Watch for vomiting. Get her somewhere safe. Stay with her.

No mistakes.

Not tonight.

When they finally pulled up outside Lisa’s house, she barely remembered the journey. She turned the engine off and sat for a moment, listening — waiting — making absolutely certain Carla was still breathing evenly.

Only then did she move.

She got out, hurried around to the passenger side, and opened the door carefully.

“Carla,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “We’re at mine. Can you stand?”

Carla stirred weakly, barely able to lift her head.

Lisa didn’t hesitate. She slid an arm around her shoulders, steadying her weight, holding her close as she helped her from the car. Carla sagged against her, trusting, defenceless.

“I’ve got you,” Lisa whispered, guiding her toward the front door.

And she meant it.

Chapter Text

Carla rolled onto her side. Her head throbbed, each pulse echoing painfully through her skull. Her limbs felt heavy, detached, as if they weren’t quite hers, and the room tilted around her in slow, nauseating circles. She blinked, trying to make sense of the shapes and shadows, but everything seemed off, unreal.

Her memory from the night before was fractured. Flashes — laughter, music, someone’s hand too close, voices overlapping — teased her, but none of it made sense. Her stomach turned at the effort to piece it together.

There was a sudden shift in the mattress beside her. Her body went rigid. She wasn’t alone.

A jolt of panic surged through her as she struggled to claw the duvet from her tangled limbs, her movements sluggish, drained of strength. Instinct took over. Her pulse raced, her breath hitched, every nerve alive with the sharp edge of fight or flight.

Disorientation wrapped around. Where was she? Whose house was this? Whose bed was she lying in — and who, exactly, was beside her?

She felt hands on her shoulders, pushing her down or maybe just holding her in place. She wasn’t sure what was real. A voice reached her, familiar and calming, but she couldn’t fully make out what it was saying.

A few seconds later, the grogginess returned. Her eyes flickered open and closed as she fought to stay awake. She needed to figure out where she was — but more importantly, she needed to know who was with her. Yet her body felt heavy, her mind clouded, and all she wanted was to sleep.

The second time she woke, Carla found enough strength to push herself upright. Her eyes fluttered open, and when she finally focused, a quiet sigh of relief escaped her. She recognised the room. She might have only been there once, but she knew this was Lisa Swain’s bedroom.

She licked her lips, trying to summon even a trace of moisture. Her mouth was extremely dry — thick, cottony. She needed a drink, some water, but she knew she didn’t have the strength to move. Her legs felt like jelly. Still, she needed to move. Needed to go home. Needed to feel safe.

She still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, but this wasn’t a hangover. She’d had no more than two glasses of wine. She’d drunk two bottles before and never felt this bad.

With effort, she pushed herself further up the bed. Glancing down, she realised she wasn’t wearing her dress. Instead, she was dressed in an oversized T-shirt and shorts. 

She pushed the duvet aside and slowly shuffled to the edge of the bed, placing one unsteady foot on the floor. At that moment, the bedroom door opened.

“I’ve been sitting by you all night and all morning,” Lisa said, stepping inside with a glass of water in hand. “The second I leave to use the toilet and get you a drink, you wake up. Bloody typical.”

“You sat by me all night?” Carla muttered. She cleared her throat and shifted back against the pillows.

Lisa sat on the edge of the bed and handed her the glass.

“Drink this. Your mouth’s probably dry. Do you remember anything about last night?”

Carla took the water and drained it in one go before handing back the empty glass.

“I remember moaning about my heels,” she said slowly. “Dancing with you. Then you rushed off to the toilet. After that… that guy from before — the one who offered to buy me a drink — asked if I wanted to dance. I told him I was waiting for you. I remember putting my glass down, leaning to fix my shoe… and then everything gets hazy.”

She swallowed.

“Do you think he spiked me?”

 “I contacted the bar this morning about the CCTV, and Kit’s gone down to get copies. But the way you were last night definitely wasn’t because of two glasses of wine.” She hesitated. “So it seems like he might have. I’m so sorry.”

 “What have you got to be sorry about?”

“I left you alone,” Lisa said quietly. “If I hadn’t freaked out and rushed off to the toilets, none of this would have happened.”

“Lisa, we don’t know that,” Carla said gently. “And I’m okay. You were there when it counted. You stopped anything from happening to me.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. “Once again, you saved me. I hope you’re not planning to charge me, because I’d be bankrupt.”

“The first ten are free,” Lisa replied.

“What did you mean about freaking out?”

Before Lisa could answer, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and stood.

“I’ve got to take this,” she mouthed, stepping out of the room.

Carla leaned back against the headboard. Slowly, she began to feel more like herself and less like she’d been run over by a truck. Her head still throbbed, but the fog in her mind was starting to lift.

A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened again and Lisa returned, sitting once more on the edge of the bed.

“Good news,” she said. “Kit managed to work his charm and get hold of the CCTV. He’s already gone over it. The man can be seen dropping something into your drink — and apparently this isn’t the first time.”

Carla shifted against the headboard, frowning. “How is that good news? That means he’s done this to other women. Women who might not have been as lucky as me.”

“It’s good news because Kit has a lead,” Lisa explained. “Apparently the guy’s well known to bars in Manchester. He usually manages to avoid CCTV, but where you were standing on the dance floor had new cameras installed. They’ve managed to get a clear shot of him — well, as clear as bar CCTV can be.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Kit’s doing some digging, and he thinks he might be able to make an arrest by the end of the day.”

“That’s really good to hear,” Carla said quietly, the tension in her shoulders easing a little. “At least he won’t be able to hurt anyone else.”

Lisa nodded, though the movement was slow, her expression softening. Up close, the dark circles beneath her eyes were impossible to miss, her posture stiff with exhaustion.

“Did you get any sleep?”

Lisa hesitated, clearly weighing whether to answer honestly, then gave a small shake of her head.

“No,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to risk something happening to you. So I stayed awake.”

 “You stayed up all night?”

“Mostly just sat there watching you sleep,” Lisa said quickly, raising her hands in mild defence. “Not in a weird way — just making sure you were breathing properly. Making sure you didn’t choke on sick or anything. Standard procedure.”

“Very reassuring.”

“I’m serious,” Lisa continued, though a hint of amusement softened her voice. “You were pretty out of it. I wasn’t taking any chances.”

 “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” Lisa replied.

“Well,” she said softly, “thank you. For everything.”

Lisa shifted slightly, uncomfortable with the weight of the moment, and gave a small shrug. “You’d have done the same for me.”

Carla didn’t answer straight away. She just watched her, the silence stretching — not awkward, but full of something unspoken.

After a moment, Lisa cleared her throat and stood. “You should try to rest a bit more. Your body’s still recovering.”

Carla settled back against the pillows, her eyes still on Lisa. “Only if you promise to get some sleep too.”

Lisa gave a tired smile. “We’ll see.”

“Lisa.”

 Lisa hesitated, then nodded.

“Fine. A nap,” she conceded.

“That’s an order,” Carla murmured.

Lisa turned toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Carla asked.

“To sleep in Betsy’s bed,” Lisa replied. “You need to rest, and I don’t want to disturb you.”

Carla shook her head “No. You can sleep in your own bed. I’ll head home.”

 “Absolutely not. I want to keep an eye on you for a little longer. Just in case.”

Carla pulled back the duvet “Well… looks like we’re napping together.” A small smile curved at her lips. “I just hope you don’t snore.”

Lisa huffed a quiet laugh. “I don't snore.”

“We’ll see.”

Lisa moved around the bed, carefully lying down on the opposite side, keeping a respectful distance between them. 

Carla stared up at the ceiling, acutely aware of Lisa beside her — the steady rhythm of her breathing, the faint scent of her shampoo, the quiet comfort of her presence. For someone who had nearly lost control of everything the night before, the feeling was unexpectedly grounding.

Safe, Carla realised, her eyes slowly drifting shut.

And, perhaps more dangerously, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to be anywhere else.

Chapter Text

Lisa woke slowly, awareness returning in fragments, she was only supposed to be going for a nap so why did it feel like she had been sleeping for hours. She blinked, before she felt the unfamiliar weight of an arm draped lightly across her waist. 

Not any arm, Carla's.

Her eyes opened.

Lisa turned her head carefully. Carla lay beside her, impossibly close. Sometime during their very long nap the careful distance Lisa had kept between them had disappeared entirely. Carla had shifted in her sleep, turning towards her, one hand resting loosely against Lisa's side, their legs somehow tangled beneath the duvet.

Her face was peaceful now, the tension from the night before softened by sleep. Dark hair spilled across the pillow, a few strands brushing Lisa’s cheek with each steady breath.

She became acutely aware of everything — the warmth of Carla’s body, the slow rise and fall of her chest, the faint scent of her shampoo lingering in the air. The space between them almost nonexistent.

Too close. Far too close. 

And yet… Lisa didn’t move.

She told herself it was because she didn’t want to wake her. Carla needed rest. That was all.

Carla stirred, shifting slightly, her hand tightening unconsciously against Lisa’s side. The small movement sent a ripple of awareness through her, heat creeping up her neck. Lisa froze before she very carefully began to ease herself backward, attempting to create even the smallest amount of space between them —

The bedroom door creaked open. Lisa’s head snapped toward the sound and she was met by Betsy hovering in the doorway, half-dressed for school, hair hastily tied back, clearly not expecting what she’d just walked into.

Lisa opened her mouth to explain, but no words came.

Betsy’s expression shifted rapidly from surprise to understanding — or what she clearly believed was understanding.

“Oh,” she said quickly.

“Betsy, I—” Lisa began.

“It’s fine,” Betsy cut in, already backing out of the room. “I’ll just… leave you to it.”

The door clicked shut before Lisa could explain.

“Oh for—”

A soft murmur beside her interrupted the thought. Carla stirred again, eyes fluttering open, still heavy with sleep. She blinked slowly, clearly disoriented, her gaze drifting upward before settling on Lisa’s face — very close to her own.

Neither of them moved.

Carla’s eyes flicked briefly to the space between them, to the closeness, the tangled sheets, the way her hand rested against Lisa’s waist. 

“Well,” she said hoarsely, “this is… cosy.”

 “You moved.”

“I was unconscious. I feel like that absolves me of responsibility.”

Lisa tried to shift back again, but the movement only seemed to pull the duvet tighter around them.

After a few seconds, she finally managed to ease herself out of the bed, putting some much-needed distance between them. As she straightened up, she couldn’t ignore the strange, lingering awareness still humming beneath her ribs, or the unsettling realisation washing over her that, for a few quiet minutes, she had been perfectly content not to move at all.

“Breakfast?” she asked, stretching.

“Would you mind if I had a shower first? I’m feeling a little gross… not because of us sharing a bed or anything. Just—well… maybe I should just shut up.”

“Carla, it’s fine. There are spare towels in the bathroom. Help yourself to anything.”

“Except anything labelled Betsy,” Carla replied.

“You remembered?”

“Yes. I mean, there haven’t been many times in my life I’ve taken a shower and been warned off a teenager’s products. Back when I was thirteen it was two-in-one shampoo and conditioner and a bar of soap.”

“Oh, tell me about it. Between the shower products, skincare, and haircare, she costs me an absolute fortune,” Lisa chuckled before rummaging through her drawer. “Clean clothes for when you’re done. And I’ll make you some toast and a cup of coffee—or tea, if you’d prefer.”

“Lisa, please don’t feel like you have to go out of your way. I can just have a shower and head home. I’ve already put you out enough.”

“You’re not leaving here without having something to eat. You probably haven’t eaten anything since Saturday afternoon, and it’s Monday morning, so I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Okay, boss,” Carla chuckled as she climbed out of bed.

Lisa said nothing, she headed out of the bedroom and went downstairs. In the kitchen, she found Betsy sitting at the kitchen island, sipping tea and eating a bowl of cereal.

“Morning, love,” Lisa said as she headed for the kettle.

“Kettle’s just boiled,” Betsy said.

“Thanks. So… shall we discuss the elephant in the room?” Lisa asked.

She knew Betsy had already given her the green light to date Carla, so finding them in bed together probably made her assume their not-a-date had turned into a date at some point. But Lisa wanted to clear it up. She didn’t want Betsy assuming anything had happened and accidentally making things awkward with Carla.

Lisa busied herself making two cups of tea, grateful for something practical to focus on, while Betsy sat at the island slurping the last of the milk from her cereal bowl.

“I mean,” Betsy said after a moment, glancing up with a small smirk, “I don’t think Carla would appreciate being called an elephant.”

Lisa shook her head, a smile filling her face as she dropped two teabags into the mugs.

“You know that’s not what I meant. I just don’t want you getting the wrong idea about what you saw.”

“Mum,” Betsy groaned, leaning back slightly on the chair, “I know all about the birds and the bees or birds and the birds in this case. I really don’t think we need to have this conversation right now.”

“Bets, it’s not what you think.” Lisa turned from the counter, resting her hip against it as she spoke. “Carla had her drink spiked on Saturday. I brought her home so I could keep an eye on her. We were both exhausted, and yesterday afternoon we ended up falling asleep for what was supposed to be a quick nap.” She let out a breath and rubbed the back of her neck. “Turns out I was a lot more tired than I thought, because we both slept right through until this morning. That’s all it was. Carla and I are still just friends.”

Betsy’s expression softened immediately.

“Oh. Is she okay?” she asked. “I just assumed you were using the fact I stayed at River’s until this morning as an excuse to make the most of having the house to yourself. This house has thin walls. I've heard you talking to yourself when you're alon.”

Lisa shot her a look.

“Elizabeth Swain.”

“What?” Betsy shrugged, completely unbothered. “I’m not a kid, Mum. I know about sex. We do actually have sex education at school.”

Lisa ignored as she poured the hot water into the mugs.

“Carla’s okay,” she said. “She’s having a shower, then she’ll have some breakfast before heading home. The good news is Kit managed to make an arrest.”

“Why do people even do things like that?” Betsy asked as she spun her spoon between her fingers.

Lisa walked around the island and sat on the chair beside her. She placed her hands gently over Betsy’s, stilling the movement of the spoon.

“Honestly, darling… who knows?” she said softly. “Most of the time it’s about control. Sometimes it’s because someone’s been rejected, or a woman isn’t interested, and it’s their way of getting what they want without a fight.” She squeezed Betsy’s hands lightly. “I’m just glad I was there and that I got Carla home safely.”

“I bet Carla was relieved you were there too,” Betsy said.

She stood up, carrying her bowl and mug over to the sink and rinsing them before setting them on the drying rack.

“Can I have some money for lunch? I’m going to meet River and Jas before school.”

“There’s money in the dish,” Lisa replied, pushing herself up from the chair and heading back to the kettle to finish making the tea.

Betsy nodded and disappeared out of the kitchen.

A few seconds later she popped back in again, dropping a letter onto the counter in front of Lisa.

“This came on Saturday. I forgot to tell you.”

“Thanks,” Lisa said. “Have a good day at school. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

The front door closed a moment later, leaving the house quiet again. Lisa stared at the envelope, she recognised it almost immediately.

For a moment she was grateful that Betsy was an oblivious teenager who rarely paid attention to things like return addresses. Slowly, Lisa picked up the envelope, her fingers tracing across the printed text in the corner.

HMP Belmarsh

Western Way

Thamesmead

London

SE28 0EB

Her legs almost gave way beneath her, the sudden rush of adrenaline leaving her light-headed, but she managed to reach the chair and drop down onto it. For a moment she just sat there, her breathing shallow, the envelope trembling slightly in her hand.

She dropped it onto the counter, her fingers hovered above it for a few seconds before she finally snatched it up again and ripped it open. 

Inside was a single folded sheet of paper. The moment she pulled it free, she recognised the handwriting. The last time a letter from him had arrived, ten years ago, she hadn’t even opened it. 

She had stood in the garden with a lighter in her hand, watched the corner of the envelope curl and blacken, and waited until the paper crumbled into ash before it ever had the chance to be read.

Back then she had been drowning in grief but ten years had passed. 

Ten years of surviving. Of rebuilding. Of learning how to breathe again.

She had worked her way through the five stages of grief one painful step at a time, picking up the broken pieces of her life and forcing them into something that resembled normality.So she should be able to read it. She should be able to face whatever words he had decided to send.

The man who had killed her wife and unborn son.

Her eyes scanned the page quickly, almost frantically, as if getting through it faster might somehow dull the impact of the words. But the truth was, she didn’t really absorb any of them, the sentences blurred together.

Instead, she just sat there staring at the letter in her hands while memories from ten years ago forced their way back to the surface, vivid and unwelcome, filling her mind as if no time at all had passed.

Flashback

“Mum, can we play I Spy?” Betsy asked excitedly from the back seat.

Lisa glanced up at the dark road stretching ahead of them, lit only by the oncoming headlights.

“I Spy? Kiddo, everything is pitch black,” she replied.

“Why don’t you have a nap?” Becky suggested gently from the passenger seat.

“A nap? You want her to nap this close to bedtime? That’s a danger nap if ever I heard one.”

Becky smiled faintly and shifted closer, lowering her voice.

“Well… I was thinking it’s so close to bedtime we could just transfer her straight to bed when we get home.” Her fingers drifted across the inside of Lisa’s thigh, slow and teasing. “Then you and I could have an early night.”

Lisa shot her a quick look, one eyebrow raised.

“I like the way you think, Mrs Swain.”

“I thought you might,” Becky murmured, her hand lingering. “We should make the most of it before this one arrives and we’re up to our eyeballs in dirty nappies and sleepless nights again.”

Before Lisa could respond, a deafening crash filled the air. 

Metal slammed violently against metal.

Lisa jolted sideways as the car was struck, glass shattered inward. The airbags exploded with a violent thud. From the back seat came Betsy’s terrified scream—high, desperate, cutting through the chaos.

“Lisa!” 

Lisa gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white.

“It’s okay!” she shouted over the screech of tearing metal. “It’s going to be okay—everything’s going to be okay!”

But even as she said it, fear strangled the words in her throat.

Betsy was sobbing uncontrollably, crying for her mums, her small body jerking violently against the restraints as the car spun. Beside Lisa, Becky was screaming too. One arm was braced protectively over her stomach, the other reaching toward Lisa as if she could somehow stop the car.

Another impact. The car spun again, this time the force hurled them off the road. The tyres lost all grip as the car smashed through the safety barrier and rolled down the embankment.

Lisa felt the sickening drop in her stomach as the vehicle flipped, the world turning upside down before the car crashed violently onto its roof. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs. Lisa’s head throbbed as the world slowly came back into focus. They were hanging upside down in their seatbelts.

She knew she should stay in the car.

She knew she should wait for help.

But she couldn’t leave her daughter dangling upside down in her car seat, screaming and crying and begging for someone to get her out. The sharp scent of petrol filled the air.

Lisa turned her head toward Becky and placed a shaking hand on her thigh.

“We’re okay,” she said, though she wasn’t sure she believed it. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Becky’s breathing was ragged.

“We need to get her out. Lisa, please—get Betsy out. Get her somewhere safe.”

“Let me help you out first.”

“Darling…” Becky winced. “My door’s jammed. I’m okay here. Just get our little girl to safety.”

Lisa hesitated.

But Becky was right. She always was.

She unhooked her seatbelt and braced herself before dropping awkwardly to the roof of the car just as she did the driver’s door was suddenly wrenched open from outside.

A man grabbed her arm and helped pull her out.

“Here—let me help you,” he said, steadying her as she staggered to her feet.

“Thank you,” Lisa said breathlessly. “I need to get my daughter to safety, then help my wife. She’s pregnant—her door’s jammed.”

She rushed to the back of the car and yanked open the door.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” she murmured as Betsy’s screams filled the night. “I’m here, Bets. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Her fingers fumbled with the straps as she struggled to free her from the car seat. Finally she pulled her daughter into her arms, holding her tightly as Betsy clung to her neck.

“Would you take her for a second while I get my wife?” Lisa asked the man, trying to pass Betsy over.

The man crouched down with a gentle smile.

“Hiya, lovely. My name’s Ted. Why don’t you come with me? We can go up that hill and wait for your mums.”

“Nooo! Mummy!” Betsy screamed, clutching tighter.

“Okay, okay,” Lisa soothed, her heart breaking as Betsy buried her face in her shoulder.

Then Becky’s voice suddenly rang out from the wreckage.

“The car—Lisa! The car’s on fire!”

Lisa spun around.

Flames quickly appeared.

The man rushed to Becky’s door, grabbing the handle and trying to force it open. Inside the wreckage Becky shouted again.

“Lisa, darling—get Betsy to safety! I’ll be okay. Come back for me!”

“Bex, the car’s on fire!”

“I’m well aware of that,” Becky snapped, panic breaking through. “I love you, Lisa, but for once in your life listen to me and get our daughter away from the car!”

“Okay,” she said shakily. “I’ll be right back. We’ll all be together before you know it. I love you, Bex.”

Becky’s voice softened.

“Betsy… be good, okay? I love you. I’ll see you soon.”

Lisa sprinted up the embankment, Betsy still sobbing in her arms. At the top, a woman rushed forward and took the struggling toddler.

“No! Mummy! Nooo!” Betsy screamed as Lisa turned and ran back down the hill.

She had made it halfway when strong arms suddenly grabbed her.

Ted.

He held her tightly.

And then the car exploded.

“Bex—NO!” Lisa screamed, fighting desperately against him.

“There was nothing you could do,” Ted said hoarsely, holding her back. “I tried… but she told me she couldn’t feel her legs. The fire was spreading too quickly.”

He hesitated before pressing something into her shaking hand.

“She told me to give you this.”

Lisa looked down.

Becky’s engagement and wedding ring.

“She said to tell you she loved you. And that you’ve got to be strong. You’ve got to be there for Betsy… and not to blame yourself. None of this was your fault.”

The rest of the night became a blur.

Sirens.

Blue lights.

Voices she couldn’t focus on.

The only clear memory Lisa had was sitting in the back of an ambulance, cradling her three-year-old daughter in her arms while Betsy sobbed against her chest.

Present Day

“Earth to Lisa.”

Lisa blinked, pulled sharply from the memories that had swallowed her whole.

“Sorry… what?”

“I said that shower was amazing. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Is everything okay?”

Lisa didn’t answer. Instead, she picked up the letter from the counter and slid it across the island toward her.

Carla looked at Lisa and then back to the letter before unfolding it and reading.

“Is this the—”

“The drunk driver who killed my wife,” Lisa said quietly. “And my unborn son.”

Carla’s expression shifted as she reread the letter more carefully.

“So… what I’m getting from this,” she said slowly, “is that he’s dying and wants to make amends?”

“Yes. That’s the gist of it.”

Carla folded the letter again and placed it down between them.

“What are you going to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… he’s requesting a visit. Are you going to go?”

Lisa let out a long breath, her fingers tightening around the edge of the counter.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if it would do more harm than good.” She shook her head slowly. “I mean, he might get to die with this off his conscience… but I still lost my wife and my son. Nothing he says will ever change that.”

She pushed herself off the chair and began pacing across the kitchen, restless energy coursing through her.

“Every time I think about Becky,” she continued, her voice tightening, “I try not to think about that night. About the last time I saw her. The last time I told her I loved her.”

Her hands dragged through her hair.

“That’s not how I want to remember her. I want to remember her laughing. Happy. Teasing me.” Her voice cracked. “Not hanging upside down in our car, screaming at me to save Betsy… telling me to leave her because she could see the fire.”

Tears began spilling down her cheeks.

“She knew I wouldn’t be able to save them both.”

Lisa stopped pacing, her chest heaving.

“And I hate that,” she whispered. “Because it makes me so angry. Then I think about him. The man who got behind the wheel and destroyed everything because he thought he was sober enough to drive home.”

Her voice broke completely.

“One stupid decision. One night. And it cost me everything.”

She looked down at the letter.

“And now he’s writing to ask for my forgiveness. As if he deserves it. He deserves to rot in hell for what he did.”

The words dissolved into sobs as Lisa’s legs finally gave out beneath her. She sank to her knees on the kitchen floor.

Within seconds Carla was beside her, pulling her gently into her arms.

“Shhh… it’s okay,” Carla murmured softly.

Lisa buried her face against her shoulder, her body shaking.

“You don’t have to go,” Carla said quietly. “But… it might help you.”

Lisa didn’t respond, but Carla continued gently.

“I know nothing will bring Becky back. Nothing will give you back the life you had. But maybe seeing him… maybe you could say everything you’ve carried around for the last ten years.”

She brushed a hand through Lisa’s hair, slow and soothing.

“Tell him what he took from you. Tell him what those ten years have been like for you and Betsy. Make him understand what getting behind that wheel actually did.”

Carla paused before adding softly,

“And make it clear that nothing he says will ever change that.”

Nearly five minutes passed before Lisa’s breathing finally steadied. Still, she didn’t move. She remained sitting on the floor, Carla’s arms around her as Carla gently stroked her hair.

Deep down, Lisa knew she was right.

Ten years ago it had been too raw, too unbearable. Back then she had simply been surviving—moving through each day on autopilot, barely keeping herself together for Betsy.

But now…

Now she could look him in the eye and tell him exactly what he had done to her life. Forgiveness wouldn’t change anything but he should be able to sit in front of her and know the damage he caused.

“I’m going to go,” Lisa muttered eventually.

Carla leaned back slightly, searching her face.

“You are?”

“Yes.” Lisa wiped at her eyes. “I think I need to.”

She let out a slow breath.

“I just need to figure out the logistics. It means going back to London… so it’ll probably have to be a weekend trip. I could stay with my mum. It would actually be nice to see her.”

She hesitated.

“But I don’t want to tell Betsy. She’ll want to come. She’ll want to support me… and I can’t let her do that. She’s still a kid.”

“Maybe…”

“Maybe?”

She shifted back slightly and suddenly realised she and Carla were still wrapped around each other on the floor. Clearing her throat, she pulled away slightly.

Carla dropped her arms and stood, offering a hand to help Lisa to her feet.

“Maybe I could come with you,” Carla said carefully.

Lisa looked up in surprise.

“I mean… I wouldn’t have to come into the prison with you,” Carla added quickly. “I could get a hotel. I wouldn’t want to put your mum out.”

She shrugged lightly.

“I could just sit in the car park while you visit. Moral support from a distance.”

Lisa stared at her.

“If you don’t want Betsy there,” Carla continued, “I wouldn’t want you doing something like this alone. And I know you’d do the same for me. I mean… we’ve shared a bed. I’ve survived your morning breath.”

A small smile tugged at her lips.

“We’re friends,” Carla finished gently. “And friends show up when the other person needs them. So… if you want me there, I’ll come.”

Lisa moved to the other side of the kitchen, instinctively putting a little space between them as she tried to process the offer.

“Carla… I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask,” Carla said simply. “I offered.”

“But are you sure?” she asked. “Going back to London… is that going to be a good idea for you?”

Carla shook her head.

“I’m not going to get triggered, Lisa. Yes, I was in London when I was at my lowest. But I can’t avoid a whole city because it holds bad memories.”

She gave a small shrug.

“If that were the case, I’d have to pack up and leave Weatherfield. This place has plenty of bad memories too.”

She met Lisa’s eyes.

“And yeah, London might be where I was at my lowest… but it’s also where I met you.”

A small, sincere smile appeared.

“So it wasn’t all bad.”

Lisa considered that for a moment before letting out a slow breath.

“Okay,” she said finally. “I guess we’re going on a road trip then.”

Chapter Text

Carla stood outside number 6, her suitcase resting at her feet, a small bag of snacks balanced on top. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat, rocking slightly on her heels as she stared at the front door. Her mind refused to stay quiet. 

Was this a good idea? The question had been circling her head ever since she’d agreed to come.

 At the time, it had seemed simple enough. Lisa shouldn’t have to face something like this alone. Anyone would need support walking into a prison to confront the man who had destroyed their life. But standing here now, suitcase packed and ready to drive back to London, the city she had once sworn she’d never return to, Carla felt the familiar flicker of doubt creep in.

Yes, London held too many memories. All bad. But she’d meant what she said. You couldn’t avoid a place forever just because it held ghosts. Lisa needed her, and that trumped any negative feelings she had about this. Carla glanced down at the suitcase again before exhaling slowly and lifting her hand to knock on the door, hoping she sounded far more certain than she actually felt.

Seconds later, the front door opened. Lisa stood there, dressed in black sports leggings and a matching sports bra. Carla’s mouth went dry as her gaze lingered, tracing the lines of Lisa’s toned stomach down to her thighs. Quickly realising, she lifted her head again and offered a sheepish smile.

“Hi.”

“Come in,” Lisa replied, stepping aside as Carla pulled her suitcase into the front room.

Lisa glanced down at it and raised an eyebrow. “Packed everything but the kitchen sink, have you?”

“Just about. I’m always an overpacker. I’d rather bring too much than end up needing something I didn’t pack,” Carla said, taking in the state of the living room. It looked as though a wardrobe had exploded across it. “Unlike you, who doesn’t seem to have packed a thing.”

“Sorry, I’m running a bit behind. Betsy couldn’t find her laptop charger, so I’ve spent the last hour looking for it. And truthfully, I wasn’t even sure I was going to go.” Lisa hesitated, her eyes dropping to her feet. “I know it’ll do me good, but at the back of my mind, I’m worried. Worried about how I’ll react when I see him again. I haven’t seen him since he was sentenced.”

Carla moved around the sofa, brushing some of Lisa’s clothes aside before sitting down.

“That’s understandable. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You don’t owe him anything, and if you wake up in the morning and decide you don’t want to go, then you don’t have to.”

“Thank you, Carla,” Lisa murmured.

“You don’t need to thank me. We’re friends, Lisa. That’s what friends are for. Now shove some clothes into your suitcase and let’s get going. I’ve got a bag full of snacks, and I’ve even made a playlist for the drive.”

Carla leaned back against the sofa, watching as Lisa rushed around the living room. Lisa scooped up a pile of clothes, carried them to the kitchen island, and began folding them with military precision. Then she headed back, grabbed her open suitcase, and hauled it into the kitchen, placing it beside the neatly stacked pile. One by one, she packed each item away until her phone rang. She paused for a second, then hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Carla glanced at the nearly packed suitcase before looking toward the staircase. After a brief hesitation, she decided to help Lisa finish packing. It would be quicker, and they could leave sooner without risking getting stuck in traffic. With that in mind, she headed back to the kitchen and began folding the rest of Lisa’s clothes neatly into the suitcase. Carla reached for another item and paused when she realised what it was. Lisa’s bra. She really should have just packed it. Instead, she turned it over in her hands, instinct kicking in as her fingers traced the stitching. The bra sat in her hands a little too long, and just as she was about to place it into the suitcase, there was a creak on the bottom step followed by the clearing of Lisa’s throat.

Carla spun around so quickly, she was surprised her head didn’t spin.

“Oh, this is, uh…” she started, holding it for a second before immediately chucking it onto the top of the suitcase, as if that made it less incriminating.

“Carla… what are you doing?”

What was she doing? How could she answer that when she wasn’t even sure herself?

Carla stepped further into the living room, putting as much distance as possible between herself and Lisa’s bra while scrambling to think of something to say. When the silence dragged on a little too long, she finally opened her mouth.

“I’m not a weirdo who goes round touching my friend’s underwear, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I mean, I wasn’t, but now you mention it…”

Carla grabbed a pillow from the chair and threw it at Lisa's face.

“Rude” Lisa chuckled.

“I was just checking if it might be one of ours. You know, we have very specific stitching. It’s kind of… recognisable.”

Lisa dropped the pillow onto the sofa, stepped a little closer, and looked over Carla’s shoulder at the bra before looking back at her. “Right. Of course. Strictly professional.”

“Exactly.”

Lisa crossed her arms. “So? What’s the verdict?”

“Well… whoever made it clearly knows what they’re doing.”

Lisa hummed, her eyes flicking over Carla’s face, catching the lingering flush. “Good to know.”

“That’s you almost packed. I’ll just sit over here while you finish putting your underwear away, don’t want you to think I have any ulterior motives,” Carla said, sitting down in the chair and crossing her legs.

Lisa walked back into the kitchen, muttering under her breath. Carla couldn’t catch it all, but she made out her name, "ugly," and "underwear." 

Carla didn’t say a word. Instead, she pulled out her phone and started adding songs to a queue. She had made an entire playlist for the journey, but this way, she could guarantee that for the first hour, it would be song after song that she picked—none of Lisa’s. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to listen to Lisa’s choices; if that had been the case, she wouldn’t have asked her to contribute to the playlist in the first place. It was just that, other than the ABBA songs, she had absolutely no idea what the rest of the songs were.

“Right, that’s me all packed,” Lisa said.

“About time. What were you doing? I’ve been sitting here for the last ten minutes,” Carla replied.

“I was reorganising,” Lisa muttered.

“Reorganising?” Carla asked, uncrossing her legs, standing up, and walking over to Lisa.

“Don’t laugh or judge me.”

“I promise, I’ll try not to laugh or judge.”

“Carla,” Lisa warned.

“Okay, okay. Scouts honor. I’ll keep my judgment to myself.”

“I like my suitcase packed a certain way. I roll up my outfits so I’ve got trousers, tops, underwear, socks, neatly all together. That way, I can just pull it out, and it’s all in one place.”

Carla crossed her arms, holding back a smile. She couldn’t judge. Looking around Lisa’s house, with everything in its place, she should’ve expected her to pack her suitcase with the same level of efficiency.

“Efficient,” Carla replied.

“Exactly. I don’t want to spend half my morning rummaging through my suitcase looking for things.”

“Wait, you’re not the type who hangs up their clothes the second they check in? You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, DI Swain?”

Lisa zipped up her suitcase before turning to face Carla. “You have no idea,” she replied, yanking the suitcase off the island and dropping it by her feet.

Carla forced herself to look anywhere but at Lisa. There was something in the way she said those four words that sent heat straight to her core. She swallowed, took a deep breath, and counted to five before finally finding her voice.

“Are we ready, then?” Carla asked.

“Do you need the toilet? I’d rather we didn’t have to stop unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“I’m not a child. I think I can control my bladder.”

“Okay.” Lisa replied, grabbing the keys from the counter and pulling the suitcase behind her.

Carla grabbed her own suitcase and followed closely behind Lisa, stopping just shy of the front door. 

Lisa turned, smirked, then shook her head. “Go on, be quick.”

“How did you know?” Carla asked.

“One would say you’re rather predictable.”

“I am not,” Carla huffed.

“If you say so. Now go to the toilet so we can get going,” Lisa ordered.

“Yes, boss.”

Less than five minutes later, Carla’s bladder was emptied, and she was sitting in the passenger seat of Lisa’s car, shoes kicked off, snack bag on her lap while Lisa input the address into the sat nav.

“Do you really need the sat nav? I mean, surely you’ve driven to your mum’s before?”

“I have, but not from Manchester. Plus, I like to know how long the drive will take and if we need to take another route because of traffic or road closures. And my mum likes to know my ETA so she can get the kettle on,” Lisa replied.

Carla rummaged through the snack bag, grabbed a bag of Skittles, ripped them open, and started picking out the red ones before holding the bag over to Lisa. “Skittle?”

“Did you seriously just take all the red ones out?”

“Yes, I mean, we are friends, Lisa, but I don’t think we’re close enough for me to share my favorite Skittles with you. It’s almost like giving you my last Rolo—just wouldn’t happen.”

“Well, it’s a good job my favorites are the green and yellow ones, then,” Lisa replied.

“Really? Or is this a How I Met Your Mother pickle theory situation?”

“You’ve completely lost me. Care to explain.”

Carla popped a Skittle in her mouth, then pulled out a few green ones and handed them to Lisa.

“Have you ever seen How I Met Your Mother?” Carla asked.

“No.”

“Okay, well, there’s a couple called Marshall and Lily. The Pickle Theory is based on the idea that a successful relationship requires one partner to love pickles, and the other to hate them. So Lily loved them, and Marshall hated them, so he’d always give his pickle to Lily. I thought, since most people’s favorite Skittle is the red one, you might be using the Pickle Theory for Skittles.”

“Okay, two things: You and I aren’t a couple, and number two, it was the Olive Theory, not the Pickle Theory,” Lisa stated.

“Excuse me?”

“Lily loved olives, not pickles.”

“So you have watched it?” Carla asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. It was one of the shows I binged when Betsy was a baby, and she didn’t sleep.”

“Why did you pretend you didn’t?”

“Because you seemed so excited to tell me all about the Pickle Theory, and I didn’t have the heart to correct you.”

Carla swatted Lisa’s thigh. “No more Skittles for you.”

“You just assaulted a police officer,” Lisa stated, shaking her head.

“That was hardly assault,” Carla replied with a smirk. “And besides, you’re Lisa today, not DI Swain.”

“You can’t get away with assault on a technicality,” Lisa said, glancing over with a smirk.

“If you wanted to arrest me, you would’ve pulled over by now, and you’d be slapping your handcuffs on me within seconds,” Carla quipped. “But since you’re still driving and I’m handcuff-free, let’s just agree to disagree. I’ll promise to keep my hands to myself… unless, of course, you ask for it,” she added, her voice dropping into a teasing whisper.

“Agree to disagree,” Lisa repeated.

Carla just hummed in response before turning to stare out the window. After a few minutes, she leaned her head against the cool glass and closed her eyes. They had just under three and a half hours to go—plenty of time for a quick nap in case Lisa wanted to switch drivers. She was just starting to drift off when the blare of the horn startled her, quickly followed by Lisa’s voice.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Get over. Move!” Lisa screeched, pressing on the horn again.

Carla turned to face her. “I didn’t take you for someone who gets road rage. You’re like an angry little midget.”

“Fuck you,” Lisa snapped.

“Alright, there was no need for that. I was only joking.”

“Not you Carla, the woman in front,” Lisa huffed.

Carla looked up at the car in front as it slowed. The driver’s hand shot up, middle finger raised in the rear-view mirror. A moment later, the car braked again, then swerved into the lane beside them. The woman rolled her window down.

“I’m surprised you can even see over the steering wheel. Maybe you should pull over and let her drive or grab a booster seat at the next service station, you dickhead!” she shouted before winding her window back up.

Lisa immediately sped up, pulling in front of her. She eased off the accelerator just enough to irritate, not enough to be dangerous. For the next few miles, it turned into a petty back-and-forth—overtaking, slowing down, throwing gestures at each other like it was some kind of competition. It only ended when the other woman finally took the exit at the next junction.

“Thank God for that.”

“What?” Lisa asked, flicking on the indicator and easing into the left lane.

“You and that woman. I really thought one of you was going to end up smashing into the other.”

“It was only a bit of harmless fun.”

“Fun? You call that fun? My nerves are shot to pieces and I would’ve thought you, of all people, wouldn’t want to be dicking around behind the wheel,” Carla said.

“You’re overreacting. It wasn’t that bad. I’d never do anything to put us in danger, Carla. One car crash in a lifetime is enough for me,” Lisa replied.

Carla turned her head back to the window just as Lisa indicated and pulled off toward the services.

“I thought you weren’t stopping?” Carla asked.

“Alright, well maybe I should’ve gone to the toilet before we left.”

Carla stayed in the car as Lisa headed into the services, the door slamming shut behind her. Carla leaned back in her seat, exhaling slowly. Her eyes followed Lisa across the car park, watching the blonde disappear inside. She lingered on the entrance long after Lisa had gone in, watching every person coming and going, waiting for the blonde to reappear. The doors eventually swung open and Lisa came back out, walking slowly with a bottle of water in one hand and a pack of mints in the other. She climbed back into the driver’s seat and shut the door behind her.

“Better?” Carla asked.

Lisa twisted the lid off the bottle. “Much.”

They pulled out of the services and rejoined the motorway. Lisa kept both hands on the wheel this time, more focused, while Carla stared out at the passing fields.

Eventually, they pulled off the motorway, and rows of houses replaced the open road. Each one looked much the same—tall green hedges, cars parked neatly along the curbs, kids playing out on the pavement. It was calm, homely, almost peaceful in a way that didn’t match what people usually expected when they thought of London.

Lisa pointed things out as they drove. Small fragments of her past slipping easily back into place. The street sign where she’d had her first kiss. The road where her dog had been knocked over. The house all the kids used to avoid, daring each other to run past it after dark. After a few minutes, Lisa slowed and nodded towards a tidy semi-detached house at the end of the street.

“There it is.”

“This is just what I expected when I pictured the house you grew up in.”

“Really?” Lisa questioned.

“Yes. It screams family dinners at the table, conversations, actually wanting to spend time together. It must have been nice.”

Lisa nodded slightly, pulling the car into the drive before turning off the engine. The sudden silence settled around them. A few seconds passed before Lisa turned in her seat to face Carla and placed a hand lightly on Carla’s knee.

“Thanks again for this.”

“Lisa, it’s fine. You don’t need to keep saying thank you.”

“I know,” Lisa said softly, “but I want you to know I really appreciate it and your friendship. It’s not something I ever expected, and I won’t ever take it for granted. You’re a really good mate.”

“Mate,” Carla repeated under her breath, barely audible.

She glanced out through the windscreen at the house. A weekend here with Lisa’s mum, this street, this version of Lisa she only ever hinted at in passing. Carla swallowed, resting back in her seat as she looked at the front door, already wondering what the next two days were going to be like.

Chapter Text

“So, Carla?” Jane asked, raising her eyebrows, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Don’t make that face, Mum. She’s just a friend.”

“A special friend?”

Lisa hesitated. “She’s… special to me, yeah, but it’s nothing more than friendship. We understand each other. We’re there for each other. That’s all.”

“If you say so.” Jane took a slow sip of her coffee.

“I do. And please don’t say anything to her. I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable.” Lisa sighed.

“My lips are sealed,” Jane replied.

Her mum had only seen her and Carla together for a couple of hours at dinner, before they’d gone upstairs to their separate rooms. Lisa didn’t think they’d done anything to invoke that kind of reaction. 

She started to panic. What if she had done something, said something, or looked at Carla in a way that wasn’t just friendly?

Before she had a chance to ask her mum why she thought there was something more, the kitchen door opened and Carla walked in.

“Morning, love. Did you sleep well?” Jane asked.

“Better than I have in a long time, thank you.”

“Coffee?” Lisa asked.

“Please,” Carla said, sitting down across from Jane and beside Lisa.

“Now everyone’s awake, how about I cook some breakfast?”

“You shouldn’t have waited for me. I would’ve just had a piece of toast or a banana,” Carla replied.

Lisa finished making Carla’s coffee and placed it down in front of her. “Actually, Mum, I’m taking Carla to Victoria’s. I promised Ben I’d pop in when I was back visiting, and the second he knew I was back, he’s been texting me non-stop.”

“Oh, Carla, you’re in for a treat. The food at Victoria’s is incredible. I’ve had to ban myself because I was going far too many times a week. Their English breakfast is the best I’ve ever had. And you have to try the Biscoff pancakes. Oh, and the eggs and avocado on sourdough toast. My mouth’s watering just thinking about it.”

“The breakfast and pancakes sound great, but avocado just tastes like grass to me,” Carla said.

“Hah. I always say that, and she tells me I’m overreacting,” Lisa chuckled.

“I tell you that because you spend the whole time gagging and acting like a toddler being forced to eat broccoli,” Jane replied.

“That’s how it feels,” Lisa quipped.

“Right, if you two are heading out this morning, I’m off to meet Betty at bingo. Have a lovely breakfast. I’ll see you both later,” Jane said.

She downed the last of her coffee, stood, and placed the mug in the dishwasher before heading out of the kitchen. Carla watched the door swing shut behind Jane before turning to Lisa.

“You should’ve woken me earlier,” she sighed, leaning back in the chair. “I feel like a terrible guest, sleeping the day away.”

“You aren’t a terrible guest. Besides, you must’ve needed it. You said yourself you slept better than you have in ages.”

“Still…” Carla looked down at her coffee, wrapping her hands around the mug.

 “Don’t worry about it. Go get dressed.Once you’re done we can go.”

“Okay. I won’t be long.”

“Take your time.”

An hour later, they were pulling into Victoria’s car park. Lisa reversed into a space and switched off the engine before turning to face Carla.

“Just a heads up, Ben is my oldest friend. He’s been there through everything, so I apologise if he gives you the third degree.”

“You’ve never sat through a lunch with Blanche. I’m sure she was an interrogation specialist in a past life. She would have you admitting to things you’ve never even done and questioning what was real.”

“Blanche?” Lisa asked.

“Peter’s step-gran. She’s dead now, but she took no messing when she was alive. Apart from Amy, Peter’s niece, Blanche was the only one in the family I liked and who liked me. She said I reminded her of a young her. Not sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.”

Before Lisa could respond, there was a knock on the window and the car door was pulled open.

“Are you coming in or what?” Ben asked.

“Of course. I was just giving Carla a pre-warning.”

Ben rounded the car, pulled Carla’s door open and held out his hand. “Whatever she’s said about me, ignore her. I’m a delight, and I promise not to grill you… well, too much,” he teased.

Lisa watched as Carla unbuckled her seat belt, placed her hand in Ben’s, and let the younger man pull her out of the car. They linked arms and walked towards the café, leaving Lisa alone. She climbed out, locked the car, and hurried after them, catching up just as Ben was showing Carla to a table.

“This is the best table in the house,” he said, pulling out a chair for Carla. “I don’t give this treatment to just anyone, only my very oldest best friend and her girlfriend.”

“Excuse me, did you just say girlfriend?” Carla asked.

“Ben, I’ve told you, Carla isn’t my girlfriend.”

“Okay, fine. I just wanted to see if you were lying and whether I could get Carla to tell me the truth. I mean, you being single is sad. You need to put yourself out there. It’s been ten years, and you aren’t getting any younger.”

Lisa sat down across from Carla and mouthed, sorry.

“I hope you’re not apologising for me. I just don’t want you to die alone. I mean, Betsy will be moving out before you know it, and then you’ll have to get a cat. And you know what they say about cats, don’t you?”

“They’re loyal?” Lisa asked.

“No. They eat you when you die.”

“Just what I want to hear before I’m about to eat,” Carla quipped.

“Sorry, love. I have no filter. Or I do, I just don’t use it,” Ben chuckled, handing them two menus. “I’ll leave you to it before I say something else and Lisa stabs me with a butter knife.”

“We both know I wouldn’t use a butter knife.”

“Thanks, Ben.”

Carla picked up the menu, and Lisa did the same. A few minutes passed in comfortable silence. Lisa kept her eyes on the menu, scanning it as though she didn’t know every item by heart, but she was aware, a little too aware, of the brunette sitting across from her.

“You already know what you’re getting, don’t you?” Carla questioned.

“Maybe.”

“Thought so.”

Lisa’s lips twitched, but before she could say anything else, a voice carried across the room, loud and familiar.

“Well, well… if it isn’t Lisa Swain.”

Lisa looked up, caught off guard. It took her a second, then it clicked. “Anna?”

“In the flesh. Ben told me you were back in town, but I thought he was winding me up. What brings you back?”

“Just a flying visit. I didn’t realise you were still working here. I thought you were in Spain?”

“Didn’t work out, so Ben was kind enough to give me my job back.”

“Oh. That’s a shame.”

Anna smiled, leaning slightly closer to the table. “It is what it is.” Her eyes moved over Lisa, slow and deliberate, not even trying to hide it. “You look really good.”

“It’s been a while,” Lisa replied.

“Too long,” Anna said. “Is Manchester treating you well?”

“It’s… busy.”

Anna hummed, then glanced briefly at Carla, just enough to acknowledge her presence before her attention settled right back on Lisa. Lisa noticed. She opened her mouth to introduce Carla, but Anna cut her off.

“Drinks?” she asked. “Or are you ready to order?”

“Just a coffee. I think we need a couple more minutes,” Lisa said.

“Same,” Carla added.

The slight change in Carla’s tone didn’t go unnoticed. It was polite, but clipped, flatter than before. When Lisa glanced over, Carla had lowered her menu, her fingers resting along the edge a little tighter than necessary.

Anna nodded. “I’ll make sure they’re good ones.”

Lisa forced a polite smile. “Thanks.”

Anna lingered a second too long, then turned and walked away.

“Friend of yours?” Carla asked.

Lisa hesitated. “Not a close one. We had the same circle of friends.”

She looked up just in time to see Carla nod once.

“Right.”

A few minutes later, Anna returned with their coffees, placing them down carefully.

“Thanks,” Lisa said.

“Just let me know when you’re ready to order,” Anna replied, then hesitated.

She reached into her apron, pulled out a small folded piece of paper, and slid it across the table towards Lisa.

“In case you fancy getting together… you know, before you head back to Manchester.”

Lisa looked at the paper for a few seconds, then at Carla, and finally up at Anna. “Thanks, but I’m not here for long. Besides, I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I left Carla alone while we caught up.”

“She looks like a big girl. I’m sure she’d manage on her own,” Anna said looking over at Carla. “It’s not very often you get second chances… especially when they show up right in front of you.”

Lisa opened her mouth, but no words came out. When had this gone from a catch-up with an old friend to something else entirely? She needed to say something, to let Anna down gently, but before she could speak, Anna gave her a small, knowing smile and a quick wink.

“I’m free from seven, if you change your mind,” she said, nudging the paper a little closer to Lisa before turning and walking away.

Across from her, Carla lifted her coffee and took a slow sip. The movement was calm, controlled, but when she placed the cup back down, it made a slightly sharper sound against the table than it needed to.

“Well, she seems nice,” Carla said.

Lisa looked up, but Carla didn’t meet her gaze straight away. Instead, she traced her finger around the rim of her cup.

Lisa winced faintly. “I’m sorry.”

Carla shook her head quickly. “You’ve got nothing to apologise for.”

But she still wasn’t looking at her.

Lisa picked up the piece of paper, turning it over once between her fingers. After a few seconds, she folded it again and slipped it into her pocket. She had no intention of using it, but taking it meant she could avoid the third degree from Ben. When she finally looked up, Carla had gone very still, her fingers resting against the edge of her cup.

“Do you know what you’re getting?” Lisa asked.

Carla nodded, her eyes dropping back to the menu. “Yeah. But do you mind if we get it to take away? I’ve got a headache coming.”

Lisa didn’t believe her, but she didn’t push.

“Of course.”

It wasn’t long before they were back in the car, Lisa behind the wheel, Carla in the passenger seat, takeaway trays balanced on her lap. Lisa drove in silence, glancing over every so often. Carla stared out of the window, her forehead resting against the glass.

“Are you okay?” Lisa asked.

“Fine. Just my head,” Carla replied.

“Mum’s bound to have some painkillers. I can get you some when we get in.”

“Thanks.”

Lisa glanced over at Carla again. She hadn’t moved, still staring out of the window, her forehead resting against the glass as if the cold might help. From the outside, it all lined up. Headache. Quiet. Wanting to leave early. It made sense. But something about it didn’t sit right with Lisa. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe her, it was how quickly everything had shifted.

One minute, they’d been… chatting, enjoying their morning. Looking forward to breakfast. Then Anna had appeared, and suddenly Carla’s whole demeanour changed. She wasn’t angry, or even upset, just quiet. 

Lisa replayed it all in her head. The way Carla had put her cup down, just a little too sharply. The way she hadn’t quite looked at her after the number had been slid across the table. Then asking to leave. Carla hadn’t said much since. No complaints, no fuss. She’d just retreated into herself, like she’d stepped back without saying a word. Lisa didn’t like it. 

Her mind drifted to the folded piece of paper in her pocket. She’d only taken it to avoid Ben’s inevitable interrogation. She hadn’t thought about how it would look. She should have said something, explained, instead of leaving Carla to draw her own conclusions.

The car slowed as she pulled up outside the house. Lisa didn’t move to get out straight away. Her gaze shifted sideways again. Carla was still looking out of the window. 

For the first time since they’d left the café, Lisa realised something that made her stomach twist slightly. She didn’t just want to know what Carla was feeling. She cared. More than she should.

And that scared the hell out of her.

Chapter Text

Carla had spent the rest of the day in bed, supposedly sleeping off her headache — or at least that’s what she told Lisa. In reality, she had spent the entire time staring at the ceiling, wondering why Anna giving Lisa her number had affected her so much.

She felt sick. The thought of Lisa taking Anna up on the offer made her stomach twist, but what made her feel even worse was realising why she’d reacted that way in the first place. 

She and Lisa were friends. She was straight. But the way she’d acted at the café hadn’t been normal friend behaviour. She’d been jealous at the thought of Lisa going on a date.

Lisa and Jane were in bed, so Carla had slipped quietly out of her room and made her way downstairs. Now, she sat staring into a cup of tea that had gone cold. She hadn’t touched it since making it; it was just sitting there while she spiralled.

“No, I don’t have feelings for Lisa. That’s not possible,” she muttered to herself.

The kitchen door clicked shut, and Carla’s head snapped around. Thankfully, it wasn’t Lisa.

Jane smiled at Carla, crossed the kitchen, and put the kettle on before sitting down across from her.

“Do you want to talk?” Jane asked gently.

“No. Maybe. Yes, please,” Carla replied.

“Well, come on then. Let’s discuss the elephant in the room.”

Carla picked up her cup, took a sip, then swallowed before almost gagging at the cold tea.

“Elephant in the room?” she asked.

Jane stood, took the cup from Carla’s hands, and emptied the cold tea down the sink before making them both fresh cups. She placed them on the table, then opened the cupboard beside the fridge, rummaged around at the back, and pulled out a packet of biscuits.

“I think this chat deserves the expensive biccies,” she said before sitting back down across from Carla.

“Thank you,” Carla replied, taking a biscuit and dipping it into her tea.

“So back to the elephant in the room. How long have you had feelings for my daughter?”

Carla hesitated. She didn’t know what to say because, truthfully, she didn’t know herself. She wasn’t blind — Lisa was extremely attractive. Okay, if she was being honest, Lisa was beautiful. Jaw-droppingly beautiful. Her smile lit up a room, and her eyes… Carla was pretty sure she could lose herself in them for hours.

There was just something about Lisa Swain that Carla couldn’t quite put her finger on. Somewhere between them going from strangers to friends, Carla had developed feelings for the blonde — and she had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

“I don’t know. I didn’t even realise I had feelings for her until today.”

“So what changed?” Jane asked.

Carla wrapped her hands around her cup, staring down into it before finally glancing up at Jane.

“She got asked out on a date, and the thought of it stirred something in me. It made me realise I’ve had feelings for her for a while now. I think that’s why I agreed to come here with her. Even though she’d only be gone for the weekend, I knew I’d miss her. And now I just… don’t know what to do with any of this.”

“Maybe,” Jane said quietly, “you should start by talking to Lisa. That seems like the best place to begin.”

“Why… why would I need to talk to Lisa?”

“To tell her how you feel,” Jane pointed out, grabbing a biscuit and taking a bite.

“Oh no, I’m not doing that,” Carla replied immediately.

Yes, she might have feelings for Lisa, but she was almost certain the blonde didn’t feel the same way. And the last thing she wanted was to embarrass herself, make things awkward, and risk losing a very good friend.

“Now I’m confused. Why wouldn’t you want to tell Lisa how you feel?” Jane asked.

“Lisa hasn’t been with anyone since Becky. She made that choice a long time ago. She decided Becky was it for her, and there’s no way she could ever feel the same about me. I don’t want to jeopardise our friendship by blurting out how I feel, making her uncomfortable, and losing her altogether. Besides…” Carla sighed, “I’m pretty sure this is nothing more than a harmless crush.”

“Carla, I know I haven’t known you long, but I’ve known my daughter her whole life. And the way she looks at you? That’s not how someone looks at a person they don’t have feelings for. She’s probably thinking the same thing you are. In her eyes, you’re straight, and I know my daughter well enough to know she’d never risk your friendship by admitting how she feels. She’s probably already convinced herself there’s no chance.”

Carla took a sip of her tea before putting the cup back down, staring into it as though it might somehow hold the answers.

“Do you really think she feels the same?”

“I do,” Jane replied. “But one of you is going to have to be brave enough to make the first move.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Oh, it’s never easy. If it were, half the world wouldn’t spend so much time dancing around their feelings.”

Carla shook her head. “I wouldn’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t need some grand declaration,” Jane told her. “Sometimes honesty is enough.”

Carla fell silent, her thoughts tangled  together. Honest. The idea sounded simple enough, yet the thought of actually sitting in front of Lisa and admitting any of this filled her with dread because what if Lisa didn't feel the same.

Chapter Text

Lisa stood in the prison car park, staring up at the building before looking back at the car. She wanted to do this. She wanted to walk into the prison, sit across from the man who had killed her wife and unborn son, and hear what he had to say for himself. So why couldn’t she move? Why did it feel as though her feet were frozen in place?

Standing there alone, she wished she had let Carla come with her. The brunette had offered multiple times, but each time Lisa had turned her down, insisting she needed to do this alone. Deep down, though, she knew she didn’t want to do this alone. She would've given anything for Carla to be by her side, but now it was too late.

Lisa took a deep breath, but instead of walking into the prison, she turned around. Her feet carried her back to the car. She unlocked the door, pulled it open, and slid into the driver’s seat. Gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white, she suddenly slammed her hand against it. She should be able to do this. It had been ten years. She should be able to walk into that prison and get the closure she needed.

Instead, she turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the car park. She had no destination in mind; she only knew she couldn’t go back to her mum’s house. Not now. Not yet.

Half an hour later, Lisa pulled into another car park. Of course she was going to end up here. 

Guilt twisted in her stomach. She hadn’t factored visiting Becky’s grave into her trip; it hadn’t even crossed her mind. What kind of person didn’t even consider visiting her wife’s grave?

She pushed the door open and placed one foot on the ground, followed by the other, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t.

She always struggled being here. Usually, she had Betsy with her. Even in the early days, when Betsy was still little, Lisa would bring her to the grave. She had explained that this could be their special place — somewhere Betsy could come whenever the world felt too heavy, somewhere she could talk to her mum. And, truthfully, it helped Lisa too.

It would usually take her a while to find the courage to walk through the gates and make her way to the grave, but once she did, she would stay there for hours. Strange as it seemed, she found it comforting.

After what felt like forever, she had finally made it through the car park, across the gravel path, and was now sitting beside Becky’s grave.

“Hi, Bex. Sorry it’s been so long.” Lisa sighed, as she stared at the headstone. “I don’t really know what to say. I mean… I’m not even supposed to be here right now. I was meant to be at the prison. The man who caused the accident is dying and, well, he wanted to see me, but I couldn’t do it. I thought I could. I mean, I was right outside, ready to go in, but then I thought about what Carla said — about how I can change my mind at any moment — and, well… I did. And that’s how I ended up here.”

Lisa looked down at her hands before looking back up to the headstone. She wasn’t sure why, but talking about Carla to Becky made her feel uneasy. Carla was just her friend. Okay, maybe she was more than that. Lately, she had been Lisa’s rock, the person keeping her steady when everything else felt like it was falling apart, but it was nothing more than that. Or at least, that was what Lisa kept telling herself. 

She sat beside Becky’s grave, slowly filling her wife in on everything that had happened in her life. She talked about Betsy, their move, her promotion, life in Weatherfield, and finally, Carla.

“So, Bex, here’s the thing. Carla is amazing, truly. She’s kind, smart, funny, and I know we met under unusual circumstances, but I feel like there’s just something about her that I need in my life. I mean, out of all the places I could have moved to, I practically moved onto her doorstep. That can’t be a coincidence.”

She hesitated before falling silent altogether. The thought of seeing Carla as more than a friend scared the hell out of her, and it wasn’t something she wanted to think about. Not now, and maybe not ever.

“There you are,” a voice called from across the graveyard.

Lisa’s head snapped around to see Carla walking towards her. This was the last place she had expected to see her.

She stood up, dusted off her jeans, and made her way over to her.

“Is everything okay? It’s not Mum or Betsy, is it?”

“No, everyone’s fine,” Carla replied.

“Then what are you doing here? How did you know this is where I’d be?”

Carla walked over to a nearby bench and sat down, Lisa following beside her.

“I know you said you were fine going alone, but I borrowed your mum’s car so I could at least be outside when you were done. When you didn’t come out, but other visitors did, I assumed you hadn’t made it inside. So I rang your mum, and she told me the only place you’d be was here. That’s what I’m doing here,” Carla explained, shifting slightly. “I didn’t want to intrude on your time with Becky, but I was worried about you, and I just needed to know you were okay. Now I know, I can go.”

Carla started to stand, but Lisa grabbed her hand and gently pulled her back down.

“Please don’t go.”

Carla smiled at the quiet plea, and for a few seconds, neither of them spoke. Lisa still had hold of Carla’s hand as the factory owner sat beside her, their knees almost touching. 

“You don’t have to do this on your own, you know,” Carla said quietly. “You never did.”

Something in Lisa cracked at those words. Maybe it was the exhaustion of carrying everything around for so long, or maybe it was the fact Carla had come all this way just to make sure she was okay. Either way, before she could stop herself, she leaned across the bench and wrapped her arms around her. Carla froze for a few seconds before she hugged her back tightly. It wasn’t a polite hug. It wasn’t quick or awkward or friendly. Lisa melted into her completely, her face tucked against Carla’s shoulder as Carla’s arms tightened around her like she was trying to hold all the broken pieces together.

“It’s okay,” Carla murmured, one hand rubbing gently up and down Lisa’s back. “I’ve got you.”

Lisa closed her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this safe in someone’s arms. Neither of them moved to pull away, holding onto each other just for a little too long.

Eventually, Lisa lifted her head. Carla loosened her grip enough for them to pull apart, but neither of them shifted away completely. They stayed sitting close together, silently staring at one another. Lisa’s breath caught as she looked at her. Carla’s eyes flickered briefly down to Lisa’s lips before returning to meet her eyes. 

And then Lisa’s phone started ringing, the sound instantly shattering the moment between them. Lisa jumped slightly and fumbled for her phone while Carla leaned back against the bench, clearing her throat awkwardly. 

“Betsy,” Lisa muttered softly at the screen before answering. “Hey, sweetheart.”

As Betsy’s voice filled her ear, Carla slowly stood from the bench. Lisa glanced up at her mid-conversation, and Carla waved and gave her a small smile before mouthing, I’ll see you back at your mum’s.

Lisa nodded slightly, unable to stop herself watching Carla as she turned and walked away through the graveyard. Even after she disappeared from sight, Lisa’s eyes stayed fixed in the direction she had gone while Betsy continued talking down the phone.

Chapter Text

It had been three days since Carla and Lisa returned home from London, and three days since Carla had last spoke to her. Ever since their moment in the graveyard, things had felt off between them, yet neither woman had mentioned it.

Carla wanted to. She wanted to ask Lisa what it meant because, from where she was sitting, they had been seconds away from kissing.

When Lisa finally returned from the graveyard, she headed straight upstairs for a shower. Afterwards, she and Carla sat at the kitchen table with Jane for dinner before Lisa announced that she needed an early night ahead of the drive home the next day.

The drive back had been painfully quiet. Lisa insisted she was just exhausted and that it had nothing to do with Carla, but the tension between them was impossible to ignore. When they finally arrived home, Lisa thanked Carla for coming with her, and that had been the last time they’d spoken.

It was obvious Lisa was avoiding her, but Carla wasn’t entirely blameless either. Over the past few days, every time she had spotted Lisa, or even caught a glimpse of the back of her, she had turned and walked the other way.

After a few minutes, Carla decided to go back to basics, back to where she and Lisa had begun. She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, placing them on the table before simply staring at them, as though the words might somehow jump from her head onto the page. It would probably help if she actually knew what she wanted to say.

She started simple.

Dear Lisa,

I don’t even know what to say.

That was as far as she got before she threw the pen across the room.

This wasn’t supposed to have happened. Lisa wasn’t meant to have wormed her way into her life. Then again, Lisa Swain wasn’t meant to have stopped her from jumping either. When had Lisa ever done what she was supposed to do?

No. This wasn’t happening.

She was Carla Connor. She wasn’t going to let anyone else make decisions about her life without her say-so. Lisa was her friend, and she wasn’t going to let one moment, one barely-there little thing, ruin that.

She pushed the chair back, grabbed her phone and keys from the kitchen counter, and pulled open the front door before stopping herself. She needed to calm down. She couldn’t go storming in, all guns blazing, expecting Lisa to talk to her.

She turned, closed the front door, made her way into the kitchen, and pulled a glass from the cupboard, followed by a bottle of wine from the fridge. Pouring herself large glass, she downed it in one go.

“Dutch courage,” she muttered, placing the empty glass back on the counter.

Minutes later, she was standing outside Number 6, her hand raised and ready to knock when the front door suddenly opened and Betsy stepped outside.

“Carla, maybe I can get an answer from you,” Betsy said.

“About what?”

“Did you and Mum have a fight or something? Like, what happened in London? She’s been walking around like a bear with a sore head since she got back, and honestly, she’s doing my head in.”

“No, no fight. Nothing out of the ordinary. Is she in?”

“In the kitchen. She was just opening a bottle of wine, so you’ve got perfect timing.” Betsy stepped aside before lowering her voice slightly. “I’m heading out, and hopefully whatever…” she gestured between Carla and the inside of the house, “…this is gets sorted, because I can’t take it much longer.”

Carla stepped into the house and called out, “Only me. Bets let me in.”

“Of course she did,” Lisa muttered, just loud enough for Carla to hear.

“Oh, shall I go then?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’ll have a glass of wine as an apology.”

Carla moved further into the house until she reached the kitchen, stopping opposite Lisa on the other side of the island.

“Apology? I didn’t mean it. I’m happy to see you,” Lisa replied, sliding a glass of wine across the counter towards her.

Carla took a sip before placing the glass back down and rounding the island until she was standing directly in front of Lisa.

“I don’t mean that, and you know it. You’ve been avoiding me since London and—”

“You can’t really talk. You’ve been avoiding me too. I saw you the other day, walking into Dev’s and then straight back out because I was in there.” Lisa folded her arms tightly across her chest. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Carla. I think you’re reading too much into what happened at the graveyard.”

Bingo.

Carla knew that was why Lisa had been avoiding her — and maybe part of why she’d been avoiding Lisa, too. But she missed her friend, and whatever this was between them, they needed to figure it out.

“You’ve been thinking about it too then,” Carla said quietly. “I mean, it must've meant something if you’ve been avoiding me and I’ve been avoiding you.”

“Carla, nothing happened, so how can it mean anything?” Lisa replied. “It was just the time and place. I was emotional. Between the prison and visiting Bex’s grave, it was a lot, and you were there for me. The lines blurred, but it was nothing more than that.”

“Maybe not for you,” Carla muttered.

“What did it mean to you?”

Before Carla even realised what she was doing, she lifted her hands and placed them gently on either side of Lisa’s face. Neither of them moved. Every thought in Carla’s head seemed to crash together at once, telling her to stop, to think, to walk away, but before she could listen to any of them, she leaned forward and kissed her.

It was soft at first, hesitant, like she was waiting for Lisa to pull away but instead Lisa’s hand tightened slightly around Carla’s wrist, and Carla felt her lean into the kiss for a few seconds.

Then reality hit, Carla pulled back abruptly, her eyes wide with shock at what she had done.

“Carla—”

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Carla rushed out, already stepping backwards. “I shouldn’t have done that. I just— I thought—”

“Carla—”

“This was a mistake,” she muttered, more to herself than Lisa. “I’m sorry.”

She turned quickly, almost stumbling over her own feet in her hurry to get out of the kitchen.

“Don’t!”

Lisa’s voice stopped her by the sofa.

Carla froze, her back still to her. “Don’t what?”

A few quick footsteps crossed the room before Lisa appeared in front of her. Without giving herself time to think twice, she grabbed the front of Carla’s jacket and kissed her. This time there was nothing hesitant about it. Carla made a small sound of surprise before instantly kissing her back, one hand gripping Lisa’s waist as the other wrapped around the back of her neck. When they finally pulled apart, both of them slightly breathless, Lisa rested her forehead briefly against Carla’s.

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

Carla’s breath hitched as Lisa’s whispered words lingered in the air between them. Don’t go. Neither of them moved, Lisa’s hands were still clutching the front of Carla’s jacket, Carla’s fingers tangled in the bottom of Lisa's top.

Carla let out a shaky breath, still she didn’t let go of Lisa’s waist, her grip softened, fingers tracing a hesitant path up Lisa’s side, brushing against the curve of her ribs. The next words that came out of her mouth surprised even her.

“Upstairs?”

Lisa nodded, taking Carla’s hand, she led her upstairs. Their fingers intertwined, palms warm, and Carla felt the slight tremor in Lisa’s grip or maybe that was her own. At the stop of the stairs, Lisa paused. 

This was it — the moment Lisa was going to change her mind. Carla knew it had been too good to be true. Lisa had realised this wasn’t what she wanted, that Carla wasn’t who she wanted.

Lisa turned to face her, and Carla decided that was her chance.

“Lisa, I need to ask you something. Before we—” She swallowed. “I know you haven’t… you haven’t been with anyone since Becky. I don’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for. So if this is too much, if you need to stop, or if you want me to leave—”

Lisa reached out, pressing a finger gently to Carla’s lips, silencing her. 

“You’re cute when you’re nervous. I’m ready, Carla. I just didn’t know it until now.”

Lisa pushed the bedroom door fully open with her hip, never breaking eye contact. “More than ready.”

Carla stepped into the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind her. Lisa let go of Carla’s hand only to slip her arms around Carla’s neck, pulling her close. This time, when they kissed, it was slow and deliberate, not an ounce of nerves in sight. Carla’s hands slid under LIsa’s top, palms flat against the warm skin on her lower back. Lisa moaned into the kiss, her fingers threading through Carla’s hair, pulling her deeper. Carla walked her backward until Lisa’s knees hit the edge of the bed, and they tumbled onto it together.

There was nothing elegant about this, but Carla didn’t care because she was finally kissing Lisa.

She’d expected to be nervous. This was her first time being with a woman, and she hadn’t wanted to disappoint, but instead of nerves, she was filled with excitement and pure want. Being here with Lisa like this was all she’d thought about for weeks, even if she would've denied it to anyone who asked.

She propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at Lisa. Her hair was sprawled out on the pillow, her chest rising and falling beneath her top, Carla’s eyes traveled over her— the soft curves of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the way her jeans hugged her hips.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Carla murmured, leaning down to kiss the side of Lisa’s neck just below her ear.

Lisa arched into the touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. “Don’t stop.”

Carla didn’t. She pulled Lisa’s top over her head, pressing kisses to each inch of skin revealed as she moved one hand behind Lisa and unhooked her bra. Her tongue traced a path down Lisa’s chest as she slipped the bra away, letting it fall to the floor. Carla pressed a kiss to the little freckle on Lisa's breast before she took one nipple gently between her lips, sucking lightly, and Lisa bucked beneath her. 

“More,” Lisa moaned, her hands fisting the sheets.

Carla obliged, her mouth moving lower, leaving a trail of wet kisses down Lisa's stomach. She reached the waistband of her jeans and looked up. 

“Is this okay?”

“Yes, Carla. Only if it’s okay with you. We can stop at any point or switch things up. I don’t expect you to dive right in, so to speak.”

Carla loved how thoughtful Lisa was being, but there was no way in hell she was stopping now.

She unfastened the button, slid the zip down, and pulled the denim over Lisa’s hips. Her underwear, simple black cotton, were visibly damp. Carla licked her lips as she hooked her fingers under the elastic and eased them down. 

She lowered herself between Lisa’s legs, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh. Lisa moaned softly, her thighs trembling. Carla took her time, her lips and tongue teasing closer but never quite giving Lisa what she wanted most. Lisa whimpered, her lips parting in a silent plea.

“Please,” Lisa choked out.

Carla finally let her tongue slide through the wet folds, tasting her for the first time. Carla moaned at the taste as Lisa cried out, her back arching off the mattress. Carla took her time, experimenting with different pressures, strokes, listening to the different noises Lisa made. She started to lick slow and steady, circling her clit with just the right pressure, and Lisa's hands shot to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, pushing her deeper. 

“Fuck, Carla… don’t stop. Right there.”

Carla didn't. She sucked the sensitive nub between her lips, flicking her tongue rhythmically, and felt Lisa's entire body tense. Her thighs clamped around Carla's head, and a long, shuddering moan tore from her throat as she came, her hips grinding against Carla's mouth. Carla lapped through it, gentling her strokes until Lisa's gasps softened into shallow breaths. 

Carla stayed with her through it, slowing only when Lisa gently pushed her head away. 

“And you’ve never done that before?” Lisa asked eventually, her voice breathless.

“Never,” Carla admitted, “but I’m hoping I get to do it again and again.”

“Get up here, you,” Lisa murmured.

Carla crawled back up beside her, wiping at her chin with the back of her hand before pressing a kiss against Lisa’s shoulder and settling beside her, one arm draped loosely across her waist.

“That was something else,” Lisa whispered, her eyes still closed. “Wow.”

Carla laughed, brushing a sweaty strand of hair behind Lisa’s ear.

“Give me a few minutes to stop seeing stars, and I’ll return the favour.”

“Take your time,” Carla replied quietly. “We’ve got all night.”

Chapter Text

“Oh fuck, don't stop,” Carla moaned, her hands flying to the back of Lisa's head.

Lisa had absolutely no intention of stopping. Ever since yesterday, she'd been insatiable. It was like Carla unlocked something feral in her, and now she couldn't get enough.

Her tongue flicked over Carla's clit as she slowly slid one finger inside her. Pulling it back out, she added another, curling them and rubbing against the sweet spot that had left Carla practically screaming last night.

“Fuck me.”

“I know I've been out of practice for a while, but I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what I'm doing.”

Carla tried to roll her eyes, but instead they slammed shut completely. Lisa could feel her tightening around her fingers. She was close—right on the edge—and then—

The bedroom door flew open.

“Mum, have you—”

“BETS!”

“About time,” Betsy chuckled as she backed out of the bedroom. “I’ll leave you to it.”

The door shut behind her.

Lisa yanked her hand away, wiped it on the sheets, then dropped backwards onto the mattress and dragged the blanket over her head in absolute horror.

“Didn't teach her about knocking then?” Carla teased.

“Don't,” Lisa groaned from beneath the blanket. “My daughter just walked in on me fucking you. Oh god, she's going to bankrupt me with therapy bills.”

Carla sat up, a shit eating grin on her face, and tugged the blanket down just enough to reveal Lisa's horrified face. Then she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“For what it's worth,” she murmured, “from where I was sitting, she didn't look entirely surprised. Or even that mortified.”

Lisa stared up at her in disbelief. “That is the least comforting thing you could possibly have said.”

“I mean, look at it this way,” Carla said, trying — and failing — to suppress her grin. “We were mostly covered, and you had your back to her. Imagine if it’d been the other way around and I’d been going down on you just as the door opened.”

Lisa groaned.

“Oh, come on,” Carla laughed. “You know I’m right. She’d have walked in on you orgasming. That would’ve traumatised both of you.”

“You have a point.”

“I usually do.”

Lisa rolled her eyes while Carla slid out of bed, stretching lazily.

“Now,” Carla continued, “how about you go brush your teeth, wash your hands, and have a conversation with your daughter while I go take a shower and—”

“Don’t even think about it,” Lisa warned.

“But—”

“No buts.” Lisa sat up, finally abandoning the blanket cocoon. “I fully intend to finish what I started. We might just have to relocate to your flat instead.”

 “See? That’s the spirit.”

Hands washed, teeth brushed, dignity only partially recovered, Lisa made her way downstairs to find Betsy sprawled across the sofa, arms folded and a deeply smug smirk on her face.

“Don’t.”

“Oh, this is happening,” Betsy said, leaning back against the sofa. “So, that was quite the development from you two trying to avoid each other.”

Lisa groaned and dropped into the armchair opposite her. “I hate this already.”

“I mean, it was painfully obvious you liked Carla,” Betsy continued. “I just couldn’t work out how she felt. Then Nan rang me with updates.”

Lisa blinked. “Nan knew too?”

“Nan said you were both deep in denial, but she could practically see sparks flying every time you were in the same room.”

Lisa buried her face in her hands. “I can’t believe my daughter and mother were conspiring behind my back.”

“I mean, we weren’t conspiring as much as discussing. You looking like the heart-eyes emoji every time you were even close to Carla was a huge topic.”

“I did not.”

“Mum, you absolutely did. And you’ve been unbearable the last few days.”

“Unbearable?”

“Vile,” Betsy corrected. “Honestly, you were stomping around this house like a woman in mourning. Clearly suffering from Carla withdrawals.”

Lisa opened her mouth to argue, then paused.

“…I hate that you might actually be right.”

“Exactly. Also, for the record, next time you decide to reconcile emotionally and sexually, maybe use the lock or stick a sock on the handle like they did back when you were courting, or whatever the olden-days term is for it.”

“Can we never speak about this again?”

“Nope,” Betsy chuckled. “This is my favourite day in months.”

A few minutes later, a hesitant throat-clearing came from the top of the stairs.

“Is it safe?” Carla called down.

“Depends what you consider safe. If you’re trying to avoid being ridiculed by my daughter, I’d maybe stay upstairs.”

“Oi,” Betsy protested. “Of course it’s safe. I’m happy for you both.”

Lisa reached across and took Betsy’s hand. “You are?”

“Obviously.” Betsy shrugged. “Mum’s been gone a long time. We’ll always miss her, but… she’s not coming back. And honestly? You’ve put your entire life on hold for me.” She gave Lisa a small smile. “Everything you do is for me, Mum. That has to get lonely.”

Lisa’s throat tightened and she tried to keep the tears at bay.

“Carla’s great,” Betsy continued. “And if she makes you happy—”

By then, Carla had finally ventured downstairs. She perched carefully on the arm of Lisa’s chair, and Lisa immediately wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her closer.

“She does,” Lisa admitted, smiling up at Carla. “Well… so far, so good.”

“Glowing review.”

“Then I’m happy for you both.” She paused before turning to Carla with sudden seriousness. “But just so we’re clear…”

“Oh dear,” Carla murmured.

“I’m the daughter of a police officer,” Betsy said calmly, “and true crime documentaries are basically my favourite hobby after MAFS. So if you hurt her—”

“Betsy,” Lisa sighed.

“—they will never find your body.”

Carla blinked once, then nodded. “Honestly, that feels fair.”

“That’s because it is fair,” Betsy replied.

Lisa looked between the two of them and groaned. “Fantastic. The pair of you are teaming up already. That’s definitely not going to make my life difficult.”

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you. Would you like to repeat that?”

“Chelle, you heard me. Don’t make me say it again.”

Almost one bottle of wine down, Carla had given Michelle a complete rundown of the latest developments in her life, and Michelle had been teasing her ever since.

“Say what? That you’re shagging a copper?”

“Really? Shagging? What are you, sixteen?”

“Okay, that you are making love to a copper.”

“That’s even worse. Besides, it’s early days. I don’t think Lisa loves me.”

“But you love her?” Michelle asked.

Carla took a large sip of her wine before picking up the bottle and topping up her glass.

“Oh my god, you do.”

“Chelle, I don’t know. I mean, it’s early days. It’s been a week, and yes, we’ve spent practically every single second together, and yes, she’s amazing, incredible, kind, caring, and mind-blowing in bed, but… love? I don’t know.”

Michelle swatted Carla around the back of the head before downing the rest of her wine.

“You love her. It’s flaming obvious, so don’t sit there and pretend you don’t.”

“I think I do, and I have absolutely no idea how she feels about me. I mean, I know she likes me, but Chelle, she’s a widow.”

“You’re also a widow,” Michelle replied.

“That doesn’t really count. She loved her wife. They were soulmates. Paul and I… you know how that ended up. But she would still be married to Becky if she hadn’t died. Becky was the love of her life. I can’t expect her to fall for me.”

“Yes, that might be the case, but love, Becky isn’t here. You are. And Lisa will always love her, but that doesn’t mean she can’t love you too. You’re the first woman she’s taken a chance on since she lost Becky. You must be special to her.”

“I guess,” Carla muttered.

“Well, you might guess, but I know. Besides, there’s no timeline on feelings. You have people who literally fall in love at first sight, and you have people who are in relationships for ages before they fall for the other person, but it doesn’t mean they love them any less. Just be honest with Lisa. Tell her that you love her, and she might surprise you and feel the same—”

“Or she might think I’m some crazy bunny boiler who falls for the first woman I sleep with.”

“I mean, that is a possibility.”

“Chelle!”

“What? You didn’t appreciate my honesty, so I might as well feed into your delusions.”

There was something Carla needed to do first — something she’d been putting off for far too long. She needed to talk to Peter and officially ask for a divorce. Every other time, he’d ignored her, brushing it off like she didn’t really mean it. But maybe this time would be different. Maybe if he knew she’d finally moved on, he’d realise she was serious.

“Hand me my phone,” she asked Michelle.

Michelle passed it over, and Carla immediately opened her messages with Peter. She typed out a quick text asking him to meet her at the Rovers so they could talk. It was public enough that he would hopefully stay calm, and if things went badly, at least she’d have Michelle there as backup.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Michelle asked.

“Honestly? No, probably not. But I want to be able to walk hand in hand with Lisa, or kiss her, and not worry that someone’s going to see us and run straight back to him. He deserves honesty. I mean, he probably doesn’t deserve it, but part of me feels like I owe it to him.” Carla let out a quiet sigh. “I know he fucked up, and everything that happened was because of him, but somewhere, very, very deep inside me… I still remember the good times,” she admitted.

“Need back up?” Michelle asked.

“Please.”

A few hours later, Carla was sitting in a booth at the Rovers. Two glasses of orange juice sat untouched across from one another as she glanced over towards the bar, where Michelle was cleaning glasses.

“You okay?” Michelle asked.

Carla just nodded.

A moment later, the door to the Rovers opened, and Michelle subtly gestured towards it, silently letting Carla know Peter was there.

Peter spotted her almost immediately. For a second, he hesitated by the door, his eyes flicking towards Michelle behind the bar before finally making his way over to the booth.

“Orange juice?” he asked as he slid into the seat opposite her. “Bit early in the day for you to be off the wine, isn’t it?”

 “I want a clear head.”

Peter nodded slowly, leaning back against the booth. “So, what’s this about then? Sounded serious.”

“It is serious.”

Something in her tone must have registered, because the faint amusement on his face disappeared.

“Right,” he muttered. “Okay.”

Carla clasped her hands together beneath the table to stop herself fidgeting. She’d rehearsed this conversation in her head a dozen times since she made the decision to meet him, but now Peter was actually sitting in front of her, every sentence felt tangled.

“I need you to listen to me properly,” she said carefully. “And I need you not to interrupt.”

Peter huffed but nodded once.

“I meant what I said before. About the divorce.” She forced herself to hold his gaze. “I want it, Peter. Properly this time.”

 “Carla—”

“You said you wouldn’t interrupt.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose but stayed quiet.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you,” she continued. “And I’m not saying it because I’m angry anymore. I’m saying it because this marriage has been over for a long time, and I think we both know that.”

Peter looked away, staring down at the table.

“You don’t get to decide we’re still together,” Carla said softly. “You hurt me too many times.”

“So that’s it then?”

Carla swallowed hard. “Yeah. I think it is.”

His eyes flicked back up to hers.

“There someone else?” he asked quietly.

Carla hesitated for only a second.

“Yes.”

Peter laughed once under his breath. He leaned back against the booth again, shaking his head slowly.

“Right,” he muttered. “Suppose I should’ve seen that coming.”

“I mean, unlike you, I waited until we were over. I’ll have Adam draw up the divorce papers and get them over to you as soon as possible.”

“Right.” Peter let out a sharp breath. “Can I at least ask — do I know him? Wait, it’s not Adam, is it?”

Carla had known that question was coming. Of course she had. She took a deep breath and decided honesty was the best policy.

“Not him. Her. And yes, it’s Lisa Swain.”

Peter stared at her blankly for a moment.

“Excuse me?” he snapped. “You want a divorce so you can screw a woman? A copper, no less? You’ve got to be having me on.”

He slammed his hand against the table hard enough to make both glasses shake, orange juice spilling across the surface.

Michelle was at Carla’s side within seconds.

“Everything okay here?” she asked.

 “Tell your guard dog she can back off.”

Michelle folded her arms but didn’t move.

“I’m not even going to dignify this conversation with a response,” Peter continued bitterly, turning back to Carla. “Because we both know she won’t be able to satisfy you, and you’ll come running back to me.”

“Not likely, Peter.” Carla’s voice was calm now, steadier than she felt. “Like I said, I’ll get Adam to send the papers over for you to sign.”

Before he could respond, she slid out of the booth and stood up. She expected him to follow her, and judging by the sound of Michelle sharply warning him not to move, Peter had clearly been considering it.

Carla didn’t look back. She walked straight out of the Rovers and headed for the flat. She knew this wouldn’t be the end of it. Peter was almost certainly going to fight the divorce or make things difficult for her and Lisa somehow. But for now, the truth was finally out in the open, and that was all she cared about.

Chapter Text

It had been a few weeks since Lisa and Carla had become official, moving from friends to girlfriends, and surprisingly, everyone seemed genuinely happy for them. Carla had been a little worried about how people would react; after all, everyone had only ever known her to date men. But so far, so good.

Well, it would be if Lisa wasn’t dealing with one very big problem: expressing what Carla meant to her. She wanted to tell the factory owner that she had fallen in love with her, but she just couldn’t find the words. Every time she opened her mouth to say it, Carla would look at her with those big green eyes, and Lisa would chicken out.

There were two big reasons stopping her — okay, maybe three, but she didn’t want to think about the third. First, she worried it was too soon, that Carla might think so too. Second, she hadn’t said those words to anyone since Becky. And third — the one she really hoped wasn’t true — was that Carla didn’t feel the same way. That maybe, to the brunette, this was just a fling, something to pass the time.

“Just tell her,” Betsy called from the living room.

“What?” Lisa asked.

“You aren’t as subtle as you think you are. And you also have this habit where the conversation you think is happening in your head ends up coming out loud,” Betsy pointed out before wandering into the kitchen to join her mum. “Besides, it’s not even that big of a deal. People say those three little words all the time.”

“Yeah, well, people who aren’t emotionally constipated probably do. Bets, I'm serious, what if it's too soon?”

“Or,” Betsy countered, “what if she’s sitting there thinking the exact same thing and waiting for you to say it first?”

“Do you really think that?” Lisa asked.

“I mean, you actually give me the ick,” Betsy replied. “You’re like a pair of lovesick teenagers. Don’t get me wrong, it’s great — I’m happy for you — but if I hear you doing that ‘no, you hang up first’ thing one more time, I might throw both your phones away. And don’t even get me started on Carla always having her hands in your hair whenever you’re together, or the way you look at her when she’s talking. I thought the heart-eyes thing was bad before, but now you’re actually together, you’ve taken it to another level.”

Lisa felt heat rush into her cheeks and spread through her chest.

Things were so different with Carla.

She would never compare her relationship with her to what she’d had with Becky, because Becky had been her wife, and that love had been real too. But Becky had never been particularly touchy-feely. Of course there had been hugs and kisses, but often they were fleeting — a quick kiss before one of them left for work or a tired hug before bed.

With Carla, affection was constant.

If they were sitting on the sofa together, Carla would automatically wrap an arm around her shoulders, run her fingers through Lisa’s hair, or rest a hand on her knee. And the kisses… there were dozens of them every day, soft absent-minded ones in the kitchen, lingering ones at the front door, quick pecks followed by smiles that made Lisa feel warm all over again.

“We aren’t that bad, and I have never once said, ‘You hang up first.’”

“Okay,” Betsy admitted, “I might have embellished a little to make my point, but everything else is true. So just grow some balls, Mother, and tell her. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Lisa dropped her forehead onto the kitchen island with a groan. “She could laugh in my face.”

For a few seconds, Betsy said nothing. The only sounds filling the kitchen were drawers opening and closing. Then a pen and a sheet of paper landed in front of Lisa’s head.

“Go old-fashioned,” Betsy suggested. “Write her a letter. Put everything you want to say in it and post it through her letterbox. That way, she can read it, digest it, and then most likely rush over here to tell you she feels the same.” She paused before adding, “And if she doesn’t — and that’s a very big if — then she won’t feel pressured to say it out of pity just because you’ve laid your heart bare right in front of her.”

Lisa slowly lifted her head and met Betsy’s gaze, her daughter’s face lit up with a hopeful smile.

“I know, I’m a genius. That’ll be twenty quid for my great advice,” she said, crossing her arms proudly.

Lisa rolled her eyes, but her gaze drifted down to the blank sheet of paper in front of her. For the first time since this whole spiral had started, the knot in her chest loosened slightly.

Maybe Betsy was onto something.

“There’s money in my jeans upstairs.”

“Thanks.” Betsy grinned. “I’ll leave you to work on your love letter, but can I just ask one thing?”

“What?”

“Please don’t make me read it, because that is definitely something that will bring my breakfast back up.”

Lisa laughed, grabbing the tea towel from the counter and throwing it at her daughter. Betsy dodged it easily, already halfway out of the kitchen.

Lisa's eyes drifted back to the blank piece of paper. For a few minutes, she just stared at it, her stomach twisting nervously. Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she picked up the pen.

Dear Carla,

No, that was awful.

She scratched it out immediately with a groan.

Over an hour later, Lisa finally put the pen down. She stared at the letter in front of her, it was finished finally. The kitchen bin was overflowing with screwed-up pages, abandoned drafts, and ink-smudged disasters. Somewhere during the process, two glasses of wine had also disappeared, supposedly to “help the creativity flow.”

This version felt right. It was honest. Terrifyingly honest, actually, but honest all the same. Lisa read over the final lines one more time before carefully folding the paper and sliding it into an envelope. She felt sick as she wrote Carla's name across the front in shaky handwriting.

“Right,” she muttered to herself nervously. “No backing out now.”

Just as she grabbed the envelope and her keys there was a knock at the door.

Lisa froze.

Another knock followed, lighter this time, accompanied by a familiar voice.

“Lisa? You home?”

Her heart immediately launched into her throat. Of course it was Carla.

“Oh my God.”

Another knock.

“Lis?”

Lisa pulled open the front door. Carla stood there holding two takeaway coffees from Roy's, completely unaware that her girlfriend was moments away from cardiac arrest.

“Well, hello to you too,” Carla teased softly. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I— no. Nope. Fine. Completely fine.”

 “Why are you standing in the doorway like you’re hiding a body?”

“I’m not!”

“Lisa.”

Damn those green eyes.

Carla tilted her head slightly, gaze dropping lower — straight to the envelope Lisa was clutching tightly against her chest.

And then she saw her own name written across the front.

“Oh.”

Lisa swallowed hard. “Oh?”

For a second, Carla just stared at the envelope.

“You wrote me a letter,” she said slowly.

“Yes…”

Carla’s eyes searched hers carefully. “And you were going somewhere.”

Lisa’s stomach dropped.

“Oh no.”

The colour faded slightly from Carla’s face as she glanced back at the envelope. “Lisa…”

“No, no, don’t do that face.”

“What face?”

“The face where you’re about to catastrophise.”

“I’m not catastrophising,” Carla argued weakly, already catastrophising. “I’m just saying historically people don’t usually hand someone a serious letter unless it’s life-changing.”

“It is not bad life-changing!”

“That is not a reassuring sentence.”

Lisa groaned loudly, dragging a hand down her face. “For God’s sake.”

But Carla was already spiralling, voice quieter now. “You regret this.”

“What? No!”

“You do.” Carla laughed nervously,“I knew things had been going too well.”

Carla turned to walk away, but panic surged through Lisa before she could stop herself. She quickly ripped the envelope open and unfolded the letter with shaky hands.

“Carla,” she blurted out, “I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Carla stopped dead in her tracks. The takeaway coffees trembled slightly in her hands as she turned back around slowly, staring at her.

“You used a whole piece of paper for seven words?”

“No. Those seven words were the last line of the letter, but I figured they were the best way to get you to stop and listen.”

Carla just blinked at her.

“I’m not ending things with you, Carla,” Lisa said softly. “Actually, the complete opposite. I’ve wanted to tell you how I really feel for weeks, but I kept holding back because I wasn’t sure how you’d react. Then Betsy suggested I write you a letter so you could read it and respond in your own time.”

She held the pages out awkwardly. “So… how about you sit down and read it?”

For a moment, Carla simply stared at her.

Then she walked further into the house, put the coffees carefully onto the table, and sat down on the sofa with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“No.”

“No?”

“I want you to read the letter to me.”

“You can't be serious.”

“I am extremely serious.”

“But—”

“Darling,” Carla interrupted, “no buts. My heart practically fell out of my arse at the thought of you ending things with me, but obviously that’s not what this is.” Her voice softened even more. “So please… read me what you wrote.”

And there they were again. Those damn green eyes.

Lisa sighed dramatically, though there was no real fight in it anymore. “Fine.”

“Do you want me to look away while you do it, or…?”

Lisa rounded the sofa and dropped into the armchair opposite her, clutching the letter like it might still save her from this humiliation.

“No,” she muttered. “Just… be patient.”

Carla just nodded quietly.

Lisa took a deep breath and held the letter out in front of her, eyes scanning over the carefully written words. But after only a few seconds, she let out a frustrated sigh and crumpled the paper in her hands. She’d already said the hardest part out loud.

Maybe the rest didn’t need rehearsed sentences and neatly written paragraphs. Maybe Carla deserved the truth exactly as it was.

“Sitting here looking at you,” she began quietly, “I think I’ve realised why this was all so hard for me in the first place.” She swallowed thickly. “I felt guilty.”

Carla gave her a reassuring smile.

“Guilty that I’ve fallen so hard and so fast for you when it took me months to say those words out loud to Bex.” Lisa shook her head quickly. “And I never want you to think I’m comparing what I had with her to what I have with you, because they’re completely different relationships. But I think that’s why I kept holding back.”

Her fingers tightened around the ruined letter in her lap.

“Not because I was scared of how I felt about you… and not even because I thought you might not feel the same.” She laughed quietly, nervously. “But because of how quickly you’ve become one of the two most important people in my life.”

Carla’s eyes immediately filled with tears.

“I genuinely believe I was meant to find you on that bridge. That somehow we were always supposed to end up here.” Her voice softened. “And I know you think you’re damaged sometimes. Broken. Like life dealt you this awful hand that you never really recovered from.” She shook her head slowly. “And darling, it did. God, it really did.”

Carla looked down then, blinking rapidly.

“But it brought you to me.”

Lisa dropped the crumpled paper to the floor.

“And Carla…” Lisa breathed shakily, “I’ve fallen completely head over heels in love with you.”

A tear slipped down Carla’s cheek.

“I can’t imagine my life without you anymore, because before you…” Lisa paused, reaching across to take Carla's hand. “Before you, I was surviving. I wasn’t really living. I was just going through the motions, trying to be the best parent I could for Betsy, and honestly, nothing else mattered.”

Her eyes never left Carla’s.

“Then you happened.”

Carla covered her mouth with one trembling hand.

“You are a force of nature,” Lisa whispered. “You’re kind and caring and funny and beautiful. Honestly, you’re ridiculously gorgeous.” That finally earned the smallest watery laugh from Carla, and Lisa smiled through her own nerves. “You’re the kind of woman I never even thought I’d get the chance to love.”

Her voice cracked slightly on the final words.

“But you’re mine… and I never want to lose that. I never want to lose you, because somehow you’ve become my everything.”

They sat in silence afterwards, neither of them looking away.

Carla still had tears clinging to her lashes, she stared at her like she was trying to memorise every single word Lisa had just said.

“Say something,” Lisa whispered desperately. “Please.”

Carla leaned forward quickly, one hand cupping Lisa’s face as she crashed their lips together in a kiss that stole the air from Lisa’s lungs completely. It was messy, emotional and overwhelming in the best possible way, filled with every feeling Carla apparently couldn’t fit into words fast enough. Lisa kissed her back immediately, gripping tightly onto her jumper like she might disappear otherwise.

And somehow, even though the kiss already said everything, Lisa still needed to hear it. When they finally pulled apart, Carla rested their foreheads together and closed her eyes for a second.

“I’ve fallen in love with you too,” she whispered.

Chapter Text

It had been twelve months, 365 days, 8,760 hours since Carla had stood on that bridge, ready to end her life.

Twelve whole months.

A year in which her friends and family would've mourned her, tried to make sense of losing her, and eventually learned how to keep living without her. Carla knew enough about grief to understand how it worked. She had spent most of her life surviving loss in one form or another. But instead of being six feet under, she was standing in her girlfriend’s kitchen, putting the finishing touches on a romantic dinner.

Girlfriend.

Even now, the word still caught her off guard sometimes.

Never in a million years had Carla Connor imagined herself saying it about another woman. Throughout her life, she’d seen more than her fair share of women but none of them had ever truly caught her attention.

Not like Lisa had.

Lisa had somehow slipped under her skin without Carla even realising it was happening. Lisa loved her, actually loved. Not tolerated. Not needed out of convenience or history.

Loved.

The realisation still terrified her sometimes. 

Because a year ago, she had genuinely believed the world would be better off without her in it. Now the thought of leaving this life — leaving Lisa, Betsy, all of it — made her chest ache.

“Smells good in here.”

Carla turned at the sound of Lisa’s voice. Lisa stood in the doorway in joggers and one of Carla’s old hoodies, hair slightly messy from sleep, looking unfairly beautiful for someone who’d only gone upstairs for twenty minutes.

“Really?”

Lisa walked over and wrapped her arms around Carla’s waist, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Yes, really. What’s the occasion?”

Carla turned, slipped her arms around Lisa’s neck, and kissed her softly.

“Hi,” Carla murmured.

“Hi,” Lisa repeated with a smile.

“Do I really need an occasion to cook for my girlfriend?” Carla asked, turning back to stir the sauce.

“Darling, you hate cooking. And, I mean, you aren’t exactly the best at it, so yes — there definitely needs to be an occasion,” Lisa teased.

“Anniversary,” Carla replied, facing her again.

She watched the colour drain from Lisa’s face, as though she thought she’d forgotten something important.

“Anniversary?” Lisa echoed.

“Don’t panic. You haven’t forgotten anything, and I’m not one of those women who wants to celebrate every little occasion.” Carla smiled softly. “Today’s just a very important day in our story. The day we met. Well… the day you stopped me from making a huge mistake. The day you saved me. The day you started changing my life for the better, even if I didn’t know it at the time.”

Lisa’s moved closer to Carla.

“So,” Carla continued quietly, “I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for being a nosy, stubborn copper and refusing to leave my side.”

Lisa stared at her for a moment, completely speechless. Then, without warning, her eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, don’t do that,” Carla said, immediately reaching for her hand. “I didn’t say it to make you cry.”

“Too late.”

Lisa stepped closer again until there was barely any space between them. A year ago, they had been complete strangers.One desperate woman standing on the edge of a bridge, and another refusing to walk away.

Carla could still remember how furious she’d been that night. Furious at Lisa for interfering. Furious at the questions. Furious at the calm, stubborn way Lisa had stood beside her in the freezing cold, talking about absolutely nothing and absolutely everything until Carla finally stepped back over the railing.

And then that should have been it.

“You know,” Lisa said suddenly, pulling Carla from her thoughts, “when I moved onto this street and realised you lived here, I nearly moved straight back out again.”

 “You did not.”

“I absolutely did. I thought you hated me.”

“I did hate you.”

“Wow. Happy anniversary to me.”

Carla rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t stop smiling. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I actually don’t,” Lisa replied, grinning now. “Because from my perspective, I saved a woman’s life and had to pretend I didn't even know you.”

Then she cupped Carla’s face with both hands.

“You know,” Lisa said quietly, “that night on the bridge… I didn’t save you because I thought I was supposed to.”

Carla swallowed hard.

“I stayed because something in me couldn’t walk away from you. Even then.”

A year ago, she had been ready to disappear. Now, she couldn’t imagine a world where she had never met Lisa. Before Carla even realised what she was doing, she placed the wooden spoon down on the kitchen counter and stepped closer. She kissed Lisa, before resting her forehead against hers.

“Marry me?”

The words escaped before she could second-guess them.

Maybe it was too soon. Maybe proposals were supposed to involve candles or rings or carefully thought-out speeches instead of half-burnt pasta sauce and emotional conversations in oversized hoodies. But Carla couldn’t imagine spending another second not being Lisa’s wife.

“Carla…”

Immediately, panic crept in.

“I know this probably sounds insane,” Carla rushed out. “And I know we haven’t exactly done anything in the normal order and maybe I should’ve planned something and—”

“Yes.”

Carla stopped talking.

“…What?”

“Yes,” she repeated. “You idiot. Of course I'll flaming marry you.”

For a second, Carla could only stare at her.

Then Lisa launched herself forward, crashing into her hard enough that Carla nearly stumbled backwards into the counter.

“Oh my God,” Lisa laughed against her neck. “You actually just proposed to me while making pasta.”

“I was having a moment,” Carla defended.

“You didn’t even have a ring!”

“I’ll get one.”

“You really want this?” she asked quietly.

The question hit Carla harder than anything else had, because beneath it she could hear the real meaning hidden there. Do you really believe you deserve this? Do you really believe someone could love you for the rest of your life? A year ago, Carla would’ve said no without hesitation.

 Back then, she hadn’t even believed she deserved another tomorrow. But now, standing in Lisa’s kitchen with the woman she loved looking at her like she was something precious, Carla finally understood how much had changed. Slowly, she reached up and brushed the tears from beneath Lisa’s eyes before answering with complete honesty.

“With you?” she whispered. “God, yes.”

Carla looked around the kitchen then — at the half-finished dinner, the woman she loved standing safely in her arms, the life she’d almost thrown away a year ago — and realised she had finally found her home.

 It wasn’t a place. 

It was a stubborn, blonde-haired, green-eyed copper who had refused to walk away from a broken stranger standing on the edge of a bridge — a woman who had saved Carla’s life without ever realising that, somewhere along the way, she had also become the reason Carla wanted to keep living it. She knew with complete certainty that for the first time in a very long time, she was exactly where she was meant to be.