New Neighbours

by louisemarie_gaf

Summary:

Five years after losing her wife in a tragic car crash, former detective Lisa Swain moves to Coronation Street with her teenage daughter, Betsy, looking for a fresh start. Now working as an electrician, Lisa tries to keep a low profile—but curiosity stirs when Carla Connor notices the new arrivals in Yasmeen’s old house. As Lisa and Carla’s paths cross, a quiet bond begins to form. But secrets from Lisa’s past threaten to surface, testing new relationships and old wounds.

Chapter 1: New Faces, Old Habits

Carla Connor pulled the collar of her coat tighter as the wind whipped down Coronation Street, ruffling her perfectly styled hair. She wasn’t one for slow starts to the day, but even she needed her breakfast—especially on a day packed with meetings at the factory. Her boots clicked against the damp pavement as she made her way toward Roy's.

As she passed Yasmeen’s old house, a white moving van idled at the kerb, its back doors flung open. Two figures moved in and out—one a petite woman in work boots and a dark hoodie, shoulders squared, moving with quiet efficiency. The other, a teenager with long blonde hair pulled into a messy bun, huffed as she carried a heavy box marked "BOOKS," earbuds jammed in and expression unreadable.

Carla slowed slightly, curiosity piqued. The woman—short, strong-looking, with blonde hair and an expression that didn’t invite questions—glanced up briefly, her gaze sharp before flicking back to the task at hand.
“New neighbours,” Carla murmured.
Movement caught her eye. Across the street, Sally Metcalfe was peering through the narrow gap in her floral curtains, mug in hand, practically glued to the window. Carla smirked and gave a small, cheeky wave.
Sally froze, eyes wide, before ducking down so fast she nearly disappeared behind the windowsill. Carla chuckled aloud. “Gotcha, Sal.” Shaking her head, she continued on to Roy’s.

The warmth of the café wrapped around her as soon as she stepped inside, the scent of fresh bread and brewing coffee welcoming her like an old friend.
“Morning, Roy,” she said, moving toward the counter.
“Ah, good morning, Carla.” Roy Cropper adjusted his glasses and gave her a mild, pleasant smile. “The usual?”
“Please. And to go, I’ve got an early one.”
He nodded and turned away to prepare her bacon sandwich and coffee. Carla leaned against the counter, glancing at the familiar chalkboard specials. The bell above the door jingled as Mary Taylor bustled in, followed closely by Brian Packham and Eileen Grimshaw. A few polite hellos circled the room before the conversation inevitably shifted.
“Have you seen who’s moving into Yasmeen’s?” Mary asked, barely bothering to keep her voice down.
Brian leaned forward. “I heard it’s a woman with a teenage daughter. Not sure where from.”
“Didn’t look like she was from round here,” Eileen added, setting her bag down. “Had that 'don’t talk to me' energy.”
Carla raised an eyebrow. “Says you.”
Eileen shrugged. “I own it.”
Roy handed Carla her sandwich in a paper bag and set her coffee beside it. She took a grateful sip, then looked over at the small group already beginning to speculate wildly.
“Sally was already twitching the net curtains before the van parked,” Carla said with a grin. “Trust our Sal to be on surveillance.”
The group laughed.
“Well, let’s hope they’re normal,” Mary said dramatically. “We’ve had enough drama on this street to last a lifetime.”
Carla chuckled and picked up her breakfast. “Right, I’m off to work before this lot name them and marry them off. Catch you later.”
She gave Roy a grateful nod and slipped out the door, the chime jingling behind her.

Back at No. 6...
Lisa Swain set the last box on the kitchen floor and rolled her shoulders, a familiar ache settling in. The house smelled stale, like it had been sitting quiet too long. Still, it was solid. Private. Far enough from the past.
“Bets,” she called, glancing around the bare walls. “You got the kettle?”
The teenager appeared in the doorway, earbuds hanging loose around her neck. “I think it’s in the box marked ‘kitchen crap,’” she said dryly.
Lisa smirked. “That narrows it down to six.”
“Great planning, Mum.”
Lisa shrugged. “I was tired.”
Betsy disappeared again, muttering under her breath, and Lisa allowed herself a small smile before wiping her palms on her jeans and stepping back outside. The wind caught at her hoodie, lifting strands of her shoulder-length blonde hair into her eyes. She tucked them behind her ears with a practiced flick.

Across the street, curtains twitched—again. The tall woman from earlier was gone now, but Lisa had noticed her watching. Confident stride, striking in that effortless kind of way. Lisa had worked with women like her in the force. Sharp. Observant.
She let out a slow breath.
New town. New house. New rules.
And no one needed to know who she used to be.

Chapter 2: Flowers and First Impressions

Summary:

Lisa and Betsy finish unpacking when neighbour Sally drops by with flowers and a flurry of questions. Lisa politely brushes her off, leading to gossip at the factory—until Carla steps in to shut it down.

Lisa Swain wiped her brow with the hem of her sleeve and surveyed the room. The living room was finally starting to look like an actual living space. The necessary boxes, as she liked to call them, were unpacked: kitchen gear, bathroom essentials, bedding, kettle, and of course—Betsy's coffee mugs. The rest could wait.
“Alright, that’s the last of the 'must-haves'," she said, stretching her back. "Everything else is just chaos in cardboard."
“So basically... we're done,” Betsy replied, already halfway to the stairs.
“Hold it.”

Before Lisa could protest further, the doorbell rang. Betsy turned on her heel so fast she nearly slipped. “I'll get it!"
Lisa raised an eyebrow. “That eager to avoid unpacking, huh?”
“Absolutely,” Betsy shot back, already at the door. When she pulled it open, she found a petite woman with a sharp bob and an armful of brightly coloured flowers standing on the step, practically glowing with neighbourly intent.
“Oh! Hello, love!” Sally Metcalfe beamed. “I live next door—Sally. I thought I’d come round on my lunch break and bring you a little something from Preston’s Petals. Welcome to Coronation Street!”
Betsy blinked. “Um... thanks.”
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Sally asked, already leaning in as though the answer might be whispered.
“Betsy.”
“That’s lovely. And is your mum in? I know you’re probably swamped with boxes, but I just wanted to say hello properly.”
Betsy took the bouquet awkwardly. “Yeah... one sec.” She turned and yelled, “Mum! The neighbour's here with flowers and... a lot of energy!”
Lisa descended the stairs with cautious steps and a slightly apologetic smile. “Hi, sorry, I’m Lisa.”
“Sally. Next door,” Sally repeated with a grin. “Thought I’d come say welcome. You’ve got a lovely daughter.”
“Thanks,” Lisa said, standing a little straighter. Sally launched straight into friendly interrogation. “So, where have you moved from? Do you work local? What year is Betsy in at school? Just the two of you, is it?” Lisa tried to keep up, answering here and there: “Leeds... I’m an electrician... Betsy's sixteen... Yeah, just us two.”

Finally, she raised a hand gently. “Look, I’m not being funny, love, but we’ve still got a lot to unpack, and it’s not going to do it itself.”
Sally's eyes widened, then she waved a hand. “Oh! Of course. I'm sorry, I do get carried away. I could always take the afternoon off and help you unpack if you like?”
Lisa smiled, trying to be polite. “That really won’t be necessary, but thank you. Really.”
Sally stepped back, visibly trying not to look offended. “Right, well. I’ll let you go. But listen, you should come to the Rovers for tea. That’s the pub at the end of the street. They do a mean hotpot and you’ll get to meet some of the neighbours.”
Lisa shook her head gently. “It’s really not my thing, but I appreciate the invite. Thanks again for the flowers.”
“Alright then,” Sally said with a tight smile. “Welcome again.”

Lisa closed the door softly behind her and turned to see Betsy trying not to laugh.
“Blimey,” Betsy said, “she’s a bit nosey, isn’t she? She brought us these.”
Lisa took the bouquet and examined it with raised brows. “What does she think we’re going to put them in? Surely the vase is in the last box we’ll unpack.”
Betsy snorted, and the two of them laughed together for the first time since arriving.

Later at the Factory...
Sally stormed back into the Underworld sewing room from her lunch break, face like thunder.
“Well! That was a waste of time,” she snapped, dropping her bag beside her machine.
“Back from charm duty?” asked Beth, barely looking up.
Sally folded her arms. “I went next door with a lovely bunch of flowers, tried to welcome them to the street, and I got practically shoved out the door.”
“Rude,” muttered Sean, sipping his tea.
“The daughter’s a mouthy teenager,” Sally went on, “and the mother is no better. When I offered to help them unpack, you’d have thought I’d slapped her round the face. And I even invited them to the Rovers for a hotpot. You know what she said? ‘It’s not really my thing.’”
“Cheek!” Fiz chimed in. “Some people just don’t appreciate neighbourliness.”
“Well, that’s the last time I’ll be offering them any help,” Sally huffed. “I’d stay clear if I were you.”

From her office, Carla had heard enough. She appeared in the doorway, one brow arched.
“Oi, you lot,” she said firmly. “Less gossiping, more grafting. That order’s not going to stitch itself.”
There were a few quiet apologies and a quick shuffle back to work. Carla lingered a second longer, smirking quietly to herself. The new neighbour might not be chatty, but she was already shaking things up.

Chapter 3: Small Talk and Speed Dahl

Summary:

After a long day of unpacking, Lisa heads out to pick up an Indian takeaway and some essentials, leaving Betsy at home. On the way, she bumps into Carla Connor, and the two share a brief but genuine conversation—Lisa’s first sign that not everyone on the street is as nosy as Sally. Later, while shopping, Lisa overhears locals already gossiping about her, but back home, she and Betsy settle in with their curry and a laugh, beginning to feel a little more at ease in their new home.

The living room was a war zone of flattened boxes and strewn packing paper. Lisa and Betsy were sprawled on the floor in front of the telly, too exhausted to care.
“Takeaway?” Lisa asked, stretching her neck with a satisfying crack.
Betsy looked up from her phone, grinning. “Yes, mate.”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “Charming.”
She picked up her phone and started googling nearby places. “Let’s see what culinary delights Weatherfield has to offer...”
Scrolling through the local listings, she spotted a nearby Indian place called Speed Dahl . It had decent reviews, was only a short walk away, and was conveniently located next to a Co-op. Perfect, she thought. She could kill two birds with one stone.
“What do you fancy?” Lisa asked.
Betsy didn't hesitate. “Butter chicken, pilau rice, onion bhajis, garlic naan, samosas... and maybe a mango lassi if they do one.”
“You’d better eat all that lot, missy,” Lisa said, chuckling as she placed the order over the phone. “You’re not leaving me with reheated curry at 8 a.m. tomorrow.”
Once the order was done, Lisa stood up and grabbed her jacket from the back of a kitchen chair.
“Right, I’m going to pick it up and nip to the Co-op. Need anything?”
“Nah, I’m good,” Betsy replied, eyes already back on her phone.

Lisa stepped out into the cool evening. The air was crisp, laced with that familiar city smell of distant car exhaust and fresh concrete. The streetlights flickered to life as she shut the door behind her. As she reached the pavement, a woman came into view from the right—the same one she'd seen briefly earlier during the move. She looked familiar, sharp-featured, stylish in an effortless sort of way, her dark coat swaying slightly as she walked.
Lisa offered a small smile. The woman returned it with a polite nod.
“Hi,” they both said at the same time, followed by a soft laugh. The woman slowed her steps as Lisa came to the edge of her drive. Without any formal decision, they began walking together.
“I hear you had the Sally Metcalfe welcoming committee earlier,” the woman said, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.
Lisa let out a quiet chuckle. “You could say that, yes.”
“She means well, does our Sal. But she does love a good gossip. They all do,” the woman added.
Lisa raised a brow. “All of them?”
“Oh yeah,” she said. “You and your daughter are headline news until someone else gives them something juicier. It’ll fade. They get bored easily.”
Lisa nodded, appreciating the honesty. “I suppose that’s just how small communities work.”
“Exactly,” the woman replied. “Bit nosey, bit dramatic, but harmless for the most part.”

They turned the corner together, heading toward the row of shops. The evening was still and calm, the kind that made every footstep sound louder than it was.
“I’m Carla,” the woman said, stopping in front of a door beside a small cab office called Street Cars . She held out her hand.
“Oh, erm, Lisa,” she replied, taking the handshake.
“Nice to meet you,” Carla said. “Just ignore them lot. Keep yourself to yourself and they won’t have anything to talk about.”
“Right,” Lisa said with a smile. “Thanks for the advice.”
Carla gave a small wave before turning the key in her door. “See you round, yeah?”
“Yeah. See you round, Carla.”
Lisa watched her disappear inside. There was something oddly comforting about the brief exchange. No prying questions. No judgment. Just... a bit of realness. As she carried on walking, she thought, Maybe not everyone on this street is that bad.

She hummed to herself as she reached the Co-op. Inside, she picked up milk, cereal, teabags, and a few snacks she knew Betsy would appreciate. She was standing in front of the chilled drinks when she overheard two women chatting at the end of the aisle.
“Have you seen the new one? Blonde hair, bit short. Lives at Yasmeen’s old place.”
“Yeah, I saw her this morning when I was walking to Speed Dahl. Bit moody-looking, if you ask me.”
Lisa stifled a laugh. She quickly moved past them and to the checkout, wondering if she should feel offended or amused. After paying, she collected the food from Speed Dahl next door. The warmth of the takeaway bag seeped through her coat sleeve as she made her way back. The streets were quiet again. As she turned onto Coronation Street, she saw lights still on in a few windows. She could just make out Sally in her kitchen, chatting animatedly on the phone.

Back inside, Betsy was curled up in a blanket burrito on the sofa. Her eyes lit up when she saw the food.
“Legend,” she said.
“You’d better eat it all,” Lisa warned as she unpacked the containers onto the coffee table. They sat together, digging in between chuckles and sarcastic comments about the move, the flowers, and the nosey neighbour next door. For the first time since they’d arrived, Lisa felt something like ease settling over them. Maybe this new chapter wouldn’t be so bad after all. Outside, the street grew still, but inside No. 6, there was laughter, curry, and the faint flicker of something like hope.

Chapter 4: New Routines and Old Habits

Summary:

Lisa helps Betsy get ready for her first day at college after the move, insisting on keeping things normal. After dropping Betsy off—much to her daughter’s embarrassment—Lisa does a big food shop and spends the day unpacking and preparing for her new job. Restless by the afternoon, she heads out for a jog, observing the quirky characters and odd happenings on the street. Though she witnesses a dramatic argument, she reminds herself she’s no longer a police officer. Back home, she chats with Betsy about her day and begins to feel like they're starting to settle into life on Coronation Street.

The next morning, Lisa knocked gently on Betsy’s bedroom door before poking her head in. “Come on, B. Time to get up for college.” A groan erupted from beneath the duvet. “Can I start next week instead?” Betsy mumbled, voice muffled. Lisa leaned against the doorframe with her arms folded. “Nice try. Just because I don’t start work till Monday doesn’t mean you get a week off too.” Betsy sat up, hair a messy halo around her head. “Ugh. Not fair.”
“You’ve been doing great with your college work,” Lisa reminded her. “I don’t want the move throwing you off. Come on, let’s get some breakfast.” Grumbling, Betsy shuffled to the kitchen in her dressing gown. Over bowls of cereal, she perked up a little.

After breakfast, Lisa grabbed her keys. “Ready?”
Betsy sighed. “You do realise this is the one and only time you’re allowed to drop me off, right? I’m cool. I don’t need my mum chauffeuring me.”
Lisa chuckled as they climbed into the car. “Noted.”
As they pulled up outside the college, Betsy was halfway out of the car before Lisa could say goodbye. “See you later, love you!” she shouted out the window, laughing at the mortified look on Betsy’s face. With a grin, Lisa drove off and headed to the supermarket for a full food shop. Pushing a trolley through the aisles, she ticked off everything from toilet roll to tea bags. Back home, she unpacked the haul, made herself a sandwich, and settled in front of the telly. She flicked through the channels with little interest. Loose Women. Some kind of property show. Reruns of classic soaps. With half her sandwich gone, she opened her email and checked a message from her new job. All the paperwork was done. Uniforms sorted. Monday was all set.
By 3 p.m., she'd had enough. Daytime TV was driving her mad. She changed into her running gear and headed out the front door, earbuds in, music on shuffle.

As she jogged down the street, she passed a tall man locking up what looked like a corner shop, phone wedged between shoulder and ear, clearly multitasking. A few doors down, a stocky older man was outside a newsagent, carefully arranging a chalkboard sign with today’s specials.
She rounded the corner past a low brick wall and spotted a woman in her sixties humming to herself as she trimmed some plants in a raised bed. Just ahead, a young woman wrestled with a double buggy as one of the babies wailed. Lisa smiled sympathetically but didn’t slow. Near a garden gate, a woman in a brightly patterned dress was reciting something dramatic to herself, gesturing wildly with her arms. A few houses along, a bloke covered in paint was halfway through painting a fence, looking like he already regretted starting.

As she picked up pace again, a man came barrelling out of a house chasing a tiny dog that had something in its mouth. He shouted after it, calling it Peanut, which made Lisa grin. A grey-haired woman leaned against a doorway, chatting with a tall man in a smart jacket, both seemingly deep in conversation about something very serious. Across the road, a girl with dark makeup and a sketchpad glanced up from her bench, her expression curious as Lisa jogged past. She looped around to a small green space not far from the main road. As she slowed near the bushes and benches, she spotted a man and woman deep in an argument. Over her music, she caught only a few words:
“...you said you wouldn’t touch the pub money...!”
“...you went behind my back...!”
Lisa arched an eyebrow. Drama. She shook her head and reminded herself she didn’t wear a badge anymore. Not her circus. Not her monkeys.

By the time she made it home, sweat clung to her shirt and her legs were aching pleasantly. The front door was ajar.
“That you?” she called.
Betsy appeared at the top of the stairs, arms crossed. “Yeah. I’m back. Made some friends. But can you believe I already have homework?”
“Outrageous,” Lisa deadpanned.
Betsy huffed and stomped back upstairs. “I’ll start it now. Get it over with.”
Lisa chuckled to herself and headed to the bathroom for a shower, glad to be starting to settle on the cobbles.

Chapter 5: Sparks and Surprises

Summary:

Lisa begins her first day at Cobbles Electricals, meeting her friendly but overworked boss, Mark, who warns her she’ll be handling most jobs solo. After breezing through a quick first job, she’s sent to a bigger one—at the factory on Coronation Street. Her boss warns her the owner can be a bit difficult. When Lisa arrives, she finds the factory deserted and eerily quiet—until a surprising figure emerges from the office.

Lisa awoke to the sound of her alarm blaring through the stillness of the early morning. She rubbed her eyes, stretched, and gave herself a small pep talk before swinging her legs out of bed. Today was the day. First day on the new job. Downstairs, she pulled on her fresh new work uniform—a navy-blue polo embroidered with the logo Cobbles Electricals and matching utility trousers with more pockets than she knew what to do with. She tied her hair back in a no-nonsense ponytail, slung her tool belt over her shoulder, and grabbed a cereal bar on the way out the door.

Sliding into her car, she adjusted the mirrors and set off toward the main office, which was tucked behind a small industrial estate just outside Weatherfield. As she pulled into the lot, she took a deep breath, then stepped inside. A cheery middle-aged man with thinning ginger hair and a coffee mug permanently glued to his hand greeted her.
“Lisa! Brilliant, so glad you’re here,” he said enthusiastically, waving her into the small office. “I’m Mark, owner, runner, dogsbody—you name it. Honestly, we’ve got so much work and nowhere near enough staff right now. Hope you’re ready to hit the ground running.”
“That’s fine by me,” Lisa said with a calm smile. “I prefer working solo, to be honest.”
“Music to my ears,” Mark chuckled. He led her out to a small shed at the side of the lot, unlocked it with a flourish, and swung open the door. “Welcome to the ‘tool shed’. That’s what the lads call it, anyway. Wiring kits, fittings, fuses, you name it’s in here. Help yourself before you head out.”
He handed her a small black work phone. “This is how we stay in touch. Call or text if you get stuck or need backup, yeah?”
Lisa nodded. “Got it.”
“Right, your first job’s a quick one—elderly lady needs a new outside light. Straightforward.”
Lisa got to the address and finished the light fitting in record time, leaving the woman beaming with gratitude. She checked in on the app and waited in the van. A moment later, the phone rang.
“Lisa,” Mark said, a little hesitant.
Her heart sank. Here we go, first day and I’m about to be sacked.
“Look, I hate to do this to you, but something just came in and everyone else is tied up. I need you to take a job at the factory on Coronation Street.”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, and, fair warning, the owner can be a bit of a cow,” Mark added in a half-whisper.
Lisa smirked. “I’ve dealt with my fair share of difficult types. I’ll manage.”
He gave her the address and she set off.

When she reached the factory, the place looked deserted. The windows were dark, and no machinery hummed behind the brick walls. Lisa parked up, grabbed her kit, and made her way to the front door. She gently pushed it open and stepped inside.
Silence. She frowned. No workers, no chatter, no sound of industry. Just shadows and stillness.
“Hello?” she called.
From the office in the corner, a figure emerged. Sharp eyes, black blazer, commanding presence. Carla. And just like that, Lisa realised her day had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.

Chapter 6: High Voltage

Summary:

When Lisa, a sharp-witted electrician, turns up at a chaotic factory, she's met with suspicion and stress from Carla, the frazzled manager. But with the power out and no ladder in sight, the two are forced into a makeshift solution that brings them far closer—literally—than either expected. As sparks fly and tensions fade, Carla finds herself wondering if Lisa might be more than just a quick fix. A story of chemistry, banter, and unexpected beginnings.

Notes:

Thank you so much for all the love on this. This is one of my favourite chapters so far - enjoy!

Carla stood in the shadowy doorway of the office, arms folded and brow furrowed. “Hi… what are you doing here?”
Lisa turned, deadpan. “Oh, I just turn up to random factories wearing a ‘Cobbles Electrical’ uniform for fun,” she said, lifting her eyebrows in mock surprise.
Carla blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Lisa tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
“You’re an electrician?” Carla asked.
“Yes,” Lisa said slowly.
“But why have they sent you? I don’t mean to be rude but—”
“Have you got a problem?” Lisa cut in, folding her arms now too. “Think I’m not up to the job? Is it because I’m a woman?”
Carla’s eyes widened in panic. “No! No, God, no—of course not! That’s not what I meant!” She started to ramble, words tripping over themselves. “Honestly, women are better than men at most jobs. Half the time I think men are just here to move heavy furniture and take bins out. And even then—”
“Good,” Lisa interrupted again, sharp but with a hint of a smirk. “Glad we cleared that up.”
Carla sighed. “Sorry, look. I’m stressed, alright? The whole factory’s ground to a halt, orders are supposed to be out by now… I didn’t word it right.”
Lisa softened, just a little. “So what did you mean?”
“I meant… they sent you. Knowing the electrical meter you need to work on is…” She pointed upward, toward the highest point of the vaulted ceiling. “Up there.”
Lisa followed the line of her arm and saw the metal box perched ridiculously high above the factory floor.
“Oh,” she said. “Right. Have you not heard of a ladder?”
Carla snorted. “Good luck.”
“You’re a factory without a ladder?”
Carla muttered, “Kirk broke it trying to put up Christmas lights last year.”
Lisa stared at her. “I know I’m short, but unless you’ve got a twenty-foot electrician lying around, no one’s reaching that.”
Carla let out a laugh—the first one all day—and Lisa joined in.
“So… how do you usually get up there?” Lisa asked.
Carla gestured to some shelving units. “We usually just drag that racking over and climb up it. But even then… I don’t think you’ll be tall enough.”
Lisa scoffed. “Well come on then. Let’s find out.”

Together, they pushed the racking underneath the box. Lisa threw her tool bag up onto the nearest shelf and began climbing. Carla stayed below, head tilted back. Her gaze lingered a little too long on Lisa’s backside as she scaled up.
Snap out of it, she scolded herself. She wouldn’t be interested in someone like me. Hard-faced cow. Everyone says it. Her last girlfriend had literally left the country. She wasn’t about to set herself up for rejection again.
“Carla,” Lisa called, snapping her out of her spiralling thoughts.
“Yeah?” Carla shouted up.
“I think you were right. I might need some help.”
“What do you mean I’m not climbing up there.”
“Well, if you want this fixed, you’re going to have to.”
“For God’s sake… you owe me one,” Carla muttered, shucking off her kimono and tossing it over a nearby chair. She climbed up after Lisa. At the top, she saw what Lisa meant. Lisa was still a good two feet short of reaching the box.
“What now?”
Lisa looked at her. “I’ll jump on your shoulders.”
“Excuse me, what?”
“You heard me.”
“No. No way. What if this thing collapses?”
Lisa bounced on it a little. “Feels fine to me.”
“I’m serious. It’s not built for people!”
Lisa gave her a smug look. “What’s the matter? You scared?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
Carla huffed. “Fine. Come on. Before I change my mind.”
Lisa stuffed some tools and wire into her pockets, then climbed up onto Carla’s back and hoisted herself onto her shoulders. Carla wobbled slightly, then steadied. “Bloody hell. You weigh nothing.”
“Thanks… I think,” Lisa chuckled. “Right, let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

She fiddled with the box, poking around with quiet concentration. Carla stood statue-still, hyper-aware of Lisa’s every breath and shift above her.
“How much longer?” she asked after a while.
Lisa talked her through what she’d found and what still needed fixing. “Ten minutes. Maybe less.”
“Ten minutes? Jesus.”
Lisa laughed. “Hang in there.”
A few final tweaks, and she flicked a switch. The lights blazed back to life and the low hum of machines stirred into motion.
“Sorted,” Lisa said, satisfied.
Carla let her down gently. “Thank you.”
Lisa gave a cheeky wink. “Just my job. Might give them something good to gossip about though.”

They both climbed down, pushing the racking back into place. Carla turned to her.
“Honestly, Lisa. Thanks. And… sorry again for how I acted when you arrived.”
“It’s fine. You were stressed. Anyway, I better get off to the next job.”
Lisa turned, but Carla blurted, “Can I take you for a drink?”
Lisa paused, eyebrow raised.
“I mean… to say thanks. And maybe I could tell you who’s who on the street?”
Lisa grinned. “What, a little gossip session of our own?”
“Yeah… I s’pose.”
Lisa shrugged. “Yeah, go on then.”
Carla held up a finger. “Wait there.” She disappeared and returned a moment later with a business card, pressing it into Lisa’s hand. “Drop me a text. We’ll sort something.”
“Thanks,” Lisa said. “See you around.”
“Yeah. See you later.”
Lisa slid into her car, still smiling. She rang her boss.
“You done already?” he said, baffled. “How the hell did you manage that? She didn’t rip your head off?”
Lisa smirked. “Maybe I’ve just got the charm.”
She ended the call, still grinning.

Chapter 7: First Week

Summary:

In her first week on Coronation Street, Lisa juggles tricky electrical jobs, nosy neighbors, and unexpected flirtation. She shares a laugh with her daughter Betsy after a chaotic factory job involving Carla, meets a flirty Dev and a gawking Sally, and is ambushed by the Underworld crew mid-shift. After an embarrassing college visit where she mortifies Betsy, Lisa battles through a hellish Friday filled with nightmare clients and a tense encounter with Tracy Barlow. By the end of the week, she nervously prepares for a not-a-date drink with Carla—despite Betsy's teasing

Lisa’s first full week on Coronation Street had been a whirlwind. Between unexpected work calls, awkward encounters, and far too many raised eyebrows, she was starting to understand that life in Weatherfield didn’t slow down for anyone. Still, she was trying. Trying to adjust. Trying to be accepted. Trying not to completely fall for a certain raven-haired factory boss.

Monday Night – The Factory Fiasco Retold
Lisa had barely sat down when Betsy, her sharp-tongued teenage daughter, plopped next to her on the worn leather sofa with a bowl of popcorn.
“So? Spill it,” Betsy said, grinning.
Lisa gave her a sideways glance. “About what?”
“About why you came back looking like you’d been wrestling ceiling panels.”
Lisa sighed, leaning back. “It was the factory job. Turns out the electrical box I needed to fix was halfway to the moon. No ladder. Just some industrial racking and a very reluctant assistant.”
Betsy raised an eyebrow. “Assistant?”
Lisa hesitated. “Carla. She’s… the boss.”
Betsy’s grin widened. “Ohhhh. And let me guess. Dark hair? Moody. Hot.”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “You are so weird. And no, it wasn’t like that.”
“Really? Because it sounds like you climbed her like a jungle gym.”
Lisa blinked. “Well… I suppose I did really.”
Betsy burst into laughter, nearly choking. “You’ve barely been here a week and already you’ve got your eye on someone.”
Lisa shoved her gently. “Stop it. It wasn’t like that. She needed help reaching the meter. That’s it.”
“She asked you for a drink.”
“As a thank you!”
Betsy leaned her head against the back of the sofa. “Sure, Mum. Just a friendly, platonic, ‘cheers for the shoulder ride’ pint.”
Lisa tried not to smile but failed.

Tuesday – Dev’s Charm and Sally’s Stumble
The job at Freshco’s was supposed to be quick. The sign had been flickering like a disco light and Lisa was there to replace the wiring. Perched on her ladder, screwdriver in hand, she heard a voice below.
“Don’t look now, but I think you’ve just lit up my day more than the sign ever did.”
She looked down to see Dev Alahan giving her what she assumed he thought was a charming grin. Lisa blinked. “Is that your opener for all tradeswomen or am I just special?”
Dev laughed. “I appreciate good workmanship.”
Lisa shook her head and went back to work.
A few minutes later, footsteps caught her attention again. She glanced down to see Sally Webster walking by, eyes fixed on her legs as she climbed the ladder. So fixed, in fact, that she didn’t notice the curb. Her ankle wobbled as she stumbled.
“Hi Sally,” Lisa said, amused.
Sally snapped her head up. “Hi!” she said quickly before hurrying off.
Lisa chuckled to herself. “What is with this street?”

Wednesday – A Crowd of Introductions
The house opposite the factory was being gutted and refurbished. Lisa had been brought in to finish some shoddy electrical work left half-done by the previous sparky. It was dusty and chaotic, but she’d made quick work of it. As she locked the front door, she heard laughter and chatter.
She turned to see a flood of factory workers pouring out of Underworld. Sean, unmistakable in his pink puffer jacket, was the first to spot her.
“Oh, it’s the Lady of the Sparks!” he called out.
The others turned. Izzy waved. Beth marched right over. “You’re the one who fixed the box the other day, yeah?”
Lisa nodded, trying to smile as she edged toward her van.
“We were gonna go for a drink—come with us!” Sean said, practically bouncing. “We love a new face.”
Before she could answer, questions started flying.
“Where’d you train?”
“You single?”
“Do you like karaoke?”
Lisa held up her keys like a shield. “I really should—”
Then Carla’s voice rang out from the factory doors. “Oi! You lot! Leave the poor woman alone. She’s clearly still working. Unless you want your machines breaking again?”
The group scattered like schoolchildren caught by the headteacher. Lisa mouthed thank you to Carla.
As she opened her van door, she called out, “I haven’t forgotten you. Just trying to find a good night.”
Carla laughed and called back, “Good. I’m unforgettable, me.”

Thursday – Betsy’s Worst Nightmare
The call to the college was routine. A faulty circuit breaker in one of the science labs. Easy job. What Lisa hadn’t realised until she stepped onto campus was that it was Betsy’s college.
“Mum,” Betsy hissed when she spotted her. “What are you doing here?”
“I work, remember?” Lisa smirked. “You know, bills and all that.”
“I’m never speaking to you again.”
Lisa had to force herself not to laugh as she pulled on her high-vis and got to work.

Friday – Hell Day
Friday started badly. Her first job was in a tiny flat with faulty sockets and a cat that wouldn’t stop pawing at her tools. It managed to urinate on her bag. Her second job was worse—a bloke in Chorlton who insisted on explaining electricity to her while she was elbow-deep in wiring. “I saw this on TikTok,” he said, as though that made him an expert. The third job was in a damp garage that had flooded the previous night. She slipped on an oil patch, cursed a lot, and nearly broke her wrist. By the time she got to Ken Barlow’s house, she was praying for a simple fix. Changing a switch. That’s all. Ken was kind and courteous, offering her tea. Then Tracey walked in.
“What’s this?” she said, looking Lisa up and down.
“I’m here to fix the switch.”
“I can do that myself.”
Lisa raised a brow. “All yours then.”
“Tracey,” Ken said sharply. “Stop being judgmental.”
“She looks like that Cassie woman.”
Lisa shrugged. “Don’t know who that is.”
“Well, I’ll stay and watch, thanks.”
Lisa did the job in silence, feeling Tracey’s stare burn into her back.

Friday Evening – The Drink Texts
Lisa got home, dropped her tools, and stared at her phone. Then she sent the message.
Lisa: Hey, you still up for that drink? Thought maybe tonight if you're free?
Carla: Tonight works. Where you thinking?
Lisa: Not fussy. Bistro?
Carla: Classy. I like it.
Lisa: 7?
Carla: Make it 7:30. Got to finish something.
Lisa: Fine. But you’re buying first round.
Carla: Depends what you’re drinking. Don’t go all cocktail on me.
Lisa: Glass of red wine. See? Low maintenance.
Carla: We’ll see about that.
Lisa put the phone down and headed upstairs. Suddenly, what to wear became a problem. Not because she wanted to impress Carla—but because she didn’t want to look like she was trying to. After about five outfit changes, she settled on jeans, boots, and a dark fitted top. Casual. Confident. Not a date. As she checked her reflection, Betsy passed by on her way out.
“I thought this wasn’t a date?”
“It’s not,” Lisa said, flustered. “I just want to look nice.”
Betsy smirked. “Sure. Break a leg.”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “Out.”
But she couldn’t help smiling as she headed out the door.

Chapter 8: Friday Night Bistro

Summary:

Lisa and Carla share their first evening out together over wine and dinner. As they open up about their difficult weeks, Carla helps Lisa navigate the social maze of Coronation Street's residents with humour and warmth. Lisa reveals the tragic loss of her wife and why she left the police force to raise her daughter, Betsy. Through laughter, gentle flirting, and emotional honesty, a deeper connection forms between the two women, ending in a heartfelt hug that hints at something more to come.

The bistro was softly lit, casting a warm, golden hue over the polished wood and clinking glasses. Lisa stepped inside, brushing the drizzle from her jacket, her eyes scanning until she found Carla seated at a corner table, already looking entirely at home. A bottle of red wine sat between two glasses, the label turned outward as if proudly displayed. Carla spotted her and raised a hand in greeting. "There you are," she said with a smile that wasn’t quite cocky, but close. "Thought I’d get us started."
Lisa slid into the seat opposite her and gave a nod toward the bottle. "Good choice."
"I do alright," Carla replied, pouring them each a glass. "Red okay?"
"Perfect," Lisa said, taking a sip and letting the warmth spread through her. "Might need it after this week."
Carla chuckled. "Go on then. Let’s hear it."
Lisa set her glass down. "Alright. Where do I even start? Monday was the factory—obviously."
"Obviously," Carla echoed with a grin.
"Then Tuesday, I was fixing the sign at Freshco’s. Dev tried to flirt with me. Not well. Sally nearly twisted her ankle gawking."
Carla laughed. "You’re already causing chaos."
Lisa smirked. "Just by existing, apparently."
"Dev thinks he’s irresistible," Carla said, rolling her eyes. "He’s not. And Sally? Nosy. Likes to pretend she’s subtle. She isn’t."
"Then Wednesday, as you saw, I met the full Underworld crew. They ambushed me as I was leaving a job opposite the factory."
Carla groaned. "Let me guess—Sean leading the charge?"
"Is he always that enthusiastic?"
Carla nodded. "He’s the self-appointed welcoming committee. Beth can be sharp, but she means well. Kirk’s sweet. Doesn’t always get the joke but he’s got a good heart."
Lisa nodded, listening. "They were alright. I just wasn’t expecting an interview on the pavement."
"And Thursday?"
Lisa sighed. "College job. Betsy’s school. She nearly died when she saw me."
Carla laughed. "I’d pay to see that."
"I’m officially banned from setting foot within a hundred feet of her college again," Lisa said, grinning.
"And Friday?"
Lisa let her head fall back with a dramatic groan. "A nightmare. A cat peed on my toolbag. Some guy tried to ‘explain’ electrics to me based on something he saw on TikTok. Then I nearly broke my neck in a flooded garage."
"Oof."
"And then I ended up at Ken Barlow’s house. Seemed easy—just a switch. Until his daughter turned up and basically told me I was useless."
Carla’s eyebrows rose. "Let me guess. Tracey."
"Is she always like that?"
"Like vinegar in human form," Carla muttered. "Avoid her when you can."
Lisa took another sip of wine, relaxing. "So, what about you? Who else do I need to watch out for on this street?"
Carla leaned in slightly, her eyes sparkling. "Well, Mary’s lovely but don’t let her corner you—she’ll give you her life story and somehow sell you Tupperware. Eileen’s got the driest humour and more gossip than anyone else. Leanne runs Speed Daal now and will try to feed you even if you say no. Roy’s the street’s conscience. Lovely man. Quiet. Brilliant. Then there’s Jenny—runs the Rovers. Great with people, but she’s got her hands full. And Steve… harmless, but loud."
Lisa grinned. "Sounds like I’ve moved onto a soap opera set."
Carla tilted her head. "You kind of have."

There was a pause then, a comfortable silence as they sipped their wine.
"Where are you from?" Carla asked softly.
Lisa took a breath. "Leeds."
"You don’t sound it."
"I worked hard to lose the accent when I joined the force. Thought it would make people take me more seriously."
"You were a copper?"
Lisa nodded. "Thirteen years."
"What made you leave?"
Lisa hesitated, her fingers brushing the base of her wine glass.
"My wife. She… she died. Car accident. Betsy was twelve. Everything just stopped. I couldn’t do the job anymore—not with the hours, the danger. She needed me. I needed to be her mum, not some absent ghost showing up for dinner shifts."
Carla’s expression shifted from curiosity to something softer, warmer.
"I don’t know why I’m telling you this," Lisa added quickly. "It’s not really something I lead with. It’s a bit depressing really."
Carla reached across the table and touched her hand briefly. "It’s not depressing. It’s honest. And brave."
Lisa met her gaze, her heart fluttering slightly under Carla’s look.

The meal arrived then, softening the intensity. They picked at olives and crusty bread, and ordered mains they barely touched between the stories and shared glances. There were a few gentle touches—hands brushing as they passed the wine, Carla laughing and reaching across to wipe a smudge of sauce from Lisa’s cheek with her thumb. Lisa felt lighter than she had in months. Maybe years. Eventually, they left the bistro, the evening air crisp.
"Well," Carla said, "this was not a disaster."
Lisa chuckled. "No. It really wasn’t."

They stood facing each other outside for a long moment. Then, without thinking too hard about it, Lisa stepped forward and wrapped her arms gently around Carla.
Carla, after a brief second of surprise, returned the hug.
"You’re alright, Lisa," she said softly against her shoulder.
Lisa smiled. "You too."
They pulled apart slowly.
"See you soon?" Lisa asked.
Carla’s smile turned playful. "Count on it."
And with that, they headed off into the night—one heart a little fuller than it had been when the day began

Chapter 9: The Morning After

Summary:

The morning after her evening with Carla, Lisa gushes to Betsy about how well it went. When Betsy mentions she needs fashion-related work experience for college, Lisa struggles to find a placement—until a flirty late-night text exchange with Carla sparks an idea. By the end of the night, Lisa has a lead… and maybe something more.

Lisa stood at the kitchen counter, spooning instant coffee into a mug when she heard the stairs creak. Betsy emerged in her usual teenage disarray—hair a mess, one sock missing, eyes squinting against the morning light. Lisa passed her the second mug wordlessly. Betsy took a sip, then eyed her mum over the rim. “So?”
Lisa raised an eyebrow. “So what?”
Betsy flopped into a chair. “Don’t give me that. You had drinks with moody-hot factory boss. Spill.”
Lisa tried—and failed—to hide her grin. “It was nice.”
“Nice,” Betsy repeated flatly. “That’s the best you’ve got?”
Lisa sipped her coffee and leaned against the counter. “It was really nice. We talked. A lot. She’s funny, actually. Bit sharp, but I like that.”
Betsy smirked. “You like her.”
Lisa shrugged. “She’s interesting. Clever. Knows everyone on the street. And she… gets it, somehow.”
Betsy watched her for a beat. “Good.”
Lisa blinked. “Good?”
“I mean it. You haven’t looked this relaxed since—well, in a long time.”
Lisa smiled. “Thanks.”
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the hum of the fridge the only sound. Then Betsy broke it. “So… random thing. This new college? They’ve got this work experience day built in. Every Thursday.”
Lisa perked up. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. And it’s supposed to be something related to fashion or retail. Not like, stacking tins at the Co-op.”
Lisa frowned thoughtfully. “Hmm.”
“Where the hell am I going to get that kind of placement?”
Lisa waved a hand. “Don’t panic. I’ll think of something.”
“You better,” Betsy said, standing and grabbing a piece of toast. “I refuse to be the only one without a placement. It’s basically social death.”
Lisa chuckled. “You’re so dramatic.”
Betsy threw on her jacket and called out as she left, “Let me know if I’m interning with Gucci!”
Lisa laughed and shook her head, then pulled out her phone and started searching “fashion retail work experience Manchester.” The results were either big chain stores or internships that required full applications and parent signatures.

By 9 p.m., she was still scrolling. She let her head fall back onto the sofa. Lisa chuckled aloud, as her mind wandered to Carla and her factory. She closed her eyes and muttered again, “Can hardly send my daughter off to a knicker factory… what would people think? And anyway, I’ve spent, what, a total of five hours with the woman?”
As if summoned by her thoughts, her phone buzzed.
Carla: Thanks again for last night. Had a really good time.
Lisa smiled as she read the message. She hesitated a beat before replying.
Lisa: Me too. Was nice to feel normal for a bit.
Carla: You are normal. In a good way.
Lisa: Not sure I’ve been called that before. I’ll take it.
Carla: So what are you up to tonight? Still buzzing from our date?
Lisa: Ha! It wasn’t a date.
Carla: Sure it wasn’t. That’s why we’re texting like teenagers.
Lisa: I’ll have you know I text far better than the average teenager.
Carla: I bet you do.
Lisa: I’ve been googling work experience placements for Betsy.
Carla: Oh yeah?
Lisa: New college wants her to do one day a week in something related to fashion or retail.
Carla: Funny that.
Lisa: Funny?
Carla: I might know someone who runs a small business in that area.
Lisa: Oh yeah? Think they’d take a smart-mouthed 16-year-old?
Carla: I’ll have a word with the boss.
Lisa: And what’s she like?
Carla: Bit of a nightmare, if I’m honest. Demanding. Drinks red wine. Slightly scary. Very fit.
Lisa: Sounds awful.
Carla: Irresistible, though.
Lisa: Betsy would love it. And I’d owe you.
Carla: You don’t owe me anything. I like helping out—especially when it gives me an excuse to keep texting you.
Lisa: You don’t need an excuse.
Carla: Oh, good. Then I’ll keep going.

The messages continued for another half hour—banter, teasing, the occasional flirt slipped between mentions of coffee preferences and bad telly habits.
Carla: Alright, I need to sleep. Got a hot date with the gym in the morning.
Lisa: Me too. Long list tomorrow.
Carla: Night, Lisa.
Lisa: Night, Carla. Thanks again.
She put the phone down, a soft smile playing on her lips. Maybe she really was starting to settle in.

Chapter 10: Midweek Twist

Summary:

Sunday through Wednesday flies by in a blur of housework, errands, and a rare cinema trip with Betsy. Lisa’s still waiting to hear back from Carla about Betsy’s work experience placement, but a midweek text invites her to the factory after hours. A flirty, easygoing evening follows as they finalise the paperwork, share laughs, and grow closer—ending with a lingering hug and the sense that something more is blossoming between them.

Sunday and the start of the week whizzed by in a blur. Lisa’s feet barely touched the ground. Sunday was a flurry of chores—housework, unpacking lingering boxes, and then a long, frustrating trip to the local DIY store. She spent hours trying to fix the back gate that just wouldn’t shut properly. One of many jobs that needed doing around the new house. But Lisa didn’t complain. She’d grown quite fond of the place in the two weeks since they moved in. It was a little rough around the edges, but it was theirs. More than that—it felt like a fresh start.
Betsy had caught her in the kitchen Sunday night, phone in one hand, toast in the other.
“Any luck with the work placement?”
Lisa gave her a tired smile. “I’m sorting it.”
Betsy raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t heard back from your factory lady, have you?”
Lisa smirked. “She’s probably busy. Like me.”
That had been the end of it—for a while.

Monday and Tuesday were swallowed whole by work, with the occasional moment to breathe. Betsy surprised Lisa by suggesting a cinema trip Monday evening. Lisa dropped everything.
“You actually want to hang out with your mum?” Lisa teased.
“Shut up. Don’t make it weird.”
Lisa didn’t. She simply bought the popcorn, let Betsy choose the film, and soaked up the rare moment.

By Wednesday lunchtime, Lisa’s work boots were caked in dried concrete, and her back was sore from crawling under floorboards. She sat in her car with the windows down, inhaling a sad-looking sandwich and checking her phone.
A message lit up the screen.
Carla: Lisa! I am so sorry, please forgive me. This week has been BUSY!
Lisa grinned.
Lisa: I figured. Boss life, right?
Carla: Exactly. Can you drop by the factory after work? I’ll check the diary and we can get that paperwork sorted.
Lisa: Sure. What time?
Carla: Anytime after six. I’ll wait.
Lisa replied with a thumbs-up emoji, then immediately hit dial on Betsy’s number.
“Hey,” Lisa said when her daughter answered.
“What’s up?”
“Carla’s sorting your work experience. Told me to drop by the factory after work.”
There was a pause.
“The actual factory?” Betsy asked, incredulous.
Lisa chuckled. “Yeah. She said she’ll check the diary and sort paperwork.”
Betsy made a low whistle. “You must’ve made an impression.”
“Oh, behave,” Lisa said, rolling her eyes.
“I’m serious! You don’t just offer up your business to someone unless you rate them.”
“She’s being kind. That’s all.”
“Sure,” Betsy teased. “You got the forms?”
“I was hoping you’d tell me what I need.”
“I’ll forward them now. You just need to fill them in, she signs, you send them back. Easy.”
“Ta, love.”

By the time six-thirty rolled around, Lisa had changed into a clean jumper and jeans and was pulling up outside Underworld. The street was mostly quiet. The factory was dark except for the soft yellow glow coming from Carla’s office. Lisa locked her car and walked up the short path. The building loomed, quiet and still, with only the hum of distant traffic behind her. She tapped gently on the office door.
Carla looked up from her screen and smiled. “Hey.”
“Hi,” Lisa replied, stepping in. “Thanks for staying late.”
“No problem. Take a seat. Let’s see what we’ve got.”
Carla pulled open a leather-bound diary and flicked through the pages.
“Betsy’s starting next week?”
Lisa nodded. “Every Thursday.”
“Perfect. I’ve got a few quieter mornings. She can shadow Beth for a bit, then maybe sit in on the design meeting.”
Lisa smiled, impressed. “You’re actually taking this seriously.”
Carla glanced up. “Of course. I don’t half-arse things.”
Lisa chuckled and passed over her phone. “Here’s the forms. Mind if I print them?”
“Go for it. Printer’s just there.”
Lisa opened the files and hit print. The machine whirred… then groaned… then jammed.
“Oh no,” Lisa muttered. “I’ve broken it.”
Carla walked over, laughing. “You haven’t. It always does this.”
She knelt down, pulled out the tray, gave the side a practiced kick, and shoved it back in. The machine blinked, groaned again, then spat out the forms.
Lisa gaped. “That was witchcraft.”
“Factory magic,” Carla said smugly.
She took the papers and signed them with a flourish.
Lisa watched her. “So… what do you think of Betsy?”
Carla paused, then smiled. “I haven’t met her properly yet, but if she’s anything like you, I’m sure she’s trouble.”
Lisa smirked. “She’s brilliant. Sharp. Bit opinionated. Moody when she wants to be.”
“Sounds like I’ll need coffee on tap.”
“Definitely. And judge her mood by the facial expressions.”
Carla grinned. “Got it.”
There was a pause.
“Want a drink?” Carla asked. “Non-alcoholic, missy. It’s a work night.”
Lisa laughed. “Go on then.”
Carla poured two glasses of something fizzy from the mini fridge and joined her on the battered old sofa in the corner. For the next two hours, they talked. About work. About raising kids. About stubborn boilers and the best place to buy tiling. About music. About books. Lisa mentioned a thriller she’d been reading and Carla admitted she hadn’t picked up a book in months.
“I’m always half-reading emails,” she said. “Does that count?”
“No,” Lisa teased. “That’s tragic.”
Carla laughed. “Tragic’s the new sexy, didn’t you know?”
They talked more. Their knees brushed now and again. Fingers touched briefly when glasses were passed back and forth.

By the time Lisa glanced at her phone again, it was gone 9 p.m.
“I should go,” she said. “Need to eat. Haven’t even had tea yet.”
Carla stood up too. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you.”
“Don’t apologise. I’ve really enjoyed this.”
They walked out together. Carla locked the door behind them, keys jangling in the quiet night. Outside, under the dim streetlamp, they paused. Lisa stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. This time, it lingered. Carla’s arms wrapped around her slowly, firmly. When they pulled apart, they didn’t speak for a moment.
“Night,” Carla said softly.
“Night,” Lisa replied.
They smiled, then turned and headed in opposite directions.
And Lisa, smiling to herself, felt the buzz of something beginning.

Chapter 11: A Spring in Her Step

Summary:

Carla enjoys her usual Friday breakfast at Roy’s and opens up to Roy about her budding feelings for Lisa, who listens supportively and encourages Carla to invite Lisa out. Meanwhile, Lisa endures another frustrating job at Cobbles Electricals, only for her day to brighten when Carla texts inviting her to the Rovers that evening. Despite her initial hesitation, Lisa agrees, buoyed by the thought of seeing Carla. At home, Betsy teases her about another “date” as Lisa heads out, hinting at the growing spark between the two women.

That Friday, Carla made her way into Roy’s for her usual breakfast, her heels clicking confidently against the pavement. The early morning drizzle had lifted, leaving the cobbles glistening under a hopeful shaft of sunshine. She pushed open the café door, letting the warm scent of toast and coffee wash over her. There was a noticeable difference in her demeanor. Her usually guarded expression was softened, and the tension she often carried in her shoulders had melted away. She even offered a small smile to a passing dog walker who was struggling with an overexcited spaniel tied up outside. Roy, busy behind the counter organising a tray of clean mugs, looked up and noticed immediately. He adjusted his glasses and studied her with quiet curiosity.
“I can’t help but observe that you seem happier this week, Carla,” he said, voice mild and measured as always.
Carla smirked and gestured toward the empty seat opposite her at one of the corner tables. “Come sit down, Roy. I’ll tell you why.”
Wiping his hands on a tea towel, Roy made his way over and slid into the seat, folding his hands in front of him in his usual composed manner.
Carla leaned in, her voice low, almost conspiratorial. “I’ve been seeing someone.”
Roy blinked. “I see.”
“She’s clever. Funny. Dry sense of humour. Electrician. Works for Cobbles Electricals.”
Roy gave a thoughtful nod. “A practical profession. Reliable.”
“She’s got a daughter. Sixteen. They just moved onto the street a couple of weeks ago,” Carla added.
“Lisa,” she said, more softly.
“Ah,” Roy said, tilting his head. “The woman you bumped into during your delivery confusion.”
Carla laughed lightly. “The very one. We had a drink last week, and then again at mine. Nothing big, just… it felt good. Easy. Like I could breathe a bit.”
Roy offered a rare smile. “That’s good to hear. All I want is for you to be happy, Carla. And from what I can see—you clearly are.”
Carla relaxed slightly in her seat. “I am. But I don’t want to come on too strong, you know? I’ve got form for that.”
“Well,” Roy said sagely, “next time you’re going out, just invite her along. No pressure. Let things unfold naturally.”
Carla nodded slowly. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

Just then, the bell above the café door jingled, and a few of the factory workers came through, laughing and chatting amongst themselves. Beth Sutherland, in leopard-print leggings and bright red lipstick, led the group, followed closely by Fiz Stape, her hair pulled up in a rushed ponytail, and Izzy Armstrong, wheeling herself confidently through the entrance.
“Morning, Miss C!” Beth called with a grin as they spotted Carla.
“Thank God it’s Friday,” Fiz said with a dramatic groan.
“Yes, Rovers tonight, here I come!” Izzy added enthusiastically.
Beth turned toward Carla. “You coming out tonight?”
Roy glanced at Carla, his expression neutral but knowing.
Carla smirked. “Hmmm. Maybe.”
As the women placed their orders and filled the café with their usual banter, Carla turned back to her tea, her fingers tapping lightly on the side of the mug. She was already thinking ahead.

Across town, Lisa was hunched over a fuse box in a cramped utility room of an old terrace house. The hallway light kept flickering, and the client insisted it had to be “fixed by teatime or else.” The wiring was ancient, tangled like spaghetti, and the tight space wasn’t doing her back any favours.
Fridays had become something of a curse at Cobbles Electricals. For the past three weeks, Lisa had been given the worst jobs—last-minute callouts, elderly clients who hovered behind her asking too many questions, or places where the access was next to impossible. Today ticked all three boxes. She pressed her fingers into her temples for a moment of relief and sighed. “Brilliant,” she muttered, retrieving a new breaker from her toolkit.
She was halfway through reassembling the switch unit when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Setting her tools aside, she wiped her hands and checked the screen.
Carla: Rovers tonight at 7?
Lisa stared at the message. The Rovers. She hadn’t stepped foot in the pub yet. She’d driven past it plenty and heard stories—from her boss, from Betsy, even from nosy neighbours—but the idea of being in there with half the street watching her and Carla was a bit daunting. Still… it was Carla.
She smirked, thumb hovering over her phone.
Lisa: Sure. See you then.
It surprised her how much her mood lifted just from hitting send. Suddenly, the job didn’t seem quite as awful. She double-checked her connections and closed up the panel with newfound energy.

The rest of the day, while still full of noise and ladders and awkward clients, didn’t drag in the way Fridays usually did. Even the jobs she was dreading felt more manageable. She even caught herself humming a bit while folding up her extension cables. When she pulled up outside her house later that afternoon, the street was alive with typical end-of-week bustle. Kids rode scooters up and down the pavement, neighbours were unloading shopping bags, and someone across the road was giving their car a vigorous hose down.
As she stepped inside, Betsy called from upstairs. “Mum?”
“Yeah, it’s me!”
Betsy bounded down the stairs two at a time. “Can I have a couple of mates round later? Just a few. Promise.”
Lisa gave her a wary look. “No parties.”
“Pinky promise,” Betsy said, grinning as she held out her hand for the ceremonial seal.
Lisa shook her head with a fond sigh. “Alright. But I want no noise complaints, no pizza sauce on the sofa, and no one in my room.”
Betsy saluted. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
As Lisa kicked off her boots, Betsy leaned on the bannister with a sly smile. “Where are you going anyway?”
Lisa paused. “Out.”
Betsy’s grin widened. “Another date?”
“It’s not a date.”
“Sure,” Betsy said knowingly, turning on her heel and disappearing back up the stairs. “Say hi to Carla!”
Lisa rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips.

That evening, after a quick shower and a lot of indecision over what to wear that didn’t scream “trying too hard,” Lisa stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down her top. She didn’t usually put much thought into her appearance beyond being practical for work—but tonight felt different. By the time she grabbed her keys and stepped outside, dusk was settling over the street. Lights flickered on behind net curtains, and the familiar sounds of early evening—the clink of dishes, a dog barking down the road—echoed softly around her. Whatever the Rovers held tonight, she knew one thing for sure: it wouldn’t be boring.

Chapter 12: A Spring in Her Step

Summary:

Lisa and Carla meet at the Rovers for a drink after tough days at work. Carla introduces Lisa to the factory staff, and the pair share a deeper, more personal conversation in a quiet booth. Carla opens up about her difficult past, and Lisa offers comfort and understanding. They bond over drinks, teasing, and laughter, and their growing connection is evident. The night ends with a choice between karaoke and more private time together—both clearly preferring each other's company over the crowd.

Notes:

Sorry this has taken a while I'm on holiday in Cornwall and the signal isn't great. This might be my only update this week. Sorry guys!

Lisa arrived at the Rovers just as Carla came striding up from the other direction, her black coat flaring slightly with her pace and her face alight with something that looked suspiciously like relief. Lisa waited by the door, hands in her pockets, when Carla reached her and without hesitation swept her into a warm, slightly too-long hug.
"Boy am I glad to see you today," Carla said into her hair.
Lisa pulled back just enough to look at her. "Bad day?"
Carla made a vague gesture. “Something like that.”
Still slightly breathless from the hug, Lisa reached for the door and opened it, waving Carla in ahead of her. As they stepped inside, warm air and familiar voices wrapped around them like a blanket. Carla led the way to the bar, Lisa just behind her, and the second the regulars saw Carla, a cheer went up.
"Miss C! What you doing here?!"
Carla raised her brows and threw her arms open. "What, a woman can’t have a quiet drink without being interrogated?"
Beth grinned. “Didn’t expect to see you slumming it with us on a Friday.”
Fizz nudged her. “Be nice. She’s got company.”
Carla turned and gestured to Lisa. “I think most of you have met Lisa already. But if not—this is her. Behave yourselves, yeah?”
The group chorused greetings—Beth with a wink, Fizz with a cheerful wave, Kirk practically shouting, “Alright, Lisa? Welcome to the madhouse!”
Carla leaned toward Lisa and whispered with a chuckle, “Sorry,” placing her hand lightly at the small of Lisa’s back. Lisa forgot how to breathe for a moment.
Fizz stepped in. “So, how are you finding the street?”
Lisa blinked and smiled. “Honestly? It’s loud. But in a good way. You lot are quite the welcome committee.”
“Better than silence,” Fizz said. “And you’re an electrician, right?”
“Yeah. With the company that does a lot of local work—Cobbles Electricals.”
Beth smirked. “That’s handy. You’ll have plenty to keep you busy round here. You should see the state of my kitchen sockets.”
Lisa laughed, nerves fading. “I’ll be sure to leave my business card behind.”
As the factory lot chatted with her, Carla slipped off to the bar. There was something grounding about the group—chatty, nosy, irreverent. Lisa didn’t mind it as much as she thought she would.

Ten minutes later, Carla returned with two drinks and said loudly, “Right, times up, you lot. This one’s mine now, thank you.”
She nodded toward a quieter booth in the corner and Lisa obediently followed, shrugging off her coat and tossing it into the booth before sliding in opposite Carla.
“Yours now, eh?” Lisa teased.
Carla flushed but recovered quickly. “Well, I brought the drinks, didn’t I? That earns me something.”
Lisa chuckled. “Fair enough. So, what happened today?”
Carla rolled her eyes. “You ever had one of those days where everything goes wrong and just keeps going?”
Lisa nodded emphatically. “It’s called Friday.”
Carla smirked. “Client changed specs three times. Software crashed mid-meeting. Someone double-booked the delivery van. And then Sarah managed to knock over a whole crate of sample lace. It looked like we’d been ransacked by sexy poltergeists.”
Lisa laughed. “Wow. And here I was complaining about spending all afternoon installing industrial ceiling fans in a warehouse that smelled like paint stripper and despair.”
“See?” Carla leaned in. “We need to make this a regular thing. Rovers Fridays. Post-hell week therapy.”
Lisa grinned. “Deal.”
She took a sip of her drink. “Betsy’s got a few friends over tonight. Swears it’s not a party.”
Carla shrugged. “She’s sixteen, right?”
Lisa nodded.
“At least if she has a party, she’s somewhere safe. I was in crack dens at that age.”
Lisa choked on her drink. “Excuse me?!”
Carla smirked but her eyes were sad. “My mum was… a lot. Drugs, different men. Michelle’s family basically raised me. Then I married Paul.”
“Liam’s brother?”
“Yeah. Fell for Liam after. Messy. Long time ago.”
Lisa reached across the table and placed her hand on Carla’s. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
Carla gave a small smile. “Water under the bridge now. You wouldn’t believe half of it if I told you.”
Lisa rubbed her thumb over Carla’s knuckles. Carla let the contact linger before clearing her throat.
“Anyway. This was supposed to be a fun night, not storytime with damage.”
Lisa laughed but didn’t move her hand. “Alright then. This or that?”
Carla raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Lisa grinned. “Pick one: beach or mountains?”
“Beach.”
“Wine or whisky?”
“Wine.”
“City or countryside?”
“City. I need the noise.”
They volleyed back and forth, laughing at the answers, until a loud feedback screech sounded from a microphone nearby.
Carla groaned. “Oh God. They’re cracking out the karaoke.”
Lisa turned to see Kirk and Craig stepping up to the mic. The first few notes of ‘I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)’ blasted through the pub.
“Of course,” Carla muttered.
Others joined in later—Beth doing ‘Like a Virgin’, Fizz and Sally duetting ‘Islands in the Stream’, and even Mary giving a theatrical rendition of ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’.

Ryan wandered over and leaned against the booth. “Hi Carla.”
Carla looked up. “Lisa, this is Ryan.”
Lisa extended a hand. “Hi.”
Ryan glanced down, noticed their hands still loosely clasped, and raised an eyebrow. Carla shot him a warning look.
“Nice to meet you,” Ryan said. “I’d better get back to work, but FYI, Carla—I’m going out after, so I won’t be home tonight.”
Carla gave a long-suffering sigh. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
Ryan winked and walked away.
Carla turned back. “So… karaoke or crack open the next bottle at mine?”
Lisa laughed. “Definitely the latter. Karaoke is not my thing.”
“Mine either,” Carla said, draining her glass and reluctantly letting go of Lisa’s hand.
They both stood and grabbed their coats. As they crept past the now tipsy, singing factory lot, Carla paused to glance back with a grin.

Outside, the night was cool, the street quiet under the glow of the streetlamps. Carla pulled the Rovers door shut behind them, then turned to Lisa.
“Come on then. Let’s pretend we’re not both over fourty and about to drink cheap red wine like teenagers.”
Lisa smirked. “Lead the way.”
They walked off together into the night.

Chapter 13: Moving Forward

Summary:

Lisa and Carla share an intimate evening at Carla’s flat, moving from playful banter to heartfelt confessions. As trust builds, so does their connection—culminating in their first kiss and a quiet decision to spend the night together, emotionally and physically closer than ever.

Notes:

Thank you for being so patient - I'm back! Hope this is a good one for you. Might try and get a second one in if I can. I have had time to write another entire story whilst I've been away. Not sure if people want me to finish these two first?

The cool night air nipped at their cheeks as Lisa and Carla strolled side by side down Victoria Street, the lingering echo of karaoke still drifting from the pub behind them. The warmth of laughter, cheap lager, and off-key singing was slowly fading into the quiet hum of evening traffic and the distant clink of bin lids being closed for the night.
“I mean, did you hear Sandra during My Heart Will Go On ?” Lisa said, breaking into a laugh. Carla gave a throaty chuckle, brushing her shoulder lightly against Lisa’s. “Like nails on a chalkboard,” she agreed. “I thought the windows were going to shatter.”
Lisa’s eyes sparkled, her breath clouding slightly in the chill as she glanced over at Carla. “I was sure Roy was going to step outside just to stop the noise pollution.”
Carla smirked and gave a dramatic shiver. “He probably made a cup of tea to drown it out.”
They both laughed. Carla glanced down just as Lisa’s hand, almost tentatively, drifted toward hers. It was a slow movement, as though Lisa wasn’t sure it would be accepted—but when their fingers touched, Carla didn’t hesitate. Her hand slid into Lisa’s, warm and welcoming, as if it belonged there. A shy smile curled on Carla’s lips as she looked down at their intertwined fingers. Lisa felt a rush in her chest—not nerves exactly, but a kind of charged stillness, like the pause before a first drop of rain. She smiled too, unable to stop herself, and glanced away quickly to hide the pink blooming on her cheeks.

They walked in silence for a few steps, the only sound their boots against the pavement and the occasional whisper of the wind. Lisa’s thumb gently brushed over the back of Carla’s hand, like a question that didn’t need words. Carla’s eyes flicked sideways, and she let out a soft, almost breathless sigh.
“Well,” Carla said eventually, a teasing note in her voice. “I think we can safely say that tonight was… unforgettable.”
Lisa chuckled, her heart pounding gently. “It was fun,” she murmured. “And weirdly nice, even the terrible singing.”
“Especially the terrible singing,” Carla added, grinning.

They arrived at Carla’s building, pausing just outside the doorway. Carla’s hand hesitated in her pocket, fingers fumbling for her keys, but she didn’t let go of Lisa’s hand. She tried to twist the key in the lock one-handed, then huffed in frustration.
“I’m gonna need my hand back,” she said reluctantly, glancing sideways. “Sorry.”
Lisa laughed softly and released her hand. “Of course. Sorry.” She tucked her own hand into her coat pocket quickly, already missing the contact. Carla gave her a quick smile and bit her bottom lip as she turned the key and pushed the door open. “After you, ma’am.”
Lisa rolled her eyes with a smile and stepped inside, climbing the familiar stairwell ahead of Carla. As they reached the top, Carla moved quickly to take the lead again, turning her key in the flat door and pushing it open. Lisa was close—so close Carla could feel her breath stirring the back of her hair. It sent a little flutter down her spine.

Inside, the flat was warm, dimly lit, and smelled faintly of vanilla and red wine. Carla tossed her keys into the dish on the side table, shrugged off her coat, and hung it on the stool beside the breakfast bar.
“Make yourself at home,” she said, already walking toward the kitchen. “Wine?”
“Yes please,” Lisa replied, unwinding her scarf and slipping out of her coat. She glanced around the room—it was unmistakably Carla. Clean lines, but a few soft touches here and there: a deep red throw over the sofa, a few records stacked neatly by a turntable, a photo of her and Peter half-hidden behind a candle. Lisa settled herself into the corner of the sofa, slipping off her boots and tucking her legs underneath her. Carla poured two generous glasses of red wine, carried them over, and placed them carefully on the coffee table. Then she kicked off her boots, curled up opposite Lisa, and handed over a glass.
“To getting closer,” Carla said, lifting her glass with a lopsided smile.
Lisa met her gaze, her heart stuttering in her chest, and clinked their glasses gently. “To getting closer.”
They sipped, their eyes lingering a little too long before Carla finally looked away, pretending to be fascinated by the candlelight flickering on the table. The next few minutes passed with a gentle rhythm—small talk, teasing comments about the night, moments of comfortable silence between sips of wine.
“I still can’t believe how smug Kirk looked after singing Bon Jovi,” Carla muttered.
Lisa laughed. “He genuinely thought he nailed it.”
“He was three notes off at every turn.”
“That’s being generous.”
Their laughter filled the space again, easing the nerves and softening the edges.

Eventually, Carla leaned back and tilted her head, studying Lisa.
“So…” she began, swirling her wine a little. “Has there been anyone else since…?”
Lisa looked up, surprised. “Since Becky?”
Carla nodded gently. Lisa let out a slow breath and looked down at her lap, fingers tightening slightly around the stem of her glass. “No. A few dates here and there—mostly set up by friends or work people. Never went past the first coffee or glass of wine. Definitely nothing physical. In fact…”
She paused, giving a nervous laugh. “Outside of Betsy, I’ve probably had more physical contact with you than anyone else in the last five years.”
Carla blinked. “What, not even a hug?”
Lisa shook her head, embarrassed. “Nope. I didn’t have many close friends in Leeds, and the ones I did have… well, they weren’t exactly huggers. I think they thought I was a bit robotic. And maybe I was.”
Carla frowned, setting her glass down and gently placing a hand on Lisa’s shoulder. “What do you mean?”
Lisa’s voice dropped, quiet and raw. “After Becky died… I just shut down. Even with Betsy. I threw myself into work. I think I was afraid if I stopped for too long, I’d fall apart. A year later, I realized I’d made a huge mistake. I quit. I focused on repairing things with Betsy, and we’re good now. But the friends? They were long gone.”
Carla squeezed her shoulder, firm and steady. “Well, then they weren’t proper friends, were they?”
Lisa gave a shaky, breathless laugh. “No, I suppose not.”
Carla’s voice softened. “Well… now you’ve got me. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Lisa turned to her, their eyes locking for a moment that felt suspended in time. Carla reached up and gently tucked a strand of Lisa’s hair behind her ear.
“You are so beautiful,” she said, almost in disbelief.
Lisa’s lips parted in surprise, her eyes flickering away. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?” she said, trying to joke. “I mean, look at you.”
Carla laughed, the tension breaking just a little. But the weight of the moment still lingered. Lisa swallowed, voice quieter. “What are we doing here, Carla?”
Carla’s face grew serious. “I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m enjoying it. I like you, Lisa. You’ve been a breath of fresh air these last two weeks. I totally get it if you want this to stay a friendship.”
Before she could finish, Lisa reached up and rested her hand on Carla’s arm. “I like you too. It scares me. It’s been five years… but Becky would want me to move on. To find someone. Honestly? I think she would have adored you.”
Carla blinked, touched. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. But… I don’t do casual. Never have. When Becky and I met, we practically moved in together within 24 hours. Betsy calls it the U-Haul thing.”
Carla laughed. “Hey, check me out—down with the kids. A U-Haul.”
Lisa laughed too, the mood lightening again. “So, I guess what I’m saying is… if we’re going to try this, I’d like to take things slow. Especially with Betsy doing her work experience with you. I don’t want things getting messy.”
Carla nodded, genuinely moved. “Understood."
"From the way Betsy talks, you're already her favourite.” Lisa says.
“She doesn’t even know me,” Carla replied with a raised eyebrow.
“I know. That’s what I told her. She said—and I quote—‘Anyone who can make Mum smile like that deserves my approval.’”
Carla’s expression softened, and she looked down shyly. “She said that?”
“She did.”

Lisa smiled at Carla’s expression, the gentle surprise, the way her eyes darted toward the floor as if hiding from the warmth in Lisa’s words. It softened something in Lisa’s chest, something that had been locked up for far too long. That bashful glimmer, the hesitance behind Carla’s usual confidence—it made Lisa feel trusted, chosen. Seen. After a pause, Lisa looked at her, more serious this time. “You talk a lot about your husbands. But you’ve never really said anything else.”
Carla blinked, her expression unreadable for a second. “Are you trying to ask if I’ve ever been with a woman before?”
Lisa nodded, slowly. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
Carla took a sip of her wine and then set it down on the table, her thumb tracing the rim of the glass. “If I’m honest, no. I haven’t. But I’ve never been against the idea. It’s just never… happened.”
Lisa’s brow furrowed gently. “So…?”
“I don’t think about gender when it comes to attraction,” Carla said, her voice calm but firm. “I think I just… like people who know who they are. Who know what they want. And I can tell you, Lisa, this—whatever this is—this isn’t an experiment for me.”
She leaned forward, just slightly, enough to let the closeness speak for her.
“I thought when I let Peter go that I was done. I’d made peace with that. Figured I’d live the rest of my life alone, and honestly, I was okay with it. But then you came along.”
Lisa’s heart beat harder at that.
“You’ve sparked something in me I can’t name,” Carla went on. “But you make me want to try again. Not with anyone else. Just… you. But only if you’re comfortable. Like I said, I’m happy to remain friends if not.”
Lisa’s hand reached out instinctively, brushing a gentle strand of Carla’s hair behind her ear. Her fingers lingered on her cheek. “Will you stop talking about friendship, please?”
Carla laughed, soft and surprised. “Okay.”
“I like you, Carla. I trust you. And this conversation—it’s helped massively.”
A breath passed between them, as if the flat had inhaled and held its breath, waiting.
Lisa’s voice dropped. “Can I kiss you, please?”
Carla smiled. “Of course. But… please never ask again.”
Lisa smirked, leaned in, her eyes fluttering shut. The kiss was soft at first—unhurried, tentative. Like opening the first page of a well-worn book. Lips brushing, parting, pressing again. Slow-motion. Gentle warmth spread from the contact, curling through Lisa’s stomach and up into her chest.

They both pulled back slowly, breathless and wide-eyed.
“Wow,” Lisa said.
Carla’s lips curved upward. “Yeah. Wow.”
They stared at each other, mirroring awe and something else—something like possibility. After a few seconds, they leaned in again, more certain this time. The second kiss was deeper, richer. Carla’s hands slid into Lisa’s hair; Lisa’s fingers curled into the edge of Carla’s jumper. They kissed like they were remembering something they never knew. Lisa shifted, gently pushing Carla back against the sofa, her body moving with instinct and trust. She climbed into Carla’s lap, their kisses never breaking. Their hands roamed—shoulders, backs, necks, cheeks—hungry but not rushed. A half-hour passed in waves of touch and breath and quiet murmurs.

Eventually, Lisa pulled back, her lips swollen and pink, her eyes soft. She rested her head on Carla’s chest, the steady beat beneath it grounding her. Her breath caught as she whispered, “I should go.”
Carla’s arms tightened around her. “Do you have to?”
Lisa lifted her head, smiling. “Betsy could’ve burned the house down by now.”
Carla grinned. “Look out the window—see any fire engines?”
Lisa swatted her arm, laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Stay,” Carla said softly.
Lisa looked at her, eyes wide. “Stay?”
“Not for that—dirty mind. I meant stay. Here. With me. We’ll cuddle. Make up for the years you’ve missed.”
Lisa bit her lip. “I don’t know. I don’t want to overstep.”
“You wouldn’t be. Look—I get it if you’d rather take the sofa. But I’m alone tonight, and so are you. And let’s be honest, Betsy won’t want you crashing the party. You won’t get any sleep there.”
Lisa studied her, unsure how one person could be so warm, so open, so willing to offer her a place of safety. Her voice cracked. “Okay. But I’m taking the cuddles.”
Carla laughed and stood, offering her hand. “Come on, then. Let’s find you some pyjamas.”

Chapter 14: Cuddles and The Morning After

Summary:

Carla and Lisa share an intimate night of tender cuddles, quiet conversation, and emotional connection, deepening their bond without crossing physical boundaries. As morning arrives, they wake in each other’s arms, wrapped in comfort and new affection. Their gentle, domestic routine—sharing coffee, playful teasing, and stolen glances—cements the beginning of something more.

Notes:

Here you go - I'm really enjoying writing this :)

Carla opened the wardrobe door, scanning for something that might fit Lisa. She pulled out a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a soft oversized T-shirt. Holding them up, she glanced at Lisa. "These should do. You’ll be swimming in them, but they’re comfy."
Lisa took them with a grateful smile. "They’re perfect. Where’s your bathroom?"
Carla gestured to the door beside the kitchen. "Through there. Take your time."
Lisa disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking gently shut behind her. Carla sighed softly, running her fingers through her hair as she tidied the sofa, plumping the pillows and adjusting the throw. Her heart still raced. She touched her lips, thinking about the kiss—no, kisses—and how natural, how right it had felt. She poured the rest of the wine into their glasses and padded to the stereo system. Soft jazz began to fill the space—low, rich tones that matched the calm tension vibrating in the air.

Lisa returned, barefoot and in Carla’s pajamas, the sleeves of the shirt draping slightly over her hands. Carla looked up and couldn’t help smiling. "Told you they’d drown you."
Lisa laughed, pulling at the waistband. "They’re a look."
Carla patted the sofa beside her. "Come on, cuddle quota still needs filling."
Lisa settled beside her, curling her legs up as Carla lifted the blanket over them both. They shifted slightly until they were comfortable, Carla’s arm resting around Lisa’s shoulders. Lisa leaned into her, resting her head against Carla’s neck. They sat in silence for a while, the music and the warmth between them the only things moving. Carla could feel Lisa’s breath against her skin, steady and slow. She didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to break the spell.

Eventually, Lisa tilted her head up slightly. "You smell nice."
Carla chuckled. "Shampoo. And probably a bit of wine."
Lisa smiled against her. "You’re lovely, you know that?"
Carla turned to her, their faces just inches apart again. "Takes one to know one."
Their lips met again—softer, slower this time. A kiss that lingered, less urgent, more a reassurance. A promise. They parted again, but neither moved far. Lisa whispered, "This doesn’t feel rushed."
"It’s not," Carla said. "Feels like we’ve been heading here for a while."
Lisa nodded. "Still scary, but… in a good way."
Carla ran her fingers lightly through Lisa’s hair. "Scary’s okay. I’m here."

Time passed. They talked—about Betsy, about Carla’s past, about stupid things like bad karaoke and office gossip. The conversation flowed easily, like water finding its course. There was laughter. There were pauses that said more than words. Eventually, Carla yawned and stretched, then looked at the time. "Midnight. You still okay to stay?"
Lisa nodded. "Yeah. I feel… safe here."
"Good. Because I’ve already mentally assigned you the left side of the bed."
Lisa chuckled. "That’s the best side." They cleaned their glasses, switched off the lights, and padded toward the bedroom. Carla handed Lisa a spare toothbrush and they took turns in the bathroom again, teasing each other like teenagers.

In bed, they faced each other beneath the covers, just inches apart. No more kisses, just soft smiles and gentle eye contact.
Lisa whispered, "Thanks for tonight."
Carla nodded. "Thank you for staying."
A moment later, Lisa added, "And for the cuddles."
Carla wrapped an arm around her waist. "Always."
They drifted to sleep like that—wrapped around each other, hearts steady, comforted by something rare and real.

The first light of morning filtered through the curtains, casting a pale golden hue across the room. Lisa stirred first, eyes fluttering open to the unfamiliar sight of Carla’s bedroom ceiling. For a moment, disorientation gripped her, but then the steady warmth behind her reminded her where she was. Carla’s arm was draped over Lisa’s waist, her breath steady against Lisa’s neck. They hadn’t done anything more than kiss and cuddle, but the intimacy of falling asleep wrapped in each other’s arms left Lisa feeling vulnerable — and surprisingly safe. She turned slowly, careful not to wake Carla, and took in the peaceful expression on her face. Carla looked younger somehow, softer, her usual guarded sharpness smoothed over in sleep. Lisa smiled gently, brushing a strand of dark hair off Carla’s forehead. Carla stirred. “Mmm… morning,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.
“Morning,” Lisa whispered.
Carla’s eyes opened slowly. She blinked a few times, registering where she was and who she was with. Then she smiled. “You're still here.”
Lisa’s heart gave a little skip. “Yeah. I wasn’t chased out by fire brigades or teenage chaos.”
Carla chuckled, her voice low and husky. “That’s always a win.”

They lay there in silence for a while, the kind of silence that felt comfortable, like they had all the time in the world. Lisa stared at the ceiling again, then said softly, “I forgot what it felt like to wake up next to someone.”
Carla’s fingers gently traced circles on Lisa’s hip. “Is it a good forgetting or a bad one?”
Lisa turned her head toward her. “It’s… a bit of both. Good because I can feel it all again. Bad because I didn’t realise how much I missed it.”
Carla leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Lisa’s shoulder. “Well. I’m glad you stayed.”
Lisa reached behind her and curled her fingers into Carla’s. “Me too.”
They spent a few more minutes like that, content in the quiet cocoon of the morning, before the inevitable real-world thoughts started to creep in. Lisa sighed. “I should probably check my phone.”
Carla grinned. “Go on then, see if the world survived the night without you.”

Lisa sat up and reached for her jeans, pulling her phone from the pocket. A few missed messages from Betsy popped up — mostly updates about the sleepover. Pictures of pizza, group selfies with glitter filters, a blurry image of a movie playing.
“She’s alive. Possibly on a sugar high. But alive,” Lisa said with relief. Carla sat up too, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “So… how are you feeling about all this?”
Lisa glanced at her. “About us?”
Carla nodded. Lisa took a deep breath. “Scared. But not in a bad way. In that kind of way where it might actually matter. You?”
Carla’s voice was soft. “Relieved. Nervous. And weirdly… hopeful.”
Lisa smiled. “Weirdly hopeful sounds like a good place to start.”
Carla reached for her hand. “Then let’s start.”

Carla pulled the duvet up around them both and leaned back against the headboard, watching Lisa scroll through her phone. “Any drama I should know about?”
Lisa chuckled. “Surprisingly not. Just a lot of selfies, questionable toppings on pizza, and what looks like a glitter explosion. Betsy said she saved me a brownie though, so that might be love.”
Carla smirked. “I’ll fight her for it.”
Lisa grinned and leaned into her. “She’d win. That girl has elbows like razors.”
They fell into a companionable silence, one that felt strange to Lisa — strange in its ease. It was quiet, not awkward. She looked around Carla’s bedroom, letting the reality settle in. She had stayed. She had cuddled. And now… she didn’t want to rush out the door.

Carla stretched and got out of bed, padding over to the wardrobe. “I know it’s early, but I could make breakfast?”
Lisa’s heart did a funny little lurch at how natural that sounded. “Depends… what’s on the menu?”
Carla glanced over her shoulder, mischievous. “Depends. What are your thoughts on slightly burnt toast and eggs with character?”
Lisa laughed. “I think I’m starving.”
They wandered into the kitchen, Carla in an oversized t-shirt and joggers, Lisa still in borrowed pyjamas that were slightly too long in the sleeves. Carla busied herself at the stove, while Lisa sat at the counter, chin resting on her hand as she watched her. The smell of coffee filled the small kitchen, mingling with the quiet sounds of a city slowly waking up. Lisa toyed with her mug and said, “This feels… weirdly nice.”
Carla glanced at her. “Weirdly?”
“I mean that in the best way,” Lisa said quickly. “Just… peaceful. Easy. I didn’t expect that.”
Carla plated up the food and handed Lisa her dish. “Me neither. But I like it.”

They sat on the sofa, legs tangled under a shared blanket as they ate, still talking between bites. About work. About music. About how Lisa’s coffee addiction compared to Carla’s wine one. But time ticked on, and eventually, Lisa glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed. “I should head out. I'd better go assess the damage for myself.”
Carla nodded, but there was a flash of something in her eyes — reluctance. “Of course.”
Lisa hesitated, then stood. “Can I shower before I go? I’ll put the pyjamas in the wash if you want.”
Carla stood too. “Shower’s yours. Don’t worry about the pyjamas. Ill leave them in a seperate drawer. They can be yours when you want them then.”
Lisa’s heart fluttered, and she smiled. “Smooth, Connor.”
Carla grinned and gently touched her hand. “I try.”
 
By the time Lisa stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in her own clothes again, Carla was tidying the mugs away. Their eyes met, and for a moment neither moved. Lisa stepped closer. “Thank you. For last night. For everything.”
Carla nodded, her smile a little more serious now. “Anytime.”
They embraced — not a goodbye hug, not really. More like a promise. Lisa pulled back just enough to kiss her softly.
“I’ll message you later,” Lisa said.
Carla nodded. “I’ll be here.”
Lisa paused at the door, glanced back once more, then left, the door clicking shut behind her. Carla exhaled slowly, alone now in the quiet flat that somehow already felt different.

Chapter 15: Homecoming

Summary:

Lisa returns home to a surprisingly tidy house and an even more surprising Betsy—hoover in hand and full of sass. Their playful, teasing exchange turns into a heartfelt conversation about trust, moving forward, and the budding relationship with Carla. As Lisa opens up, Betsy encourages her to text Carla, leading to a flurry of sweet, flirtatious messages. Betsy, ever the meddler, jumps into the conversation with her own cheeky text and a surprise FaceTime call that leaves all three laughing. The night ends with warm connections and a sense that something new and special is beginning—not just between Carla and Lisa, but as a new chapter for their little family too.

The sun had crept into Carla's flat long after Lisa had left, but the warmth she left behind still lingered on Carla’s pillow. Meanwhile, Lisa was already walking up the path to her house, the faint smile from the night before still hovering on her lips. It had been a long time since she’d woken up in someone else’s arms, and longer still since it had felt so right. As she opened the front door, the vacuum's low hum greeted her ears. Lisa paused in the doorway, eyebrows raised. The house looked... tidy. Not just picked-up, but like someone had genuinely tried. Her boots clicked on the clean laminate as she stepped in.
"Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?" she called out.
Betsy turned around, vacuum hose in hand, her ponytail bouncing. "I could say the same about you, Mother," she replied with a mischievous grin.
Lisa narrowed her eyes playfully. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Betsy turned off the hoover, leaning against the handle. "Well lets review the evidence, you actually trusted me to have friends over. You actively left the house for the night and left me unsupervised. You only texted once to make sure I hadn't burnt the house down. And you didn’t come home until the next morning... after clearly sleeping with your girlfriend."
Lisa’s eyes widened, and her cheeks turned crimson. "Okay, first of all, she's not my girlfriend," she said, voice a little too high. "And second, we did not sleep together thank you very much."
Betsy smirked. "Mum. Please. I saw the look on your face when you walked in. Plus, you're glowing."
Lisa rolled her eyes but managed a smile. "Alright, look. She helped me relax, distracted me from worrying about you. Okay we may have stayed up late and had a cuddle. But nothing like that. And yes, it was... lovely."
Betsy grinned. "Whatever you say, Mum. Still... you actually trusting me? Letting go for a night? That meant a lot."
Lisa relaxed a little at that, exhaling. "You're growing up. I need to trust you more. You deserve that."
"Thank you," Betsy said earnestly, looking proud. "And look! I made sure the house looks even better than when you left it."
Lisa surveyed the clean surfaces and vacuum lines and nodded, impressed. "Alright, you win."
"Good. Now go get changed. You look suspiciously... walk-of-shame -ish."
Lisa laughed and shook her head, heading upstairs. "You’re cheeky. Too cheeky."
"I learned from the best!" Betsy called after her.
Lisa chuckled under her breath as she ascended. She stood in the bathroom for a long moment, gazing at her reflection. Her hair was slightly tousled, her skin a little pink from the wine and the closeness, and there was a soft, unshakeable smile tugging at her lips.

Downstairs, with mugs of tea and the vacuum now silent, the two of them curled up on opposite ends of the sofa, legs tucked up. The early afternoon sun lit up the front room. Betsy turned her head towards her mum.
"So... what happened, really?"
Lisa took a deep breath, wrapping her fingers around the warm ceramic of her mug. "It was just... easy, Bets. Being with Carla. We talked for hours. Laughed a lot. We had wine, watched some terrible telly, and then... I don’t know. I told her how I feel. That I like her. That I’m scared, but ready. Maybe."
Betsy's expression softened. "That’s huge. How did she take it?"
Lisa smiled at the memory. "She was wonderful. Kind, understanding. She said she liked me too. That she wasn’t looking for casual either. That she wants something real."
Betsy reached out and squeezed her hand. "I’m glad. You’ve been so brave lately, Mum."
They sat in silence for a bit. The tea warmed their hands and hearts.
"You know," Betsy began, "it’s really nice seeing you smile like that. Not just happy—you’ve been happy for a while—but this is different. You look like you’ve remembered what it feels like to feel ."
Lisa’s throat caught. "I have. And it’s… terrifying."
Betsy leaned against her. "But good. Right?"
Lisa kissed her daughter's head. "Yeah. Really good. She may have kissed me as well."
"And you kissed her back?"
Lisa nodded slowly, her smile small but soft. "Yeah. We kissed. And it wasn’t like any kiss I’ve had in a long time. It was gentle, but intense. There was a real connection."
Betsy studied her mother for a moment, then smiled. "I’m glad. Really. It’s nice to see you like this. Happy. Not just... getting by."
Lisa's eyes misted slightly, and she reached out, squeezing Betsy's hand. "I didn’t think I’d get here again. After Becky... it just felt like everything stopped."
"I know. But you kept going for me. And now maybe... maybe you can start again. With someone. Even if it's just seeing where it goes."
Lisa chuckled. "Since when did you get so wise?"
"Been binge-watching therapy TikTok," Betsy replied, mock-serious. "Changed my life."

The rest of the afternoon passed in that easy way only close families can experience. Later that evening, a film was chosen, blankets found, and a mountain of snacks mysteriously appeared. But throughout it all, Lisa’s mind kept returning to her phone. She kept glancing at it, even though there were no notifications. Betsy noticed, of course. About halfway through the second film, she nudged her mum. "Just text her. You’ve been itching to all day."
Lisa rolled her eyes, but smiled and tapped out a message.
Lisa: Hey. Hope you're having a restful Sunday. I’ve been smiling like an idiot most of the day. Thanks for last night.
Carla responded within two minutes.
Carla: Hey you. Same here. I've been replaying everything. Especially the way your thumb kept brushing over my hand when we walked. Didn’t want it to end.
Lisa: Me neither. Betsy may never let me out of the house again though.
Carla: Uh oh. Am I in trouble?
Lisa: She’s playing it cool but she knew the second I walked in. Said I was glowing. I’m mortified.
Carla: Tell her it was the wine. Very fine vintage.
Lisa: I’ll tell her that while she’s hoovering. She’s already made the place look better than I ever have.
Carla: Impressive. She’s trying to make a good impression before Thursday, clearly.
Lisa: You’d think you were coming for work experience.
They continued texting, the light-heartedness of their exchange keeping Lisa smiling like a schoolgirl.

About thirty minutes and a flurry of 30+ messages later, Betsy peered over the top of her mug.
"You two are worse than me and Mia."
Lisa shot her a look. "Don’t be nosy."
Betsy grinned, then leaned over subtly as her mum typed. She caught Carla’s number.
Before Lisa could stop her, she had sent a message from her own phone.
Betsy: Hello Carla. This is Lisa’s daughter. Just needed to vet the woman my mum has been giggling about like a teenager. You’ve passed... so far.
Moments later, Carla burst out laughing, her reply appearing on Lisa’s phone a second later.
Carla: I see you’ve got your mum’s sass. Well played. I look forward to the official interview on Thursday.
Lisa groaned, burying her face in a cushion. "I am mortified ."
"You’re welcome," Betsy said smugly.
Then, without warning, Betsy tapped the FaceTime button. The phone rang, and Lisa panicked.
"Betsy!"
Too late. Carla’s face appeared on the screen, laughing.
"Hi Lisa," she said, grinning.
Betsy leaned into frame. "Hi Carla! Just wanted to say I’m looking forward to meeting you properly. Also wanted to make sure you're real and not some AI-generated dream mum's been fantasizing about."
Carla laughed so hard she nearly dropped her phone. "Oh, I’m very real. And very flattered."
Lisa tried to swipe the phone away, but Betsy dodged her effortlessly.
"Well I c an’t let my mum fall for someone without vetting them."
Carla’s eyes sparkled. "Fair enough. You’re very much like your mum. Cheeky and charming."
"Well thank you Carla."
"Honestly I have no bad intentions for you or your Mum Betsy and I hope to prove that to you."
"Good, I'm glad."
Betsy and Carla talk back and forth for a few minutes.
"Okay, okay, I’m going to the toilet before bed," she said, handing the phone back. "Five minutes. Then I want my phone back. And I’d better hear a thank you."
She disappeared up the stairs, cackling.
Lisa sighed and turned the phone back to her face. "I’m so sorry."
Carla shook her head, still smiling. "Don’t be. It’s actually been the highlight of my day. She’s brilliant. Confident. Very much like you."
Lisa’s cheeks flushed pink again. "She’s my world. But she’s also a pain."
"A lovable one," Carla replied. Then her tone softened. "It really was lovely to talk to you today. And last night... I don’t think I’ve felt that light in a long time."
"Same here," Lisa said quietly. "Thank you."
They spoke for a while, easy laughter and gentle smiles exchanged across the screen before Lisa tells Carla she had better go.
"Sleep well, Lisa."
"You too, Carla."
They smiled at each other for a moment longer before blowing kisses and ending the call. Lisa climbed the stairs and tossed Betsy’s phone onto her bed.
"Don’t say I told you so. But... thank you."
Betsy beamed. "Goodnight, Mum."
Lisa smiled, closing the door behind her as she retreated to her room. For the first time in years, her heart felt hopeful—and light.

Chapter 16: Unexpected Encounters

Summary:

Lisa's morning run leads to a chance meeting with Shona and an invite to a girls' night. Later, she literally runs into Carla outside Street Cars, sparking a flirty, charged moment. That evening, playful texts and a FaceTime call deepen their bond, ending with plans for a Friday night date.

Lisa woke early, the light just beginning to creep through the edges of the curtains. Her body felt pleasantly sore from the run of emotions the past couple of days—not the kind of exhaustion that came from physical activity, but the kind that came from change. Good change, though. She stretched languidly in bed, smiling softly at the memory of Carla’s voice through the phone last night, the twinkle in her eyes as they exchanged playful teasing.

Throwing on her favourite running gear—a sleek, form-fitting sports top and a pair of black leggings—Lisa laced up her trainers and headed out for a morning jog. The air was cool and crisp, the quiet of the street soothing as she began her familiar rhythm. Her thoughts flickered between Carla’s smile and the lingering way her fingers had brushed her arm yesterday. As she made her way through the estate, she nodded at a few of the residents already out and about. A few gave her curious looks, unfamiliar faces in a tight-knit community. Lisa returned their smiles, understanding the dynamic already.

She slowed her pace as she passed Roy’s Rolls, planning to turn the corner back toward the street, when she nearly collided with someone stepping out of the café.
“Oh!” Lisa gasped, coming to a quick stop.
The other woman blinked at her. “Oh, sorry! Didn’t see you there.”
Lisa steadied herself and offered a polite smile. “No harm done. My fault really—I should’ve been paying more attention.”
The woman tilted her head, curious. “You new around here?”
Lisa nodded. “Just moved in a few weeks ago. I’m Lisa.”
“Shona,” the woman replied, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
They shook hands briefly.
“You settling in alright?” Shona asked.
“Getting there,” Lisa said with a soft chuckle. “Still finding my way around, but the people seem friendly.”
“You’ll do fine. Hey, me and my mate Abi Webster are having a bit of a girlie night at the Bistro this week. You should come along. It’s low-key, just drinks and a bit of chat. Might help you meet a few people.”
Lisa blinked, pleasantly surprised. “That sounds great, actually. I’d love to.”
“Perfect.” Shona pulled out her phone. “Here, give me your number. I’ll text you the details.”
They exchanged numbers and shared a quick wave goodbye before Lisa continued her run, her steps a bit lighter from the friendly encounter.

She made her way back toward the centre of the street, cutting through the quiet road by Street Cars. Just as she was about to pick up speed again, the front door to Carla’s flat swung open—right into her path.
Lisa let out a startled gasp, halting mid-step as she almost collided with Carla.
“Bloody hell—oh, Lisa!” Carla gasped, hand pressed to her chest. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t see—”
Then she stopped. Her mouth parted slightly, and all her words dried up. Her eyes took in Lisa, breathless and flushed from the run, her skin glowing with a sheen of sweat. The sports top clung to every curve, the leggings hugging her figure with tempting precision. Carla's breath caught in her throat, and for a long, thick pause, she could do nothing but stare. Lisa tugged one earphone out, a teasing smile on her lips. “You okay?”
Carla blinked, her voice hoarse. “Wow. You look… incredible.”
Lisa’s grin widened. She stepped closer, slowly, her eyes playful. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Miss Connor. Didn’t know I had that kind of effect on you.”
Carla swallowed, her composure returning with a flicker of a wicked smirk. She stepped even closer, close enough that Lisa could feel the whisper of her breath.
Carla leaned in, lips just brushing her ear. “If we weren’t in the middle of the street, I’d be dragging you back inside to show you exactly what kind of effect you have.”
Lisa inhaled sharply, almost choking on her own breath. Carla pulled back with a mischievous smile and pressed a quick kiss to Lisa’s cheek. “But unfortunately, Maria’s waiting on me for coffee, and she’s not the patient type.”
Lisa managed to nod, still catching her breath. “Right. Of course. Coffee.”
“Sorry again for almost knocking you over,” Carla added, a softer note to her voice.
Lisa waved it off, regaining composure. “Completely worth it.”
With one last smirk, Carla turned and headed off down the street, hips swaying with confidence. Lisa watched her go, her heart pounding, heat flooding through her despite the chill in the air.

Later that evening, Lisa sat curled on her sofa, phone in hand. The encounter had replayed in her head all day.
She typed: Jesus. I can’t stop thinking about what you said earlier.
Carla’s reply came within a minute: I can’t stop thinking about the way you looked. That should be illegal—looking that good while exercising.
Lisa laughed, replying with a laughing emoji and: Careful, you’re going to give me a complex.
Carla: I’ll give you something else if you keep teasing me.
Lisa bit her lip, fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Carla followed up: You run a lot then?
Lisa: Most mornings, yeah. Clears my head. Helps me think.
Carla: Ryan’s been trying to get me to go running for years. Not happening. Carla Connor does not run for anyone.
Lisa smirked, then sent: Maybe I’ll invite Ryan out instead, then. Might be fun.
Carla: Preferably not. I like my relationships monogamous and definitely don’t want to introduce my nephew to the bedroom.
Lisa choked and immediately hit the Facetime button.
Carla answered with a devilish grin.
Lisa stared, wide-eyed. “You should see your face,” Carla teased.
“I can’t believe you just said that!” Lisa laughed, shaking her head. Carla held her hands up innocently. “Look, I have no filter. Whatever I think comes out.”
Lisa laughed again. “I thought I didn’t either, but clearly I do.”
They grinned at each other for a moment, the silence between them warm.
“Oh, I met someone today,” Lisa said. “Shona. She invited me to a girlie night at the Bistro with Abi.”
Carla’s expression brightened. “That’s perfect. It’ll be good for you to have a support network. Women around who get it.”
“I agree,” Lisa said, nodding. “Still…” She trailed off, eyes twinkling. “I kind of wish it was you and me going to the Bistro.”
Carla raised an eyebrow, smiling slowly. “Well… it could be.”
Lisa grinned. “How about Friday?”
Carla chuckled. “I thought that was a given.”
Lisa laughed. “I suppose so.”
They stayed on the call a bit longer, trading teasing remarks and warm glances, until Lisa finally yawned.
“Alright, I better get some sleep,” she said. “Big day tomorrow.”
Carla nodded. “Sweet dreams, gorgeous.”
Lisa smiled and blew her a kiss.
Carla returned it, whispering, “Night, Lisa.”
The screen went dark, but the smile stayed on Lisa’s face for a long time after.

Chapter 17: Monday Currents

Summary:

Carla heads to Birmingham with Sarah to handle a tense meeting with a difficult supplier, during which Sarah teases her about Lisa. Meanwhile, Lisa begins her workweek handling electrical callouts and arranges a Tuesday night out with Shona and Abi. That evening, she and Carla share a long, flirtatious, and heartfelt text exchange, deepening their connection while agreeing to keep their budding relationship private for now.

Notes:

Love a little text flirting 🫦

Monday morning arrived with its usual blend of chaos and caffeine. Carla stood at the front of Underworld, leaning on the bonnet of Sarah’s car, arms folded as she watched her colleague fiddle with the sat nav. Today they were heading to Birmingham to meet with a long-standing supplier that had recently begun to deliver sub-par silk shipments. Carla had barely slept, her mind split between business stress and replaying every second of her brief encounter with Lisa the day before.

Once on the road, Sarah glanced over at her, one hand on the steering wheel. “So… you gonna tell me why you’ve been grinning like a Cheshire cat all morning?”
Carla rolled her eyes and looked out of the window. “I’ve not.”
“Oh, please. You were humming, Carla. Humming. That hasn’t happened since 2018.”
Carla smirked. “You’re imagining things.”
Sarah wasn’t buying it. “Look, we’ve all noticed. You and Lisa—”
Carla cut her a sideways look. “And?”
Sarah shrugged, her voice softening. “It’s just… nice. To see you like this. Happy. Or at least… lighter.”
Carla took a breath. “I’m not confirming anything. But if there was something, it might be something that we’re not quite ready to tell everyone about yet.”
Sarah grinned. “Gotcha. Lips are sealed.”

Meanwhile, Lisa was already halfway through her Monday. Her first call-out was to an older couple in Weatherfield whose fuse box had gone haywire after a kettle shorted the circuit. She managed to fix it within the hour and left them with a working kitchen and a cup of tea she politely declined. By mid-morning, she’d rewired a hallway light in a terraced house near Rosamund Street and was now munching on a cheese and pickle sandwich in her car when her phone pinged. The group chat with Abi and Shona had come to life:
Abi : So Bistro tomorrow night? I need wine and female company. Male humans are banned.
Shona : Agreed. I’ll book for 7pm. Lisa you in?
Lisa : Count me in. Need to balance out all this testosterone I work around.
Abi sent a gif of a woman drowning in toolboxes. Shona followed with a laughing emoji.

Lisa opened her private chat with Betsy and typed:
Lisa : Hey, just a heads up—I’m out tomorrow night. Dinner with Abi and Shona.
Betsy : Not Carla? Shocking.
Lisa : Not this time, cheeky. Just making some mates.
Betsy : Nice! Proud of you.

That evening, after dinner and a shower, Lisa lay back on her sofa, phone in hand. Just as she started typing a message to Carla, one popped up on her screen.
Carla : Today was chaos. Supplier almost walked. Sarah and I had to charm them back with fire and spreadsheets.
Lisa : Sounds intense. You okay?
Carla : Getting there. I nearly lost it. You’d have been proud. Or maybe terrified.
Lisa : I’d have loved to see it. Wound-up Carla sounds kinda hot.
Carla : Is that your thing? Angry women in blazers?
Lisa : Only if they whisper seductive things to me on the street after nearly bowling me over.
Carla : Ha! You should see your face when I replay that moment. You were shook.
Lisa : You have no idea. I nearly inhaled my tongue.
Carla : I wish you were there today. You seem to calm me down.
Lisa : You calm me too. Mostly.
Carla : Mostly?
Lisa : Let’s just say you also seem to wind me up in other ways.
Carla : Filthy. I like it.
Lisa : Sarah said anything else?
Carla : Yeah. She asked if something’s going on. I didn’t confirm it, just said if there was something, we’re not ready to share yet.
Lisa : That’s fair. I like the bubble we’re in.
Carla : Me too. But I told Ryan and Roy.
Lisa : That’s okay. Roy’s like a dad to you, right?
Carla : Exactly. I needed someone to confide in.
Lisa : I’m glad you did. And Ryan?
Carla : He’s sworn to secrecy. Threatened him with public karaoke if he breathes a word.
Lisa : Remind me never to cross you.
Carla : Too late. You’re in deep now.
Lisa : So what are you wearing?
Carla : Pyjamas. Silk. Fancy.
Lisa : Hot.
Carla : What are you wearing?
Lisa : Oversized hoodie and fluffy socks. Sexy, right?
Carla : Devastatingly.
Lisa : I’m meeting Shona and Abi at the Bistro tomorrow. Any inside info I should know?
Carla : Shona’s sharp and sweet. Abi’s a whirlwind. They’ll love you.
Lisa : Good. I’m a little nervous.
Carla : You’ll charm them in five seconds flat. Just be you.
Lisa : Thanks.
Carla : Can’t wait to see you again.
Lisa : Same. Counting minutes.
Carla : That’s at least 9,372 minutes until Friday.
Lisa : Nerd.
Carla : You love it.
Lisa : Unfortunately.
Carla : Fortunately.
Lisa : You’re good at this.
Carla : At what?
Lisa : Flirting. Making me smile.
Carla : Only with you.
Lisa : I should go to bed. Early start tomorrow.
Carla : Same. Sweet dreams, beautiful.
Lisa : You too. Night x
Carla : Night x
Lisa smiled as she set the phone down beside her, heart warm. As she switched off the lamp, she already felt Friday pulling her closer.

Chapter 18: Bistro Bonds

Summary:

Lisa enjoys a fun, relaxed evening at the Bistro getting to know Shona and Abi. The trio bond over drinks, laughter, and shared stories, while Lisa continues navigating her feelings for Carla—ending the night with a warm, revealing text exchange that hints their relationship is becoming less secret by the day.

Notes:

Really like writing this story and the pace it is going at. Hope you guys enjoy it too!

Lisa stared at herself in the mirror one last time before heading out. She had changed her outfit twice already, even though she knew it wasn’t a date. It was just a casual evening out with new friends. Still, there was a buzz of nerves she couldn’t quite shake. It had been so long since she had tried making new female friends—not just acquaintances or fellow mums at the school gates, but real connections. She settled on a soft navy blouse that complemented her eyes and some fitted black jeans. Just smart enough without trying too hard. As she slipped on her leather jacket, she heard Betsy shout from the living room.
"Looking good, Mum! Trying to impress someone?"
Lisa rolled her eyes as she stepped into the room. "I’m going out with Shona and Abi. No need for comments."
Betsy grinned. "Sure. Not a date, got it. Just a chance to show off to the Weatherfield socialites."
Lisa snorted. "Please, I don’t even know if they’d call themselves that. I’ll be back around ten or so. Don’t wait up."
"Enjoy it," Betsy said genuinely. "It’s nice seeing you make friends again."
Lisa smiled warmly, kissed her on the head, and left the house with a small flutter in her stomach.

The Bistro was buzzing with a warm midweek hum. Soft lights glowed overhead, and a mellow soundtrack played beneath the low conversation of diners and clinking glasses. Lisa walked in and instantly spotted Shona waving from a corner booth, her bright smile lighting up the space. Abi was already there, leaning back in her seat with a glass of wine in hand.
"Lisa! Over here!" Shona called.
Lisa made her way through the tables, dodging a waiter with practiced ease.
"Hey! You made it," Abi said, standing to give Lisa a quick hug.
"Wouldn’t miss it," Lisa said, settling into the seat beside Shona. "Thanks again for inviting me."
"Of course," Shona said. "You’re part of the neighbourhood now. We’ve got to do our part."
"Plus," Abi added, smirking, "we were curious."
Lisa laughed. "Curious? About what?"
"Well, you’ve been the talk of the street. New face, mysterious job, and then suddenly popping up around Carla Connor..."
Lisa groaned and covered her face with her hands. "Is everyone talking about that?"
Abi and Shona both laughed.
"Not everyone," Shona said. "But people notice things. Don’t worry—we’re not gossiping. Just... intrigued."
Lisa looked between them and smiled. "I promise it’s not some juicy scandal. I’m just trying to settle in."
Abi leaned in. "Fair enough. So tell us about yourself. What brought you to Weatherfield?"
Lisa launched into a brief version of her story. Losing Becky, deciding to move for a fresh start, taking on local electrical work, and raising Betsy. The girls listened attentively, nodding and occasionally asking questions.
"Wow," Shona said. "That’s a lot. You’ve been through it."
"Yeah," Lisa admitted. "But I’m okay now. We’re okay."
They ordered drinks—Lisa choosing a glass of red—and shared a bottle of sparkling water for the table. The conversation shifted naturally from families to work, and then into stories of life in Weatherfield.
"So, how’d you get into electrics?" Abi asked. "Not exactly the career most women pick."
Lisa grinned. "Started with my dad. He ran a little repair shop back in Liverpool. I used to help him out when I was a teen, fixing wires, learning circuits. Fell in love with it. Did the training properly after school and never looked back."
"Love that," Shona said. "Hands-on, independent, and you probably save a fortune not needing to call anyone."
Lisa laughed. "Exactly."

They ordered mains—Lisa went for the sea bass, Abi a steak, and Shona opted for pasta. Between bites, Lisa found herself easing more and more into their company. There was something comforting about the way the two women interacted, like she’d known them longer than a day. Shona leaned across the table. "Alright, I’m going to ask what everyone else is thinking. You and Carla?"
Lisa paused, fork midair. She smiled gently. "We’re... getting to know each other. Slowly. Quietly."
Abi let out a dramatic sigh. "Knew it!"
"It’s early," Lisa added. "And personal. But she’s... lovely. Complex, but lovely."
Shona nodded. "Carla’s been through a lot. But if she’s smiling around you, that says something."
Lisa smiled. "Thanks. That means a lot."
They continued chatting through dessert, Lisa opting for a chocolate tart while Shona and Abi shared a crème brûlée. The night stretched into warm laughter and shared stories, even a few confessions.
"I once wired up an entire home alarm system backwards," Lisa confessed. "The thing kept going off every time they disarmed it. Took me three hours to realise."
Abi nearly choked on her wine. "That’s brilliant."
As they paid the bill and gathered their things, Shona turned to Lisa. "We’re doing this again."
"Definitely," Abi said. "Next time, drinks at mine. Bring Carla if you want. Or not. Just us girls."
Lisa grinned. "You’ve got a deal."
Outside, they shared hugs before parting ways.

As Lisa walked back home, her phone buzzed.
Carla: So... how was it with the Weatherfield Wives Club?
Lisa : Better than I expected. Shona and Abi are both brilliant. Proper northern welcome and all that.
Carla : Told you. Abi’s hilarious once you get past the bluntness. And Shona has a heart of gold.
Lisa : Yeah… I think I made some actual mates tonight.
Carla : About time. You're allowed more than just me, y'know.
Lisa : Speaking of that… we’re apparently not as subtle as we thought.
Carla : Oh?
Lisa : Shona made a comment. And Abi kept smirking every time your name came up. I think the whole street’s clocked us.
Carla : Oh well. As long as you’re okay with that, I am.
Lisa : I am. But no grand declarations of love outside the Kabin just yet, alright?
Carla : There goes my plan for a skywriter.
Lisa : Behave!

A pause, then Lisa’s next message came a little slower.
Lisa : Actually… I did feel a bit guilty about something tonight.
Carla : Go on.
Lisa : When I was talking about my job, I kind of let them believe I’ve always been an electrician. Didn’t correct them. I just didn’t want to get into the whole police thing.
Carla : You don’t have to explain. I get it.
Lisa : Do you?
Carla : Course I do. You’re trying to start fresh. Not everyone needs to know your past unless you want them to. It’s not a lie—it’s just… keeping things simple.
Lisa : Thanks. I knew you’d understand.

As Lisa reached home she opened the door and walked in, locking up for the night and shouting to Betsy that she was home. When she got into bed a message was waiting for her.
Carla : Always. Though for the record, I still find the idea of Officer Lisa terrifyingly hot.

Lisa laughed out loud.

Lisa: That’s deeply inappropriate, Ms. Connor.
Carla: So’s most of what I think about when you’re not around.
Lisa: Right. Definitely time for bed before this turns into something that keeps me up all night.
Carla: One can only hope.
Lisa: Carla!
Carla: Come by the factory tomorrow? Say hello?
Lisa: Might take you up on that. As long as you’re not mid-catfight with a silk supplier.
Carla: No promises. But I’ll try to behave
Lisa: Alright, alright. Sweet dreams, beautiful.
Carla: You too. Night x
Lisa: Night x

Chapter 19: Lunchtime Visit

Summary:

Lisa surprises Carla at the factory with lunch from Roy’s. After warm greetings from the staff and a flirty reunion behind closed doors, the two share a sweet and passionate moment on Carla’s office sofa. Their chemistry simmers as they enjoy some rare privacy, reinforcing the growing depth of their relationship.

The midday sun warmed the cobbles outside Underworld as Lisa made her way toward the factory with two paper bags in hand, the unmistakable scent of Roy’s sandwiches drifting upwards. She had decided on a whim during her lunch break to surprise Carla—and herself—with a little moment of normality. Something nice, something simple. A shared lunch. As she walked into the factory floor, the workers were just finishing up their morning shift, heading out for their own lunches. The moment they spotted Lisa, a chorus of greetings erupted.
"Hey, Lisa! How are you?"
"Alright, love! Good to see ya!"
"Roy’s again? You spoil someone in there!"
Lisa chuckled as she smiled and waved back. “Hiya! All good, thanks!”
A few tried to stop her for quick chats, but before she could get drawn into too many conversations, Sarah stepped out of the office with her usual purposeful stride.
"Oh, Lisa. Nice to see you,” Sarah said with a smile, clearly amused by the reception Lisa was getting. “Carla's in there. Go on in."
Lisa gave a grateful nod and walked toward the office. She paused and gave a gentle knock.

Carla looked up from behind her desk and her expression transformed instantly. A radiant smile lit up her face. “Come in! You never have to knock, silly. Shut the door behind you—give us some privacy.”
Lisa laughed softly. “Hello to you too.” She shut the door and turned, holding up the two Roy’s bags. “I brought us lunch.”
“Lifesaver,” Carla grinned, standing up from her desk and immediately pulling Lisa into a warm embrace. She held her close for a second, then pulled back just enough to glance quickly out the blinds. Seeing no one around, she pressed a soft kiss to Lisa’s lips. They both hummed at the brief contact.
“I’ve been waiting to do that since Saturday morning,” Carla murmured.
Lisa chuckled. “You could have just said.”
“Wouldn’t have been the same.”
Carla gestured toward the sofa. “Come on, sit down.”

They sat together, unwrapping their sandwiches, unhurried and content. Carla leaned back slightly, one leg curled beneath her.
“So,” Lisa said through a bite of her BLT, “any big plans for Betsy on Thursday?”
Carla chewed thoughtfully before answering. “Not yet. I was thinking of letting her shadow me a bit, show her some of the design side and how things run in the office. Keep it light for the first day. She’s sharp though. She’ll pick things up quickly.”
“She’ll love that. She’s nervous but excited,” Lisa said. “Thanks again for doing this.”
“Stop thanking me. I want to. She’s brilliant. Just like her mum.”
Lisa rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. “You’re biased.”
“Absolutely.”
They finished eating in comfortable silence, the occasional comment about the factory or an upcoming delivery sprinkled in. Once Lisa balled up her sandwich wrapper and placed it back in the bag, Carla set her own lunch down and looked at her.
“Come here.”
Lisa raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Come cuddle me for a bit,” Carla said with a small smirk. “Everyone’s gone out for lunch. We’ve got ten uninterrupted minutes. Let’s not waste them.”
Lisa laughed, standing and walking over. “You’re such a softie in private, you know that?”
“Shh, don’t ruin my reputation.”

Lisa snuggled in beside Carla on the sofa, both of them melting into each other’s warmth. Lisa reached up at one point, thumb brushing away a crumb of sandwich from Carla’s lips. Their eyes locked.
“I’m not sure I want to go back to work,” Lisa whispered.
Carla leaned in slowly, her voice low. “Then don’t.”
They kissed, slow and deeper than they meant to. Their fingers brushed over backs and arms, breaths syncing until time felt irrelevant. It wasn’t until Carla pulled back with a breathless chuckle that reality returned.
“As lovely as this is,” she murmured, “we probably should stop.”
Lisa groaned, pressing her forehead to Carla’s shoulder. “You’re right. Dammit.”
Carla smiled. “We’re like teenagers.”
Lisa stood slowly, stretching. “I better go. Lunch is almost over… but I don’t want to.”
They cleared up the remnants of their food, and Lisa made her way to the door. She turned back for one last kiss, but before she could leave, Carla grabbed her hand and pulled her in close.
“Have I told you yet how hot you look in this uniform?” Carla whispered against her ear.
Lisa turned crimson and ducked her face into Carla’s shoulder. Carla laughed, wrapping her arms around her briefly before placing a kiss to Lisa’s head. “See you later.”
“Yeah,” Lisa said softly. “See you.”
She stepped out of the office, cheeks still burning, but heart completely full.

Chapter 20: Stitch by Stitch

Summary:

On Betsy's first day at the factory, she navigates her tasks with a mix of nerves and curiosity. At the end of the day, she seeks advice from Carla about a challenging college project. Carla welcomes her in warmly, offering both guidance and encouragement. Their conversation leads to a heartfelt bonding moment, and Betsy suggests the three of them—her, Carla, and Lisa—spend Saturday together at the zoo. Carla, touched, agrees as long as Lisa’s on board.

The morning sun glinted off the factory windows, casting long shafts of golden light across the wet cobbles of Coronation Street. Lisa stood with Betsy just outside Underworld, both of them dressed for the day ahead—Lisa in her workwear, practical and dependable, and Betsy with a canvas bag slung over her shoulder, nervously adjusting the strap. Today was her first proper day at the factory, and it showed in her slightly trembling fingers and the nervous fidgeting of her fringe.
"You nervous?" Lisa asked, watching her daughter out of the corner of her eye. She sipped from her travel mug, the comforting heat of the tea grounding her.
"A bit," Betsy admitted, tugging her hoodie sleeve down over her hand. "What if I mess something up? What if I accidentally sew my hand to something or, I don't know, break a thousand-pound machine?"
Lisa chuckled, the sound light and fond. "You won’t. You’re not going to be operating anything dangerous without training. Just be yourself, ask questions, and don’t be afraid to get stuck in. They know you’re learning. They want you to do well."
Betsy nodded slowly, drawing in a breath and exhaling with purpose. "Okay. Let’s do this."
Lisa gave her a quick hug and a reassuring smile. "Go on. Knock 'em dead. I’ll see you after."
Betsy walked into the building, shoulders squared but still obviously nervous. Lisa watched until the door closed behind her, then turned and headed off down the street.

Inside, Carla was already on the floor, clipboard in hand, wearing one of her signature black blazers and sharply tailored trousers. Her heels clicked authoritatively on the concrete as she spoke with the team about the week’s production schedule. She turned just as Betsy entered.
"Morning, Betsy," Carla said, offering a brief but warm smile. "You ready to get started?"
"As ready as I’ll ever be," Betsy replied, her voice slightly higher than usual. Carla nodded and motioned over Izzy Armstrong , who rolled her chair up with a cheerful grin. "Alright, newbie, you’re with me today. Come on, we’ll start with something simple."

The morning passed in a flurry of introductions, observations, and hands-on training. Betsy was shown the ropes—how to pin fabric, how to press seams, and how to handle the industrial sewing machines. She was attentive and asked a steady stream of questions—some simple, others surprisingly thoughtful. Izzy was impressed. "Not bad for a first-timer," she said around midday, giving Betsy a respectful nod. "You’ve got a good eye. Steady hands too."
Betsy blushed, pride flickering across her features. "Thanks. It’s kinda fun."
By lunchtime, she had completed her first sample—a basic seam, perfectly straight, and a miniature pattern for a tote bag. Carla, who’d been watching intermittently, smiled to herself. There was something about Betsy that reminded her of herself at that age—quietly determined, keen to learn, and sharper than people gave her credit for.

The afternoon brought its own challenges. Betsy jammed a needle, misaligned a seam, and spilled a box of pins all over the floor. But she handled each mishap with growing confidence, laughing off her mistakes and trying again with renewed focus. As the end of the workday approached and the factory began to quieten, most of the staff filtered out, chatting and joking. The low hum of machines wound down to silence. Betsy hesitated near the corridor that led to Carla’s office, swaying on her feet. Finally, she took a breath and knocked.
"Come in!" came Carla’s voice, firm but friendly. Betsy stepped inside tentatively, holding a swatch of fabric. The office was neat and stylish—sleek black furniture, exposed brick, and a vase of white orchids on the filing cabinet. Carla looked up from a pile of production notes and smiled, setting her pen aside.
"Hey, Carla. Um… do you have a minute?"
Carla leaned back in her chair and gestured toward the visitor’s seat. "Sure, kiddo. What’s up?"
Betsy crossed the room, her trainers squeaking faintly on the polished floor, and handed over the material. "So… I’ve got this project at college. It’s a jacket design, and I’m stuck. The back panel needs this curved stitching here—" she pointed, indicating the difficult area, "—but it bunches every time I try to stitch it. I’ve tried pressing it beforehand and even adjusted the tension, but it still pulls."
Carla stood and joined her, turning the material over thoughtfully. She ran her fingers across the edge, inspecting the curve.
"Curves can be tricky, especially on a heavier fabric like this. Have you tried stay-stitching along the curve first? That stabilizes it before you add the final seam."
Betsy blinked. "No! I haven’t! That makes so much sense."
"Or," Carla added, rotating the fabric, "you could try clipping the seam allowance slightly. Just tiny cuts—enough to let the fabric relax into the curve without bunching."
Betsy’s eyes lit up. "Thank you. Seriously. I was ready to scrap the whole thing."
"Don’t. It’s a good concept. It just needs a bit of finessing," Carla said, smiling.

They sat in the office for a little while longer, the atmosphere relaxed and warm. Carla asked about college, and Betsy told her about her classmates, her teachers, and her hopes to design her own line one day.
"Big dreams," Carla said, her tone impressed. "You should hold on to them. This business can be tough, but if you love it—it’s worth it."
Betsy smiled, emboldened by the praise. "I was also thinking… maybe we could all do something this weekend? The three of us. You, me, Mum. Like a proper day out."
Carla tilted her head, curious. "Like what?"
"Well, I thought maybe… if you fancied stopping over Friday night, we could all go to the zoo Saturday? We haven’t done anything like that in ages, and I think it’d be fun."
Carla blinked, surprised but touched by the invitation. Her voice softened. "That’s a lovely idea, Betsy. I’d be up for it. But maybe run it by your mum first? I don’t want to muscle in."
Betsy grinned. "She’ll say yes. She’s soft on you."
Carla laughed, a genuine, rich sound. "Well, in that case—pencil me in. I’ll bring snacks. And I call dibs on the giraffes."
Betsy laughed too, the earlier tension of the morning long gone.

As she left the office, the sun low in the sky now, she felt like something had clicked—not just her stitching, but the shape of this new, growing family. And inside the office, Carla sat for a long while after, smiling to herself and thinking about the weekend ahead, about giraffes, sandwiches, and the wonderful chaos that came with falling in love with someone—and her daughter too.

Chapter 21: Weekend Plans

Summary:

After her first day at the factory, Betsy excitedly shares every detail with Lisa, especially Carla’s help with her college project. Lisa teases her about Carla’s charm, but can’t help agreeing. When Betsy nervously admits she invited Carla to the zoo—and even suggested she stay over Friday night—Lisa is caught off guard. Later, over FaceTime, Lisa and Carla laugh about the situation and warmly agree to the weekend plans, both secretly delighted by how close their little trio is becoming.

Betsy got home from her first day at the factory positively glowing. She bounced through the door, calling out to Lisa who was busy cooking tea in the kitchen. The scent of garlic and herbs filled the flat as Betsy threw her bag onto the sofa and kicked her shoes off.
"Mum! That place is amazing," she gushed, coming into the kitchen.
Lisa turned with a smile, stirring the pan. "Yeah? You enjoy it then?"
"More than enjoy, I loved it! Everyone was so nice. Even the ones who looked scary at first turned out to be sound. And Carla—she’s just… she’s so cool, Mum. Like, she really knows her stuff. She helped me with this project I’ve got at college. I was stuck on a bit of the stitching and she had, like, three different ideas off the top of her head. They were all brilliant."
Lisa snorted softly and turned off the heat. "What?" Betsy asked, grinning.
Lisa shot her a knowing look. "It sounds like Carla’s got both Swain girls under her spell."
Betsy burst out laughing. "She’s pretty awesome, to be fair."
Lisa chuckled and started plating the food.

They both sat down at the small kitchen table, sharing the meal while Betsy continued to chat about her day. After a while, Betsy got up and began putting the dishes in the dishwasher. Lisa narrowed her eyes.
"Okay, what are you doing?"
"Nothing! Everything’s fine!" Betsy said a little too quickly.
"Betsy," Lisa said firmly.
Betsy turned around, chewing on her lip. "So… I may have, you know, asked Carla to come out with us."
Lisa blinked. "Excuse me?"
Betsy started explaining in a rush. "At the end of the day, we were talking and I just… I said maybe the three of us could do something together. I mentioned the zoo and asked if she wanted to come with us on Saturday. She said she'd love to, but that I had to check with you first."
Lisa rubbed her temples. "But we're not going to the zoo. And how do you know Carla wants to go to the zoo? Or spend the day with us?"
"Because she said so. And you didn't see her face, Mum. She said she’d love to spend time with us both."
Lisa sighed. "I’ll call her later and see what she says."
"Please ask her," Betsy said hopefully.
Lisa gave her a look but nodded. Betsy turned to leave but paused, biting her lip again.
"One more thing… I kinda sorta said she could stay over Friday night. I told her I’ve got a sleepover at Sabrina’s and that I’d be back Saturday morning."
With that, Betsy grabbed her phone and bolted upstairs.
"Betsy! I’m going to kill you!" Lisa shouted.
Betsy’s laughter echoed from her room. "No, you’re not!"

Lisa shook her head, exasperated but amused. She poured herself a small glass of wine, sat on the sofa, and snapped a photo of it. A moment later, she sent it to Carla.
Carla quickly hearted the photo and replied: "Only one thing missing."
Lisa sent back a question mark.
"Your beautiful face."
Lisa rolled her eyes fondly and typed: "Charmer." Then she hit the FaceTime button.
Carla picked up almost immediately, her smile lighting up the screen. "Hey, gorgeous."
"Hey yourself," Lisa replied, settling back into the cushions. "So apparently, you've made quite the impression on Betsy. She’s gushing about you like you’re some kind of fashion goddess."
Carla laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "She’s got a good eye, then. She’s a smart girl. Picked things up quickly, knew when to ask questions. And she’s keen. Reminds me of me, honestly. A little more polite, though."
Lisa smiled. "Thanks for helping her with her college project. That was kind of you."
Carla shrugged modestly. "It’s nothing. I had someone who believed in me when I was her age. A mentor. She made me feel like I could do anything if I just stuck with it. If I can do that for someone else, even a little, then I’ll do it."
Lisa nodded thoughtfully. "She told me how great your ideas were. I think she’s already plotting to pitch you her next assignment."
Carla chuckled. "I’ll be ready. She’s a good kid."
Lisa looked down at her wine glass. "There is something else… about Saturday. I wanted to apologise if Betsy put you on the spot."
Carla tilted her head. "Apologise? What for?"
"Well, she kind of ambushed you. You didn’t have to say yes. You might not even like zoos."
Carla smirked. "Are you kidding? Time with you and Betsy? I wouldn't miss it. Honestly, Lisa. I think it’s sweet. She wants us all to spend time together. And I do too."
Lisa smiled, clearly relieved. "You’re sure? You won’t be bored out of your mind with penguins and overpriced ice cream?"
"I’ve endured worse. I’ve sat through Underworld’s quarterly budget meetings. Penguins are a treat in comparison."
Lisa laughed. "You’re something else."
Carla looked directly into the camera. "Seriously, though. I wouldn’t want to spend my Saturday with anyone else. And… if you want me to stay over Friday night, I’d like that."
Lisa nodded. "I’d love that."

They chatted for a while longer—sharing stories about their week, joking about the chaos Betsy could sometimes create, and teasing each other gently. When the call finally ended, both women were left smiling at their screens. Each hung up, cheeks flushed, feeling that warm, excited thrum in their chests that only new love can bring.

Chapter 22: Rescue

Summary:

After a grueling day as the only available electrician, Lisa is exhausted and fed up—until a mysterious final job leads her to Carla at the factory. It turns out Carla orchestrated the call-out to lift Lisa’s spirits. The two share a warm, intimate reunion and decide to spend a quiet night in together, complete with wine, takeaway, and a promise of comfort and connection.

Notes:

This is a cute one 🥰

Friday morning arrived with a grimace. Lisa barely stepped through the depot door before she was cornered by one of the supervisors, clipboard in hand and a sheepish expression on his face.
“Morning, Lisa. You're flying solo today. Barry’s called in sick, Dean’s off on holiday and Ellie’s stuck on-site at that warehouse refit.”
Lisa’s eyebrows shot up. “So it’s just me? All day?”
“’Fraid so,” he replied. “I’ll try and keep it manageable.”
Lisa gave him a flat look. “Manageable, he says. Right.”

She sighed deeply as she trudged toward her car, coffee in one hand, toolkit slung over her shoulder. Once she was in the driver’s seat, she loaded the first job into her satnav and stared at the daunting list of callouts stacked up like dominos. With a resigned huff, she pulled out her phone and fired off a quick text.
Lisa: Only electrician available. Send help.
The reply came moments later.
Carla: Oh no! Thinking of you, love. Want me to fake a power cut at Underworld?
Lisa laughed despite herself and tucked her phone away, knowing full well she wouldn’t have time for any chats. The first job was a flickering panel at a retail park. Then a faulty bathroom light. Then a full circuit trip at a beauty salon where the hairdryers had overloaded the system.

By job number four — a shorted-out outdoor security light on a scaffold site — Lisa was already feeling the drain. She grabbed a chocolate bar from her glove compartment and downed half of it in one bite between checks. Five and six were socket replacements, followed by a call to an elderly lady’s bungalow whose fuse board needed resetting. Then a ceiling light that sparked the moment it was turned on, a faulty extractor fan in a greasy kitchen, and finally, a thermostat that refused to talk to its own heating system.

By the time she finished job ten, she realised with a growl that it was 2:45 p.m. and she hadn’t even stopped for lunch. She sat in the car, eyes half-closed, chugging down lukewarm water, when her phone buzzed. Carla.
Carla: How’s the superhero doing?
Carla: Still alive?
Carla: I’m guessing that’s a no...
Carla: Tell me you’ve eaten something.
Carla: Lisa??
Carla: I’ll bring you food. Where are you?
Carla: Kidding. Unless you want me to.
Carla: Need a plan. Give me a signal.
Lisa stared at the last message and barked out a tired laugh. She sent back a laughing emoji, followed by three fuming faces and a skull.

The next job turned out to be a quick win — just a tripped breaker at a café that needed resetting. Lisa finished in ten minutes and returned to her car. She checked her tablet for job fourteen, but instead of a full listing, there was a blank spot where the address should’ve been. She rolled her eyes and called her boss.
“Oh! Sorry, Lisa,” he said. “Missed the address. It’s Underworld on Coronation Street. Something about a dodgy switch.”
Lisa barely stopped herself from grinning. “Oh really?”
“Yeah, shouldn’t be much. Carla Connor logged it. If it takes long, you can take your tools home after. You’ve done more than enough today.”
Lisa hung up and let the smile come freely now. Her day just improved tenfold.

When she pulled up outside the factory, the street was quiet. Most of the workers had clearly already clocked off for the weekend. She grabbed her tools from the boot and made her way inside. Just as she passed through the front, she spotted Sarah locking her office door.
“Hi, Lisa,” Sarah said brightly. “Here for Carla? She’s just finishing up a phone call.”
Lisa lifted her toolkit and shrugged. “Actually, I’ve been called out for a dodgy switch.”
Sarah blinked. “Oh. Right. No idea about that. You’ll have to wait for Carla — I know she had one in her office. Could be that.”
“Thanks, have a good weekend,” Lisa replied.
“You too!” Sarah called over her shoulder as she disappeared through the side door.
Lisa hovered outside Carla’s office door and waited until she heard the sound of a phone being put down. Then she knocked gently and pushed the door open. Carla turned in her chair and broke into a wide smile. “Cobbles Electricals at your service?” Lisa teased.
Carla laughed. “It worked then?”
Lisa stepped inside. “So it was a fake call?”
Carla stood, walking around her desk. “Not exactly. I do actually have a dodgy switch — but I figured you can fix that another day and just pretend you did it now.”
Lisa tilted her head. “Not just a pretty face, are you?”
Carla smirked. “You asked for help. I came.”
“What, like a superhero?”
“Yeah,” Carla said, stepping closer. “ Your superhero.”
She pulled Lisa into a tight hug, and Lisa sighed deeply as she relaxed into her. The tension of the day began to drain out of her like water from a cracked dam.
“Oh my god,” Lisa groaned. “That feels so good.”
Carla gently rubbed her hands over Lisa’s back. “I could feel your shoulders were tense the second I touched you.”
Carla hummed into Lisa’s neck before pulling back slightly and placing a soft kiss on her lips. Lisa smiled as she looked into her eyes. “Thanks for rescuing me. Today’s been awful.”
Carla ran a hand down her arm. “Then how about this — instead of going out tonight, we go to Frescho’s, get a bottle of wine, grab a takeaway from Speed Daal, and cuddle up on the sofa.”
Lisa groaned. “That sounds amazing.”
“I may even give you a massage,” Carla added with a grin.
Lisa laughed. “Oh god, please do. My back feels like a war zone.”
Carla tilted her head. “So am I staying over then?”
Lisa nodded eagerly. “Tell you what — I’ll drop you off so you can grab your stuff. I’ll park my car, pick up the takeaway, then meet you at Frescho’s for the wine?”
Carla smiled, her eyes warm and full of affection. “That sounds like the perfect plan.”

Chapter 23: Friday Night In

Summary:

The two spend a cozy evening together, sharing wine, takeaway, and quiet intimacy at Lisa’s house. A chance meeting with Maria at the shop affirms how visible and supported their connection is. Later, Carla runs Lisa a relaxing bath, and the couple grow even closer, beginning to open up about their feelings and the nature of their growing relationship.

Notes:

Love the natural development between these two 😍

The golden light of early evening spilled across the aisles of Frescho’s as Carla strolled through the automatic doors, her overnight bag slung casually over one shoulder. She spotted Lisa halfway down the wine aisle, squinting at a shelf of bottles with a deep look of concentration. Carla smiled at the sight. Maria, crouched by the frozen section, was tossing a bag of peas into her basket when she caught sight of them. Her face lit up as she stood, giving a wave.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Maria called.
Lisa looked up and returned the smile. “Hey! Just debating which wine won’t kill us in the morning.” She held up a bottle of Shiraz. “What do you think?”
Carla reached her side and looked over her shoulder. “Perfect. Bold, smooth, and just a little spicy… like someone I know.”
Lisa nudged her with a grin. At the till, Dev greeted them with his usual enthusiastic chatter. “Ah! Carla! Lisa! A dynamic duo if ever I saw one! You know, this reminds me of when I went wine tasting in Tuscany…”
They both nodded and smiled politely as he continued his tale about fermented grapes and dodgy accommodation. When Dev finally rung them through, they chorused a cheerful, “See you later, Dev,” and headed toward the door. Maria had made her way around and was now just behind them at the till. “Alright, you two,” she said with a warm smile. “Date night?”
Carla looked to Lisa, waiting for a sign. Lisa nodded slightly, and Carla turned back. “Yeah, something quiet. Wine, Speed Daal, and some much-needed couch time.”
Maria’s eyes sparkled. “Sounds perfect. Honestly, Carla, it’s really lovely to see you like this. You deserve it.”
“Thanks, love,” Carla said, touched. “Have a good one.”

Outside, the evening had cooled just enough to be refreshing. Carla linked her arm through Lisa’s as they walked, one of them carrying the wine and the other the takeaway. Their stride was slow, easy. As they reached Lisa’s street, the front door swung open. Betsy came bounding down the path, her sleepover bag over her shoulder, heading toward a waiting car.
“Hi, bye, have fun you two! Boomers, don’t do anything I wouldn’t!” she called cheekily.
Carla mock gasped. “Oi! I am not a boomer, missy!”
Lisa laughed. “Have a good night! See you in the morning,” she added, waving to Betsy’s friend’s mum. They stepped inside. Lisa showed Carla where the plates and cutlery were while she headed upstairs to change out of her work clothes. When she returned, dressed in comfy jeans and a tee, she froze at the sight in the dining room. Carla had dimmed the lights, set up two candles, and had already plated up their food. She stood waiting, wine glasses ready, and smiled softly at Lisa’s expression.
“You’re going to make me cry,” Lisa murmured, stepping forward and cradling Carla’s face in her hands. She gave her a kiss, short but meaningful.

They ate with the kind of ease that felt like they'd known each other for years. Conversation bounced between work horror stories, embarrassing teenage moments, and playful teasing. After dinner, the wine was poured again and they curled up on the sofa, the television playing a romcom neither of them paid much attention to. Flirtatious touches grew more lingering. Fingers brushing over knuckles, hands resting on thighs, and eyes meeting with a promise of something unspoken.
Eventually, Carla leaned in, brushing Lisa’s hair back. “Can I help you relax a bit more?”
Lisa blinked at her, a curious smile playing on her lips. “What did you have in mind?”
“A bath,” Carla said. “Bubbles. Quiet. Just… comfort.”
Lisa’s smile widened. “Lead the way.”
Carla ran the bath, pouring in some lavender-scented bubbles she’d found by the sink. As the water filled the tub, she turned to leave.
“Where are you going?” Lisa asked, brows raised.
Carla turned back. “I thought I’d give you some space. Wasn’t sure if you’d want me seeing you… like that.”
Lisa stood beside her now, peeling off her jeans and T-shirt with casual ease. Left in her underwear, she caught Carla’s gaze.
“See something you like?”
Carla swallowed, her eyes momentarily fixed before she forced herself to look away. “You know I do.”
Lisa reached behind and unclasped her bra, then slid her knickers down, stepping into the bath with a sigh. She looked up at Carla through the steam.
“You don’t have to look away, you know.”
Carla turned, eyes softer now, more reverent than hungry. “I’m just trying to be a gentlewoman here.”
Lisa laughed. “Gentlewoman? That’s a new one.”
Carla shrugged, chuckling. “Well… we haven’t really talked about what we are, have we? Didn’t want to overstep.”
Lisa leaned back into the bubbles, eyes fixed on her. “Maybe we should talk about it.”

Chapter 24: First Time

Summary:

After a long, stressful day at work, Lisa finds comfort in Carla's arms and a quiet night in together. As they share dinner, wine, and soft conversation, their connection deepens. In a tender, intimate moment in the bathroom, they finally open up about their feelings and agree to be girlfriends, deciding to be themselves openly from now on. Their emotional honesty leads to a night of closeness and passion, as trust and desire bring them fully together for the first time. They fall asleep in each other's arms, content and certain of what they mean to one another.

Carla knelt beside the bath, slowly gliding her hands along Lisa’s shoulders and down her arms, working in gentle circles with the warm, sudsy water. Lisa let her eyes close, her head leaning back against the edge of the tub, a low hum of contentment escaping her lips.
“You have magic hands,” Lisa murmured.
Carla smiled, reaching for the jug on the side of the bath. “Tilt your head back for me.”
Lisa did as asked, and Carla carefully poured water over her hair, her fingers gently massaging shampoo into Lisa’s scalp. Lisa moaned softly as Carla’s nails grazed just enough to send tingles down her spine.
“This is heaven,” Lisa whispered.
Carla rinsed the shampoo out, her touch reverent. “You deserve heaven,” she replied softly. “Every day.”
Lisa opened her eyes then, meeting Carla’s gaze. “You know, we never really said what we are…”
Carla blinked, pausing for a moment. “No. We haven’t.”
Lisa smiled. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”
Carla grinned. “Yes. I thought you’d never ask.”
They both laughed, the tension between them dissolving into something warmer, deeper.
“I think we should just be ourselves in public,” Lisa said. “I’m tired of pretending. We’ll tell the important people, but otherwise… let them think what they like.”
Carla nodded, her hand reaching to brush wet hair from Lisa’s face. “I couldn’t agree more.”

When the water finally cooled, Carla helped Lisa out, wrapping her in a soft towel. She dried Lisa’s hair gently with another, her touch tender and intimate. Lisa closed her eyes again, letting herself be looked after, letting herself feel adored. Once dry, Carla led her to the bedroom, flicking on the bedside lamp. Lisa laid down on her stomach, still in her towel, while Carla clambered on top to straddle her. She tried to stay balanced in her jeans, but after a few wobbly seconds, she gave up with a laugh.
“Take them off,” Lisa said, half turning her head to look at her. “You’ll be more comfortable.”
Carla slipped her jeans off and climbed back on, her hands now massaging the stress from Lisa’s shoulders and spine, inch by inch. Lisa moaned with every roll of Carla’s thumbs, every glide of her palms.
“You okay?” Carla whispered after a long stretch of silence.
Lisa turned her head again, her eyes lidded and drowsy. “More than okay. Jesus, Carla. You’re very good with your hands.”
Carla chuckled and moved to get up, but Lisa caught her wrist.
“Where are you going?” she asked, voice low and dangerous in its heat.
“I thought I was done.”
“You’re not,” Lisa replied, turning onto her back and pulling Carla down on top of her. Carla gasped as she landed on Lisa’s naked body, their skin touching fully for the first time. Lisa’s lips found Carla’s and the kiss deepened quickly—hungry, sure, needy. Lisa’s hands slid under Carla’s top, pulling it up, pausing only when Carla pulled back a little.
“Are you sure?” Carla asked, her voice tight with restraint. “I know you wanted to take it slow. I don’t want to pressure you.”
Lisa looked her straight in the eye. “I’ve never been more sure of anything. You’ve shown me I can trust you. And quite honestly, I don’t know how someone as hot as you even finds me attractive, but I’m done trying to resist it.”
Carla smiled, brushing her lips against Lisa’s cheek. “You are the sexiest person I’ve ever seen.”

That was it. The final thread broke. Carla’s top came off. Lisa’s towel fell away. They kissed deeply, hands roaming, breath quickening. Shirts were discarded, underwear followed. The bedroom filled with the sound of whispered words, soft moans, and the creak of the mattress.
Their bodies moved together with both urgency and care—eager yet unhurried. Every touch was an exploration, every kiss a promise. Carla’s fingers traced the curve of Lisa’s hip, then her thigh, then in between—eliciting a gasp from Lisa that turned into a breathless moan. Lisa’s hands held Carla’s waist, guiding her closer, needing her touch, her warmth, her everything. Time slowed down. Nothing else existed except the two of them—skin to skin, heart to heart.

Later, wrapped up in each other, limbs tangled beneath the duvet, Carla brushed her fingers through Lisa’s damp hair as Lisa pressed kisses to Carla’s shoulder.
“Guess we’re not taking it slow anymore,” Lisa murmured sleepily.
Carla laughed softly. “No… but I think we took just long enough.”
They drifted off like that—warm, safe, and finally whole in each other’s arms.

Chapter 25: The Zoo

Summary:

Lisa and Carla wake up together, feeling closer than ever after their first night together. They share a heartfelt conversation about their feelings and what their relationship means. Later, they join Betsy for a fun-filled day at the zoo, bonding as a trio over animals, laughter, and shared moments, solidifying their connection as a new, blended little family.

The morning began with golden light slipping through the bedroom curtains. Carla stirred first, blinking slowly as the warmth of the day reached her cheeks. She glanced at the woman beside her, tangled in sheets, hair mussed and a soft, peaceful look on her face. Lisa. Her Lisa. Carla let herself smile, brushing a strand of hair from Lisa’s forehead before lying back and taking a breath. It felt… right. Not complicated, not scary—just real.

Lisa stirred with a sleepy groan and opened her eyes. She blinked up at Carla and smiled lazily. "Morning."
Carla leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Morning. How are you feeling?"
Lisa stretched and yawned. "Like I’ve been thoroughly worshipped. And slightly mortified that my teenage daughter will be back any second."
Carla chuckled. "We’ve got a little time. You sure you're okay?"
Lisa nodded, serious now. "More than okay. Last night… you made me feel safe and wanted. I haven’t felt that in a very long time."
They exchanged a few soft kisses before the sound of the front door opening echoed faintly up the stairs. Betsy was home.

Lisa scrambled out of bed, pulling on joggers and a hoodie as Carla laughed from beneath the duvet. "Go on, Mum-mode activated. I’ll sort myself."
Downstairs, Betsy burst in with excitement. "Morning! Oh my God, you should have seen the snacks we had last night. And Sabrina’s dog tried to hump her cousin, it was chaos."
Lisa managed a chuckle. "Sounds like a blast. Carla's still upstairs getting ready—remember, we're off to the zoo soon."
"Sweet! I packed my camera. Hope the lions are out!"
 
By late morning, the trio were weaving their way through the gates of the zoo. It was a warm spring day, and the place buzzed with families and excited children. Carla, dressed casually in jeans and a black tee with sunglasses perched on her head, walked comfortably between Lisa and Betsy, a quiet pride in her posture. They started in the reptile house. Betsy snapped photos of the snakes and geckos, while Lisa grimaced and stayed a respectful distance from the tarantula tank. Carla teased her relentlessly.
"Oh come on, Swain, I thought you were fearless."
"You stick your hand in there then."
"Touché."

Outside, the giraffe enclosure brought smiles all around. One particularly tall giraffe strutted elegantly past the feeding deck.
"Look at that neck!" Betsy exclaimed. "He’s like the supermodel of giraffes."
Carla leaned over the railing. "I think he knows it."
Next came the lions. Betsy’s camera clicked repeatedly as two lionesses lounged under a tree.
"They look like royalty," Carla whispered.
Lisa nudged her. "Bit like someone else I know."
Carla glanced over, surprised, then smirked. "I’ll take that."

They stopped for lunch on a grassy hill near the meerkats. Carla had insisted on packing sandwiches, fruit, and bottled drinks that morning while Lisa made coffee. Betsy took a bite and sighed. "This is the best day. I know it’s just the zoo, but I’m really glad we’re doing this."
Lisa glanced over at Carla, who was handing out napkins, and smiled. "Me too."
The afternoon was filled with laughter—Carla and Lisa challenging each other to mimic flamingos on one leg, Lisa nearly dropping her ice cream when a parrot screeched unexpectedly, and Betsy insisting they visit the petting farm despite her age.

At the penguin pool, they stood silently for a while watching the black and white birds dart through the water.
"They're like torpedoes," Betsy said, awed. Carla slipped her hand into Lisa’s. "Thanks for letting me come today."
Lisa turned and met her eyes. "Wouldn’t have wanted to do it without you."
As they walked toward the exit, tired and content, Betsy trotted ahead to snap a last photo of the elephant mural.
Lisa leaned into Carla. "She really likes you, you know."
Carla squeezed her hand. "I really like her too. And I really… really like you."
Lisa smirked. "Careful, Connor, you're getting soppy."
"Only for you."
They shared a quick kiss before catching up with Betsy. The day ended with sleepy chatter on the sofa and shared leftover sandwiches. Carla and Lisa exchanged a glance—both knowing that this day had meant something big. Something real. Something worth holding onto.

Chapter 26: Monday Reflections

Summary:

One month after moving to the street, Lisa reflects on how unexpectedly happy she is. A visit to Underworld during her lunch break to fix a switch turns heated when flirty tension with Carla escalates behind closed doors. Their chemistry explodes into a passionate moment on the office sofa, leaving Carla breathless and Lisa cheekily walking out with a promise of more. Later, Carla texts with a plan to even the score, and Lisa is more than on board.

It was Monday, and as October’s chill settled over Weatherfield, Lisa Swain couldn’t help but reflect on how much had changed in a single month. A mere four weeks ago, she and Betsy were hauling boxes into their new terrace house on Coronation Street. Now, Lisa found herself waking up with a smile most mornings, something she hadn’t done regularly in years. It wasn’t just the job, or even the new routine—it was Carla. Her presence in Lisa’s life had become an anchor, a thrill, and a comfort all at once.

That Monday morning, Lisa had back-to-back jobs lined up. She was out early, flitting from one site to the next, a bacon butty clutched in one hand and her toolbox in the other. Still, through all the busyness, her mind wandered to lunchtime. Not because she’d get to rest, but because she had a promise to keep. The dodgy switch at Underworld—Carla’s factory—had been the perfect excuse to see her girlfriend on Friday, thanks to Carla’s cheeky intervention. Lisa hadn’t actually fixed it then, distracted as they were by other things. So now, on a crisp Monday afternoon, she found herself walking back onto Coronation Street, toolbox in hand, ready to make good on the job. Her stomach fluttered as she approached the factory doors.

I nside, the sewing machines were silent—the staff were on lunch. She got a few knowing smiles and waves from the machinists as she passed, including one from Beth who nudged Kirk and smirked. Lisa chuckled and kept walking, heading straight to Carla’s office. Carla was alone, standing behind her desk, her gaze fixed on a vision board propped up against the wall. Swatches of fabric and pinned photographs of high-end fashion pieces covered it. She didn’t notice Lisa at first. Lisa knocked gently and stepped inside. "Afternoon, boss."
Carla looked up, and a wide grin broke across her face. "Well, if it isn’t my favourite sparky. You here to finally fix that switch, or just to distract me again?"
"Hey, I was the one distracted last time," Lisa replied with a mock glare. She set her toolbox down. "Thought I’d make good on the promise before you report me for shoddy work."
Carla walked over and greeted her with a kiss, soft but full of familiarity and warmth. "Don’t tempt me. I’d find any excuse to get you back in here."
Lisa rolled her eyes affectionately. "You’re not making this easy."
"I’m not supposed to."

Lisa knelt by the socket in question and opened the faceplate, checking the wiring. Carla returned to her desk but didn’t sit. Instead, she leaned against it, watching Lisa work with a predatory gleam in her eye.
"You know," Carla said slowly, her voice lowering, "you look very attractive when you’re fiddling with wires."
Lisa glanced over her shoulder. "Carla."
"What? Just appreciating my girlfriend."
Lisa shook her head and muttered, "Flirty cow," before returning to the switch.
Carla kept going. "Those jeans do wonders for your—"
"If you keep talking like that," Lisa warned, "I’m not going to get this done."
"Promise?" Carla grinned.
Despite herself, Lisa laughed. She finished reattaching the faceplate and checked the time. Ten minutes left on her break.
"Right, it’s fixed. Now, stop looking at me like that."
Carla raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
Lisa walked over, slowly, her voice dropping. "Like you want me to throw you on that sofa."
Carla tilted her head. "You won’t. You’ve got ten minutes."
Lisa smirked. She turned, locked the office door, and closed the blinds.
"Watch me."

Before Carla could say another word, Lisa crossed the room, pulled her into a heated kiss, and backed her toward the sofa. Carla let herself be guided down, gasping softly as Lisa’s hands roamed. The rush of being caught up in something so impulsive, so raw and electric, had them tangled together in seconds. Lips met skin, breaths quickened, and the quiet hum of the factory outside faded to nothing. When they finally broke apart, Carla’s head lolled back against the armrest.
"Jesus, Lisa. Where did that come from?"
Lisa stood, breathless but grinning, tucking her shirt back in. "Couldn’t resist. You’ve been driving me mad since I walked in."
Carla tried to sit up. "Well, let me repay the favour."
Lisa shook her head, gently kissed her again, and said, "Sorry, duty calls. Later, gorgeous."

And with that, she slipped out, leaving Carla stunned and breathless on the office sofa.
Carla eventually got herself together, ran a hand through her tousled hair, and sat back at her desk. But focus was impossible. She pulled out her phone and fired off a series of texts to Lisa:
1. You cheeky cow
2. I can’t stop thinking about you
3. That was incredibly hot
4. How dare you leave me like that
5. I can’t work
6. Everyone’s going to know
7. I don’t even care
8. I want you
9. Come over tomorrow night
10. Ryan’s working late. Need a plan. Give me a signal.

At 4:30, Lisa finally checked her phone. She laughed quietly at the stream of messages and sent back a series of fuming-face emojis, followed by a single reply:
"You’re on. Tomorrow night. You’d better be ready."
Carla smiled to herself and leaned back in her chair. The rest of her Monday could wait. Lisa returned to work grinning, thinking about Tuesday night and all the ways she could make Carla lose her composure again. Monday might have started cold and grey, but it ended on fire.

Chapter 27: Tuesday Blues

Summary:

Lisa’s Tuesday spirals into chaos, starting with a fight with Betsy over a boy drama, followed by car trouble, a sexist co-worker, and a string of frustrating jobs—including one at the Rovers in front of nosy locals. Meanwhile, Carla is unexpectedly called to Carlisle due to an incident at the factory. Their anticipated evening together is postponed, but they reconnect over a phone call, sharing their stressful days and rescheduling their dinner for a PG evening on Wednesday, reinforcing their emotional bond despite the hectic day.

Notes:

Thanks for the love on this, really appreciate it 🥰

Tuesday very quickly became a day Lisa Swain wished she’d never got out of bed. From the moment she opened her eyes, she knew the world had it in for her. It started with Betsy stomping around the kitchen in a foul mood, banging cupboard doors and sighing dramatically. Lisa, still in her pyjamas with a cup of tea in hand, tried to give her daughter space at first, but after the third exaggerated sigh, she caved.
“What’s up with you this morning?” she asked, eyeing Betsy warily over the rim of her mug.
“Nothing,” Betsy snapped, slamming the fridge door.
“Don’t give me that, I’ve known you since you were screaming in nappies,” Lisa replied. “Spit it out.”

After a few more minutes of resistance, Betsy finally cracked.
“It’s nothing, okay? Just… this boy I liked. He’s gone all official with someone else even though he’s been texting me for weeks.”
Lisa groaned internally. Teenage drama. She took a calming sip of tea before answering.
“So let me get this straight… he’s been stringing you along while chatting someone else up?”
Betsy didn’t respond, but her sullen silence said everything.
“Right,” Lisa said. “Then he’s a knob. A shiny, useless knob. And you, darling, are well shot of him.”
Betsy rolled her eyes but said nothing.
“Now go to college,” Lisa added. “Or I’ll drive you there myself and embarrass you in front of all your mates.”
That threat worked. Betsy grabbed her bag, muttered something unintelligible, and slammed the door behind her on the way out.

Lisa sighed and glanced at the time. She was now behind schedule, hadn’t eaten, and when she jumped in her car, the petrol light was flashing.
“Brilliant,” she muttered, pulling into the garage. She sent a quick message to her boss apologising and hit the road. When she finally arrived on-site, late and slightly flustered, her day got worse. She was assigned to a job with Derek, a grating, old-school electrician who clearly thought the 1970s were still in fashion. Within minutes, he’d offered three sexist comments, two patronising laughs, and had tried to hand her a list of tea orders.
“Oi,” Lisa said, stopping him. “I’m not your apprentice or your waitress. You want tea, make it yourself. And if you call this a man’s job one more time, I’m shoving a screwdriver somewhere you won’t enjoy.”
He had the decency to shut up after that, though she got plenty of grumbling under his breath for the rest of the shift.

Mid-afternoon, just as she was finishing a particularly fiddly job, her phone buzzed in her back pocket.
Carla: “Babe I’m so sorry… can we raincheck tonight? Kirk dropped a crate on his fingers and I’ve had to drive an order to Carlisle myself.”
Lisa groaned and stared at the screen. Just one more thing.
Lisa: “Seriously? Today just keeps on giving.”
Carla: “Tell me about it. I’m shattered already and I’ve still got the whole drive back.”

Lisa didn’t reply straight away. Her next job was for Jenny at the Rovers, something about faulty outdoor lighting. Of course, it had to be in full view of the street, which meant an audience of busybodies giving commentary while she worked.
“Oooh, hope she doesn’t blow the whole thing up!”
“Shouldn’t she be wearing gloves?”
“How much do they pay electricians these days?”
By the time she packed up and drove home, she was done. She found Betsy on the sofa, scrolling on her phone. Lisa dropped her tools by the door and sat beside her.
“Alright, moody?”
Betsy glanced sideways. “I’m not moody.”
“Okay,” Lisa said with a small smirk. “Look, about this boy… I know it hurts, but boys are idiots. Most of them, anyway.”
Betsy didn’t reply for a few moments. Then, softer, “He said he really liked me.”
Lisa’s heart pinched. She reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear.
“Sweetheart, if he really liked you, he wouldn’t be with someone else. You deserve better, alright? One day someone will come along who gets how brilliant you are and actually acts like it.”
Betsy looked away but gave a little nod. “Thanks, Mum."

After Betsy went up to bed, Lisa sank onto the sofa and rang Carla.
“Hey,” she said when the call connected.
“Hey,” Carla replied. The sound of traffic filled the background.
“You on the road?”
“Yeah, still stuck on the M6. Might as well be parked. I’ve got a van full of knickers and very little patience.”
Lisa laughed tiredly. “Today’s been hell. Betsy had a meltdown this morning, work was a disaster, I told some misogynist where to shovehiss kettle, and then the whole street watched me fix a light like I was starring in some weird one-woman show.”
“God, I’m sorry I cancelled tonight,” Carla said.
“Don’t be daft. Not your fault Kirk’s fingers are made of breadsticks.”
“I just… I miss you. I was looking forward to tonight.”
Lisa leaned back and closed her eyes. “Me too.”
Carla was quiet a moment. “What about tomorrow?”
“Can’t,” Lisa said. “Meeting at Betsy’s college about how she’s settling in. But if you fancy coming over for tea after? PG version, obviously.”
“Of course,” Carla said warmly. “As long as I get to see your face, I’m in.”

A silence settled between them, the kind that felt warm and comfortable even across miles of road.
“I should go,” Carla said finally. “Nearly back now.”
“Okay,” Lisa replied. “Text me when you’re in.”
“Will do. Night, gorgeous.”
“Night.”
Lisa ended the call and sat back with a sigh. It had been a terrible day—but somehow, hearing Carla’s voice made it all feel a little less heavy.

Chapter 28: Family, Fashion and Films

Summary:

Lisa and Betsy attend a college progress meeting where Betsy’s tutor praises her creativity, dedication, and recent improvement in class. Betsy proudly shares some of her fashion sketches with Lisa, who is visibly impressed. On their way home, they pick up Carla. While Lisa cooks tea, Betsy and Carla engage in a passionate conversation about fashion design, accessories, and the upcoming end-of-term fashion show. Lisa watches them, proud of their growing bond. Over dinner, Betsy opens up about moving on from the boy who hurt her and deciding to focus on herself. The evening turns warm and light-hearted as the trio discuss their favorite films and TV shows. When it’s time for Carla to leave, Lisa walks her out, thanks her for being involved in Betsy's life, and kisses her goodbye.

Notes:

Really trying to keep a happy vibe with this one. I'm loving showing them getting to know each other as a family without any drama. Hope you guys are enjoying it 😊 Any suggestions are welcome :)

It was Wednesday evening, and Lisa was determined to make it a good one. The chaos of Tuesday was behind her, and tonight was all about reconnecting with her daughter and spending some quality time with her girlfriend. After a long day at work, she picked up Betsy from college and headed back toward the campus for the scheduled parent-teacher meeting. Lisa hadn’t been to many of these since the move to Weatherfield, and she was curious—and maybe a bit nervous—to see how Betsy had been settling in. As they parked up outside the college building, Betsy was flicking through her phone, unusually quiet. Lisa reached over and squeezed her hand.
“Ready, superstar?” she asked.
Betsy gave a small, confident nod. “Yeah, I’ve got loads to show you. Miss Kennedy says I’m doing really well.”

Inside the college, they were led through a maze of corridors until they reached a small, cozy office with a large corkboard covered in student projects. Miss Kennedy, Betsy's fashion tutor, welcomed them with a warm smile. She was in her mid-forties, wearing a bold, patterned dress and stylish glasses perched on her nose.
“Lisa! It’s lovely to meet you,” she said, shaking Lisa’s hand before turning to Betsy. “And Betsy here has made quite the impression already.”
Lisa beamed as she sat down. “That’s good to hear. She’s been buzzing about this place since day one.”
Miss Kennedy nodded. “She’s creative, quick-thinking, and not afraid to take risks with her designs. That’s something we really value here. Would you like to see some of her work?”
Betsy pulled out a thick sketchpad from her bag and flipped it open. The pages were filled with detailed drawings, swatches, notes, and colour palettes. Lisa leaned in closer, genuinely impressed.
“These are amazing, Bets! Look at this coat. And these trousers!”
Betsy explained some of her favourite pieces and the ideas behind them. Miss Kennedy added a few comments of her own.
“She has a real eye for detail, especially in matching textures and thinking ahead to accessorizing. We’re excited to see what she puts together for the half-term fashion show.”
Lisa looked at Betsy proudly, reaching over to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m so proud of you.”

After wrapping up a positive and encouraging meeting, Lisa and Betsy climbed back into the car. As they headed home, Lisa made a detour to pick up Carla from the factory. Carla slid into the passenger seat, kissing Lisa on the cheek.
“Hey, you two. How did it go?”
“Brilliant,” Lisa said, unable to hide her pride. “Betsy’s smashing it. She’s got a tutor who thinks she’s the next Vivienne Westwood.”
Carla laughed. “Of course she is.”
Back at home, while Lisa headed into the kitchen to cook tea, Betsy and Carla settled in the living room with her sketchbook. The two of them quickly fell into deep discussion, flipping through pages of designs. Carla offered suggestions—small tweaks to hem lengths, ideas for accessories, ways to layer the pieces for impact on the runway.
“You’ve got such a strong aesthetic already,” Carla said. “I’d add maybe a cropped jacket to this one here. Maybe in suede or even faux leather, give it a bit of an edge.”
Betsy’s eyes lit up. “Yes! That’s exactly what I was trying to do but couldn’t figure out how.”
Lisa peeked in on them from the kitchen doorway, a soft smile tugging at her lips. Seeing them together like that—Carla treating her daughter with such care and encouragement—it filled her with a warmth she hadn’t felt in years.

They all sat down for dinner together, the table filled with plates of hot food, laughter, and the low hum of shared stories. It felt like a real family meal. At one point, Betsy stirred her peas around her plate and glanced up. “By the way, I told that idiot boy from college to get lost.”
Lisa raised an eyebrow. “The one who was stringing you along?”
“Yep. Told him I was done with time-wasters. Boys are exhausting.”
Carla chuckled. “That’s the spirit. Focus on you. Boys—or anyone—will come when the time’s right.”
Betsy nodded. “I think I’m going to take a break from that drama. Fashion is way more fun.”
They moved on to lighter topics, talking about their favourite TV shows, film genres, and debating whether romcoms or thrillers were superior. Lisa argued for thrillers, Betsy made a case for comedy, and Carla admitted to being a sucker for period dramas.

Eventually, the evening began winding down. Carla checked her phone and sighed.
“I should get going,” she said reluctantly.
Lisa stood up and walked her to the door. They paused in the hallway, just the two of them.
“Thanks for tonight,” Lisa whispered, leaning in to kiss her softly. “For being interested. For being great with her.”
Carla smiled, brushing a thumb across Lisa’s cheek. “She’s amazing. You’ve done a brilliant job.”
They kissed again, lingering in the quiet warmth of the moment. Carla stepped out into the cool night air, turning back once with a smile before walking off into the dark. Lisa closed the door with a full heart. Upstairs, Betsy was humming as she packed up her sketchbook, her mood miles away from where it had been the day before. And downstairs, Lisa turned off the lights and felt—for the first time in a long time—like everything was exactly where it should be.

Chapter 29: Boss Lady

Summary:

Betsy continues her work experience at Underworld and impresses everyone with her natural talent, professionalism, and enthusiasm. Carla, watching from her downstairs office, is quietly proud and decides to let Betsy join a high-level design meeting. Betsy contributes smart ideas, including the suggestion to create an online shop, which impresses Carla and her team. By the end of the day, Betsy is offered part-time paid work managing the online shop. She and Carla bond over the creative process, and Betsy expresses admiration for Carla as a mentor and role model. A cheeky conversation about lingerie lightens the mood and shows their growing friendship. Carla is left thinking about Lisa in Underworld’s designs, smirking to herself as the day ends.

Notes:

Wanted to explore this stories version of Betsy more. I like that she is more mature but still has the sass of the character on corrie.

It was only Betsy’s second work experience day at Underworld, but she strolled in like she’d been working there for years. Living just around the corner, she’d left the house with enough time to grab a smoothie from Roy’s on the way. Her confidence had grown since her first day—shoulders back, head high, and a spark of purpose in her eyes.

As she pushed open the side door and made her way onto the factory floor, a few of the machinists greeted her warmly. Betsy smiled, tying her hair up in a ponytail and slipping into the rhythm of the place as if she were part of the team. She wasn’t there to make tea or shadow from the sidelines—she got stuck in, checking samples, helping sort materials, and keeping everything running smoothly without being told twice. Down in her office, tucked neatly behind the factory floor and lined with fabric swatches, corkboards, and notes scrawled in Carla's looping handwriting, Carla sat watching with a cup of coffee in hand. The internal glass window gave her a clear view of the factory floor. Her mouth twitched into a proud, amused smile as she observed Betsy working. There was a quiet determination to her movements, and a spark of something Carla respected deeply—an eagerness to learn combined with a natural sense for the work. Carla admired how Betsy never let her attention wander, how she never backed away from a challenge. She was composed but friendly, respectful but unafraid to offer suggestions. More than once, Carla saw her chatting confidently with the machinists, helping them lift boxes of thread cones or laying out lace swatches for approval.

Just before noon, Gemma and Beth, two of the factory's most outspoken machinists, wandered into Carla’s office without knocking, as usual.
"Hey Carla," Gemma said, leaning on the doorframe. "That Betsy, Lisa’s girl… she’s something else. Not just polite either—she’s actually got a clue. You can tell she’s interested."
Beth nodded. "Yeah, and she’s not shy either. She’s been in here an hour and already knows where everything is. Wish some of the new starts were half as keen."
Carla leaned back in her chair, arms folded over her chest. "Told you she was sharp. And for the record, she's here on merit, not because of who her mum is."
Gemma raised her eyebrows. "Didn’t think she wasn’t. Just saying she’s doing great."
"She is," Carla agreed. "Thanks for telling me."

After lunch, as the buzz of the machines resumed and the workers filtered back onto the floor, Carla walked over to where Betsy was sorting thread spools by colour. "Fancy sitting in on the afternoon design meeting?"
Betsy’s head jerked up. "Me?"
"No, the other fashion student with the braid," Carla said, teasing. "Yes, you."
Betsy wiped her hands on her apron and nodded quickly. "Yes please! That would be amazing."
Carla led her into the design space—a combination of a meeting room and studio—where mood boards and fabric samples lined the walls. Betsy felt a shiver of excitement. This was where the real work happened, where ideas became clothes. The meeting began with Carla turning on the projector and bringing up a sleek digital vision board. Each slide was rich with colour, texture, and inspiration. Carla moved through them with precision, describing the new line with a confidence that made Betsy sit up straighter.
"We’re going for practical luxury this time," Carla explained. "Think contrast stitching, breathable fabrics, supportive structures. I want these pieces to feel like empowerment."
Sarah chimed in with ideas for names—each one cheeky and smart. She suggested price points, aligning with what their buyers had responded well to in the past. Sally, always quick with logistics, had already started scribbling notes on sourcing stock.
Carla nodded at each of them before continuing. "Once we’ve got the first run, we’ll start sending out samples to clients."
Betsy raised her hand hesitantly. "Do you sell directly to customers? Like online?"
Carla and Sarah looked at each other and laughed.
"Oh God, no," Sarah said. "We barely manage to update the office printer driver."
"Why? Got an idea?" Carla asked.
Betsy perked up. "Well, I could do it. I mean, I’ve built a few websites for college projects. I could create one for Underworld as a portfolio piece. Set it up to go live only when you’re happy."
The room went still, then Carla nodded slowly. "Could you show us a mock-up?"
"Sure. And I can connect it to a second label printer for online orders. Someone would just need to collect the slips and pack them each day."
Sarah was already calculating in her head. "Could we slot that into 4–5pm daily?"
"Absolutely," Betsy said. "As long as the Evri pickup is after that."
Sarah pulled out her phone. "I’ll call them and see what I can arrange."
Carla leaned across the table. "Tell you what. Would you like some paid work?"
Betsy blinked. "Sorry—what?"
"You’re over sixteen. I’ll clear it with your mum. Once this is set up, we’ll need someone to manage it. After college, from 4 to 5. Think you’re up for it?"
Betsy stared at her. "I mean—yes! But I didn’t mean to ask for a job!"
"We know," Carla said, smiling. "That’s why it means something."
They wrapped up the meeting and Carla gestured to her office computer. "Right, let’s see what domains are available."
Betsy sat beside her, typing quickly. They tried several variations of "Underworld" before finding an available name that worked.
"This one’s good," Betsy said. "Catchy too."
Carla checked the price. "Click buy."
"There we go," Betsy said. "You’re officially on your way to a booming knicker empire."
Carla laughed. "You’re good, Bets. You’re going to go far."
Betsy smiled. "Thanks. It means a lot. You make me feel like I can actually do this. Like I’ve got something to offer."
"You do. You’ve got fire, and that’s half the battle."

As Betsy stood to leave, she paused and looked at Carla’s vision board. "Do you ever model the designs yourself?"
Carla nearly choked on her water. "Christ, Betsy! Where did that come from?"
Betsy grinned. "You just seem like the type who would. You should design some for Mum."
Carla flushed slightly. "Okay, no offence, but if I did, you’d be the last to know."
"Fair," Betsy laughed, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "I probably wouldn’t want to know either."
As she walked out, Carla leaned back in her chair, grinning to herself as a few rather vivid mental images of Lisa drifted through her mind. Betsy, she thought, might be on to something...

Chapter 30: After Hours

Summary:

Carla calls Lisa around 9 p.m. to share her admiration for Betsy’s incredible work at Underworld, including praise from staff and her innovative website idea. She asks Lisa's permission to offer Betsy a paid role packing orders daily. Lisa is touched and grateful. Their conversation turns flirty when Carla recounts Betsy’s cheeky comment about designing lingerie for Lisa—prompting Carla to send a photo of herself modeling a pair. Lisa’s reaction is fiery, and they make plans to meet the following night.

Notes:

Trying to keep this at a normal pace with no drama 😊

It was just after nine when Lisa’s phone buzzed with Carla’s name flashing across the screen. She was curled up on the sofa, half-watching the tail end of some detective drama, but she paused it instantly and answered.
“Hey you,” Lisa said, smiling at the sound of Carla’s voice.
“Hi love,” came the warm, slightly tired reply. “How’s your evening going?”
“Quiet. I’ve not seen Betsy—she texted to say she got invited out to the Trafford Centre with a few from college. I just let her be. She’s been working hard.”
There was a chuckle on the other end. “Tell me about it. She absolutely smashed it today.”
Lisa’s ears perked up. “Really?”
Carla’s voice was full of admiration. “Honestly, Lisa… that daughter of yours is something else. She managed to clean up everyone else’s messes without a single complaint. Even the machinists—who never praise anyone—came to me to say how brilliant she was.”
Lisa laughed softly. “You’re kidding?”
“Not even slightly,” Carla replied. “She’s polite, clever, she pays attention. She actually listens. I rewarded her by letting her sit in on the design meeting this afternoon and—God, she blew me away. She suggested something that no one else had ever thought of.”
Lisa smiled proudly. “She never stops surprising me.”
“Yeah well,” Carla said with a grin in her voice, “she surprised me too. Which reminds me—she asked me to speak to you about something.”
Lisa sat up a bit straighter. “Go on…”
“So, we were talking about launching a website—selling direct to customers. Betsy had this full plan, I mean, laid out like a proper pro. Part of her idea involves needing someone at the factory just for an hour a day to handle the order packing. I want to offer her the job.”
Lisa blinked, caught off-guard. “You can’t do that, Carla.”
“Why not?” Carla replied gently. “It’s nothing to do with you and me—it’s about her. She earned this. I wasn’t doing her a favour—I was impressed. She could use the experience, and a bit of cash. It might help her save or just feel more independent.”
Lisa was quiet for a moment, the pride bubbling up in her chest. “Well… thank you. That means a lot.”
“She’s special, Lisa,” Carla said simply. “She really is.”
Lisa gave a soft laugh. “She certainly is. Though… she told me the other day she wanted to start designing her own line of custom T-shirts. I thought it was just a phase.”
“She’s definitely not in a phase,” Carla said. “She’s got vision.”
There was a pause, then Carla chuckled. “You know what she said as she was leaving?”
“Oh God,” Lisa muttered. “What?”
“She looked right at the vision board and asked me if I ever model the lingerie myself.”
Lisa groaned and covered her eyes. “Seriously?! She asked you that?”
“Oh yeah,” Carla said, laughing now. “Then she said I should design something for you.”
Lisa groaned even louder. “I don’t even know what to say sometimes. Honestly, I love her, but she has zero filter.”
Carla giggled. “It was funny though. And… it did get me thinking.”
Lisa raised an eyebrow even though Carla couldn’t see it. “Oh yeah?”
“Well, I might have to design something with you in mind,” Carla said teasingly.
Lisa laughed. “Well I wouldn’t mind seeing you model some of it.”
Carla didn’t respond with words—just sent a photo through to Lisa’s phone.
Lisa tapped the screen and gasped, a low appreciative sound slipping from her lips. “Oh my God …”
“Like it?” Carla teased.
Lisa let out a low whistle. “You’re evil. You know I wish I was there with you right now so I could absolutely devour you.”
“Patience, patience,” Carla said, the sultriness back in her voice. “Tomorrow night, yeah?”
“Absolutely,” Lisa replied. “You’d better be ready for me.”
They laughed together, the air thick with flirtation and affection.
“I’d better go check if Betsy needs a lift home before bed,” Lisa said eventually. “But thanks again—for seeing her for who she is.”
“She makes it easy,” Carla replied softly.
“Goodnight, you sexy boss lady.”
“Goodnight, gorgeous.”

Chapter 31: Silks

Summary:

A shipment of silk arrives at Underworld, and Carla puts Fizz in charge of the first samples, sparking jealousy among other staff. When a new printer arrives, confusion breaks out until Carla explains it's for a new project based on Betsy's idea, causing more tension—especially from Fizz. Carla shuts it down firmly, calling in Lisa to install a new socket and fix a faulty fan. Lisa arrives and charms everyone while impressing Carla with her professionalism. Meanwhile, Sarah sorts the delivery slot and confirms everything for Betsy's new role. Fizz nails the sample work, earning praise and leading a staff demo. Carla ends the day with Lisa, who flirts with her over her leadership style. They share a warm, romantic moment before deciding to join friends at the Rovers.

Notes:

Love bringing in other characters to this story. Really making them part of the street.

Also...today's episode! We are so winning at the moment 🙌

The next day began with a sharp clatter at the loading bay as a shipment of fresh silk rolls arrived for Underworld’s new luxury line. Carla strode through the factory floor, clipboard in hand, already mentally ticking off the day’s objectives. She unwrapped one of the silk rolls, running her fingers over the luxurious texture with a nod of approval, before calling Fizz over.
“Fizz, I want you on the first sample runs. Let’s see how it works with the new stitching patterns,” Carla instructed.
Fizz’s face lit up with pride, but it was short-lived as a low murmur rose among the other staff.
“Why’s it always her?” Sally muttered just loud enough to be heard.
Carla turned, raising an eyebrow. “You’ll all get your turn. For now, I need consistency and precision, and Fizz has a knack for getting it right on the first try.”
That quieted them, for now. Carla grabbed her keys and headed out for her accountant meeting, throwing a parting instruction over her shoulder. “Fizz, update me when the first pieces are done.”

After a detailed, number-heavy meeting and a quick solo lunch, Carla returned to the factory just past one o’clock. As soon as she opened the office door, she was hit by the sound of raised voices. The new printer had arrived earlier than expected and was apparently the source of some dispute.
Carla swept into the room. “What’s going on here?”
They all started shouting at once.
“Woah, woah—one at a time!” Carla snapped.
Kirk spoke first. “Some idiot delivered another printer. Dunno why.”
Carla sighed. “Because we ordered one.”
Sally interjected. “Well, has the old one broken? It seemed fine this morning.”
“No, this is for a new project,” Carla replied calmly.
Sean leaned in, curious. “What project?”
Carla folded her arms. “It’s based on an idea Betsy had. It’ll help streamline bespoke orders and make us more competitive online. This new printer handles heat transfers and packaging labels at once. It’s a big step up.”
Fizz scoffed. “Hang on, I’ve been trying to pitch ideas for years. She shows up, becomes your stepdaughter, and suddenly she’s your muse?”
Before Carla could respond, Sarah cut in sharply. “Actually, you were all singing her praises yesterday. She’s smart and she works hard. None of you came up with anything like that.”
Carla added, “And do any of you know how to make a website?”
Blank stares.
“Didn’t think so. Now, back to work,” she ordered.
They all groaned and dragged their feet back to their stations. Carla turned to Sarah and nodded toward the printer.
“Where are we putting it?”
Sarah pointed out a few spots, and after a brief debate, they chose a corner near the storage room.
“Problem is, no plug sockets anywhere near it,” Sarah said.
Carla chuckled. “Good job I’ve got an electrician on speed dial.”
“Get her on it then,” Sarah replied, rolling her eyes affectionately. “And while she’s here, can she look at that fan in packing? Kirk’s been moaning about it all day.”

Carla headed back into her office and dialed the electrical company they used. When someone answered, she said, “Hi, it’s Carla Connor from Underworld. Got a couple of quick jobs—need a new socket wiring in and a fan looked at. Any chance you’ve got someone free today?”
She waited, then added, “Actually, if Lisa’s available, can you send her? She’s done a great job before.”

Meanwhile, Lisa was having a pretty good day. She’d already rewired a faulty kitchen socket in a cafe, replaced lighting in a bakery’s storeroom, and had just wrapped up restoring power to an outbuilding in Prestwich. It was her third job of the day, and she was taking a break, eating a sandwich in her car, when a sudden knock on the window made her jump.
It was Abi, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
Lisa rolled down the window. “Jesus, You trying to give me a heart attack? What are you doing over this way?”
Abi laughed. “Had a call out to this guy over here. Broke down visiting his friend. Just wanted to say Shona and I are heading to the Rovers tonight. You and Carla coming?”
“I’ll ask her,” Lisa said. “I’ll let you know.”
They chatted for a bit before Abi left. Not long after, Lisa’s phone rang—it was her boss.
“Change of plan,” he said. “Underworld in Weatherfield needs a socket wiring in and a fan fixing. They’ve specifically asked for you.”
Lisa smiled. “No problem. On my way.”

When she arrived, the staff greeted her with a mix of smiles and a few curious glances. Carla emerged from her office, grinning.
“Hi, love,” she greeted.
Lisa leaned in for a quick kiss. “You’re making a habit of this on Friday afternoons.”
Carla chuckled. “Today’s job is courtesy of that daughter of yours.”
Lisa arched a brow. “Oh really?”
Carla explained the situation and pointed out where they’d need the new plug. Lisa nodded, impressed.
“Not just a pretty face, eh?” Carla teased. “Though I wouldn’t know the first thing about how to do it.”
Lisa laughed, opening her toolbag. “Good job I do then.”
She got to work, scanning the walls, marking where the chaser would need to go. Carla tried to return to her office, but found herself glancing out more than once, distracted by Lisa’s focus, the way she worked with confident efficiency. The factory staff offered Lisa drinks and tried to pull her into gossip, but she stayed on task.
Sarah walked into Carla’s office. “Sorted the Evri delivery for 5:30 each evening.” She paused, noticing Carla wasn’t listening.
“Hello? Earth to Carla.”
Carla snapped out of it. “Sorry, say that again.”
Sarah repeated the update. “Also checked the rules for employing Betsy. All clear.”
“Perfect,” Carla replied. “I’ve drawn up a contract to give her. We’ll pay her a fair hourly wage. It’s small, but it’ll be hers.”
They agreed on the rate, and Carla asked Sarah to check on Sally’s progress with the packing order.

Moments later, a knock at the door.
“Miss C, how are these?” Fizz asked, holding up the first silk samples.
Carla motioned her over. “Let’s have a look.”
She examined the samples closely, even pulling out a magnifying glass.
“These are impeccable, Fizz. Well done.”
Fizz beamed. “They look lovely, don’t they? Very sexy.”
Carla chuckled. “Think you can go through the stitching with everyone while it’s still fresh in your head? I’ve got a client who wants 100 by Monday night.”
“Blimey, you move fast. Yeah, course.”
They walked out, and Carla called the staff to attention.
“We’ve got an order for the new line—100 pieces by Monday. I want everyone to make one before you leave tonight. Fizz will walk you through the stitch pattern. Any questions, speak to her or me.”
A chorus of “Yes, boss” echoed.

As Carla headed back into her office, Lisa followed.
“You done?” Carla asked.
“Almost. Found the wires and marked everything up. Just need to chase the wall out, but thought I’d check—noise and dust okay?”
Carla nodded. “Shouldn’t harm that lot any more than usual.”
Lisa tilted her head. “What about the fabric?”
“Good point. Shut those doors, keep it all sealed off.”
Lisa gave a thumbs-up, then paused.
“You know, that was kind of hot,” she said.
Carla raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. You bossing everyone around.”
Lisa turned and got back to work. Carla sat down, a smirk playing at her lips.

By the end of the day, Lisa had finished both jobs. The factory floor was emptying as staff clocked out, their chatter fading. Lisa walked into Carla’s office, wiping her hands clean on a rag. Carla was waiting, coat on, bag in hand. Lisa walked over, wrapped her arms around Carla’s neck, and kissed her softly. “Today’s been a very good day.”
Carla smiled. “Watching you work is always hot.”
Lisa laughed. “Touché.”
She pulled back slightly. “I know it’s not your thing, but Abi asked if we’re up for the Rovers tonight?”
“With everyone?” Carla asked, skeptical.
“Not sure who’s going, but I don’t want to say no.”
Carla hesitated.
Lisa leaned in. “How about I make it worth your while when we get back to mine?”
Carla quirked a brow. “Isn’t Betsy in?”
“You’ll have to be quiet, then.”
Carla laughed. “Go on then—but you’d better not get too drunk, missus.”
Lisa held up three fingers in a mock Scouts’ honour. “Promise.”
They left the factory hand in hand, the hum of the sewing machines now silent behind them.

Chapter 32: Friday Night at the Rovers

Summary:

Carla and Lisa arrive at the Rovers to find the pub packed with friends and coworkers. Amid laughter, drinks, and teasing conversations, they mingle with Abi, Kev, Shona, David, Sally, Tim, and the rest of the group. Carla relaxes into the social buzz, thanks to Lisa's presence, while the night unfolds with warmth, gossip, and a few cheeky glances. It’s a classic Weatherfield gathering—messy, loud, and full of heart.

It was nearing 7:30 p.m. when Carla and Lisa left home, the golden-orange sky of early evening fading into deeper shades of blue as they walked hand in hand down Rosamund Street. The streetlights were just flickering on, their footsteps echoing softly on the pavement. Carla, ever composed in her sleek black coat and sharply tailored trousers, seemed reluctant at first, her eyes flicking toward the sky as if gauging the potential chaos inside The Rovers Return. Lisa, by contrast, was practically bouncing on her heels, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
"You promised," Lisa reminded her, tightening her grip on Carla's hand.
Carla let out a soft sigh but her mouth curved into a reluctant smile. "I did, didn’t I?"

As they stepped into the pub, a wave of warmth and noise hit them. Laughter, music from the jukebox, the low hum of conversations and clinking glasses greeted them like an old friend. It was a full house tonight. The locals were out in force.
Abi was the first to spot them, seated at a corner booth with Shona, Kev, and David. Her face lit up, and she raised her pint triumphantly. "Oi! Look who finally decided to grace us with their presence!"
Lisa led Carla over, slipping into the booth beside Abi while Carla hovered for a moment before finally settling down next to David.
"Didn’t think you two would show," Kev said, leaning back and offering a smile.
"We almost didn’t," Carla admitted. "But Lisa can be very persuasive."
"Flattery and bribery," Lisa added cheekily.
The group laughed, and Carla reached for the drink that Shona slid her way. Vodka tonic, no surprise there.

Across the pub, Tim was animatedly explaining something to Craig and Todd, his voice occasionally rising above the general noise. Meanwhile, Sarah and Sally were at the bar with Daisy, deep in conversation. Jenny was behind the counter, expertly pouring pints while managing the flow of orders and patrons. Sean, ever the social butterfly, was flitting between groups, stopping to check in, compliment, or deliver a particularly juicy bit of gossip. The table filled quickly. Fizz and Kirk showed up not long after. Ryan and Daisy joined from the bar, pints in hand. The conversations overlapped, topics shifting rapidly from Tim's latest DIY disaster to Sean's outrageous fashion commentary on that morning's customers at Underworld. Fizz was glowing with pride as she talked about her work earlier that day. "Carla said the samples were impeccable. That's a big word for her."
Carla raised an eyebrow from across the table. "Don’t push it, Fizz."
Lisa was relaxed, leaning back in the booth with a cider in hand, one arm casually draped across the back of Carla’s seat. Carla allowed it, even leaned into it slightly, a quiet intimacy that didn’t go unnoticed.
Daisy nudged Sarah. "Those two are dead cute, aren’t they? Like, proper grown-up cute."
"You mean like the opposite of you and Ryan?" Sarah shot back with a grin.

The jukebox kicked in with a classic 80s anthem, and the atmosphere tipped from relaxed to festive. Abi and Shona were up dancing within seconds, dragging Lisa with them.
"Come on!" Abi called. "Don’t make me dance with Shona alone, I’ll hurt myself."
Lisa laughed and followed. She had a natural rhythm, hips swaying in time to the music. Carla, still seated, watched her with something between amusement and admiration.
Sean plopped down next to her. "You gonna get up and dance too, boss lady?"
"Unlikely," Carla said, sipping her drink. "But knock yourself out."
Fizz joined Lisa on the dancefloor, and soon even Kirk was shuffling along awkwardly. Ryan filmed a bit of it, chuckling to himself.
Back at the booth, Todd leaned into David, whispering something that made him snort. "You are a menace."
Sarah had drifted back toward Carla. "Everything alright with the samples and the new line?"
Carla nodded. "Fizz has it handled. You did well sorting the delivery schedule, by the way. And Betsy's contract—I owe you for that."
Sarah smiled. "You could start by dancing."
Carla just gave her a look.

As the night wore on, the pub got louder, more chaotic. Pints flowed freely. Daisy tried to get everyone to do shots. Sean succeeded. Even Tim ended up belting out a few lines from "Sweet Caroline" when it came on the jukebox, much to Sally's horror.
Eventually, Lisa returned to Carla, slightly flushed and glowing from dancing. She leaned down to whisper, "Had enough yet?"
Carla looked around. The crowd was cheerful, maybe a bit tipsy, but in high spirits. For once, she didn’t feel like bolting. She smiled. "Yeah. Let’s go."
They said their goodbyes, dodging another shot attempt from Daisy and a dramatic hug from Sean. Abi waved from the dancefloor. "You owe me a proper boogie next time!"
"We'll see," Carla called back.

Outside, the air was cooler, and quieter. Lisa slipped her arm around Carla's waist as they walked.
"You were good tonight," Carla said quietly.
"You say that like it’s rare," Lisa teased.
Carla smirked. "No, I mean... you made it easy. Being there."
Lisa stopped walking and turned to her. "That’s kind of the point, isn’t it? To make the hard things easier."
Carla didn’t say anything. She just pulled Lisa in and kissed her, right there on the cobbles.
"Let’s go home," she murmured. And they did.

Chapter 33: Tipsy

Summary:

After a fun, boozy night at the Rovers with friends and co-workers, Carla and Lisa return home more drunk than expected. They try to sneak upstairs quietly but are caught by a cheeky, unimpressed Betsy. Amid teasing and laughter, Carla and Lisa stumble into their bedroom, where they share a playful, laughter-filled attempt at quiet intimacy, trying not to wake Betsy. Their night ends in giggles, affection, and tangled sheets—pure chaotic romance.

Notes:

Just a little fun one 😉

The front door clicked shut with a bit more force than either Carla or Lisa intended. They both paused, eyes wide, and broke into muffled giggles like two teenagers caught sneaking back in. Lisa leaned heavily on Carla, trying to toe her boots off, wobbling on one foot.
“Shhh!” Lisa stage-whispered. “We’ve got to be stealth ninjas now.”
Carla swayed and caught herself on the banister. “You’re the one stomping around like a herd of donkeys,” she whispered back, trying to stifle her laugh and failing miserably.
“You kissed me in the middle of the pub,” Lisa whispered louder than she meant to. “I’ve earned donkey rights.”

They stumbled toward the stairs, holding on to each other and giggling uncontrollably. Lisa jabbed her elbow into Carla’s ribs playfully as they climbed, Carla gasping and nearly losing her balance.
“Quiet, woman! Betsy’s probably still up.”
As if summoned, a door creaked open at the top of the stairs. Betsy appeared in her dressing gown, arms crossed, eyes squinting in mock judgment.
“Well, well, look who rolled in. Very stealth,” she said dryly.
Carla immediately pressed a finger to her lips. “Ssshhh, don’t ruin the illusion!”
Lisa blinked at her daughter, slightly off-kilter, and squinted back. “What are you doing up?”
Betsy shrugged, fighting a smirk. “Waiting for the thuds and cackling of course. Thought we were being burgled. Turns out it’s just Mum and her girlfriend tipsy off their faces.”
Carla snorted. “Hey! We are not tipsy. We are sophisticatedly lubricated.”
Lisa buried her face in Carla’s shoulder, shaking with laughter. “Sophisticatedly lubricated? Who says that?”
Betsy gave a mock-gag. “Please, no. Stop. Just go. Before I burn my ears off. And please—please—spare me the trauma of overhearing anything.”
Carla smirked, one arm already around Lisa’s waist. “Night, darling. Don’t wait up.”
Lisa winked and called over her shoulder as they turned toward the bedroom, “You might want to grab your earphones, babe. Just sayin’.”
“EW!” Betsy screeched, slamming her bedroom door. “You’re the worst!”

As Carla clicked their door shut behind them, she leaned against it and exhaled a deep laugh. “That kid’s got quicker comebacks than I ever did.”
Lisa kicked her boots off, flopped onto the bed with a groan, then sat up and pointed at Carla. “Don’t act like you didn’t love every second of it.”
“Oh, I do. I love that she’s a smartass—clearly inherited that from you.”
Carla slowly peeled off her jacket, fingers fumbling slightly. “You’re going to have to help me with these buttons or I’ll be here all night.”
Lisa crossed the room, tugged Carla toward her, and began unbuttoning with exaggerated care, her lips brushing Carla’s neck as she muttered, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“You’re lucky I’m drunk or I’d be way more coordinated.”
“You’re lucky I like you enough to undress you like this.”
They both dissolved into laughter again, Carla’s blouse half-undone, Lisa pressing her forehead to Carla’s as they leaned on each other for balance.
“Right,” Carla said, tugging Lisa toward the bed, “let’s see if we can manage not to make the headboard bang like it owes us money.”
Lisa laughed, toeing off her socks as she fell backward onto the bed. “I’ll just hum a lullaby if we get too loud.”
“Great. We’ll be the first couple in history to combine sex and a bedtime medley.”

They collapsed sideways on the duvet, kissing in messy, breathless bursts, rolling across the bedclothes. Carla tried to hush Lisa every time she let out a gasp or a snort of laughter, which only made them both worse.
Lisa whispered, “I swear, if we so much as creak this bed…”
Carla grinned. “Then we blame the cat.”
“I don’t have a cat.”
“Then we say we thought we had a cat.”
They couldn’t keep quiet for long—Carla’s teasing touches, Lisa’s stifled giggles, the way they tried and failed to keep it down only made things more chaotic. At one point, Carla knocked a pillow onto the floor, Lisa shushed her dramatically, then slipped right off the edge of the mattress trying to grab it.
“Oh for—this is not sexy,” Lisa whispered from the floor, still giggling.
Carla looked over the edge, hair falling in her face. “Speak for yourself. That fall was art.”

Eventually, they found their rhythm again—soft kisses, bodies close, hands roaming under loosened clothing, every move wrapped in affection and inebriated warmth. The laughter slowed, but didn’t disappear completely—especially when Carla trailed kisses down Lisa’s stomach and Lisa let out a very loud squeak.
“Was that you or a haunted kettle?” Carla whispered, smirking.
“Do not make me laugh mid-orgasm,” Lisa hissed, half-laughing already.
By the time they were tangled under the covers, breathless and drowsy, Lisa rested her head on Carla’s shoulder, tracing lazy circles on her skin.
“That was chaotic,” Lisa murmured.
“Chaotic’s our love language.”
They fell asleep to the sound of the floorboard creaking once outside—probably Betsy checking if the coast was clear. Lisa barely managed to whisper, “We need to buy her noise-cancelling headphones,” before sleep overtook her.

Chapter 34: Morning Mayhem and Milestones

Summary:

The morning after a messy night at the Rovers, Carla and Lisa are hungover and tormented by a cheeky Betsy, who remembers far too much. Despite the embarrassment, Carla surprises Betsy with a formal job contract based on her idea, and Betsy, thrilled, reveals she's already built a sample website. As Carla earns a rare invite into Betsy's inner world, Lisa reflects on their growing family dynamic and plans a quiet afternoon of home decorating.

The morning sun forced its way through a slight gap in the bedroom curtains, spilling an unforgiving ray of light directly onto Carla’s face. She winced and rolled over, only to find Lisa groaning softly beside her, burying her face in the crook of Carla’s shoulder.
“Ugh, make the sun stop,” Lisa mumbled, her voice muffled by skin and tangled sheets. Carla gave a low, exhausted chuckle, though it quickly dissolved into a groan of her own. “Remind me again why we thought staying for that third bottle was a good idea?”
“Fourth,” Lisa corrected, her arm stretching lazily across Carla’s stomach. “And I think we were trying to prove to Tim that we could still outdrink the lads. Mistake.”

Downstairs, the unmistakable crash of cupboard doors being flung open echoed upward like a war drum. Then came the clatter of a kettle being dropped, exaggerated footsteps pounding from one end of the kitchen to the other. It was very obviously deliberate. Lisa hissed. “If she doesn’t stop banging about down there, I swear I’m gonna—”
Carla interrupted with a half-hearted laugh. “Murder your own daughter? Bit much, love.”
Lisa groaned, tossing the duvet off in a sulk before immediately pulling it back over herself. “I can’t believe I said that to her… last night, didn’t I? Oh God. Did I say it?”
Carla remained quiet for a moment before nodding slowly, guiltily. “Yep. Word for word. ‘You might wanna put earphones in’ — your exact phrasing.”
Lisa flopped back dramatically. “She’s never going to let me live that down. She’s going to be insufferable.”
Another heavy bang echoed from below.
“She already is,” Carla muttered, pulling the pillow over her head.

They lay in groaning silence for a few more minutes until Carla finally shifted, sighing. “As much as I’d love to stay here hiding from your vengeance-fuelled offspring forever, my stomach is making threats.”
Lisa grumbled but nodded. “Alright. Truce with the hangover. Let’s face her.”
Still wrapped in dressing gowns, hair an absolute mess, makeup smudged from the night before, they stumbled downstairs with the grace of two women emerging from a battlefield. Betsy was already at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal, an expression of gleeful mischief written all over her face.
“Well, well, well,” she sang out, raising her eyebrows. “Look who decided to grace us with their hungover presence.”
Lisa gave her a warning look. “Don’t.”
Betsy’s grin widened. “How’s your head, Mum? Or should I say, Mother of the Year ?”
Carla nearly spat out her sip of water. Lisa shot her a glare.
“Honestly, Bets,” Lisa said, dragging herself to the coffee machine. “You're lucky I’m too hungover to be embarrassed right now.”
“Oh, I know,” Betsy replied smugly. “Which is why I’m making the absolute most of it. You two were not quiet, by the way.”
Carla gasped mock-offended. “Excuse me, we were—”
“You literally shushed each other up the stairs and knocked into the coat rack,” Betsy cut in. “Then Mum told me to put my earphones in. That’s traumatic, you know. I’m going to need counselling.”
Lisa groaned and reached for the ibuprofen. “I’m never drinking again.”

Carla and Lisa finish their breakfast and head upstairs to get changed. When they reappear Betsy is sitting on the sofa watching reruns of Friends.
"Friends eh? Thought that would be a bit boomerish for you?"
Betsy laughed but then noticed Carla waving a manila folder in her direction. “What’s that?”
“Come sit with me for a second,” Carla said, her voice gentler. “I’ve got something for you.”
Betsy eyed her warily but sat down. Carla opened the folder and slid a sheet of paper across the table.
“It’s a contract,” Carla explained. “For you. Part-time, after school and weekends if you want. Packing orders. Based on the idea you pitched. The printer arrived yesterday.”
Betsy stared. “You’re still drunk.”
Carla laughed. “I’m not. Trust me. You’ve earned this. But I want you to read it properly. I won’t give you a pen until you do.”
Lisa, now sipping black coffee, walked over, peered at the paper and blinked. “Wait, this is legit? You did all this already?”
“I told you I move fast,” Carla said with a wink.
Betsy picked up the contract, eyes wide. “This is… wow.”
“Show it to your mum,” Carla said. “I want to make sure everyone’s happy with it.”
Lisa took the paper, scanning it carefully. “This looks solid. Fair pay, proper breaks, all above board. Honestly, Bets, this is a brilliant opportunity.”
Betsy suddenly stood up and flung her arms around Carla in a surprise hug. Carla blinked, stunned, but then returned the hug tightly.
“You’re the best,” Betsy mumbled.
Betsy pulled away and said, “Right, come on. I’ve got something to show you.”
“More teasing?” Carla asked.
“Nope. Website,” Betsy grinned. “I made a start on it yesterday. Come see!”

As they started heading upstairs, Lisa gently grabbed Carla’s wrist. “Can I borrow her for just a sec?”
Betsy shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll queue up the page.”
Lisa waited until Betsy disappeared and then leaned in to give Carla a deep, affectionate kiss. “Thank you. For doing that. And also, brace yourself. She never shows anyone her room unless she properly rates them.”
Carla smirked. “Should I be nervous?”
Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Nah. Honoured, maybe.”
“I can live with that,” Carla said.
“Oh, and I was going to pop out in a bit,” Lisa added. “I’ve been meaning to start painting the lounge since we moved in, figured I’d pick up some paint.”
“Sounds productive,” Carla replied. “You go, I’ll hold down the fort with our teen entrepreneur.”
Lisa smiled, kissed her again, then nudged her toward the stairs.

Chapter 35: Bonding with Betsy

Summary:

As the day unfolds, Carla and Betsy bond over the new business website, leading to an emotional heart-to-heart where Betsy thanks Carla for bringing happiness back into their lives. Downstairs, Lisa is mid-DIY makeover of the living room, sparking a playful paint fight with Carla. The day ends with teamwork, laughter, and deeper connection between the three as they settle into a new rhythm as a family.

Betsy sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor, laptop open, as Carla perched beside her on the edge of the bed. The soft hum of the machine was the only noise for a moment as Betsy navigated the layout of the website.
"Right, I've done a home page and a basic structure," Betsy explained, scrolling through the bright and modern layout. "There's space here for featured lines, and I thought maybe a 'meet the team' page would be fun?"
Carla leaned in, genuinely impressed. "This looks fantastic, Bets. You’ve done all this already?"
"I was up early," Betsy admitted with a grin. "Couldn’t sleep. I had all these ideas in my head."
Carla smiled. "I love it. Really. I’ll need to give you a full list of stock, sizes, styles, pricing. And I think I’ve got a size chart somewhere. We’ll need one of those."
She stood, heading to the other room to fetch her laptop. Within minutes, Carla was emailing Betsy the files she needed—PDFs of the size chart, inventory lists, even some old style guides she thought might help.
"Hey," Betsy said quietly once Carla sat again. "I want to add a 'who’s who' section. Can I write something about you and Sarah for it? I think it’d be cool."
Carla raised an eyebrow with a chuckle. "Only if you ask Sarah first. Email her, maybe. You know what she’s like about being quoted."
Betsy nodded. Then she turned in her seat to face Carla more fully. Her expression softened. "Carla... thank you."
Carla looked puzzled. "For what?"
"For... well, everything. For giving me this shot. For seeing me as a person. Not just... my mum’s daughter."
Carla blinked, the words landing harder than she expected. "Betsy... you’ve earned everything on your own merit. You’re bright, driven, funny. And what you’ve done here—it’s proper impressive."
Betsy’s voice grew quieter. "When Mum and I moved here after... after everything, I didn’t think we’d ever feel settled again. I didn’t think she’d ever smile like that. Or laugh. And now she’s painting the living room with you and humming to herself in the kitchen. I haven’t seen her like that since my other mum... died."
Carla felt her throat tighten. She reached out, squeezing Betsy's hand gently. "I’ve only known you both for, what, nearly two months? But I care. About both of you. Lisa makes me laugh in ways I forgot I could. And you... you remind me what it's like to have that spark. The kind that pushes you forward."
Betsy stood and without warning pulled Carla into a hug. Carla, startled at first, quickly returned it, holding on tight.
"Thank you," Betsy whispered.
"Anytime, love," Carla replied.

A few minutes later, Carla headed downstairs, still warmed by the chat with Betsy. The moment she stepped into the living room, she stopped in her tracks. Lisa, in faded denim overalls, hair tied in a messy bun, specks of grey paint dusting her temple, was swaying to an old 80s pop song playing from her phone. Dust sheets covered the floor, the skirting boards were perfectly masked off, and the first wall was halfway done in a calming slate blue.
"Is there anything you can’t do?" Carla teased, making Lisa jump and turn.
Lisa burst into laughter. "Bloody hell, don’t sneak up on me! And it’s just painting, not surgery."
They bantered back and forth until Carla nudged Lisa teasingly about her overalls being "weirdly sexy." Lisa grinned mischievously, brandishing her paintbrush.
"Don’t you dare," Carla warned.
Too late. Lisa dabbed a speck of paint on her cheek.
"Right, that’s it!" Carla grabbed the other brush, swiping a dramatic stripe down Lisa’s back. The chase around the dust-sheet-covered room lasted minutes, full of laughter and taunts, until they collapsed onto the protected sofa, breathless. Lisa lay on top of Carla, both flushed and grinning.
"You’ve got no idea how hot you look like this," Carla murmured.

Before long, their lips met in a kiss, hands tangling in hair and overalls, laughter still bubbling between them. From the stairs came the unmistakable voice of Betsy. "Oh my God , do you two ever not snog?!"
Lisa jumped, Carla sat up laughing. Betsy stood at the foot of the stairs in her own painting clothes, roller in hand, mock-gagging.
"You coming to help or what?" Lisa called, brushing herself off.
"Yeah, yeah," Betsy replied, rolling her eyes with a smirk. "But you two need separating."

Together, the three of them set to work, and by 5pm the room was transformed. They pulled up the sheets, scrubbed brushes, and while Lisa disappeared for a shower, Carla ordered pizza. Betsy came down a few minutes later, hair wet from her own quick rinse, bag slung over her shoulder.
"Off to the cinema with a mate. Don’t wait up!"
"Alright, behave!" Lisa called from upstairs.
When the food arrived, Carla and Lisa curled up on the sofa, slices in hand, a documentary playing low in the background. Carla nudged Lisa. "Hey... Betsy showed me the website. She’s put a load of work into it. And we had a bit of a chat. A proper one."
Lisa turned to her, curious. "Yeah?"
Carla nodded. "She thanked me. For seeing her. And for making you happy."
Lisa’s eyes shimmered. She set her pizza down, blinking rapidly. "Bloody hell. Don’t... don’t mind me."
Carla put an arm around her. "They’re happy tears, yeah?"
Lisa nodded, laughing through it. "Yeah. It’s just... I never thought we’d get this. Me and Bets. We’ve been through a lot. I didn’t think I’d ever see her truly smile again. And now... you. You fit. Like a missing puzzle piece we didn’t even know we needed."
Carla leaned in and kissed her forehead. "I’ve not been this happy in years."
Lisa smiled and wiped her cheek. "We should go out soon. Just us. But maybe also with Ryan and Roy? I’d like them to get to know me. And Betsy."
"I was thinking the same," Carla said. "I’ll check when Ryan’s working and Roy’s free."
They clinked their glasses of soda together, content in the quiet comfort of each other’s company. The evening drifted on, soft and slow, a perfect ending to a perfect day.

Chapter 36: Turning Corners

Summary:

Over the following weeks, Betsy's website launch brings a surge of business to the factory, leaving Carla and Sarah planning for extra staff. Betsy flourishes in her new role, while Lisa builds strong friendships with Abi and Shona. As Betsy and Carla work late on designs for the fashion show, Lisa secretly books a romantic getaway. A long-awaited family meal with Ryan and Roy brings laughter, heartfelt conversations, and a touching toast from Roy—cementing the growing bond between them all.

Notes:

I just love writing soft scenes 😍

The next few weeks felt like a whirlwind. The factory had shifted into a new gear entirely. Since Betsy had launched the new website, orders had started to pour in faster than anyone expected. Carla had seen growth before—but never this fast. Betsy, meanwhile, was thriving. She’d taken charge of the packaging setup like she'd been born to do it, transforming the dispatch process almost overnight with new systems, slick labels, and her signature sass.

One Thursday morning, Carla sat in her office with Sarah, a whiteboard filled with scribbles between them.
“If this pace keeps up,” Sarah said, sipping her fourth coffee, “we’re not going to have a minute to breathe by next month.”
Carla sighed. “I know. I was thinking we might need to take someone else on.”
Sarah raised her eyebrows. “You sure?”
Carla nodded. “It's that or we start turning orders away.”
Sarah grinned. “Betsy’s going to want a pay rise soon.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Carla chuckled. “She probably deserves it already.”

Outside of work, Lisa was finding her own rhythm. She’d managed to catch up with Abi and Shona again—this time for a quiz night at The Rovers. It was loud, chaotic, and full of laughs. The three of them clicked so well, it felt like they’d known each other for years. Lisa found herself actually enjoying the company—something she hadn’t expected after the move. Meanwhile, back at the factory, Betsy had been using every spare second to perfect her collection for the fashion show. With Carla helping her tweak the final touches, Lisa had barely seen her girlfriend lately. Every time she popped by the factory, Betsy was already there, spread out on the cutting table with sketches, fabrics, and her mum’s full attention. Lisa teased Carla once that she’d been “replaced,” to which Carla rolled her eyes and kissed her quickly in the corridor, whispering, “You're irreplaceable, you muppet.” Still, it was clear that the two of them needed some time away, just the two of them. Lisa, with Betsy’s help, had booked a surprise few days away in the Lake District for next week, over half term. Betsy would be with her grandparents, giving Carla and Lisa some much-needed alone time.

But before that—there was the long-postponed meal with Roy and Ryan. Carla and Ryan were getting ready together in Carla’s flat, a rare few minutes alone before they met Lisa and Roy at the Bistro. Ryan leaned against the doorframe, smirking as Carla fixed her earrings. “You know, I’m actually shocked you two haven’t U-Hauled yet.”
Carla frowned. “U-what now?”
Ryan laughed. “U-Haul. It’s a thing. Lesbians, moving fast. Like... date two, living together by date three.”
Carla rolled her eyes. “We’ve only known each other two months, Ry.”
“And yet... you basically do everything but sleep at separate places.”
Carla didn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong.

At the Bistro, the four of them finally came together. Lisa lit up when she saw Carla walk in. They kissed, a quick, sweet greeting, before hugging and sitting down. Roy, ever the observer, gave a subtle nod of approval. Conversation flowed easily—stories from the factory, Lisa’s work, and Roy’s latest reading ventures. Ryan, as usual, cracked jokes at everyone’s expense. Carla watched the three of them talk and felt her chest swell. They were starting to feel like... family. Roy, lifting his glass quietly, spoke just before dessert arrived.
“I just want to say, watching you two these past few weeks—it's been a joy. Carla, I haven’t seen you like this in a long time. And Lisa, it’s clear what you’ve brought to her life. I’m very happy for you both.”
There was a beat of quiet, warm emotion in the air. Lisa reached for Carla’s hand under the table, squeezing it gently. Carla smiled at her, the edges of her eyes crinkling with something softer than she usually let show.

As the evening continued, laughter and gentle teasing wrapped around them like a blanket. Carla looked around the table, at Lisa beside her, Roy across from her, and Ryan still giving her cheek—and she realised something simple but profound:
She was happy. Not just with the business. Not just with the success. But with them. With this. And that, more than anything, felt like turning a corner.

Chapter 37: The Fashion Show

Summary:

Carla and Lisa attend Betsy Swain’s college fashion show, proudly supporting her. Carla has a brief encounter with an admirer who recognizes her from the fashion industry and tries to flirt, but Carla brushes her off. Betsy’s collection impresses the crowd and wins the top award. After an emotional celebration, the admirer approaches again, only to be swiftly shut down when Carla affectionately introduces Lisa as her partner. The night ends with laughter, love, and pride in Betsy’s success.

Notes:

Bit of fun at the fashion show :)

It was a crisp Wednesday evening, and the college theatre was already buzzing with excited energy. Students were rushing around backstage, the audience slowly filing in. Lisa and Carla arrived hand in hand, dressed smartly but not too formal—Lisa in a simple navy wrap dress and Carla in her signature fitted blazer and jeans combo. An usher greeted them warmly at the entrance and gestured to their reserved seats near the front row.

“Looks like we’ve got a good view,” Lisa said, squeezing Carla’s hand as they sat down.
“You want a coffee before it starts?” Carla asked, brushing a strand of hair from Lisa’s face.
“Yeah, that’d be nice. Strong, please,” Lisa replied, smiling.
Carla headed to the refreshments table at the back of the hall. As she waited for the drinks, a stylish, confident woman approached her.
“Oh my god,” the woman said, eyes lighting up. “Are you Carla Connor?”
Carla blinked, caught off guard. “Er—yeah. That’s me.”
“I knew it! I thought I recognised you! I used to work in PR for one of the boutique agencies that carried your lingerie line. Your pieces are incredible—so wearable, so empowering. I still have that silk balconette set from the Valencia collection. Divine.”
Carla chuckled politely. “Thanks, appreciate that. Glad you liked them.”
“I more than liked them,” the woman said, stepping slightly closer. “You’ve got such an eye for detail. And it’s so rare to see someone combine power and elegance the way you do. You’re even more stunning in person.”
Carla raised an eyebrow, suddenly a little wary. “Well, that’s very flattering. Listen, I’d better get back—my partner’s waiting.”
“Oh, of course. See you around,” the woman said, still watching Carla as she left.

Carla returned to Lisa, who was eyeing her with amusement. “Who was that then?”
Carla handed over the coffee and sat down. “Some woman who recognised me from business. She was... enthusiastic.”
Lisa smirked. “Enthusiastic, huh?”
Carla grinned. “Bit too much. I made my escape.”
They both turned their attention to the stage as the lights dimmed and the announcer welcomed everyone to the evening’s fashion showcase. As models began walking the runway, Betsy’s collection was introduced. Each piece that came out bore Betsy’s youthful creativity and attention to trend. She’d created a vibrant collection of modern streetwear with an eco-conscious edge—oversized graphic tees with clever slogans, patchwork denim, recycled fabric jackets, and layered textures that somehow balanced edgy with wearable. The crowd responded with cheers and applause, especially when Betsy herself took to the stage to do a modest wave after her set.

As the show wrapped up, the announcer returned to present a few student awards. There was polite clapping for each winner, but when Betsy Swain’s name was called for “Best Overall Collection,” the applause erupted. Betsy walked to the stage, face glowing, clutching the award.
“I just want to say a massive thank you to my mum, who’s always supported me, and to Carla—for believing in me and helping me make this happen.” Lisa wiped away a tear. Carla noticed and gently brushed her thumb across Lisa’s cheek. “Oi, you’ll start me off too,” she whispered. Afterwards, they rushed backstage to congratulate Betsy, both throwing their arms around her.
“You were amazing!” Lisa gushed.
“Absolutely smashed it,” Carla added. “And well deserved.”
Betsy beamed. “Thanks! I’m gonna try to network a bit now, Carla said the room’s full of fashion people.”
“Go for it,” Carla encouraged. “You’ve earned the spotlight.”

Lisa excused herself to the loo, and Carla lingered near the wall, sipping the remains of her coffee. She didn’t notice the woman from earlier approach again.
“Hey again,” the woman said, stepping into Carla’s personal space.
“Hi” she replied cautiously. “I thought we’d done this bit.”
The woman laughed lightly, undeterred. “True. But I didn’t get a chance to properly say what I wanted earlier. Look, I know this might be a long shot, but if you ever fancy a drink—or something—I'd love to chat more. About design, business... or anything else.”
Carla stiffened. “That’s kind, but I’m with someone.”
“You mentioned a partner, but I didn’t see a ring.” The woman placed a hand lightly on Carla’s shoulder. “We’re all allowed to have a little fun sometimes.”

Before Carla could respond, Lisa appeared. She took one look at the woman’s hand and instantly walked over.
“Hi. I’m Lisa,” she said, sliding an arm smoothly around Carla’s waist and kissing her temple. “And you are?”
The woman quickly stepped back, face flushing. “I—uh—I’m sorry. I didn’t realise. Excuse me.”
She disappeared into the crowd in a flash.
Carla turned to Lisa. “Thanks for the save.”
Lisa chuckled. “Should I be jealous?”
“Absolutely not,” Carla said, brushing her lips against Lisa’s. “There’s no one else for me. Honest truth, I was wishing you’d come back sooner. Couldn’t shake her.”
They shared a kiss that lingered just long enough to draw a groan from a returning Betsy. “Oh, come on. Get a room, you two. You’re gonna ruin my professional image.”
Lisa laughed. “Sorry love, couldn’t help it.”
Carla grinned. “We just love you, that’s all.” They both enveloped Betsy in another big hug before the trio made their way out, still glowing from the success of the evening.

Chapter 38: Tricks, Treats and Texts

Summary:

The morning after Betsy's fashion show, she brings Carla a thank-you coffee at the factory, and they bond over the success of the event. Talk of the upcoming Halloween party at the Rovers leads to a secret plan to persuade Lisa to join in costume. Meanwhile, Lisa struggles through a tough workday and grows jealous after receiving playful selfies of Carla and Betsy together. Carla smooths things over with a promise of a quiet dinner at Speed Daal. The day ends with plans in motion and everyone heading home—some more convinced about Halloween than others.

Thursday morning dawned with the dull grey chill of late October clinging to the windows of Underworld. Inside, heaters hummed softly as workers bustled about, the whirr of sewing machines and the gentle murmur of conversation forming the usual backdrop. Carla sat in her office, nursing a black coffee and skimming over emails, her mind still warm from the pride and joy of the night before. The door creaked open.
“Morning,” Betsy Swain chirped, breezing in with a takeaway coffee in hand.
Carla glanced up, pleasantly surprised. “What’s this?”
“A peace offering,” Betsy grinned. “For dragging you to a student fashion show.”
Carla smirked and stood to take the cup. “Are you kidding? I loved it. You didn’t have to—thank you, though.”
“I mean it,” Betsy said, her tone softening. “It meant a lot to have you both there. Especially you. Mum was in bits.”
Carla smiled, touched. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Bets.”

A bang of a chair leg scraping in the factory beyond broke the moment. Then came the unmistakable sound of Kirk's voice carrying over the machines. “Oi, don’t forget tomorrow’s Halloween bash at the Rovers! Fancy dress mandatory!”
Carla groaned and rolled her eyes as Betsy leaned toward the open door. “Halloween party?” she asked.
Sally piped up from her station, “Yeah! Rovers do it every year—costume contest, themed drinks, terrible dancing. It’s tradition!”
“You should come,” someone else chimed in. “Bring your mum and Carla!”
Betsy looked to Carla, one brow arched.
Carla gave a small shrug. “I usually go. But I don’t… you know… dress up.”
Betsy narrowed her eyes in mock warning. “Oh, you will this year. Something easy—I’ll sort it. You just have to show up and promise not to chicken out.”
Carla lifted her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. But you’ll have to talk your mum into it too.”
Betsy scoffed. “Mum hates Halloween.”
“Exactly,” Carla said with a smirk. “You’ll need a proper strategy.”
“Leave it to me. Operation: Convince Mum is underway.” They shared a conspiratorial grin before Betsy ducked back out into the main floor.

A few hours passed. Mid-morning orders were sorted, machines hummed, and the place settled into a steady rhythm. Betsy returned to Carla’s office, frowning slightly. “Got something weird on the website.”
Carla looked up, alert. “Weird how?”
“Someone tried to buy five of the same set in different sizes. Shipping to... I don’t even know where. And the currency’s not even pounds. It’s like… crypto or something sketchy.” Carla tapped her desk. “Decline it. Screenshot everything, and send it to me. I’ll flag it to the police—just in case.”
Betsy nodded. “On it.”
She hesitated, then added with a grin, “So, about the party…”
“Oh no. What now?”
“Just thinking we need to start the pressure campaign. I’ll text Mum first. You follow up later. Bit of a one-two punch.”
Carla laughed. “You’re devious.”

By lunchtime, Betsy reappeared with her phone in hand. “She’s already replied.”
Carla looked up from her screen. “What did she say?”
“She said, and I quote, ‘Absolutely not. I am not dressing up like a pumpkin to drink overpriced cider in a pub full of zombies.’”
Carla snorted. “Did she actually say ‘pumpkin’?”
Betsy grinned. “Yup. I sent her a photo of us together. She’ll soften.”
They settled at Carla’s desk with sandwiches and crisps. Betsy took a few selfies with Carla mid-bite and immediately sent them to her mum.

Meanwhile, a few miles away, Lisa Swain was clinging to the top rung of a scaffold rig in the corner of a draughty old warehouse. Her tool belt was heavy, the lights she was rewiring flickering ominously, and a team of builders below kept “accidentally” moving her tool case every time she descended. Her patience was wearing thin. By the time she was back on solid ground and wiped her hands, she finally checked her phone. Three selfies of her daughter and girlfriend mid-lunch, grinning like schoolkids. No chance of a quiet bite with Carla now. Lisa sighed and typed: Glad someone’s having fun. I’m freezing and surrounded by Neanderthals.
Carla’s phone buzzed.
“Uh-oh,” she said. “I think someone’s jealous.”
“She’ll survive,” Betsy said cheekily.

Carla stepped out into the corridor and rang Lisa, her voice warm. “Hey, love.”
Lisa sounded put out. “Hey. You two having a right old laugh, I see.”
“Would it help if I promised to take you to Speed Daal tonight? Just us?”
There was a pause, then a soft laugh. “That might help, yeah.”
“No stroppy teenager, just wine, curry, and me.”
“You better not bring any samosa-related drama this time,” Lisa teased.
“Not unless you start it,” Carla quipped.
They chatted until Lisa reached her van, calmer now. Carla didn’t dare mention Halloween again. Not yet.

The afternoon slipped by. Carla approved the final draft of the new size chart Betsy had created, and double-checked security on the website. Betsy floated around the floor, helping with packing and labelling like a pro. Lisa, meanwhile, tackled another job—a late call-out to fix an outdoor security light on a property near the red rec. This one was at least straightforward, and she finished in good time. By five, Carla locked up, and Betsy waved her off as she got into her car. Lisa pulled up to their house not long after. As she stepped inside, the familiar smell of home—tea bags, polish, and the faint hint of lavender—greeted her.
Just another Thursday. But with Halloween looming, curry pending, and scheming teenage daughters at large, it was anything but boring.

Chapter 39: A Deal

Summary:

Carla and Lisa share a flirty dinner at Speed Daal where Lisa vents about her tough day, and surprises Carla with a romantic getaway for next week. Carla is touched and grateful. She then nervously brings up the Halloween party, admitting she agreed to go in costume with Betsy. Lisa is reluctant but eventually agrees after some playful persuasion. At home, they surprise Betsy with the news—she’s over the moon, but grossed out when she realises Carla used "persuasion" on her mum. The night ends with laughter, hugs, and warmth.

The warm spices and gentle hum of conversation in Speed Daal wrapped around Carla and Lisa like a comforting blanket. The booth by the window gave them a little privacy, and as they sat down, Lisa finally let out a long groan.
“Oh my god, I’m never going up a scaffold again. I swear, every time I got in position, someone moved my bloody tools. One bloke even unplugged my drill to charge his phone,” she said, grabbing a poppadom with unnecessary aggression. Carla chuckled, resting her chin on one hand. “That bad, eh?”
Lisa shot her a look. “Worse. I didn’t even get a proper break. Then I come down and see you two looking all smug and cozy in your selfies. I was fuming.”
Carla raised her hands in mock innocence. “Hey, Betsy dragged me into that. She even snapped one while I was mid-bite into a sandwich. It’s a crime against my image.”
Lisa tried to stay annoyed but the image of Carla mid-sarnie made her laugh. “I’m still jealous. You get the nice office job and the flirty teenager.”
“She is flirty, isn’t she?” Carla grinned. “I’m starting to think she’s more trouble than you.”
Lisa smiled to herself, swirling her drink before her expression softened. “I love that she’s got someone like you in her corner.”
Carla raised a brow. “Are you buttering me up?”
“No,” Lisa said, lips twitching. “I’m setting the scene.”
“For what?”
Lisa reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a little printout from her phone, sliding it across the table. “I booked us a surprise getaway. Just us two. Next week. Betsy’s at her grandparents’, and I figured we deserve a few nights off. Somewhere quiet, bit of countryside. No scaffolding, no sewing machines.”
Carla blinked at the paper, stunned. “You sneaky little—”
Lisa looked smug. “You like it?”
“I love it,” Carla said, genuinely touched. “God, Lisa, I can’t remember the last time anyone did something like this for me.”
Lisa’s expression softened again. “You’re worth it.”
There was a warm pause, both women smiling at each other across the table, their legs brushing under the booth. Carla reached across and touched Lisa’s hand.
“Thank you,” she said, quietly.
They were halfway through their curries when Carla decided now was the time. She cleared her throat, eyes darting from her bhuna to Lisa.
“So… slight change of subject.”
Lisa narrowed her eyes. “Here we go.”
“I may have… sort of… agreed to go to the Halloween party tomorrow night. In costume.”
Lisa nearly choked on her drink. “You what?”
“I know, I know! I don’t do Halloween either but—”
“You hate Halloween.”
“Yes, but Betsy really wants to go, and the factory lot have really taken to her, and it’s sort of a big thing for them—”
Lisa folded her arms. “So go. Knock yourself out. Dress as a sexy pumpkin. I’ll stay home in my joggers.”
Carla leaned in, playful but pleading. “Come with me. Please? You know it’ll mean the world to her. And to me.”
Lisa gave her a look. “You’re using guilt. You’re the worst.”
“No, I’m using strategic bribery. I’ll make it worth your while next week. Maybe a bottle of wine in the hot tub? Massage? Whatever you want.”
Lisa laughed despite herself. “You’re really going all out, aren’t you?”
Carla clasped her hands together. “Please?”
Lisa sighed, finishing the last of her naan. “Fine. But I’m not going as a witch. Everyone always makes me go as a witch.”
Carla lit up. “You won’t regret this. Wait ‘til you see Betsy’s face.”

When they got back to Lisa’s house, Carla kicked the door shut with her heel and called out into the hallway. “Betsy! Come down a sec!”
Betsy thundered down the stairs two at a time. “What’s going on?”
Carla looked at Lisa and smirked. “Your mum’s got something to tell you.”
Lisa rolled her eyes but smiled. “I’m coming to the Halloween party. And I’ll dress up. Happy now?”
Betsy’s jaw dropped. “No way! Oh my god! Are you serious?”
Lisa nodded. “Yeah. Serious.”
Betsy squealed and threw her arms around her mum. “You’re the best. I thought I’d have to go with just Carla.”
Carla smirked. “Excuse me, I’m very cool to hang out with.”
Betsy grinned at her. “Okay, fair. But still, this is amazing! Wait—how did you convince her?” she asked Carla.
Carla gave a smug shrug. “I’ve got good persuasion skills.”
Betsy paused, squinting. Then her eyes widened. “Ew. No. Don’t tell me that’s what you mean.”
Carla just grinned.
“Oh my god!” Betsy groaned, running for the stairs. “I’m too young for this conversation!”
Carla burst out laughing. Lisa covered her face, giggling. “You’re unbelievable.”
Carla pulled her in for a hug. “You love it.”
Lisa hugged her back, warm and affectionate. “Yeah… I do.”
Carla kissed her cheek. “Night, gorgeous.”
“Night. Get home safe.”
As Carla stepped out into the night, she glanced back at the house. For the first time in years, she felt not just wanted—but truly at home.

Chapter 40: Halloween

Summary:

Lisa, Carla, and Betsy get ready for the Rovers' Halloween party, starting the night with a fun selfie to mark the occasion. At the pub, they join a packed and festive crowd including friends like Amy, Shona, and David. Carla surprises everyone with her costume effort, Lisa warms up to the night despite initial reluctance, and Betsy thrives, mingling and soaking in the atmosphere. The night is full of laughter, teasing, dancing, and growing bonds, cementing the trio's place in the community and with each other.

It was just getting dark outside, the sky painted with streaks of burnt orange and navy blue, when Betsy bounded into the living room, her long black cloak swishing dramatically behind her. "Okay, okay, before we go anywhere—we need a selfie," she declared, pulling out her phone.
Carla, sitting on the arm of the sofa in a surprisingly convincing pirate costume—complete with a lopsided hat and a toy cutlass—groaned good-naturedly. “Do we really?”
“Yes!” Betsy insisted, already pulling the two women in. “This is historic. All of us in costume. It may never happen again!”
Lisa emerged from the hallway at that moment, rolling her eyes as she adjusted the glittery cobweb tiara she’d agreed to wear at the last minute. Her makeshift vampire costume was simple but sexy—tight black dress, dramatic lipstick, and a crimson shawl around her shoulders. She leaned in beside Carla, smirking. “Historic? We’re going to the Rovers, not the Oscars.”
“Same thing,” Betsy grinned. “Now, say ‘undead and fabulous!’”
Carla snorted just as the picture snapped, resulting in a perfectly candid shot of the three of them laughing. Betsy looked at the image and beamed. “I’m posting this. People need to see this iconic trio.”

Later, as they strolled arm-in-arm down the cobbles toward the Rovers Return, fairy lights twinkled in the pub windows, casting an inviting glow. They could hear the muffled sound of music and laughter as they approached. Inside, the pub was alive with decorations—plastic bats, faux spider webs, flickering pumpkin lights and cobweb-covered mirrors. The locals had gone all out. Amy was dressed as a glamorous witch, complete with a broomstick and glittery boots. David was in a very questionable Dracula costume, and Sally and Tim had come as a matching pair of skeletons with flashing eyes. As soon as Lisa, Carla, and Betsy entered, heads turned.
“Look who decided to embrace the spooky season!” Amy called out, raising her drink in their direction.
“I don’t believe it,” Tim said dramatically. “Carla Connor. In costume. This truly is a Halloween miracle.”
Carla rolled her eyes playfully and waved her toy cutlass. “I’m embracing my inner drama queen.”

Betsy immediately gravitated toward a small crowd of people her age by the jukebox, including Summer and Asha. Lisa and Carla headed to the bar, where Jenny—dressed as Morticia Addams—served them up a pair of dark and moody cocktails topped with dry ice. The mist curled around their hands as they laughed.
“I have to admit,” Lisa said, leaning in close to Carla, “this isn’t half bad.”
“You mean I was right?” Carla teased.
Lisa smirked. “Don’t get used to hearing that.”

As the night wore on, there were games—apple bobbing (which Sally nearly drowned in), a fancy dress contest (Fizz won, as a terrifying clown), and plenty of drunken dancing. Betsy came running over at one point to drag Carla and Lisa to the dance floor.
“I am not dancing,” Carla protested.
“Yes, you are!” Betsy insisted. “Come on, Pirate Queen.”
Lisa was already halfway through the chorus of "Thriller," throwing in a few well-timed zombie moves. Carla finally caved, letting herself be pulled into the chaos. By the time midnight rolled around, the trio were all giddy with laughter and slightly too warm in their costumes. Betsy had found herself a seat with her mates, a fizzy drink in hand, and kept glancing over at Lisa and Carla with a smile.
“I’m really glad we came,” Lisa said quietly, nudging Carla’s side.
Carla glanced around at the crowded pub, the warm buzz of chatter, the sight of everyone she’d grown to care about all in one room, and then looked back at Lisa. “Me too. Thanks for letting me talk you into it.”
“You’ll owe me forever, though,” Lisa grinned.
Carla raised her glass. “Happily.”

As the night drew to a close, they posed for one last selfie, this one featuring a red-faced Carla with her pirate hat now tilted backwards, Lisa leaning on her shoulder, and Betsy sandwiched between them, all laughing uncontrollably. Halloween at the Rovers had been a raucous, glittery, unexpected success—and none of them would forget it in a hurry.

Notes:

So when writing the next chapter I may have adjusted the holiday destination....please forgive me 🙏 It may not have continuity but I think it's a lot better 😉

Chapter 41: Headland Horizons

Summary:

Carla and Lisa enjoy a romantic firsr evening at the Headland Hotel in Cornwall. After a cozy dinner filled with laughter and wine, they take a moonlit walk along the beach where Carla opens up about her past love of surfing from her time in LA. She describes how it gave her peace and solitude. Lisa is fascinated and asks Carla to teach her. Carla agrees, suggesting they rent boards in the morning, deepening their bond with playful teasing and quiet intimacy.

The morning started crisp and bright, the first golden fingers of sunlight threading through the trees as Lisa parked up outside Weatherfield train station. Betsy sat in the front passenger seat, fidgeting with the zipper of her hoodie, her rucksack at her feet and suitcase in the boot. Lisa tried to keep the mood light, but her chest was tight with the usual tug of mum-worry.
“You’ve got your charger, yeah?” Lisa asked, casting a sideways glance.
Betsy rolled her eyes affectionately. “Yes, Mum. And my headphones. And snacks. And the emergency cash. And my student ID. And—”
“Alright, alright, no need to list the whole inventory.” Lisa grinned, reaching over to nudge her. “Just making sure. It’s the first time you’ve gone down on your own.”
“I know. But I’ll be fine. Nan and Grandad are buzzing to see me. You two go and enjoy your romantic getaway without me cramping your style.”
Lisa laughed. “You never cramp our style.”
“Liar,” Betsy said with a cheeky grin as she opened the car door. “Have fun, you lovebirds.”
Lisa got out too, helping her lift the suitcase from the boot. Betsy flung her arms around her mum, holding on tighter than expected.
“I’m proud of you, Mum,” she whispered. “You look happy again.”
Lisa squeezed her eyes shut for a second and hugged her tighter. “Love you, chicken.”
Betsy pulled away, gave her a mock salute, and wheeled her suitcase towards the platform entrance. Lisa stood and watched until her daughter disappeared through the doors. A strange ache sat in her chest, but it was soothed by the excitement waiting on the horizon.

By the time she got back to the car, Carla was in the passenger seat, two travel mugs of coffee in her hands, sunglasses perched on her head. She passed Lisa a mug with a warm smile.
“All good?”
Lisa nodded, starting the engine. “She’s off. Train should be on time. You ready?”
Carla leaned back, smirking. “Born ready. Let’s go get lost in luxury.”
The rest of the journey was a heady blend of laughter, shared playlists, and idle road trip banter. Carla dozed for a while with her head resting against the window, her lips soft with sleep, one hand still loosely holding Lisa’s. And when they finally pulled into the drive of the Headland Hotel, with its stunning coastal backdrop and sprawling red-brick Victorian grandeur, Carla sat up straight. Lisa grinned and slowed the car. “Told you I was planning something special.”
Carla stared in awe. “Lisa... this is... bloody hell. How much has this cost you?”
Lisa cut the engine, reached over and took Carla’s hand. “Don’t worry about that. You’re worth it.”
Carla shook her head, overwhelmed. “You’re unreal, you know that?”
Lisa chuckled. “Just wait till you see the room.”

Carla stepped out of the car and was immediately hit by the salty tang of sea air carried on the breeze. The gulls wheeled overhead, their cries echoing against the backdrop of cliffs and crashing waves. The hotel loomed before them—timeless, elegant, almost surreal. The red-bricked Victorian building stood perched on the edge of the headland like a stately guardian of the coast. Lisa came round to her side of the car and slipped her hand into Carla’s. “Come on, let's get checked in before you burst with curiosity.”

They stepped into the grand reception area where polished marble floors gleamed under warm lighting. Ornate cornicing decorated the high ceilings, and a huge floral arrangement dominated the centre of the lobby. A soft murmur of classical music drifted from hidden speakers.
Carla’s eyes flicked from detail to detail. “God, this place is proper posh. If I break anything, I’m blaming you.”
Lisa smirked. “You break it, you buy it.”
They reached the reception desk, where a smartly dressed young man greeted them with a polished smile. “Good afternoon and welcome to the Headland Hotel. Booking for...?”
“Lisa Swain,” Lisa said, her voice relaxed and confident.
The receptionist tapped away on his keyboard. “Ah, yes. We have you in the Sea View Suite for four nights. Everything is ready for you.”
Carla’s eyes widened. “Sea View Suite? Are you actually trying to spoil me rotten?”
Lisa leaned closer and murmured, “Just a little. It’s nice to see you speechless.”

A bellhop came to take their luggage and led them up a grand staircase lined with framed photographs of the Cornish coast through the decades. Plush carpet silenced their footsteps, and the corridor smelled faintly of fresh linen and lavender polish.
When the bellhop opened the door to the suite, Carla walked in slowly, taking it all in. The room was large and airy, with huge windows overlooking the Atlantic. A soft king-sized bed sat in the centre with crisp white bedding, and a plush velvet loveseat sat near the fireplace. A chilled bottle of Prosecco rested in an ice bucket by the window, along with two fluted glasses.
“Lisa...” Carla breathed, walking to the window and staring out at the ocean. “This is insane. You seriously booked this for us?”
Lisa shrugged off her jacket and flopped onto the bed with a grin. “Told you. You’re worth it.”
Carla turned from the view and crossed the room. She sat down beside Lisa, cupping her cheek. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”
Lisa reached up, brushing Carla’s hair behind her ear. “You’ve spent so long giving everything to other people. It’s your turn now.”
Carla leaned in, their foreheads resting together for a quiet moment as the sound of the sea filtered in from the open window.
“I’ve got a good feeling about this week,” Carla whispered.
Lisa smiled. “Me too."

Dinner at the hotel’s restaurant was slow and easy. The space was softly lit, the ocean visible through tall windows where the last blush of the sun was sinking below the horizon. Carla and Lisa sat by the glass, a candle flickering between them and a half-finished bottle of wine resting in a cooler nearby.
Carla twirled her fork in her pasta, glancing up at Lisa mid-laugh. “And then Sarah said, ‘Do I look like I know what poly-spandex is?’” she giggled. “We’ve only been using it for two years.”
Lisa chuckled, wiping her mouth gently with her napkin. “I can just picture her face. I’m still not convinced she’s not afraid of zippers.”
“She is,” Carla deadpanned, and they both laughed.
As dinner wound down, Lisa leaned back in her chair, smiling over her wine glass. “This was a good idea.”
“Yeah,” Carla agreed softly. “It really was.”

Afterwards, they made their way down the winding path that led from the hotel to the beach. The moon was high now, silvering the sand and casting soft light across the water. The waves rolled in gently, a rhythmic hush that filled the silence between them.
Carla slipped off her shoes and let the sand cool her feet as they walked close together, the sound of the sea a calming soundtrack.
Lisa bumped her shoulder lightly. “You’re quiet.”
Carla glanced at her, a thoughtful look on her face. “Just thinking. Being near the sea always does that.”
They paused at the edge of the water, watching the tide swell in and out.
“I used to surf,” Carla said suddenly, her voice soft.
Lisa blinked and turned to look at her. “You? Seriously?”
Carla laughed quietly. “Yes, me. I know, I don’t exactly scream ‘surfer girl’ these days. But years ago, when I spent some time in LA—business stuff, mostly—I picked it up. Fell in love with it, actually.”
Lisa’s eyes were wide with surprise and fascination. “I can’t believe I’m only just hearing this now.”
Carla shrugged, smiling to herself. “It became my escape. Early mornings, out on the water before anyone else. Just me and the board. No phones, no meetings, no pressure. It was peaceful. Centering, even.”
Lisa was quiet for a moment, watching the way Carla’s eyes traced the waves. “That actually sounds kind of amazing.”
Carla turned to her with a teasing glint. “I was pretty good, too. Had a couple of spectacular wipeouts, though.”
Lisa laughed. “You’re full of surprises.”
Carla nudged her. “Maybe I’ll come down in the morning and rent a board. Get back out there.”
Lisa raised a brow. “Would you teach me?”
Carla grinned. “Of course. If you’re up for a bit of saltwater in the face and falling on your arse.”
Lisa snorted. “So romantic.”
They both laughed, their hands brushing as the waves crept closer to their feet, the sea and the night wrapping around them like a quiet promise.

Notes:

Secret surfer girl 🏄‍♀️ 😉

Chapter 42: Surfing

Summary:

Carla and Lisa spend the morning surfing on the beach in Cornwall. After some laughs over Lisa struggling to get into her wetsuit, Carla gives her a quick tutorial on the sand before they head into the cold water. Lisa struggles at first but eventually manages to stand on her board, catching a few waves with Carla’s encouragement. Carla then takes some time alone in the sea, gracefully riding the waves before floating quietly and reflecting on the changes in her life—Peter, the factory, Lisa, and Betsy. Coming back to shore, she shares her thoughts with Lisa, and they share a tender moment, reaffirming their connection before heading off hand in hand to warm up and grab breakfast.

The sun had barely lifted above the horizon, casting a golden hue across the rolling waves as Lisa pulled the car into a gravel space near the beach. The salty tang of sea air rushed through the cracked window, sharp and clean. It was early, and the beach was nearly deserted apart from a few dog walkers and a couple of surfers bobbing like seals in the distant waves. Lisa cut the engine and looked out. “This place is unreal.”
Carla smiled, already out of the car and stretching. “Wait until you’re out on the water.”

They’d stopped at a surf shack just off the dunes to pick up boards and wetsuits, and now Lisa stood holding hers like it was a foreign object. She glanced at the tight black suit in her other hand, eyebrows raised.
“You’re joking. You want me to get into this ?”
Carla, already zipped up in her wetsuit and standing with practiced ease, just grinned. “Yep. It’s part of the fun.”
Lisa stared at the wetsuit again. “It looks like a second skin. I'm going to need three people and a tub of margarine to get into this.”
Laughing, Carla came over and showed her how to roll it halfway down before stepping in. Lisa tried, but it was a struggle.
“It’s eating me!” she huffed, hopping on one foot, trying to force the tight fabric up her leg. “I think I’ve pulled something. Possibly my dignity.”
Carla chuckled, then helped her pull the suit over her hips. “There. See? Not so bad.”
“I feel like a vacuum-sealed turkey,” Lisa muttered, but even she was laughing now. “Do I at least look cool?”
Carla gave her an appreciative once-over. “You look incredible.”
Lisa grinned, slightly breathless. “Alright, surf queen. Let’s do this.”

They padded down the soft sand toward the shore, boards tucked under their arms. Carla led her through a quick warm-up, demonstrating how to lie on the board, paddle, and pop up. Lisa mimicked her moves with concentration, wobbling through the motions, and collapsed into a heap on the board when she tried to stand.
“You’re getting there,” Carla said, laughing. Once they'd warmed up, they pushed the boards into the water. Lisa squealed as the cold Atlantic waves rushed over her feet.
“Bloody hell ! It’s like a freezer out here!”
Carla, already waist-deep, looked back with a grin. “You’ll warm up. Come on!”

They paddled out together, waves lapping around them, the sun beginning to glint off the water. Lisa flailed a little but managed to get herself positioned on the board. Carla swam beside her, gently pushing the board and giving her tips. After a few shaky attempts and impressive wipeouts, Lisa finally caught a gentle wave. She got to her knees, wobbled—then stood for a few seconds before toppling into the surf with a delighted yelp. She surfaced, pushing hair from her face and laughing, cheeks flushed with cold and triumph.
“I did it! I actually did it!”
“You looked amazing!” Carla called, clapping from her own board. Lisa caught a few more before paddling in, breathless and beaming. She stood in the shallows, water rushing around her ankles, watching Carla glide further out. The morning sun was now a full golden arc over the sea, gilding the waves and painting the surface in shimmering, molten light.

Carla moved through the water like she belonged to it—each stroke of her arms deliberate, powerful, practiced. Her back muscles shifted beneath the slick fabric of her wetsuit, her legs trailing in a smooth, balanced line. She waited patiently just beyond the break, eyes scanning the horizon with a calm intensity. She wasn’t just looking—she was reading the sea.
Lisa had never seen this version of her. She knew Carla was confident, composed, a natural leader—but this was something else entirely. This was grace, power, and peace all wrapped in one. The wave came—a clean, rolling swell—and Carla turned her board in one smooth motion, paddling fast. The moment she felt the wave catch, she popped up with such fluid control that Lisa actually gasped aloud. Carla stood tall, knees slightly bent, arms out like wings, riding the wave with effortless rhythm. She didn’t just stand still—she carved , dipping one hand down to skim the surface of the wave, leaning into a gentle turn, then pulling back into line. Her dark hair, dripping wet, streamed behind her as she dropped low and then kicked up into a small, sharp cutback, riding the curl all the way to its fading edge.

Lisa stared, mesmerised.

The sea was alive around her, crashing and roaring, but Carla looked utterly unbothered. She wasn’t fighting the wave—she was part of it, in tune with its movement, bending to its shape rather than trying to conquer it. There was something raw and beautiful about the sight. The power beneath her feet, the constant motion—and her complete trust in it. Carla caught another wave, this one a little faster. She leaned hard, twisting her torso, and the board responded instantly. It wasn’t flashy. There were no tricks. But it was elegant, skilled. Natural. Lisa could hardly believe her eyes. This wasn’t someone who’d surfed a few times—Carla knew what she was doing. After several minutes of this dance with the sea, Carla slowed, letting a wave pass. She lay back on her board, floating lazily, arms out, staring up at the sky. Her breathing slowed, chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm.

From the shore, Lisa could see the shift in her entire energy. The tough exterior, the relentless business focus, the slightly guarded nature Carla wore like armour— all of it was gone out there. On the water, she looked like someone who had finally exhaled. And in that moment, watching her silhouetted against the morning sun, Lisa didn’t just admire her. She understood her in a new way. Out beyond the break, Carla let her board drift. The rise and fall of the sea beneath her was slow and steady—like breathing. She sat up for a moment, legs dangling in the cool water, then lay back and let her arms spread out across the board, face turned to the sky. The light was soft, the sky streaked with morning cloud, and for the first time in a while, everything inside her was quiet. She let the silence stretch.

Her thoughts drifted, carried on the gentle pull of the tide. She thought about Peter. It still surprised her, how often she found herself doing that. It wasn’t painful anymore—not the raw, jagged grief it had once been—but it lingered. A weight she’d grown used to. She’d loved him, truly. And she’d tried everything to hold him together, even when it had almost broken her in the process. But now, things were different. She thought about Lisa. And how this hadn’t been the plan—there hadn’t even been a plan—but somehow Lisa had appeared, like she’d been waiting in the wings all along. Calm when Carla needed stillness, fire when she needed challenge. And Betsy, with her quick wit and relentless energy. It was strange how quickly they’d slipped into her life, as if they'd been part of the picture all along.
Carla let her fingertips drag through the water, watched the ripples fan outward.
A wave rocked beneath her gently, and she closed her eyes, breathing in the salt air. Everything had been moving so fast—orders at the factory, Lisa, Betsy, the changes she hadn’t even named yet. But here, on the water, it all slowed. This was her space. Her sanctuary. It always had been. The peace. The perspective. The reminder that she was still here.

Still herself.
Still healing.

A little while later, Carla paddled slowly back toward the shore, her arms cutting cleanly through the water. She didn’t rush. Each movement was smooth, deliberate, as if she were still carrying the calm of the ocean inside her. The sunlight had grown stronger, casting a soft gleam over the water’s surface, and the scent of salt clung to her skin. Lisa stood waiting just beyond the wet sand, arms crossed, her wetsuit hanging half-zipped around her waist. Her hair was a windswept mess, her cheeks flushed, and there was a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. Carla stepped off her board and walked through the shallows, water sloshing at her calves. She looked utterly relaxed, glowing almost. As she got closer, Lisa tilted her head and gave her a slow once-over.
“Well,” Lisa said, “you weren’t lying. You’re bloody brilliant out there.”
Carla smirked, dragging her board up onto the sand beside them. “Told you it was my thing.”
Lisa reached out and tucked a strand of damp hair behind Carla’s ear. “You looked like you were in a trance at one point. Just… floating.”
Carla gave a soft laugh, almost sheepish. “I was thinking.”
“About what?”
Carla hesitated, then shrugged. “Life. Peter. You. Betsy. How different this year’s been. In a good way. But it’s a lot, you know?”
Lisa nodded, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around Carla’s waist. “You don’t have to explain. I saw it. In your face. You looked… peaceful. Like nothing else existed.”
Carla rested her forehead against Lisa’s, their noses brushing. “It’s the only place I ever feel like that. Like I can breathe without pressure.”
Lisa kissed her cheek. “Then we’re definitely coming back.”
Carla chuckled, arms tightening around her. “Deal. But next time, you’re getting up on your board without all the dramatic flailing.”
“I make no promises,” Lisa said with a grin. “But I’m proud of myself. And of you.”
Carla leaned in and kissed her, slow and lingering. When they pulled apart, Lisa took her hand, their fingers lacing together easily.
“Come on,” Lisa said. “Let’s get warm, grab some lunch. Then maybe you can show me more of your moves—on land.”
Carla laughed. “Cheeky.”
Lisa winked. “You love it.”
They walked off together, wetsuits squeaking slightly, boards under arms, the beach stretching wide and golden behind them.

Notes:

Sorry guys but I probably won't be able to update this now until after the weekend as I'm going to Manchester for the weekend. Going to do the Corrie experience 😁

Feel like this is a good chapter to pause on though. I loved writing about how freeing surfing is.

Chapter 43: Wheel Coates

Summary:

Carla and Lisa head for breakfast before a romantic walk across the top of Wheel Coates. Whilst they take in the view Carla makes a declaration. Will Lisa respond?

Notes:

I'm back 😊 The Corrie tour was amazing - definitely recommend to anyone who hasn't done it yet!

Fresh from their showers, cheeks flushed from the sea air and exercise, Carla and Lisa made their way down to the hotel’s breakfast room. Carla wore a soft linen shirt over cropped jeans, her hair still damp and tousled. Lisa had thrown on a hoodie and joggers, her face free of makeup and glowing from the morning sun. They tucked themselves into a window-side table overlooking the sea. The scent of fresh coffee mingled with baked pastries and grilled bacon. Lisa grinned over her cappuccino. “Well, that’s a first for me—surfing before breakfast.”
Carla chuckled as she stirred sugar into her espresso. “You were good. Eventually.”
“Oh, thanks very much,” Lisa said, nudging Carla’s foot under the table. “You were like some kind of water ninja. Watching you out there… it was unreal.”
Carla shrugged modestly. “It’s like I said last night—it’s just always been my thing. When I was in L.A., it was the one place I could go to switch everything off.”
Lisa’s smile softened. “You were miles away at one point. Floating out there, looking like a painting. What were you thinking about?”
Carla hesitated a moment, then looked out the window. “Just… this year. Everything. How mad it’s been. How much has changed. If someone had told me six months ago I’d be surfing in Cornwall with you, I’d have laughed in their face.”
Lisa reached across the table and gave Carla’s hand a squeeze. “You and me both.”

They ate slowly, content in the quiet buzz of the room. After breakfast, they wandered back through the lobby, hand in hand, and stopped at the spa desk. Lisa leaned on the counter, her eyes lighting up.
“I was thinking tomorrow—spa day. You, me, massages, robes, no phones. Deal?”
Carla arched an eyebrow. “You know how to plan a weekend, I’ll give you that.”
They booked in for a late morning treatment and then, as they exited the lift, Lisa turned to Carla with a slight grin. “There’s somewhere I want to show you.”

Ten minutes later, they were back in the car, Lisa behind the wheel, the sat-nav turned off. Carla watched the winding Cornish lanes blur past the windows, the cliffs growing closer with every mile. When they parked, Lisa took Carla’s hand and led her down a narrow path that curved through wild grasses and bracken, toward the coastline. The wind whipped around them, and the sea roared far below. At the end of the path, the landscape opened up to reveal the haunting, windswept ruins of Wheal Coates. The old engine house stood silhouetted against the sky, perched on the edge of the cliff, the Atlantic stretching endlessly beyond. Carla stopped walking. “Bloody hell,” she whispered. “It’s… breathtaking.”
Lisa smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Thought you’d like it.”
They stood side by side, taking it all in. Carla pulled her phone out, snapping a few shots of the scene—then one of Lisa with the cliffs behind her. Then, laughing, Lisa grabbed Carla’s hand and pulled her in, angling the phone for a selfie. Their windswept hair, flushed cheeks, and crinkled eyes filled the frame, the sea a wild blur behind them.
“I want to remember this,” Lisa said softly.
Carla looked at her for a moment, and then leaned in, brushing her lips against Lisa’s temple. “Me too.”

They followed the coastal footpath, hand in hand, their boots crunching over gravel and earth, the sound of gulls circling overhead and the crashing sea below filling the space between them. They didn’t need to talk. Just being together, in that wide open space, felt like everything. They paused every so often to take in the view or to snap a silly photo, but mostly they walked in comfortable silence, the salty breeze tangling their hair and the cliffs dropping dramatically to one side. Eventually, they came to a little dip in the land where the path widened and a low stone wall offered a perfect perch. Carla sat first, leaning back slightly, legs outstretched. Lisa turned to look at her, then stepped in between Carla’s legs and sat down gently, letting herself relax into the embrace. Carla’s arms wrapped around her waist, instinctive and protective. She rested her chin on Lisa’s shoulder, and Lisa tilted her head to meet her, their cheeks brushing.

For a long time, they just stared at the ocean. The waves rolled and crashed in their endless rhythm, the sky vast and layered with soft grey and blush-pink clouds. The moment was quiet. Whole.
And then, completely out of nowhere, Carla’s voice came—low, steady, and entirely sure.
“I love you, Lisa Swain.”
Lisa stilled.
Carla felt her heartbeat flutter against her back. She wasn’t sure if Lisa had heard. So she whispered it again, her lips just brushing her ear.
“I love you.”
Lisa turned, her eyes wide and glossy, a stunned smile tugging at her lips. “Did you really just say that?”
Carla nodded. “I did. I mean it.”
Lisa’s voice cracked slightly as she answered, “I love you too, Carla Connor.”
They both burst into tears. Happy, overwhelmed, slightly ridiculous tears.
Carla laughed through hers. “What are we like, honestly.”
Lisa reached back, wiping her cheeks and turning in Carla’s arms enough to see her face. “I didn’t expect it. Not yet. But I’ve felt it for a while. I just didn’t want to rush you.”
“You didn’t,” Carla said softly. “It just... hit me like a wave. Like, what else could this be?”
Lisa kissed her gently, then again. “I think this is what it’s supposed to feel like.”
They sat like that for a while, pressed together, tears drying in the wind, hearts full.

Eventually, Carla sniffed, nudging Lisa with a grin. “I want a photo.”
Lisa turned her head. “What, now?”
“Yeah. This is background-of-my-phone stuff. Our first ‘I love you’ moment. Come on.”
Lisa giggled, wiping under her eyes with her sleeve. “We’re both blotchy and windburned.”
“Exactly. Real.”
Lisa unlocked her phone, switched it to selfie mode, and held it out. Carla leaned in close, still holding her tight. Click. The image was slightly off-centre, windswept, and absolutely perfect.
Lisa glanced at it and grinned. “We look like a pair of soppy idiots.”
Carla kissed her cheek. “Best kind.”
Lisa tucked the phone away, turning to lean back into Carla once more. “Let’s just sit here for a bit longer.”
“Yeah,” Carla said, resting her chin back on Lisa’s shoulder, holding her a little tighter. “Let’s stay right here.”

Chapter 44: Small Towns and Pub Quizzes

Summary:

Carla surprises Lisa with a fun night at a Newquay pub quiz, where rounds on general knowledge, music, and Halloween trivia have them laughing, flirting, and steadily getting drunk. After a tipsy walk back through town, full of teasing and affection, they end the night wrapped up in each other—closer, happier, and more in love than ever.

Notes:

This is quite a long one but I couldn't bring myself to split it so enjoy 😄

Eventually, the breeze picked up and the clouds thickened, nudging them out of their coastal reverie. Carla and Lisa stood hand in hand, giving the view one last glance before turning back toward the car. They drove through winding country lanes, tracing the coast back toward Perranporth. The town was quiet but welcoming, the scent of salt and pasties in the air, families meandering along the beachfront. Lisa spotted a small café tucked just off the main street—wooden tables outside, windows fogged from the warmth within.
“Lunch?” Lisa asked, already pulling into a space.
“Definitely,” Carla grinned. “I could eat a horse.”
They grabbed a table by the window inside, the place cosy with worn wood, mismatched cushions, and the hum of gentle conversation. Carla ordered a grilled cheese toastie with tomato soup, and Lisa went for the crab salad sandwich and a pot of tea. They chatted easily as they ate, replaying the morning’s surfing antics and the now solid memory of their first ‘I love you.’

Afterwards, they strolled through Perranporth’s high street, the narrow shopfronts and quirky stores inviting curiosity. They popped in and out of gift shops, laughing over gaudy souvenirs and questionable novelty mugs. Lisa held up a fridge magnet shaped like a Cornish pasty wearing sunglasses. “Betsy needs this.”
“She’ll pretend she hates it,” Carla smirked, “but she’ll put it on the fridge the second we’re home.” They picked it up, along with a small silver pendant shaped like a wave for Betsy, something a little more sentimental. Lisa took a photo of a handmade sign she spotted that read, “She believed she could, so she bloody well did,” and grinned.
“I’m sending this,” she said, pulling out her phone. She quickly snapped a selfie of her and Carla from earlier and added it to the message.
LISA: Thought of you. Love you. Hope you’re having fun. x

With that done, they continued down the street, Lisa linking her arm through Carla’s. The air was cooling now, the wind tickling their cheeks as they made their way back to the car and headed into Newquay. As they reached the hotel, Carla stretched her arms and turned to Lisa. “Right. You’ve booked everything so far. My turn.”
Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What are you planning?”
“You’ll find out. But first, nap time.”
Lisa groaned, dramatically rubbing her neck. “That surf board ruined me.”
“Poor thing,” Carla teased. “Go lie down. I’ll sort tonight.”
Lisa didn’t argue. Within fifteen minutes, she was curled up under the soft duvet, asleep with the faint sound of waves drifting in through the cracked-open window. Meanwhile, Carla sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling through her phone. She found a small, well-reviewed pub tucked away in the older part of Newquay—warm food, craft ales, and tonight, a quiz night.
“This’ll be a laugh,” she murmured to herself, booking the table. She glanced at the photo they’d taken earlier—Lisa between her legs, ocean behind them, both of them flushed from the breeze and love.
“Best holiday yet,” Carla whispered, slipping her phone down on the nightstand before getting up to shower.

Lisa stirred as her phone buzzed beside her on the nightstand. She squinted at the screen— Betsy . Still half-asleep, she fumbled to answer, her voice husky. “Hey, you alright?”
“You sound weird,” Betsy said immediately. “Why are you all croaky? What’s going on?”
Lisa chuckled softly, stretching. “I was having a nap… Carla wore me out this morning.”
There was a pause on the other end. Then—“Oh my God, mum! ” Betsy shrieked, laughing.
Lisa burst out laughing too. “ Surfing, you muppet! We went surfing this morning. Wetsuits and everything.”
Betsy cackled. “You? In a wetsuit? I need evidence.”
“You’ll get none,” Lisa said, grinning. “Except maybe a video of me screaming how cold the water was.”
“Oh, please send that.”
Lisa laughed again, her voice softening. “It was actually really fun. Carla used to surf in LA, you know.”
“No way.”
“She looked like a pro out there. Proper peaceful. I just flailed around like a drunk seal, but I got the hang of it eventually.”
“I’m proud of you,” Betsy said, warmth in her voice. “And hey, I saw the selfie you sent earlier. Why did Carla look like she’d been crying? Is everything okay?”
Lisa shifted upright against the headboard, glancing toward the bathroom where the sound of running water had just stopped. She sighed, gently. “Yeah. It’s… it’s more than okay. She told me she loves me.”
Betsy went quiet. Lisa continued, her voice a little thick. “I said it back. And we both had a bit of a cry. Happy tears, I promise.”
A pause. Then, “Wow. That’s huge.”
“I know,” Lisa whispered. “I didn’t expect it today, but it just… came out of her. And it felt right. All of it.”
Betsy was quiet for a few more seconds before saying softly, “Mum… I’m really happy for you.”
Lisa smiled to herself. “Thank you, love.”
“I mean, I miss Mama. I always will. But I don’t feel weird about this. You look… you look so happy with Carla. And she clearly loves you too.”
Lisa’s throat tightened. “She’s not a replacement for Becky. That love was its own thing. This with Carla… it’s different, but just as real.”
“I get that. Honestly, I think Mama would want you to be this happy again.”
Lisa’s eyes stung. She wiped at them, just as Carla emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, her hair damp, cheeks flushed. Carla tilted her head, silently asking if everything was alright. Lisa nodded, then gestured for her to come over. Carla perched beside her and leaned in close, overhearing the final bit of the conversation. Lisa put her on speaker.
Carla smiled. “Hey, trouble.”
Betsy grinned through the phone. “Hi! I hear you were showing off on the surfboard?”
Carla chuckled. “Maybe a little. Someone had to look cool while your mum squealed like she was being attacked by ice.”
“Oi!” Lisa nudged her, laughing.
“Well, I’m glad you two are having fun,” Betsy said. “But seriously, Carla… thank you. For making her smile like this again.”
Carla’s smile softened. “She’s making me smile too, Bets. In ways I didn’t think I could anymore.”
There was a sniffle on the other end. “Okay, you’re gonna make me cry now.”
Lisa laughed gently. “We love you, kid. Hope you’re having fun with the grandparents.”
“I am. Nana keeps feeding me and Gramps is trying to teach me to play chess. He’s awful at it.”
Carla and Lisa both laughed.
“Alright,” Betsy said, “go enjoy the rest of your day. But send me a pic of your dinner or something. Live vicariously.”
“You got it,” Carla said.
“Bye, love,” Lisa added.
“Bye!” Lisa ended the call and looked at Carla with watery eyes. Carla brushed a hand down Lisa’s cheek. “You okay?”
Lisa nodded, then leaned in and kissed her softly. “More than.”

The pub was already buzzing when Lisa and Carla arrived, golden light spilling out onto the street from its low windows, laughter and the clink of glasses spilling out with it. Inside, the walls were decked with old nautical memorabilia—oars, ropes, a rusted anchor—and the smell of ale and something fried lingered in the air. Carla led Lisa to their table near the back, where a little chalkboard read: Quiz Team: Insert Witty Name Here . Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Did you forget to name us?”
“I thought we’d decide together. We’re a team, after all,” Carla said with a smirk.
Lisa laughed, scanning the room. “Okay then... how about ‘The Surf and the Smug’?”
Carla feigned a glare. “I’ll take it.”
They scribbled it down and settled in with a couple of drinks—Carla on a glass of red, Lisa with a pint of local cider. The quizmaster, a sprightly woman in her sixties wearing a witch’s hat for some reason, banged a spoon on a bell. “Alright teams! Welcome to Thursday Night Pub Quiz. There are five rounds. No phones. No cheating. And remember—it’s all for a free dessert and eternal glory!”
The room cheered.

Round One: General Knowledge
“Question one,” the quizmaster called out, voice ringing over the chatter. “Which country consumes the most chocolate per capita?”
Carla scribbled Switzerland without hesitation.
Lisa blinked. “You knew that scarily fast.”
“I am a woman of culture,” Carla teased.
“Question two: What year did the Berlin Wall fall?”
Lisa furrowed her brow. “Nineteen eighty...nine?”
“Correct,” Carla said, scribbling it down. “God, you’re smart.”
“Keep talking,” Lisa said, bumping her knee against Carla’s under the table.

Round Two: Music
“Which artist released the album ‘21’ in 2011?”
“Adele,” they said in unison, then looked at each other and laughed.
“Name the British band that sang Don’t Look Back in Anger .”
“Oasis,” Carla said.
“Better not be a hint at something,” Lisa muttered, mock suspicious.

By Round Three: Film & TV , they were third on the leaderboard and feeling competitive. The questions got trickier.
“In The Matrix , does Neo take the red pill or the blue pill to learn the truth?”
“Red,” Carla said confidently. “Morpheus all the way.”
Lisa grinned. “I just remember Keanu in a trench coat.”

Round Four: Pot Luck
“What is the collective noun for a group of flamingos?”
Lisa tilted her head. “A stand?”
Carla bit her lip. “No—wait, I think it’s a flamboyance !”
Lisa nearly dropped her pen laughing. “No way.”
“It is!” Carla said triumphantly, writing it down.
When the answers were read out, they both high-fived at getting it right.

Final Round: Local Knowledge
“What Cornish village is famous for its surfing beach and annual music and surf festival?”
Carla glanced at Lisa.
“Boardmasters. Newquay,” Lisa whispered.
Carla jotted it down. “Show-off.”

As the quizmaster collected the papers, Lisa leaned over. “Win or lose, this is the best quiz I’ve ever been to.”
“Even if we don’t get free dessert?”
“I’ve already got my treat,” Lisa said, nudging her nose against Carla’s cheek. After a bit of a wait, the quizmaster returned, dramatically unfolding the results sheet. “In third place, ‘The Brains and the Booze’. Second, ‘The Quizlamic State’—and our winners, by just one point—‘The Surf and the Smug’!”
They erupted in cheers, both surprised and delighted. Carla whooped and pulled Lisa into a quick kiss. “Free dessert, baby.”
“Don’t call me baby in front of strangers,” Lisa said, blushing and grinning.
“Too late. You’re stuck with me!"
Their sticky toffee puddings arrived just as the last dregs of the quiz night cleared out, the pub dimming to that golden, late-evening glow reserved for the well-fed and tipsy. The desserts were served in shallow bowls, steaming and dripping in butterscotch sauce, the thick dollop of Cornish clotted cream already melting down the side. Carla practically moaned at the sight. Lisa, squinting slightly, leaned in close to inspect hers like it might be dangerous. “That… is obscene,” she whispered.
Carla snorted. “That’s the idea. Pure filth.”
Lisa raised a brow. “Are we still talking about pudding or…?”
Carla grinned wickedly. “That depends how far into your cider you are.”
Lisa picked up her spoon with a mock-serious expression. “I’ll have you know, I’m only two and a half pints in. I’m still classy.”
“You’re poking your pudding like it owes you money,” Carla laughed.
Lisa scooped a bite and shoved it into her mouth dramatically. “Holy hell,” she mumbled through a mouthful. “Okay. I might be in love.”
“With me or the pudding?” Carla asked, eyes glinting.
Lisa pointed her spoon at her. “Both. But the pudding doesn’t give me lip.”
“Oh, sweetheart. The pudding doesn’t know how to have fun like I do.”
They both dissolved into giggles, the kind that came from deep in the belly and bubbled up uncontrollably. Lisa leaned into Carla’s shoulder, nearly knocking her spoon from her hand. Carla caught it, dipped it into her own bowl, and offered Lisa a bite.
“This is getting very intimate,” Lisa murmured.
Carla fed her the bite slowly, deliberately. “Don’t get any ideas, Swain. You still owe me for letting you beat me at the music round.”
Lisa leaned in close, syrup clinging to her lips. “Oh, I’ll pay you back. Just not here. Unless you’re into back alley snogs.”
Carla laughed so hard she had to put her spoon down. “You are outrageous.”
“Drunk Lisa is a little loose-lipped,” Lisa admitted. “And also thinks you’re the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen.”
“Oh, now we’re pulling the drunk card,” Carla teased, brushing Lisa’s fringe back from her face. “You say that again sober tomorrow.”
“I’ll say it twice. Maybe three times. But don’t get cocky.”

They didn’t manage to finish the desserts—too much laughing, too much flirting, and far too many shared glances that lingered just long enough to draw attention from the bartender wiping down the bar. Eventually they stumbled out into the cold, arms around each other, both warm from food and affection and more than a little tipsy. The night air sobered them only slightly.
Lisa tried to walk in a straight line along the curb like it was a balance beam. “Do you think we won the pub quiz or was that just a sugar hallucination?”
“We won,” Carla said, catching her waist. “And we were glorious. I carried us through the film round.”
Lisa turned, nearly tripping, and wrapped her arms around Carla. “You did. I love how your brain works. It’s like… steel trap meets sexy encyclopedia.”
Carla raised a brow. “You should write my next job reference.”
“I’d include a photo too. That one I took of you mid-toast, all flushed and smug. Proper dish.”
Carla laughed, brushing her lips against Lisa’s temple. “You’re going to regret this stream of compliments tomorrow.”
Lisa wobbled slightly in her heeled boots. “Probably. But right now I just want to kiss you under this very romantic streetlamp and pretend we’re in a rom-com.”
“Only if I get to be the brooding one with a dark past and a sharp jawline,” Carla said, already leaning in.
“Deal,” Lisa breathed.

Their kiss was messy and laughing and slightly too long for public decency. They pulled apart gasping, giggling, Carla’s nose brushing Lisa’s cheek.
“C’mon, lover,” Lisa said, linking their arms again. “Let’s go home before I end up snogging you against someone’s campervan.”
“Tempting,” Carla replied, but followed her without complaint.
They ambled their way through quiet Newquay streets, stopping occasionally to point out shop window displays—Lisa insisting on trying on a floppy sunhat in a closed beachwear store’s reflection—and passed a couple eating chips who congratulated them on the quiz win.
“Famous already,” Lisa slurred, mock-bowing.
When they reached the hotel steps, Carla tugged her gently back before they went inside.
“One more thing,” she whispered, pulling Lisa into another kiss, slower this time. “Thank you for tonight. You make everything fun.”
Lisa’s smile melted her. “Wait ‘til tomorrow. Spa day, remember?”
“I’d forgotten,” Carla murmured. “You’re spoiling me.”
“You deserve it,” Lisa said simply. Then added with a wink, “Now get upstairs before I do something inappropriate on this very charming bench.”
Carla laughed and dragged her inside. They stumbled into the hotel room, laughing as Carla fumbled with the key card, nearly inserting it upside down. Lisa leaned against the wall beside her, giggling uncontrollably, her cheeks flushed from cider and kisses.
“You're hopeless,” Lisa murmured fondly.
“And you,” Carla said, finally swinging the door open, “are a menace in heels.”
Lisa kicked off her boots the moment they were inside and flopped onto the bed with a groan. “This bed… is heaven.”
Carla shut the door behind them and leaned against it, watching her with a soft smile. Lisa lay sprawled on the duvet, hair a mess, eyeliner smudged, and Carla thought she'd never looked more beautiful.
“You’re staring,” Lisa murmured, eyes half-lidded.
“I’m allowed,” Carla said, moving slowly toward the bed. “You’re mine.”
Lisa reached for her hand and tugged her down gently. “Come here.”

They lay facing each other, foreheads touching, breath warm between them. Lisa’s fingers found Carla’s, lacing them together. There was a stillness between them, the kind that comes only after a night of laughter and too much wine, where the noise of the world falls away.
“I love how I feel around you,” Lisa whispered.
Carla’s thumb brushed along Lisa’s cheekbone. “You make me feel like myself again. Like the best version of me.”

Their kiss this time was slower, unhurried. Less teasing, more telling. Layers of laughter faded into something deeper, quieter. The kind of closeness that comes from truly being seen. They undressed between kisses and whispered words, more clumsy than usual thanks to the wine, but it only made them laugh harder. When they finally sank into each other, it wasn’t about perfection—it was about connection. About knowing the rhythm of each other’s hearts.

After, they lay tangled in the sheets, Carla’s fingers tracing slow patterns across Lisa’s back.
“You’re incredible, you know,” Carla whispered.
Lisa, barely awake, mumbled, “Tell me again in the morning.”
Carla kissed her hair. “Gladly.”
Outside, the ocean whispered against the shore, but inside the room, all was warm and still.

Chapter 45: Sanctuary and Steam

Summary:

During their third day in Cornwall, Carla and Lisa enjoy a relaxing spa morning after a leisurely breakfast. They spend the day soaking in the calm, sharing quiet moments and light teasing. In the evening, they have a romantic dinner, reflecting on their deepening connection, with the promise of two more nights left to enjoy their getaway together.

After a slow and lazy start to the day, Lisa and Carla had eventually pulled themselves together and wandered down to the hotel’s bright, sea-facing breakfast room. The light poured in through the tall windows, illuminating the white linen-covered tables and the glint of polished cutlery. They lingered over coffee and a full Cornish breakfast, laughing about the night before and trying to piece together exactly how many glasses of wine they’d had between them.

Once they'd eaten, they returned to the room to pack a small bag each for the spa. Lisa pulled her hair into a bun and slid on her robe with an exaggerated sigh of pleasure. Carla smirked as she did the same, then caught their reflection in the mirror. "We look like we’ve joined a cult. A very luxurious, well-moisturised cult."
Lisa giggled. "Speak for yourself. I'm the high priestess of seaweed wraps."
The spa itself was tucked just below the main hotel, and as they stepped into the tranquil space, both women immediately exhaled. The scent of eucalyptus and lavender wrapped around them like a warm hug. After checking in, they were shown to a relaxation area with softly lit loungers and ambient music playing quietly in the background.

They had booked a couples’ treatment — not intentionally for the romance of it, but for convenience and timing. Still, as they lay side by side on the massage tables, Carla peeked over at Lisa.
"Don't fall asleep and snore. It'll ruin my zen."
Lisa groaned, already melting into the therapist’s hands. "You're lucky I don’t drool."
They both dissolved into muffled laughter. After their massages, they spent time in the thermal suite — drifting between the steam room, sauna, and hydrotherapy pool. They talked softly, or sometimes not at all, content in the quiet companionship of each other.

By mid-afternoon, they were sprawled on loungers in fluffy robes, sipping cucumber water and lazily browsing through glossy magazines neither of them intended to buy.
"This is exactly what I needed," Carla murmured, her eyes closed.
Lisa turned her head to look at her. "Me too. One more night of that quiz and I'd have developed permanent competitive tension."
Carla chuckled. "We won though."
"That we did, we make a good team" Lisa teased. "I’m proud."

Later that evening, refreshed and a little sleepy from the pampering, they headed back to the room. Carla sprawled on the bed, flipping through the dinner menu.
"How are we hungry again?"
Lisa flopped next to her, resting her chin on Carla’s shoulder. "Because we only had spa food. That doesn't count. It’s like... water but with leaves."
They decided on room service that evening — fish and chips for Lisa, a seafood linguine for Carla. They ate in bed, legs tangled under the covers, watching a classic film muted on the television while making up their own dialogue for the characters.

As night fell, the glow from their window faded to a soft blue-black, the rhythmic crash of waves still audible in the distance.
Carla looked over at Lisa, her voice quiet but certain. "And we still have two more nights of this."
Lisa smiled, leaning in to kiss her. "Best getaway ever."
They clinked their wine glasses in celebration and let the evening fade into comfortable silence, full bellies and fuller hearts.

Chapter 46: Eden Project

Summary:

Carla heads for a morning surf. Lisa watches her before receiving a phone call from Ryan. She learns that Carla has been keeping a secret from her. How will she approach Carla and tell her she knows? The two of them then head for a day out at the Eden Project.

Carla was up early, the Cornish sun barely skimming the horizon as she quietly slipped out of the hotel room, wetsuit in hand. Lisa stirred slightly but didn’t wake. By the time Lisa had made her morning coffee and wandered out, Carla was already a sleek silhouette slicing through the morning surf. Lisa chose a spot on the cliffside to sit, wrapped in her hoodie, legs pulled up, sipping her drink and watching the woman she loved. There was something mesmerizing about Carla in the water—her grace, her control, the way she moved like she belonged there. It was peaceful and powerful all at once.

Her phone rang, breaking her from her reverie. It was Ryan.
"Hey, Ryan, everything alright?"
"Yeah, all good back here," he replied. "Just thought I’d check in—see how the lovers’ getaway is going."
Lisa chuckled. "It’s been amazing, she got me surfing yesterday. Well, attempting to surf."
"Brave woman," Ryan teased. "Hey, look, everything's fine at the factory, but... there is one thing. I wasn’t sure if I should mention it, but... I overheard something."
Lisa’s tone shifted. "What do you mean?"
"I think Jenny’s come into some money. Nothing massive, but enough to cover what she owed Carla. Only... she hasn’t paid her back."
Lisa frowned. "What do you mean, money she owes Carla?"
"Ah. I assumed you knew. Carla lent her quite a bit to help the pub through some tough patches. It was quiet, not public knowledge. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this."
Lisa sighed, watching Carla carve through another wave. "Thanks, Ryan. I’ll talk to her."

Later that morning, after they’d both showered and dressed, Lisa brought it up while they were driving toward the Eden Project.
"Hey," she began casually, "I spoke to Ryan this morning."
"Oh?" Carla glanced at her, smiling. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, all fine... but he mentioned something. About Jenny. And money."
Carla’s smile faded slightly. "Right. That."
"What happened?"
Carla took a breath. "Jenny was struggling with the pub. She didn’t want to lose it. I had the cash, and I didn’t think twice. She said she’d pay me back when things picked up. Then I found out, right before we came away, that she might’ve inherited some money. But she hasn’t said a word to me."
Lisa frowned. "So, you’re just waiting?"
"Not forever," Carla replied. "I didn’t want to deal with it before the trip. It would’ve soured the mood. But I’ll have a conversation with her when we’re back."
Lisa reached over and squeezed her hand. "You’re amazing, you know that?"
Carla chuckled. "For lending money or for holding back a confrontation?"
"For both," Lisa said. "You didn’t have to help her, and you didn’t make a big deal of it. That says a lot."
Carla gave her a small, grateful smile. "Thanks. And thanks for not being mad I didn’t tell you."
"I haven’t had a reason to be. We’re still getting to know each other, Carla. There will be plenty of stories we haven’t shared yet. Doesn’t mean we’re hiding things."

By the time they arrived at the Eden Project, the tension had eased. The domes shimmered in the sun as they approached, hand in hand, and Carla let out a low whistle.
"Wow," she said. "Now this is impressive."
They spent the afternoon wandering through the tropical biome, humidity clinging to their skin as they marveled at the giant plants, waterfalls, and exotic flowers. Lisa read every sign she could find, fascinated by the science and sustainability projects, while Carla snapped photos of everything—including Lisa, who rolled her eyes and posed dramatically at the top of the spiral platform.

They cooled off with ice cream and wandered through the Mediterranean dome, then sat in the sun-drenched garden at the end, Carla stretching out on a bench with her head in Lisa’s lap.
"This has been a perfect day," she said, eyes closed, her fingers lightly drawing circles on Lisa’s thigh.
"It’s not over yet," Lisa said. "Two more nights of holiday left. Let’s make the most of them."
Carla opened one eye, grinning. "You got plans, Swain?"
"Always," Lisa said with a wink.
And as the sun began to lower in the sky, they headed back toward Newquay, the sea breeze trailing behind them like a promise of more memories still to come.

Notes:

Hope you guys are enjoying this story. I would like to keep it going as I have some inspiration but don't want people to be bored so let me know if you want anything included.

Chapter 47: Tides and Trials

Summary:

Carla decides to head for a shopping trip to by herself a surfboard. Whilst shopping they get heckled and Carla can't help but defend them. An elderly couple approached them to tell them how lovely they look together. Later that evening Lisa opens up to Carla about when she came out. Carla then opens up to Lisa about Rob and why he is in prison.

Notes:

⚠️⚠️ Trigger Warning ⚠️ ⚠️
Homophonic language.

The next morning in Newquay arrived with a clear sky and a whisper of breeze carrying the scent of the sea through the open window. Lisa stirred slowly, her body still aching in all the best ways from the night before. She blinked the sleep from her eyes to find Carla already up and dressed, hair in a bun and bag slung over her shoulder.
“Where are you sneaking off to?” Lisa murmured, her voice thick with sleep.
Carla turned with a smirk. “Not sneaking. Just thought we’d start the day with a bit of shopping. If I stare at that surfboard in the shop window any longer, it’s going to start calling my name.”
Lisa rolled over, smiling. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist. Let me get dressed. You’re not buying that thing without backup.”

After breakfast, they made their way into the centre of Newquay. The town buzzed with lazy mid-morning energy—shoppers milling about, tourists licking ice creams already melting in the sun. Carla led Lisa into a large surf store with gleaming white walls and rows of surfboards lined up like trophies.
“There she is,” Carla said, pausing in front of the board she’d eyed all week. The design was a swirl of blue and white with subtle gold flecks catching the light.
“You’ve basically been dating this board all week,” Lisa joked, nudging her.
Carla laughed. “Yeah, but... where would I put it? And how the hell do we even get it back to Manchester?”
Lisa grinned. “Easy. We strap it to the roof, and you keep it at mine.”
“At yours?” Carla raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah. You basically live there now anyway.”
Carla laughed again, this time more softly. “Alright. But we pick it up on the way home, yeah? I’m not hauling it around Cornwall like a trophy wife.”
“Deal,” Lisa said, satisfied.

They browsed through some small boutiques next, buying a couple of printed t-shirts for Betsy—one with a sarcastic slogan, the other with a surfer cat on a board. Lisa found a hoodie in deep green and tried it on right there in the middle of the shop, spinning for Carla’s opinion.
“You’re gonna make that thing look better than it ever did on the hanger,” Carla teased.
As they headed down the hill toward the beach, fingers entwined, the day felt perfect. The tide was just beginning to retreat, leaving streaks of foam across the sand. But the moment shattered when a voice rang out from across the patch of grass they were crossing.
“Oi! Disgustin’, that is!”
Carla tensed immediately.
“Two dykes holdin’ hands like it’s normal—this country’s goin’ to shit!”
Lisa flinched. “Ignore him,” she muttered.
The man was in his fifties, scruffy and red-faced, with a can of cheap lager already in his hand despite the early hour. He stormed closer, still shouting.
“You should be ashamed of yourselves! Look at you—makin’ a show of it in public! Filthy bitches!”
Carla stopped in her tracks, jaw clenching.
Lisa gave her a warning look. “Don’t.”
But then the man stepped forward and laid a hand on Carla’s shoulder.
“OI. I’m talking to you, sweetheart.”
Carla turned slowly, fury flickering in her eyes.
“You touch me again,” she said calmly, her voice dangerously low, “and I’ll have your face on CCTV faster than you can crawl back into whatever bin you dragged yourself out of.”
“Oh, you think you’re better than me? You f***ing lezzers think you’re all so high and mighty these days. You need putting back in your place—”
“I will call the police,” Carla snapped. “You’re drunk, abusive, and laying your hands on people in public. Keep pushing, and see where it gets you.” People had started to slow nearby, watching. The man looked around and finally seemed to realise he was outnumbered. He mumbled something under his breath and slunk off in the direction of a bus shelter. Carla turned to Lisa, checking her face, her hands. “You okay?”
Lisa nodded tightly. “Yeah. Yeah, just… shook me a bit.”

They made their way down onto the beach, choosing a quieter spot by the dunes. Carla sank onto the sand, pulling Lisa down beside her, arms wrapped around her waist.
After a moment, an elderly couple approached with a small dog on a lead. The woman looked nervous but determined.
“I just wanted to say how sorry I am for what that man said. Some people… they never change.”
Carla softened. “Not your fault, love. But thank you.”
The man added, “You two are a beautiful couple. Ignore people like him.”
Carla and Lisa both smiled, grateful. As the couple walked off, Lisa let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.
“It still happens,” she said softly. “Even now. You’d think… it’d be different.”
“I know,” Carla said. “I wish I could shield you from it. From all of it.”
“I’m not fragile.”
“No, you’re not,” Carla said gently, kissing her temple. “But that doesn’t mean you deserve it either.”

They sat in silence for a long while, watching the tide. The breeze played in Lisa’s hair. Carla tightened her arm around her waist.
“I love you,” Lisa murmured quietly.
Carla leaned her forehead against Lisa’s. “I love you too. And I’d shout it back at that man if I thought it would change anything.”
“It doesn’t have to,” Lisa said, smiling faintly. “Because I know.”

Later that evening, after a quiet dinner and some time spent lounging at the hotel, Carla and Lisa made their way back out for a walk along Fistral Beach. The sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon, casting streaks of pink, orange, and lavender across the sky, the reflection shimmering on the gently rolling tide. Their shoes in hand, they strolled barefoot at the water’s edge, waves kissing their ankles as they moved. It was quiet save for the sound of the sea and the occasional call of a distant gull.
Lisa looked out to sea, her tone reflective. “It’s strange, isn’t it? This… peace. I used to crave moments like this, but they always came with a cost.”
Carla glanced over. “What do you mean?”
Lisa sighed. “Growing up… being out wasn’t something you just did. I came out when I was nineteen, and not everyone took it well. I had people spit at me in the street. Once, someone threw a glass at me outside a pub just because I was holding Becky’s hand.”
Carla’s heart clenched. “Lisa…”
“I’m alright,” Lisa said, brushing it off with a soft smile. “It just sticks with you, you know? Even now, when people stare, or mutter things under their breath. You can never be entirely sure how safe you are.”
Carla stopped walking and gently reached out, tucking a damp strand of Lisa’s hair behind her ear. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through that. You don’t deserve any of it.”
Lisa met her eyes. “None of us do.”
They resumed walking slowly, the mood quieter now.

After a moment, Carla spoke again, her voice hesitant. “Can I tell you something?”
Lisa nodded.
“It’s about my brother. Rob.”
Lisa looked at her curiously. “I’ve never heard you mention him.”
Carla nodded, staring out at the ocean as she walked. “There’s a reason for that. He’s in prison. Has been for a while. He… killed someone.”
Lisa’s eyes widened slightly.
“He was having a rough time. My ex-husband, Peter, had an affair with a woman named Tina. Rob—he was close to me back then. Protective. Maybe too much so. He blamed Tina for a lot of the hurt. Things spiralled… and he pushed her off a balcony.”
Lisa walked in silence, letting the weight of Carla’s words settle.
“I only visit him every few months. Sometimes I can’t face it at all. I love him, but what he did… it’s complicated. And I’ve not told him about us.”
“You don’t have to,” Lisa said softly.
“I know. But I want to. I’m due a visit. It might not go well.”
Lisa stopped walking and turned to face her. “If you do tell him and it doesn’t go well, you’ll still have me. You’re not alone in this.”
Carla looked at her, eyes glistening just a little. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”
Lisa smiled, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Maybe you saved up a lifetime of karma.”

They continued along the beach, the tide now lower and the sky a glorious painting of colours. They spoke quietly about the week—about surfing, the spa, the food, the quiet moments, and the loud ones too. Laughter bubbled up as they recalled the pub quiz, Lisa’s failed attempt at surfing, and Carla’s accidental tumble off the bed while drunk.
“You’re going to be living off this holiday for weeks,” Carla teased.
“I’ve already got enough material to wind you up for months,” Lisa smirked.
Carla dipped a toe into the sea and splashed water gently at Lisa’s ankle.
Lisa narrowed her eyes. “Oh no you don’t.”
She splashed back, harder, and Carla yelped as the cold hit her leg.
“Oh it’s on now,” Carla said, running a few paces before turning and launching a full splash at Lisa’s chest.
Screaming and laughing, Lisa chased her down the beach, catching Carla by the waist.
“Say you surrender!”
“Never!”
With a victorious gleam in her eye, Carla shoved Lisa into the shallow surf face-first. Lisa came up spluttering, soaked and gasping.
“Oh that’s it!” she shrieked, lunging forward and dragging Carla down into the water with her.
Carla landed with a splash, laughing hysterically—until she looked down and froze.
“Oh god.”
“What?” Lisa asked through her giggles.
Carla covered her chest. “My dress. It’s gone completely see-through! I’m not even wearing a bra!”
Lisa took a step back, then burst into laughter. “Carla!”
“I’m going to get arrested for public indecency!” Carla cried, flailing to stand and cover herself at the same time.
“Come on, before someone calls the beach patrol,” Lisa cackled, grabbing Carla’s hand and dragging her up the shore. They ran barefoot back toward the hotel, shrieking with laughter, hair soaked, dresses clinging, water streaming down their legs. At the door to the hotel, Carla paused, still trying to hide behind Lisa.
“Never again,” she muttered.
Lisa leaned in with a wicked smile. “Best. Holiday. Ever.”

Chapter 48: Home Again

Summary:

Carla and Lisa say goodbye after their romantic Cornwall getaway, sharing a heartfelt "I love you" and parting with warm promises to stay close. Back home, Carla has a playful but deep conversation with Ryan about the trip, their pub quiz victory, and her deepening feelings for Lisa. The mood shifts when Carla brings up Ryan’s slip about Jenny owing her money. She decides it's time to confront Jenny and make things right—after a much-needed shower.

The sun was still rising as Carla and Lisa checked out of the Headland Hotel, the golden light stretching long shadows across the red-bricked courtyard. They lingered for a moment outside the car, reluctant to break the quiet spell of the last few days. There had been no arguments, no stress—just sea air, good food, laughter, and a growing sense of something real between them.

On their way out of Newquay, they stopped to collect Carla’s brand-new surfboard. Lisa insisted on strapping it to the roof herself.
“You’re seriously taking this thing home?” Carla asked, arching a brow as she examined the sleek board.
Lisa grinned. “Nope. You’re leaving it at mine. I’ll keep it safe. Might even name it.”
Carla gave her a look. “That’s not how relationships work.”
Lisa smirked as she tightened the straps. “It is now.”

Back on the road, the journey home passed in a pleasant blur of rolling hills, roadside snacks, and classic tunes from Lisa’s meticulously curated playlist. They talked easily, laughing about their quiz victory and how smug Carla had looked holding the little trophy the pub had given them.
“You should’ve seen your face,” Lisa said. “You looked like you’d just been knighted.”
“I am never losing a quiz. Especially not to a bunch of people who think the capital of Australia is Sydney.”
Lisa laughed. “Still smug.”

By late afternoon, they pulled up outside Carla’s flat in Manchester. The city felt busier than either of them remembered, as if the quiet of the Cornish coast had dulled their tolerance for noise. Lisa parked and turned to Carla, her hand resting on the gearstick. “So… this is it.”
Carla smiled and leaned in for a soft, lingering kiss. “I love you.”
Lisa squeezed her hand. “I love you too. Thanks for the best four days I’ve had in years.”
“I’ll text you tonight,” Carla said, climbing out of the car.
“And tomorrow,” Lisa called after her.
Carla waved and smiled as she carried her suitcase up the steps to her building. Inside, Ryan was slouched on the couch, watching something mindless on TV.
“Look what the tide dragged in,” he called as she walked through the door.
Carla grinned. “Miss me?”
“You? Never. But I was starting to think you’d eloped or something.”
She rolled her eyes and flopped down on the arm of the chair. “If I had, it’d have been with a better dress.”
He gave her a once-over. “You look like someone who’s had a...very good time.”
Carla smirked. “We won a pub quiz.”
Ryan raised an eyebrow. “A pub quiz?”
“Won. It. Lisa and I. Team name: Surf and Turf.”
“You’re disgusting.”
Carla laughed. “And proud.”
She looked around the flat, her gaze landing briefly on a photo of Peter in the hallway. Her expression softened.
“I told her, you know. About Peter. And Rob.”
Ryan’s face grew serious. “You alright?”
Carla nodded. “Yeah. It was time.”

A pause stretched between them, filled only by the background hum of the television.
“She’s incredible,” Carla said finally. “Lisa. She’s patient, and smart, and funny, and she just… gets me.”
Ryan grinned. “God, you’re smitten.”
“I told her I love her,” Carla said, the words still warm in her mouth. “And she said it back.”
Ryan placed a hand on his chest, mock emotional. “My little ice queen is in love . Should I get the tissues?”
Carla threw a cushion at him.
“Alright, alright,” he chuckled. “So, you going to tell me all the embarrassing stuff you got up to?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Carla said, eyes twinkling. “You should’ve seen her trying to squeeze into a wetsuit. Took ten minutes and two cups of tea.”
Ryan burst out laughing. “You’re unbelievable.”
Carla joined in. “She even fell off the board a dozen times. Screamed like a banshee.”
“And she still said she loves you?”
“Mad, right?” Carla said, feigning disbelief. “Oh, and I pushed her in the sea fully clothed.”
Ryan was practically crying with laughter. “That’s evil.”
“She got me back,” Carla admitted. “Dress went see-through. She nearly died.”

As the laughter subsided, Carla grew thoughtful. “Hey… I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”
Ryan gave her a wary look. “Uh oh.”
“You told Lisa about Jenny. About the money she owes me.”
Ryan winced. “I might’ve mentioned it. I didn’t know she didn’t already—”
“She didn’t,” Carla cut in. “And it was awkward as hell.”
“I’m sorry, Car. I thought… I thought she’d know.”
Carla sighed. “Well, she does now. And I’m going to talk to Jenny tonight. After I’ve had a proper shower.”
Ryan nodded slowly. “You going full Connor on her?”
Carla stood, stretching. “Let’s just say I’m going to remind her I’m not someone to be taken for granted.”
As she walked down the hallway toward the bathroom, Ryan called after her, “Hey, Carla?”
She paused.
“I’m really happy for you.”
She smiled back over her shoulder. “Thanks. Me too.”

Chapter 49: The Showdown

Summary:

Carla confronts Jenny at the Rovers about the money she owes her, leading to a heated exchange. Daisy intervenes and things escalate when she grabs Carla's hair, starting a physical fight. Lisa walks in just as it unfolds and quickly helps break it up alongside Ryan. Lisa holds Carla back while Ryan restrains Daisy. Carla is ushered into the back with Jenny to talk privately, while Kit removes Daisy. Lisa and Ryan have a calm chat at the bar. Carla eventually returns, explains the resolution, and apologizes to Lisa for what she witnessed. Though Lisa expresses concern, she's reassured by others that Carla was only defending herself. The chapter ends with Carla and Lisa leaving the pub together, worn out by the day.

The Rovers was already lively when Carla arrived that evening, tension humming just beneath the usual pub banter. She scanned the room, spotted Jenny behind the bar, and headed straight for her. She didn’t want to make a scene—just a conversation. But things in Weatherfield rarely went as planned.
“Jenny,” Carla said, voice low but firm. “We need to talk.”
Jenny gave her a wary glance, setting down the glass she’d been drying. “About what?”
“About the money you came into. The money you didn’t use to pay me back.”

That was enough to draw Daisy’s attention. She came striding over, arms crossed, lips already pursed. “If you’ve got a problem with Jenny, Carla, take it elsewhere.”
“I’m not talking to you,” Carla snapped. “But since you’re here, you might want to keep your nose out of things that don’t concern you.”
Jenny held up a hand, trying to de-escalate. “Alright, everyone calm down.”
But Daisy was already pushing forward. “You think you can come in here throwing accusations?”
“I came to have a quiet word,” Carla replied, holding her ground. “But if you want to escalate it, be my guest.”

That was all Daisy needed. She reached out, grabbed Carla’s hair, yanking her head back.
Carla reacted on instinct, throwing her hands up to defend herself, but before it could escalate further, Lisa walked in the door, frozen in place as she took in the scene.
“Lisa!” Carla shouted, stunned to see her just as things turned ugly. Lisa rushed forward, grabbing Carla and trying to pull her back. At the same time, Ryan came bolting across the room.
“You grabbed her first, Daisy!” Ryan shouted, yanking Daisy back with both arms. Kit appeared from the other side of the bar and quickly took control, separating the two women. “Alright, that’s enough! Daisy, out. Now.”
Daisy glared furiously but allowed herself to be led out of the pub, muttering under her breath. Lisa was still holding onto Carla, checking her over. “You okay?”
Carla nodded, breathless. “Yeah. Just... not how I wanted this to go.”
Jenny, looking shaken, nodded toward the back room. “Come on, let’s talk in private.”
Carla looked to Lisa, who nodded. “Go. I’ll be here.”

Inside the back room, Jenny and Carla sat opposite each other.
“I didn’t mean for this to blow up,” Jenny said. “I should have said something. I did come into some money, and... I just got overwhelmed. I wasn’t trying to avoid paying you back.”
Carla sighed. “You should have told me. I’m not heartless, Jenny. But I can’t stand dishonesty.”
Jenny nodded, shamefaced. “I’ll sort it out.”
Back at the bar, Lisa and Ryan leaned against the counter.
“That got intense,” Lisa murmured.
Ryan gave a short laugh. “Daisy’s never been great at keeping her hands to herself.”
Lisa frowned. “Thanks for stepping in. And for yelling the truth.”
Carla came out shortly after, her face calmer now. She joined them at the bar.
“Everything sorted?” Lisa asked.
Carla nodded. “For now. I told her what I needed to. She’s going to pay me back.”
Lisa reached out and touched Carla’s hand. “Good. And for the record, I don’t condone violence.”
“Neither do I,” Carla replied. “But I won’t stand there and take abuse either.”

A few residents, who’d watched it unfold, nodded in agreement.
“You were defending yourself,” one of them said. “Daisy was out of order.”
Lisa looked at Carla. “Okay. But if the roles were reversed...”
“I know,” Carla agreed. “I’d be livid. I’m sorry you walked in on that.”
Lisa gave her a small smile. “You’re lucky I like you.”
Carla leaned in, brushing a kiss on her cheek. “It’s been a long day. I’m heading back.”
Lisa nodded. “I’ll call you later.”
And with that, Carla slipped out into the night, heels clicking against the cobblestones, head held high.

Chapter 50: The Quiet after the Storm

Summary:

Carla returns to work after the holiday and confides in Roy about the drama with Jenny and Daisy. She spends the day distracted, missing Lisa, who hasn’t contacted her since the fight. That night, Lisa shows up at Carla’s flat in tears, overwhelmed by guilt and fear. Carla reassures her with love and patience, and the two reconcile, ending the night together, stronger than before.

Carla was up before the sun, slipping out of bed with a sigh and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The flat felt colder than usual—quieter too, like it was holding its breath. She didn’t bother with makeup, just a touch of mascara and her usual sleek black coat as she stepped out into the chill morning air.

Roy’s Rolls was already open, warm light spilling from its windows. The scent of fresh bread and coffee enveloped her the moment she walked in. Roy looked up from behind the counter and gave a small nod, his usual understated welcome.
“Well, well,” he said as she approached, “back from the Cornish coast?”
Carla smiled, her expression softening as she sank into the corner booth with a steaming cup of tea. “It was perfect, Roy. Genuinely. Peaceful. Sunny. Romantic.” She gave him a wry look. 
Roy offered her one of his rare half-smiles.
Carla sighed, her tone shifting. “But I might’ve gone and ruined it all the second I got back.”
Roy arched an eyebrow. “How so?”
Carla ran her fingers through her hair. “Had a bit of a… situation at the Rovers last night. Confronted Jenny about the money she owes me, Daisy got involved, things got physical.”
Roy’s brow furrowed. “Physical?”
“Hair pulling, shouting. Lisa walked in during the chaos.” Carla looked down at her tea. “I don’t know if I’ve scared her off.”
Roy sat down opposite her, hands folded. “If what you and Lisa have is real, one incident—no matter how dramatic—isn’t going to undo it. Just be honest. Let her process in her own time.”
Carla nodded, grateful. “Thanks, Roy. I needed that.”

She headed into the factory feeling emotionally heavy, but determined. Sarah met her in the office, flipping through a few folders.
“You’re back! I’ve got a list,” Sarah said, gesturing to a small stack of papers. “We’ve had two suppliers go AWOL, a few website gremlins, and Kirk nearly ordered a thousand elastic bands instead of waistband elastic.”
Carla chuckled despite herself and took the stack. “Back to the grind, then.”
The rest of Friday passed in a blur of emails, budget reviews, and fixing one spreadsheet formula after another. She kept checking her phone, but there was no word from Lisa.

At lunchtime, she finally gave in and sent a text:
❤️ Hope your Friday isn’t too… Friday-ish.
She followed it up by texting Betsy:
“Hey kiddo, how’s the grandparent retreat? Office’s back to boring without you.”
She attached a selfie of her pouting at her desk. Still no reply from Lisa by home time.
Carla stopped into Frescho’s on the way back and picked up a microwave lasagna, a side salad, and a bottle of wine. One glass turned into two. She sat cross-legged on the sofa, telly on but not really watching, scrolling through her phone like maybe Lisa would appear if she stared hard enough.

Then, just after 10 p.m., the buzzer rang.
She frowned, stood up and padded over to the intercom. “Yeah?”
“It’s me,” came Lisa’s voice—quiet, shaken.
Carla pressed the buzzer without hesitation and opened the door. Lisa was standing in the hallway a minute later, eyes red-rimmed and watery. She didn’t say anything at first, just pulled Carla into the tightest hug, burying her face in her shoulder. Carla could feel her shaking slightly and instinctively wrapped her arms around her. They stood like that for a while, until Lisa finally pulled back.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Lisa asked, voice small and full of guilt.
Carla’s brow furrowed. “Because I love you. And you're my girlfriend. That’s what we do.”
Lisa blinked, more tears threatening. “But I ignored you all day.”
“You had every right to,” Carla said gently. “You walked in on me punching someone.”
Lisa sniffled, a shaky smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “But… Daisy started it. I know that now.”
Carla gave her a wry look. “Exactly. And I was giving you space to clear your head. And you’re here now, that’s all that matters.”
Lisa laughed a little, still shaky. “The longer I left it, the more I got in my head that you were going to be angry at me.”
“Hey,” Carla whispered, taking her chin in her hand. “Look at me. I could never be angry with you. Not for that.”
Lisa looked into her eyes and saw nothing but love and warmth. She nodded slowly.
“Come on,” Carla said with a soft smile. “Let’s go cuddle in bed, yeah?”
Lisa didn’t hesitate this time. She followed Carla into the bedroom and climbed under the covers with her, curling into her side like she belonged there—which, in Carla’s eyes, she absolutely did. And Lisa stayed the night.

Notes:

After that bit of drama I wanted to end with a little bit of fluff 🥰

Chapter 51: Sparks in the Air

Summary:

During the Street’s Bonfire Night celebration, Carla, Lisa, and Betsy join the community for fireworks and festive cheer. The mood is shattered when a rogue firework strikes Eileen Grimshaw in the face, causing panic. Carla’s quick first aid response stabilises her while they wait anxiously for a delayed ambulance. Amid the chaos, Lisa and Carla reunite with a shaken Betsy and bring her home, where they reflect on the traumatic evening. The night ends quietly, with gratitude, comfort, and renewed closeness.

Notes:

A little bit more drama for you 😉

A week had passed since the drama at the Rovers, and life had gently returned to its usual rhythm. Carla had her money safely back in her account—though she'd made a mental note to never loan large sums to friends again—and the factory was running smoothly. Betsy was back from her grandparents, full of stories and snacking habits picked up during her stay, and ready to face another half term juggling college and her shifts at Underworld. Lisa was back on the tools, up to her elbows in wiring and worn-out fuses, rolling her eyes at just how reckless people could be around bonfire season.

By the time Friday rolled around—Bonfire Night—the street buzzed with anticipation. The residents had pulled together to organize a modest bonfire and fireworks display on the communal green. There were flyers in the corner shop, a bunting-covered fence near Roy’s Rolls, and talk of toffee apples and mulled cider. Lisa’s morning had started with a minor disaster. A well-meaning but woefully misguided family had decided to light their bonfire next to their outdoor fuse box the night before. She spent an hour rewiring, shielding, and explaining the phrase “common sense” in the nicest way she could muster.

By lunchtime, she’d been to:
• A bungalow where someone had overloaded an extension cord with six fairy light strands and a plug-in heater.
• A semi-detached house where a firework had shorted an outdoor security camera.
• A primary school where a faulty floodlight had threatened to cancel the whole fireworks display.
• And a disgruntled pensioner’s home, where her “banging” Alexa speaker kept misfiring every time fireworks went off outside, prompting her to think her neighbours were trying to hack her Wi-Fi.

Lisa, now scarfing down a lukewarm sausage roll in her car, fired off a message to Carla:
“The level of stupidity today is next level. Fuse box + bonfire = chaos. People are wild.”
Moments later, her phone buzzed again—this time with a message in the family WhatsApp chat. It was from Betsy, and it was a photo. Carla, circa 1992. Big hair. Bold makeup. Possibly a velvet blazer. Definitely a mood.
Carla replied instantly:
“Where on earth did you get that from, missy? 🙈😱”
Ryan chimed in:
“Wow. The street really got to you, didn’t it?”
Roy, ever earnest, added:
“What a lovely photograph.”
Lisa responded: 
“Stunner. 😍❤️❤️❤️”
To which Betsy replied immediately with:  "🤢🤢🤢"
Lisa chuckled, locking her phone again and shaking her head fondly. It was these little exchanges—normal, silly, affectionate—that grounded her. That made all the madness worth it.

Back to work she went, smiling all the while.
By the time they made it home from work, dusk had settled and the chill in the air had deepened. Carla dropped her bag by the door with a groan, stretching her back.
“I swear my spine is about to lodge a formal complaint,” she muttered.
Lisa came in behind her, rubbing her hands together. “Try standing outside rewiring fairy lights that some genius plugged into a lawnmower socket.”
Carla smirked. “Still beats spending the afternoon chasing down invoices.”
Betsy came bounding down the stairs already dressed in her thick hoodie, beanie on her head, gloves sticking out of her pockets. “You two done being old?”
Lisa shot her a look. “Cheek.”
Carla raised an eyebrow. “You’re lucky I haven’t docked your pay for posting that photo, madam.”
Betsy grinned. “The 1992 blazer glamour shot?”
Carla narrowed her eyes. “The one and only. Where did you even get it?”
“My lips are sealed,” Betsy replied, turning dramatically and heading to the kitchen.
Carla followed, arms crossed. “Alright. 20p pay rise if you tell me.”
“A pound.”
“30.”
“70.”
“50 and not a penny more.”
Betsy laughed. “Fine. We’re doing a local business feature at college. Teacher brought in loads of old newspaper clippings. That one was about Underworld’s involvement in some careers event.”
Carla rolled her eyes. “Of course it was. I only agreed to model that damn blazer because no one else wanted to be in the paper. I got a bottle of wine and a lifetime of teasing for my trouble.”
Lisa leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You looked hot. I stand by my heart emojis.”
Betsy groaned loudly from the hallway. “You two are unbearable.”
Lisa winked at Carla. “Come on then. Let’s go celebrate bonfire night before Betsy disowns us.”
Carla grabbed their coats and flasks of hot chocolate Lisa had started prepping earlier. “To the street bonfire—where hopefully nobody sets themselves on fire this year.”
Lisa laughed. “No promises.”

The trio made their way down the street, the smell of woodsmoke already thick in the air. The bonfire had been stacked up high in the ginnel behind the Rovers, crackling and spitting gentle sparks into the November night. Children ran past with sparklers, and a few residents stood clustered near fold-out tables laden with jacket potatoes, trays of parkin, and flasks of mulled wine. Carla looped her arm through Lisa’s as they wandered into the crowd. Betsy darted off immediately, spotting Asha and Nina by the fire. Lisa handed over the hot chocolates, one to Carla and one for herself, and raised an eyebrow. “Place your bets on how long before someone complains about the smoke?”
Carla grinned, taking a sip. “Audrey’s already had a go at Sally about it on WhatsApp. Started a three-thread argument about fire safety and ‘toxic air particles.’”
Lisa snorted. “Classic.”

They stood close to the warmth of the fire, Carla’s body pressed just slightly into Lisa’s side. The sky was a deep navy now, stars fighting for space between the smoke trails. The first firework cracked into the air, a golden shower of sparks tumbling downward. Kids cheered, and even some of the adults clapped.
Carla glanced sideways, eyes soft. “I do love this place, weirdly.”
Lisa smiled. “It’s mad, but it’s home.”
Just then, Jenny walked past with a tray of plastic cups filled with cider, and Carla couldn’t resist. “Oh look, someone’s feeling generous.”
Jenny shot her a glare. “I was generous enough already.”
Lisa reached out and gave Carla’s hand a warning squeeze. Carla just rolled her eyes and muttered, “Later.”

From the fire, Betsy waved them over. She had snagged a few sparklers and was handing them out like she was the Queen of Bonfire Night. Carla took one reluctantly. “I haven’t held one of these since about 1999.”
“You’re overdue then,” Lisa said, lighting hers and holding it up like a sword.
They stood watching the fireworks light up the night, sparklers fizzing in their gloved hands. Carla looked up at the sky, a burst of red and silver illuminating her face. Lisa caught the moment and smiled to herself, just drinking it in.
Carla nudged her softly. “Thanks for coming with me.”
Lisa turned to her. “Where else would I be?”
Another firework boomed overhead, and they leaned into each other as if they could absorb the warmth from the noise.

Suddenly, there was a high-pitched whizz — not upward, but horizontal — followed by a loud, sickening crack . A scream cut through the air. People gasped and backed away in a ripple of panic. Someone knocked over the drinks table; plastic cups clattered to the ground. The fire crackled on, oblivious.
Carla’s eyes darted across the crowd and locked onto a figure slumped near the edge — Eileen Grimshaw, clutching her face, a scorched firework casing still spinning on the pavement beside her.
“Move!” Carla shouted, already pushing through the chaos.
“Eileen!” Dev shouted helplessly, crouching next to her. “She’s hit — it hit her in the face!”
Carla dropped to her knees beside them, adrenaline kicking in hard. “Let me see. Let me see, love.”
Eileen whimpered, her hand shaking as she moved it. The skin across her cheek and ear was red and already blistering at the edge. Her eye was watering and beginning to swell shut.
“Someone call an ambulance!” Carla barked. “Now!”
“I’ve called — I’ve called,” Brian shouted from somewhere behind her. “They said it might be a while — they’re overloaded tonight!”
“Oh, brilliant,” Carla muttered under her breath.

The crowd buzzed in nervous, useless motion. Children were being ushered away. Sally tried to direct people back from the area while Roy appeared beside Carla with a tea towel-wrapped bag of frozen peas.
“Thank you, Roy,” Carla said, pressing it gently against Eileen’s cheek. “This’ll help, alright? Just keep still.”
“Is it bad?” Eileen murmured, trying to stay conscious.
“You’ll be alright, but you’ve taken a hit,” Carla said softly, voice steady even though her hands were shaking. “Just focus on my voice. You’re doing great.”
Lisa had moved in, keeping people back. “Come on, give her some space, yeah?”
Paramedics were still nowhere in sight. Carla glanced up, jaw tight. “She might need stitches. Might be burns.”
“She was right near the table!” Dev kept repeating. “It went sideways — it wasn’t supposed to go that way!”
“I’m never going near fireworks again,” muttered Nina.

Ten agonising minutes later, flashing blue lights approached down the cobbles. Lisa waved them over frantically as Carla guided Eileen into a sitting position.
“She’s conscious,” Carla said when the paramedics arrived. “Hit in the face, burns to the cheek, possibly the ear — bit of swelling around the eye.”
The medics took over swiftly, and Carla stood back, her hands now stained with ash and worry. Lisa slipped an arm around her.
“You alright?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Carla breathed. “Just… hated seeing her like that. And no one knew what to do.”
“Well, you did.”
Carla gave a small, tired smile. “Good thing one of us kept their head.”

The crowd had quieted now, subdued after the drama. The fireworks had stopped. Someone had doused the rest of them in a bucket of water. The street, for once, was eerily quiet — apart from the hum of the ambulance engine and the occasional sniffle from a child.
Carla looked around. “Let’s find Betsy.”
Lisa nodded. “Before she ends up drinking all of Jenny’s free cider. ”
Carla gave a weary laugh. “Or lighting the next round of fireworks with her hair straighteners.”
And together, they moved back into the night, the chill of November settling in around them. They wove through the dispersing crowd, past toppled chairs and a half-eaten tray of baked potatoes. Finally, near the ginnel, they spotted Betsy — crouched on the kerb beside Nina, visibly shaken.
Lisa called softly, “Bets?”
Betsy stood up quickly and rushed over, wrapping her arms tight around Carla’s waist. “I saw it. I saw it hit her,” she mumbled into Carla’s coat.
Carla held her back just as tightly. “I know. But you’re alright, yeah? You’re safe?”
Betsy nodded, then pulled back. “Is she gonna be okay?”
“She will,” Carla said gently. “But she’ll need a bit of patching up. Took a bad hit.”
“It just came out of nowhere,” Betsy said, eyes wide. “We were laughing and then— boom.”
Lisa placed a hand on her shoulder. “I think that’s enough fireworks for one lifetime.”

They took Betsy home not long after, quietly helping themselves to a leftover parkin from the folding table on the way out. The street was starting to tidy up, a few figures with bin bags moving slowly, more somber than celebratory. Back at Lisa's house, Betsy changed into her pyjamas and curled up on the sofa under a throw. Carla sat beside her, warm tea in hand, while Lisa fetched a hot water bottle from the cupboard.
“I don’t think I like Bonfire Night anymore,” Betsy muttered.
Carla leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “You don’t have to. Not everything that’s traditional is safe.”
Lisa returned and handed the bottle over. “You alright?”
“I think so,” Betsy said. “You were really good, Carla. Like proper cool under pressure.”
Carla shrugged, clearly moved. “I just didn’t want her to be alone in that. No one should be. Plus the first aid training I have to keep forking out for at the factory finally came to use.”
Lisa looked at her, admiration clear in her eyes. “Remind me never to get injured in front of you. You’ll end up stitching me up with cotton thread.”
Carla smirked. “Don’t tempt me.”
Outside, the last of the bonfire smoke curled upward into the stars, leaving only the soft pop and hiss of dying embers.

Chapter 52: Pride

Summary:

The morning after the dramatic bonfire night, Lisa and Carla share a quiet moment in bed with coffee, reflecting on the chaos and how proud Lisa is of Carla for stepping up. Lisa is touched that Betsy turned to Carla for comfort, and Carla is moved by the trust Lisa places in her. Later, Carla visits Eileen in hospital, bringing flowers from the three of them. Betsy expresses her relief that Eileen is okay, then waits outside while Carla learns the full extent of Eileen’s injuries. Despite the seriousness of the incident, Eileen is in good spirits and grateful for Carla’s quick thinking, reinforcing their bond as neighbours and friends.

Notes:

Those scenes in Corrie today 🥰😍

Anyway...here's a little chapter following on from the drama at bonfire night. Some cute family and friends moments 🥰

The morning light crept gently through the blinds as Carla stirred, her arm draped lazily over Lisa’s waist. The events of the night before still lingered in the back of her mind, but for now, there was a welcome stillness in the room. Lisa passed her a coffee, their legs tangled beneath the covers.
"You're a bloody marvel, you know," Lisa said softly, leaning back against the headboard. "Last night... you were amazing. I'm really proud of you."
Carla blinked, caught off guard. “I just did what anyone would’ve done.”
“No, not everyone would’ve jumped in like that,” Lisa replied. “You were calm, focused. And... I saw the way Betsy ran to you after it happened. She hugged you first.”
Carla looked down at her coffee, her mouth pulling into a small, uncertain smile. “I thought she’d go straight to you. Honestly, I felt a bit guilty—like maybe I was stepping on your toes.”
Lisa turned to her, tucking her legs under her. “All I’ve ever wanted is for her to feel safe. If she gets that from you, Carla, then I’m glad. I love that she feels that way.”
Carla’s throat tightened, the warmth in her chest growing. “You’re going to make me cry, you know that?” she said with a soft laugh.
“Well, it’s only fair. You made me cry last week.”
They smiled at each other, the sort of smile that said everything without needing to say a word.

Eventually, they got out of bed, heading into the kitchen where Betsy was already perched at the table, nursing a cup of tea.
“How you feeling, sweetheart?” Carla asked gently.
Betsy gave a small shrug. “Bit weird. Like... I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“That’s completely normal,” Lisa said. “It was scary.”
Carla nodded. “You did all the right things, Betsy. Sticking with people you trust, getting help straight away. I’m really proud of you too.”
Betsy managed a small smile. “Thanks... It was just a lot, that’s all.”
“Tell you what,” Carla said, grabbing her keys. “I’m gonna pop to the hospital, see Eileen and take her some flowers from us.”
“I’ll come with you,” Betsy said quickly.
Carla paused. “Are you sure? You don’t have to.”
Betsy shook her head. “I want to. I want to see she’s okay.”

Later, at the hospital, Eileen was propped up in a chair by her bed, a thick bandage covering part of her left cheek and temple. She gave Carla a wry smile the second she walked in.
“Well, if it isn’t Weatherfield’s new Florence bloody Nightingale.”
Carla laughed, placing the flowers on the bedside table. “From the three of us. You scared the hell out of everyone last night.”
“Oh, don’t I know it,” Eileen muttered. “George’s face—he looked like he was about to faint. Useless man.”
She softened a bit. “But thank you, Carla. For jumping in. I honestly don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t.”
“Hey,” Carla said, waving her off. “Just glad you’re okay. You need anything, you know where I am.”
“Don’t worry,” Eileen said. “I plan to milk this for all it’s worth.”
Betsy stood quietly beside Carla as Eileen smiled weakly from her hospital bed. “Glad to see you on your feet,” Betsy said, her voice soft but sincere.
Eileen reached out and squeezed her hand. “Thanks, love. You alright after all that?”
Betsy gave a small nod. “Yeah. Just... glad you’re okay.” She glanced to Carla. “I’ll wait outside.”

Once the door clicked shut behind her, Carla stepped closer to the bed, folding her arms. “Alright, go on then. What did they say?”
Eileen exhaled, carefully shifting in her seat. “Concussion, two cracked ribs, and twelve stitches above my eye. Said I was lucky it didn’t hit any harder or lower—might’ve done real damage.”
Carla winced. “Bloody hell, Eileen.”
“Tell me about it,” Eileen muttered. “Firework came from nowhere. They reckon some idiot lobbed it from the side alley. Police are trying to work out where from.”
Carla’s jaw clenched. “Unbelievable. Honestly, if I hadn’t been there...”
“But you were,” Eileen cut in gently. “And I remember that, Carla. Even through the panic—you telling me to stay still, covering my head. You helped me breathe.”
Carla blinked, taken aback by the sincerity. “I was just doing what I know. Training from the factory.”
“Well, your training paid off.” Eileen gave her a tired smile. “Thanks again, love.”
Carla gave a quiet nod and tucked the blanket higher around Eileen’s legs before stepping back. “You need anything—shopping, help around the house—you call, alright? I’ll send Betsy over to tell George how to make a decent brew if I have to.”
Eileen gave a huff of laughter. “That’s motivation enough.”

Carla gave her one last smile before heading out into the corridor, spotting Betsy scrolling on her phone by the window.
“Ready?” Carla asked gently.
Betsy looked up and nodded. “Yeah. She really okay?”
“She will be,” Carla replied. “Thanks for coming, love. It meant a lot.”
They headed out into the crisp autumn air together, quiet but settled—grateful, in their own ways, for how things had turned out.

Chapter 53: Winter's Glow

Summary:

Carla and Lisa settle into a warm winter routine with Betsy, juggling work, holiday prep, and growing closer as a family. When Carla is invited to Ireland for Christmas, she chooses instead to spend the whole holiday with Lisa and Betsy, sealing their deepening bond and planning a festive getaway together.

The next few weeks passed in a fast-forwarded blur of routine, golden light, and the growing sense that life — for once — was falling into place. On Remembrance Sunday, the street came together in quiet solidarity. The cold November air bit at their cheeks as the parade moved solemnly past the memorial. Lisa stood in her coat, gloved hands clasped, with Betsy on one side and Carla on the other. The brass band’s mournful tones echoed down the cobbles, wreaths were laid, and heads bowed. There was comfort in the ceremony, the shared hush of a street that could be chaotic but always knew when to pull together.

Work, however, had no such reverence. Lisa’s days were suddenly relentless. People seemed to have lost all sense around electrical safety. The first Christmas lights appeared like fungi — overnight and unchecked. Jobs poured in: overloaded extension cords, scorched plug sockets, and one especially memorable client who plugged their outside lights into a socket inside via an open window... during a downpour.
“I swear,” Lisa told Carla one night on the phone, “some people think ‘pat testing’ means tapping the plug and praying.”
Carla had laughed, curled up in bed with a glass of wine. “Double your rates for festive idiocy.”

Meanwhile, Betsy was knee-deep in coursework. Her textiles portfolio project was underway — the task was to develop a line of design sketches and a vision board for a themed clothing line. It was right up her alley, but it wasn’t just Betsy’s creativity that flourished. Carla, unexpectedly but entirely naturally, became her design partner. Evenings at Lisa’s house saw the kitchen table buried under swatches of fabric, torn magazine pages, coloured pencils, and glue sticks. Carla’s years of fashion experience — dormant but still sharp — came alive in her guidance. Her praise was quiet but sincere, and Betsy soaked up every ounce of it.

At the factory, things were bustling too. Betsy’s part-time help with admin had streamlined the paperwork in ways Carla didn’t realise she needed. With orders up and productivity humming, Carla and Sarah hired two new machinists. There was a buzz in the air — and not just from the sewing machines. Fridays were sacred. Carla would head to Lisa’s after work — sometimes with takeout, sometimes with a bottle of wine, always with a sigh of relief. Saturdays belonged to the three of them. Pancakes, lazy mornings, half-watched movies, and teasing that danced between comfortable and affectionate. They’d slipped into a rhythm that felt earned.

Then came one Wednesday in early December. At the factory, the crew were dragging down Christmas decorations from the storage space upstairs — boxes and boxes of tinsel, fairy lights, and worn-out baubles wrapped in last year’s newspaper. Carla stood by her office window, arms folded, watching with a raised brow as Kirk nearly toppled over beneath a box marked “REINDEER (INFLATABLE, SLIGHTLY CURSED)”. She opened her door and called out, “Oi! No decorating until tomorrow. We promised Betsy she could be here when we do it.”
A chorus of “Yes, boss!” and “We’re just getting it down!” echoed back.

Satisfied, Carla returned to her desk just as her phone began to ring. The screen lit up with Michelle .
“Hey stranger,” Carla answered warmly, leaning back in her chair.
“About time you picked up!” Michelle teased. They chatted easily, catching up on Ryan, on the street, on Carla’s general well-being. Then Michelle got to the point.
“We’d love to have you both — you and Ryan — come over to Ireland for Christmas. You could use the break. And if you’re seeing someone... they’re welcome too.”
Carla smiled, heart warmed by the offer. “That’s really kind of you. Let me check in with Lisa and get back to you?”
“Course. No pressure. Just think about it.”

That evening, Carla and Lisa were both in bed, phone to ear, voices soft in the dark. Lisa recounted her day of madness: garden lights wired through kitchen sockets, someone using a hairdryer to defrost a fuse box, and a very panicked pensioner who thought a flickering LED meant a “ghost in the walls.”
“Your job’s more dangerous than mine,” Carla joked.
“Only this time of year,” Lisa groaned.
Carla told her about the factory and the chaos of the decorations being unearthed.
“And Michelle rang,” she added after a pause. “She’s invited me and Ryan to Ireland for Christmas. Said you and Betsy are welcome too.”
Lisa’s stomach twisted — not with jealousy, but with fear of disappointment. She kept her tone light. “That’s really sweet of her. You should go if you want. I would love to but I promised Betsy we would have Christmas here.”
Carla was quiet for a second. “I don’t want to go. I want to be here. With you. And Betsy.”
Lisa’s breath caught slightly. “You don’t feel like you’d be missing out?”
“No,” Carla said, certain. “This is where I want to be. Even if it’s just part of the day, I get that you probably have your own traditions—”
“Carla,” Lisa interrupted gently but firmly, “I want you here. For the whole of Christmas. Not part of the day. All of it.”
Carla blinked back sudden emotion. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Lisa said softly. “And I was thinking, maybe between Christmas and New Year, we book a little trip. Just the three of us. Somewhere festive. Cosy.”
Carla smiled into the dark. “I’d love that. But I’m paying this time.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Don’t argue, it’s happening.”
Lisa chuckled. “Alright, alright. You win.”

Eventually, their laughter softened into quiet breathing. Their goodnights were whispered, tender. Carla hung up and stared at the ceiling for a long time, her heart swollen with something she hadn’t let herself feel in years — certainty, peace, and the quiet miracle of being truly wanted.

Notes:

Sorry if it feels like I've sped time up a bit. I was getting a bit of a block with writing but had ideas for over the Christmas period so I have skipped a little.

Chapter 54: Deck the Halls

Summary:

On Friday evening, Carla joins Lisa and Betsy to decorate the house for Christmas. The atmosphere is full of warmth, laughter, and gentle teasing—especially as Betsy insists Carla wear a matching jumper, which she's already ordered. While decorating, Lisa finds a box of sentimental baubles and photos from her life with Becky. Overcome with emotion, she tries to hide them, but Carla encourages her to honour Becky’s memory instead. Her empathy and reassurance deepen the bond between the three women, leaving them feeling like a true family.

The next day, Lisa decided to take the afternoon off work. The early December sky was steel-grey, and the cold had a bite to it that clung to the fingertips and nose. But inside the house, warmth buzzed in the form of anticipation. Lisa had hauled the Christmas decorations down from the loft, dragging down box after box and laying them across the living room floor. A Christmas playlist hummed from her Bluetooth speaker—Mariah, Wham!, and a bit of Slade—while the oven was on low, keeping dinner warm for when Betsy returned from the factory.

By five, the front door opened and Betsy walked in, cheeks flushed from the cold, her work tote slung over one shoulder. Lisa poked her head around the kitchen door.
"Perfect timing, tea’s nearly done. Come warm up."
Betsy kicked her boots off and padded through. "Smells amazing. I’m starving."
They sat down at the table with steaming plates of pasta bake and garlic bread. Lisa watched Betsy dig in, then asked, “Good day?”
Betsy grinned through a mouthful. “You could say that. The factory’s a full-blown pantomime right now. Kirk tripped the main fuse trying to untangle lights while standing on a crate. Carla made him climb up the shelving to turn it back on while she threatened to call him ‘Christmas Sparkle’ for the rest of the season.”
Lisa burst out laughing. “Oh, poor Kirk. He never stood a chance.”
“There was tinsel in someone’s stapler, someone else’s lunch was glitter-bombed. Honestly, I love it,” Betsy added, smiling fondly. “It’s chaos. But fun chaos.”

Once the plates were cleared, Lisa rubbed her hands together and nodded toward the boxes in the living room. “Right! Shall we make a start on the decorations, then?”
Betsy looked over, then hesitated. “Actually… I was hoping we could wait till tomorrow.”
Lisa paused, visibly deflating. “Oh. You’re not feeling up to it?”
“No, it’s not that,” Betsy said quickly. “I just… I want to wait until Carla’s here.”
Lisa blinked, taken aback. “You do?”
Betsy nodded, her voice soft but sure. “Yeah. She’s part of this now, Mum. She’s part of us. And it doesn’t feel right putting up the decorations without her.”
Lisa slowly sank down onto the sofa, processing that. “I didn’t think you felt that strongly.”
“She’s been there for us,” Betsy said. “For both of us. And she actually listens to me. She helped me sketch out half my design board last week, spent hours just talking through ideas. I want her here for the fun stuff too. She deserves to be.”
Lisa swallowed hard, emotion rising in her throat. “I was scared, you know? That maybe it was too soon. That I was dragging you into something too quickly.”
“You’re not,” Betsy said, smiling. “You’re happy, Mum. I see it. And I’m happy too.”
Lisa reached out, pulling Betsy into a hug. “I really don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
Betsy chuckled. “Yeah, well, you’ve got me now. And Carla too.”

They stayed like that for a moment, until Lisa drew back slightly and said, “I was actually going to ask you about Christmas. Carla’s been invited to Ireland with Michelle and Ryan, but she told me she’d rather stay here with us.”
Betsy looked up, eyes wide. “Really?”
“Yeah. And I told her I wanted her here too. I thought we could spend it together—the three of us. Proper family Christmas.”
Betsy lit up, her grin wide. “That would be amazing! Can we get her a novelty jumper?”
Lisa laughed. “You’re obsessed.”
“She has to wear one. House rules.”
“Fine, but you’re telling her,” Lisa said with mock warning. They both laughed, the living room filled with warmth, tinsel, and the comforting hum of familiarity. Outside, fairy lights blinked on along the street, one house at a time, slowly turning their corner of Weatherfield into a little pocket of festive magic. Inside, the boxes stayed closed for one more night. Tomorrow, Carla would be here—and it would all begin properly.

By the time Friday evening rolled around, Lisa had the heating turned up and the house smelling like cinnamon and cloves. A pot of mulled wine simmered gently on the hob, and a festive playlist floated through the rooms, bouncing off the tinsel-trimmed archways. She’d lit a few candles and laid out a spread of picky tea—mini sausage rolls, cranberry and brie bites, crisps in Christmas tree-shaped bowls. It was warm and cosy, and everything felt perfectly in place. Betsy had just finished clearing away the dinner dishes when the knock came at the door. She ran to open it, already knowing who it would be.
“About time,” she teased as Carla stepped inside, the chill still clinging to her coat.
Carla laughed, slightly breathless. “I brought wine. Does that buy me forgiveness?”
Lisa appeared behind Betsy, beaming at the sight of Carla. “Always. Especially when it's red.”
Carla shook off her coat, revealing a chunky knit jumper and jeans, a bottle tucked under one arm and her usual smirk in place. “Evening, my festive elves. Heard you needed a tall person to hang the awkward stuff.”
“We need someone who can follow instructions without complaining,” Betsy shot back. “But tall’s a bonus.”
Carla grinned and handed over the wine, slipping her boots off. “This place looks brilliant already.”
Lisa handed her a glass. “We’ve barely started.”

Over the next hour, they worked together, weaving decorations through bannisters and fairy lights along the windows. Carla was assigned the higher tasks, but not without incident. She managed to get her hair caught in a garland while reaching over the curtain rail, prompting a burst of uncontrollable laughter from Lisa and a gleeful photo session from Betsy.
“Betsy, delete that!” Carla shouted, trying to untangle herself while simultaneously maintaining her dignity.
“Never!” Betsy cackled. “This one’s going on the family WhatsApp.”
Carla mock-glared at her, grabbing a bit of tinsel and draping it dramatically around Betsy’s neck. “Right, that’s it. Tinsel payback.”
They danced around the room, music blaring and laughter echoing. Betsy attempted to balance a Santa hat on Carla’s head, only for it to slip over her eyes, blinding her momentarily. Lisa laughed so hard she had to sit down.

Between decorating and sipping wine, there was constant teasing. Carla leaned close to Lisa more than once, their quiet flirtation never too far from the surface. They bickered over whether the tree should be traditional or modern, whether gold went with silver, and how many fairy lights were too many. (Carla insisted there was no such thing.) Once the main decorations were up and the tree stood proudly in the corner, covered in baubles and tinsel, Betsy settled cross-legged on the floor.
“I can’t wait for Christmas morning,” she said softly, smiling up at them.
“Me neither,” Lisa replied, curling an arm around Carla’s waist. “And I told Carla earlier—she’s staying with us for the whole thing.”
Betsy looked thrilled. “Yes! But—one rule.”
Carla groaned. “Oh no, not this again.”
“You have to wear a matching Christmas jumper,” Betsy said, her tone smug.
Carla narrowed her eyes. “What?”
“I ordered them online. They haven’t come yet, but when they do—you’re wearing it.”
Lisa tried not to laugh but failed. “She’s been planning these jumpers since October. She nearly had a panic earlier when she tried to order you one and it said sold out. I believe she has found the same one elsewhere though I'm afraid.”
Carla gave Lisa a look of mock betrayal. “You go along with this every year?”
Lisa sipped her wine and shrugged. “She is very persuasive.”
Carla groaned again. “Fine. But if it lights up or jingles, I’m out.”
“No promises,” Betsy said, winking.

Lisa moved to open another box that had been tucked away under the stairs. As she sorted through old tinsel and ornaments, her hand brushed against something at the bottom. She paused, pulling out a small gold bauble: First Christmas in our new home – 2011. Nestled beside it was a delicate glass ornament with silver etching: B & L – Married 2014. She froze. Her breath hitched. Then she found the photos—one of her, Becky, and a much younger Betsy, their arms wrapped around each other in front of a glowing Christmas tree. Her fingers trembled as she took them out, a lump rising in her throat. Carla noticed immediately. She came over quietly, kneeling beside Lisa. “Hey… you okay?”
Lisa nodded slowly, trying to keep her voice steady. “Yeah. Just… these were from our first Christmas. With Becky.”
She went to place the baubles back in the box, blinking rapidly. But Carla gently stopped her hand. “Don’t hide them. They should go on the tree.”
Lisa hesitated, searching Carla’s face. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like—like you’re playing second fiddle.”
Carla gave a small, earnest smile. “Lisa, I’m not here to erase her. She’s part of your life—part of Betsy’s. You don’t need to hide her away. You should celebrate her. Remember what she meant to you both.”
Tears spilled over now, freely running down Lisa’s cheeks. Betsy had crept closer, watching quietly. Carla turned to her. “She was your mum, Bets. It’s okay to still hold on to her.”
Betsy nodded. “It’s just… not everyone would be okay with it.”
Carla’s voice softened. “I am. I wish I’d met her, honestly. But I get to know her through both of you. And that’s a gift.”
Lisa let out a soft, broken laugh. “How did we get so lucky with you?”
Betsy smiled through misty eyes. “Seriously, Carla. You’re the best.”
They pulled into a long, warm hug—arms wrapped tight, heads pressed close.

Eventually, Lisa stood and placed the baubles gently on the tree, front and centre. She set the photo aside, promising to find a frame tomorrow and place it somewhere they could all see. They stood back, watching the lights twinkle on the finished tree. A little bit of old, a little bit of new. Love at the heart of it all.

Notes:

I love building this family dynamic. I've loved watching it develop on the show as well but I always feel like they don't have the time to show as much as I would like as it is a soap and drama sells more. Hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 55: Party Crashers and Pick ups

Summary:

The morning after a wild night out with Abi and Shona, Lisa wakes up in Carla’s bed, confused and extremely hungover. Through teasing and tender care, Carla helps Lisa piece together the night’s events—rescuing her when no taxis would take her, cleaning her up, and holding her hair while she was sick. Lisa is embarrassed but touched by Carla’s kindness, and the moment deepens their emotional bond as they share laughter, affection, and a gentle reminder of how much they mean to one another.

December rolled in with sleet and fairy lights, and with it came the annual season of questionable jumpers, workplace buffets, and hastily arranged Christmas parties. Lisa, true to form, had declined the invite to her electrical firm’s do without a second thought.
“Just imagine it,” she’d told Carla a few nights earlier, curled on the sofa under a blanket. “A load of sweaty blokes in flashing novelty ties arguing over who had the worst job of the year, all while necking flat lager and making dodgy jokes about extension leads. Nah, you're alright.”

Instead, Lisa had arranged something quieter—just dinner and drinks with Abi and Shona. A girl’s night. Pasta, gossip, and maybe a bottle of wine or two. Nothing too wild. That was the plan. Carla was still at the factory when the first text came through, her phone lighting up between invoices.
Lisa: “We’re on prosecco. It’s gone to Abi’s head already. Pray for us.”
Carla smirked, thumbs flying.
Carla: “You’re on your own, babe. Don’t let Shona near tequila or you’ll wake up in Blackpool.”
Lisa: “Too late. She’s ordering shots. I think the waiter’s scared.”

Ten minutes passed, and another came through.
Lisa: “Abi’s trying to tell the story about the pigeon in the chip shop again. It gets longer every time.”
Carla: “Tell her if she adds another five minutes, it officially becomes a folk tale.”
Another ping.
Lisa: “We’ve ordered limoncello. Abi’s face looks like she’s sucked a plug.”
Carla laughed out loud, earning a look from Sarah across the office.
Carla: “Remember: small sips, no dancing until after food, and no karaoke. We have a reputation to uphold.”
Lisa: “That ship has sailed. Shona’s already made the waiter join in on All I Want For Christmas. Send help. And carbs.”

Later that evening, Carla was back home, curled up with a glass of wine and a book when the messages started getting fuzzier.
Lisa: “In club now. Dark. So many sparkles. Glitter in my wine.”
Carla: “Stay hydrated. No kissing strangers. And keep your shoes on.”
Lisa: “One shoe off. Dancing. Abi’s shouting lyrics. Shona’s grinding on a jukebox.”
Carla: “That’s not a jukebox, it’s probably a DJ. Don’t get banned.”

Then came the inevitable drama.
Lisa: “Guy just tried it on. Told him I was gay. He said he could fix me. I nearly fixed him.”
Carla: “Tell him your girlfriend drives a Jag and has a right hook. Stay near Abi.”
Lisa: “He gone. Shona threatened to bite him.”

The next few texts descended into a string of blurry emojis, indecipherable words, and what Carla assumed were attempted lyrics. Then silence. Until just after 2 a.m., when her phone rang. Abi.
“Sorry, Carla,” Abi said, panting slightly from the noise in the background. “No taxi will take Lisa or Shona. They’re both... well, throwing up like synchronized fountains. David’s coming for Shona, but I didn’t think putting them both in the same car was wise. Lisa’s asking for you.”
Carla was already on her feet. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

When she pulled up outside the club, the temperature had dropped below freezing. Club-goers were spilling out onto the pavement in clouds of smoke and laughter, slipping on icy patches and still arguing over whose idea the sambuca was. Abi waved her down from under the awning, one arm hooked under Lisa’s, who was visibly swaying in place, her other hand clutching a half-eaten slice of pizza like it was a lifeline.
“There she is,” Lisa declared as she spotted Carla, eyes lighting up. “My hero. My queen of high heels.”
“I'm not wearing heels,” Carla muttered as she helped her into the passenger seat.
“I was,” Lisa mumbled. “They died.”
The drive home was filled with slurred half-sentences, sleepy giggles, and a very committed attempt by Lisa to sing Fairytale of New York, though she kept switching parts and confusing the lyrics. Once back at Lisa’s house, Carla gently eased her inside, helping her kick off her shoes and get to the bathroom just in time for another bout of vomiting. Carla knelt beside her, pulling her hair back, murmuring soothing things between sips of water and patting her back.
Lisa slumped back on the cool tile floor. “You smell really good,” she mumbled. “Like posh perfume and common sense.”
“Thanks,” Carla said, wiping her mouth and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You smell like sambuca and regret.”
Lisa squinted up at her. “You gonna ravish me now?”
“Not quite. Let’s get you out of this dress first.”
Lisa brightened. “That’s what I meant.”
Carla sighed, half-laughing as she peeled the dress off and slipped an oversized T-shirt over her instead. “You are absolutely going to hate yourself tomorrow.”
Lisa tried to wink, but both eyes closed. “Worth it.”
Carla got her tucked into bed and crawled in beside her, letting Lisa curl up like a cat in her arms. She was snoring softly within minutes, one hand still clutching Carla’s wrist like a security blanket. Carla looked at her, soft and flushed and utterly out of it, and smiled to herself.
“Next time,” she whispered, “I’m banning Shona from ordering anything stronger than orange juice.”

The next morning, Lisa stirred under the weight of a thick duvet, her mouth dry as dust and her temples pulsing in time with what she could only assume was the echo of every bassline from last night’s club. She groaned softly, burying her face into a pillow that didn’t smell like her own—cleaner somehow, faintly musky, with a trace of Carla’s perfume clinging to the fabric. It took a moment longer for the reality to register. This wasn’t her bedroom. There were no half-painted walls, no pile of laundry threatening to topple in the corner. No familiar creak from the pipes behind the radiator. Instead, the room was dimly lit by winter sunshine pushing through gauzy curtains, and the air was still, aside from the distant sound of a kettle boiling and soft movement in the next room.

Lisa sat up slowly, a jolt of nausea reminding her that her stomach was still punishing her for the tequila. She blinked, taking in the minimalist décor, the neatness, and the unmistakable scent of Carla's hand cream lingering on the nightstand.
“What the…?” she mumbled, running a hand through her tangled hair and trying to piece it all together. Her phone was charging beside the bed, screen black. Her boots were neatly by the door. Her coat folded on the back of a chair. None of these things she remembered doing. What she did remember was Abi’s cackling, Shona’s slurred rendition of “Spice Up Your Life,” that creep who wouldn’t back off—and the wave of sickness that hit her outside the takeaway at 2 a.m. She winced.

Carla’s voice floated in from the kitchen. “You alive in there?”
Lisa flopped back onto the pillow. “I think so.”
A moment later, Carla appeared in the doorway holding two steaming mugs of coffee. Her hair was loose and messy, her hoodie half-zipped over a vest. Her eyes sparkled with affection and quiet amusement.
“You look like a haunted doll.”
Lisa pulled the covers up to her chin. “Why am I in your bed?”
Carla smirked. “You passed the audition for ‘human vomit fountain’ with flying colours, and Abi couldn’t get you home. No taxis were taking anyone covered in sambuca and regret. David took Shona. I got you.”
Lisa let her head fall back dramatically. “Kill me.”
“Tempting,” Carla teased, handing her the coffee and sitting on the edge of the bed. “But then who would tell me I’m symmetrical and try to undress me while projectile vomiting?”
Lisa gasped. “No.”
“Oh yes,” Carla nodded with mock gravity. “You were convinced I was making a move when I was trying to stop you from sleeping in a puddle of your own shame. You also told me I was ‘like a sexy origami swan.’”
Lisa dropped her face into her hands, heat rushing up her neck. “I am never drinking again.”
Carla laughed and gently pried her hands away. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad. You were adorable. Belligerent, but adorable.”
Lisa peeked at her through her fingers. “Thank you. For coming. And... not filming it.”
Carla’s smile softened. She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Lisa’s face. “Of course. You’re mine, remember? I’ve got you.”
Lisa blinked hard, her hangover haze mingling with a deep rush of emotion. “You’re too good to me.”
“You’d do the same,” Carla said gently. “And don’t worry—you were actually pretty funny. You tried to order a taxi on a shoe.”
Lisa groaned again, but she was smiling now. She shifted, leaning into Carla’s side and resting her head on her shoulder. Carla instinctively wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in.
“You warm enough?”
Lisa nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Yeah. Just embarrassed.”
“Well don’t be,” Carla said. “But next time, I’m coming with you. You and Shona are a danger to yourselves.”
Lisa chuckled, letting herself relax into Carla’s steady presence. The thumping in her head had faded just a little, replaced by something warmer—something safer.
“I’ll make it up to you,” she said sleepily.
“You already did. You called me an origami swan,” Carla said, chuckling.
Lisa groaned and laughed at the same time. “Please don’t ever let Betsy find out.”
“Oh don’t worry,” Carla said with a wicked glint. “Your secret’s safe... for now.”

Notes:

Having a little fun with the writing in this one at the moment. Hope you guys are enjoying it 😊

Also sidenote - for those of you who read Goal Bound. The sequel is on it's way once I have finished either this or Altitude 😁

Chapter 56: Underworld Christmas

Summary:

Carla gets ready in her flat for the factory Christmas party, reflecting on how much her life has changed for the better. She picks up Lisa and Betsy, leading to flirtatious banter, heartfelt compliments, and a playful family moment as they take photos by the Christmas tree before heading out together. Carla, Lisa, and Betsy arrive at the lively factory Christmas party, mingling with friends and colleagues as festive cheer fills the room. Carla gives a heartfelt speech thanking the workers for their hard work and surprise Christmas bonuses. Sarah follows with the traditional factory awards, ranging from humorous to meaningful—including a touching one for Betsy’s creative contributions—bringing laughter, cheers, and emotional moments to cap off a night of celebration.
After a steamy moment hidden away at the factory Christmas party, Carla and Lisa return to the festivities trying to play it cool—only to be immediately called out by a suspicious (and cheeky) Betsy. Carla, never one to shy away from teasing, leans into the awkwardness with graphic innuendo until Betsy begs her to stop. The scene ends with laughter and warmth as the trio head home arm in arm, closer than ever and full of mischief, love, and festive cheer.

Notes:

Think this might be the longest chapter yet but I can't bring myself to split it up. Consider it my parting gift for the next few weeks. I will try to update if I can, but sure how much WiFi I will have.

The final week before Christmas arrived with a chill in the air and a flurry of activity on Coronation Street. At Underworld, there was a crackle of energy that even the bitter temperatures couldn’t dampen. Carla could sense it the moment she stepped into the factory on Monday morning. The workers were already in high spirits, voices raised in cheerful banter and holiday music playing softly from someone’s phone. Carla tucked her gloves into her coat pocket and looked around the main floor. Sarah was already by her desk, sleeves rolled up, poring over inventory sheets.

“Morning,” Carla said as she approached.
Sarah looked up, a warm smile on her face. “Morning, boss. You ready for the madness this week?”
Carla laughed, shaking her head. “As ready as I’ll ever be. How are we on orders?”
“Cleared most of them already,” Sarah replied, tapping the top of the sheet. “I think we’ve actually managed to get ahead.”
“Well, that’s something,” Carla said, glancing toward the sewing machines, where Kirk was already setting up. “With the year we’ve had, I’m grateful we’re ending on a high. The factory’s done bloody well this year, and I want to make sure the staff know it’s appreciated.”
She wandered across the floor, exchanging greetings with the team. Fizz was huddled with Izzy and Beth, a folder in hand and an intense expression on her face.
“Fizz,” Carla called out. “You planning a takeover, or is that the party schedule?”
Fizz straightened and grinned. “Just finalising the details for Friday. Black tie event, remember?”
Carla raised an eyebrow. “I remember. I also remember saying no to karaoke, a chocolate fountain, and hiring a magician.”
Beth pouted. “Oh come on, Carla. A magician would’ve been a right laugh!”
Carla folded her arms, her signature smirk creeping in. “I’m not having glitter and rabbits interfering with my accounts. Stick to wine, decent food, and music that doesn’t give me a headache.”
Fizz chuckled. “Got it. Sensible it is. I’ll send the final budget to Sarah later.”

By Wednesday, the black tie dress code was all but forgotten—or so it seemed. The team started showing up in increasingly ridiculous Christmas jumpers. It began with Sean, who strolled in proudly wearing a red knit featuring a 3D reindeer head and flashing LED lights.
“What in the name of good taste is that?” Carla asked, eyes wide.
“It’s festive, darling,” Sean replied, striking a pose. “You said black tie for Friday, not the rest of the week.”

By Thursday, the jumpers had escalated to include tinsel, battery-operated snow globes sewn into chests, and jingling bells on cuffs. Carla simply shook her head each time, though she couldn’t quite hide her amused smile. That afternoon, as she reviewed payroll with Sarah, Betsy wandered in carrying a tray of coffees. She handed one to Carla with a grin.
“Cheers, love,” Carla said. “You’re a star.”
“No problem,” Betsy replied, then leaned in conspiratorially. “They’re doing it on purpose, by the way. The jumpers. Just to wind you up.”
Carla’s brow arched. “Oh, are they now?”
“Absolutely. Kirk’s got one with a built-in music box for tomorrow. Plays Jingle Bells when he walks.”
Carla laughed. “Let ‘em carry on. They’ve worked hard this year. If daft jumpers keep ‘em smiling, I’m not going to stop them.”
She sipped her coffee, glancing out over the factory floor where Beth was now parading her Christmas tree jumper complete with baubles that actually twinkled.
Sarah looked up from her laptop. “You’re really letting them get away with it?”
Carla shrugged. “It’s Christmas. They’ve put their backs into it all year. Sales are up, we took on two new machinists, and the online orders have doubled. They deserve a bit of fun.”
Sarah smiled. “You’ve gone soft.”
Carla narrowed her eyes. “Careful, Barlow. I can still cancel the prosecco order.”
They both laughed.

As Friday approached, the factory buzzed with even more energy. Carla had secretly arranged a few surprises of her own—bonuses in the pay packets, a spread from Roy’s for the pre-party lunch, and a beautifully decorated tree delivered to the break room. Even she couldn’t help feeling the excitement build. Despite everything, it had been a good year. A better year than she’d expected. And tonight, they were going to celebrate it in style.

The buzz of the factory still hummed in Carla’s ears as she stepped through the door to her flat and let it shut quietly behind her. For a moment, she stood in the hallway, soaking in the silence that settled over the place like a soft blanket. After a week of festive chaos—parties, orders, logistics, wine requests, dodgy Christmas jumpers and all—this pause felt like luxury. She toed off her heels and padded into the bedroom, casting a glance at the elegant garment bag hanging from the wardrobe door. A small smile played on her lips as she reached for the zipper, revealing the midnight blue dress she’d chosen weeks ago. It was floor-length satin, cut to skim her frame in all the right places with a structured bodice and a daring low back. The neckline was subtle, but the shape and fit made it stunning—confident and classic, just like Carla Connor. She laid it gently on the bed and moved to her dressing table. The early evening light from the window cast a soft glow over the room, catching the delicate shimmer in her makeup palette. Carla took her time—toning her skin, layering foundation, blending shadows in muted silvers and blues that made her eyes stand out. She added a soft eyeliner flick and her signature deep berry lipstick. Her hair, freshly washed and blow-dried, was pulled into soft waves that curled just at her shoulders.

When she stepped into the dress and zipped it up, it felt like everything clicked into place. She walked to the full-length mirror and paused, looking at herself—not just the finished look, but the woman staring back. There had been so many years where she would look at her reflection and barely recognise the person there. Times when grief, stress, guilt, or heartbreak clung to her like a second skin. But now… now there was something softer in her eyes. Something steadier. This year had changed her. From the first moments of that unexpected connection with Lisa… to long evenings filled with laughter and wine, mornings filled with coffee and quiet touches, the chaos of factory life, the joy of watching Betsy grow, the way their little trio had fallen into place like a family. Even through the drama—the Daisy incident, the bonfire panic, the late-night rescues—she had found herself not just surviving but actually living.

And somehow, this life had become beautiful.

She reached for her clutch and slipped her phone into it. A message from Lisa blinked on the screen: “Can’t wait to see you. Betsy’s trying to guess your dress colour. She’s wrong.”
Carla chuckled to herself and typed back: “Midnight blue. Don’t let her change.”
Grabbing her coat from the hook, she took one last glance in the mirror. Not to double-check the look—but to remind herself: this is where I am now. I made it. I’m still here. She turned off the bedroom light, locked the flat behind her, and made her way into the soft chill of the December evening to collect Lisa and Betsy—her people—and head toward what promised to be one hell of a night.

Carla knocked on the door and waited, hearing the thudding of footsteps from inside.
“You’ve got a key, Carla! Use it—we’re not ready yet!” Betsy’s voice rang out from somewhere near the stairs. Chuckling, Carla pulled the spare key from her coat pocket and let herself in. She stepped into the hallway, instantly met with the familiar scent of Lisa’s wax melt and a faint Christmas cinnamon. As she rounded the corner into the kitchen, she found Betsy at the table, scrolling on her phone. Betsy looked up—and her jaw practically hit the floor. “Jesus Christ,” she said, staring. “You look… phenomenal.”
Carla shifted awkwardly. “Thanks, love…”
“No, seriously,” Betsy said, jumping up. “The structure, the fit, that neckline—it’s actual couture vibes. The seam work is chef’s kiss. My mum is going to pass out.”
Carla laughed. “Well, let’s try to keep her upright at least.”
She hung up her coat and raised an eyebrow at Betsy. “What’s wrong with your legs? Couldn’t answer the door?”
Betsy waved her off. “Saving my energy for glamour. Mum’s still upstairs faffing. Takes her a decade to get ready.”
Carla leaned on the doorframe. “Clearly where you get it from.”
Betsy just smirked. “I’m going to put my perfume on and grab my bag—brace yourself for the main event.”

Moments later, the sound of heels echoed on the stairs. Carla turned—and stopped breathing for a moment. Lisa descended slowly, dress hugging every curve like it had been made for her, a sultry shade of green shimmering with each step. Her hair was swept back on one side, skin glowing under the hallway light.
Carla blinked. “Bloody hell.”
Lisa grinned. “I know, right?”
“Wow,” Carla said again, genuinely lost for words.
Lisa hit the last step, took one look at Carla’s dress, and had to grab the banister for support. “Oh my actual God. You look… I don’t even have the words. That dress is obscene.”
Carla laughed. “Obscene?”
Lisa stepped closer, eyes dark. “If you think I’m concentrating on anything at the party tonight, you’re wrong. All I’ll be thinking about is what you’re wearing under that thing. Or rather, what I want to do to get you out of it.”
Carla flushed. “Behave.”
“I’m trying,” Lisa said, blatantly not trying. “But that neckline’s illegal. That slit in the side? You’re just showing off. And the way that material clings to your—”
“MUM!” came a shout from upstairs. “Filter, for God’s sake! I’m traumatised!”
They both burst out laughing.
Lisa leaned in and whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll keep it clean… until midnight.”
Carla raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You’re trouble.”
“I’m a delight,” Lisa shot back. “And tonight, I fully intend to misbehave.”
Betsy appeared on the stairs again, clutching her bag. “Right. If you’re both finished flirting like horny teenagers, it’s selfie time.”

She marched them into position by the tree and snapped a few. Then she held her phone up. “Okay, now you two. Cuddle in. It’s tradition.”
Carla leaned into Lisa, resting a hand on her waist. “You’re lucky I like you,” she murmured in her ear.
Lisa smirked. “I’ll return the favour later.”
Betsy rolled her eyes, then set the timer on her phone and looked back at them. “Final one is a kiss shot. I’m closing my eyes and pretending I’m not related to this mess.”
As the timer counted down, Carla turned to Lisa, lips brushing against hers just as the shutter clicked. The kiss was soft, warm, teasing—just enough for the photo but enough to leave them both grinning. Betsy groaned. “Gross, but fine. Let’s go already before you two start snogging under the mistletoe too.”
They laughed as they gathered their coats and headed for the door, the night ahead glittering with promise.

The warm buzz of conversation and clinking glasses filled the factory floor as Lisa, Betsy, and Carla stepped inside. Fairy lights were strung across the ceiling in soft loops, and the walls were dotted with paper snowflakes and handmade decorations courtesy of Kirk and Fizz. A banner hung near the small DJ booth read: Underworld Christmas Bash – Thank You For A Cracking Year!

Carla scanned the room as they walked in, already spotting Sarah laughing with Michael near the buffet table, and Jenny holding court at the makeshift bar with Rita beside her sipping something suspiciously fizzy. The crowd turned at their arrival, and a wave of greetings rose up. Carla gave her usual small smile and nods, Lisa waved casually, and Betsy beamed—already spotting a few of her mates from the street.
Betsy peeled away quickly with a “Don’t get too gross in public!” and disappeared into the crowd. Carla rolled her eyes and muttered, “She’s impossible.”
Lisa laughed, eyes flicking sideways. “You love it.”

As they mingled, the three were caught in various chats: Abi talking about her latest garage nightmare, Roy sharing a thoughtful take on winter traditions, and Dev passionately listing the specials he's planning for the shop in the run-up to Christmas. The factory girls took turns teasing Carla about her dress, making her roll her eyes and dish it back just as easily. She even let Kirk pull her in for a group selfie with some of the machinists, earning surprised looks and laughter.

The night hummed with energy—stories of the year shared in between mouthfuls of buffet food, laughter bursting around the tables, and an ever-growing list of New Year's resolutions none of them would likely keep. Carla chatted with Gary about expanding orders and pulled Sarah aside to congratulate her on a tough but successful season. All night, Carla and Lisa exchanged glances—some amused, some full of unspoken affection. Lisa’s eyes tracked Carla’s movements across the room with quiet admiration, while Carla stole subtle looks when Lisa was mid-laugh or mid-sip. At one point, Lisa slid her fingers into Carla’s as they passed one another near the dance floor. It was brief, unnoticed by most, but lingered in both of them like warmth spreading through their chests.

The music faded just enough for Sarah to clamber up onto the DJ booth platform—barely avoiding tripping over a speaker—and wave her arms like a woman trying to hail a taxi in a storm. “Alright, everyone! Can I have your attention for a sec?”
The chatter quieted. Some of the factory workers turned to look, drinks in hand, while others elbowed each other with exaggerated grins.
“I just want to say a quick thank you all for coming tonight,” Sarah called out, smiling as she adjusted the mic. “It’s been a cracking year, and tonight is about celebrating all your hard work… and probably embarrassing ourselves on the dance floor. But before that—our boss has a few words.”
She turned and passed the mic to Carla with a smirk. “Be nice.”
Carla took the microphone, adjusting it with a small laugh as the crowd gave a polite cheer. She glanced around the room, spotting familiar faces—Kirk by the buffet table with a santa hat askew, Izzy clapping already, and Lisa watching her from across the room with that soft, warm look that still made Carla’s stomach flip.
“Right…” Carla began, clearing her throat. “I’m not usually one for speeches—and definitely not in heels—but here goes.”
A small ripple of laughter eased her in. She glanced down at her champagne glass, then back up.
“This year has been… intense. The factory’s had its ups and downs, like always, but we’ve not just survived—we’ve grown. Orders are up, our quality’s the best it’s been in years, and that’s not down to luck. That’s down to every one of you. The graft, the patience, the way you’ve all pulled together—even when Kirk nearly set the break room on fire with that dodgy toastie maker.”
Cue a round of knowing laughter and a guilty wave from Kirk in the back.
“I want to say thank you. Genuinely. You lot kept me going at the start of this year when things were… tough. And I don’t think I said it enough, but this place? It means everything to me.”
She paused, taking a breath.
“Now… I know some of you were expecting some kind of big Christmas gift this year…”
A few groans echoed immediately, and Carla smirked.
“But—before you start throwing sausage rolls—maybe check your pay today. You might find a little festive surprise from me and Sarah tucked in there.”
That did the trick. A wave of cheers, whoops and even someone shouting “OI OI!” broke out, and Carla raised her hand for quiet again.
“Seriously though… I’m not one for soppiness. But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t mention the two new girls in my life.”
She looked over at Lisa and Betsy—Lisa was already tearing up, and Betsy looked like she was trying not to grin too smugly.
“They’ve changed me. Helped me find parts of myself I thought I’d lost. And I just… yeah. I’m lucky. Really bloody lucky.”
Carla raised her glass, and everyone followed suit. “So here’s to us. This slightly dysfunctional, often loud, occasionally hungover factory family. Merry Christmas.”
Glasses clinked all around. Carla stepped down, handing the mic back to Sarah, who looked genuinely impressed.
“Who knew you had that in you, boss?” she teased.
Carla just rolled her eyes and made a beeline for Lisa—who caught her hand and pulled her in close for a soft, proud kiss to her cheek.
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Lisa whispered.

Sarah grinned from ear to ear as she stood up on the little platform beside the DJ booth, microphone in hand. The chatter across the factory party quieted down as everyone turned their attention to her.
"Right!" she called, voice amplified now. "Before you all get too drunk to remember your own names, it's time for the Underworld Christmas Awards!"
Laughter and cheers broke out across the venue. Lisa, standing beside Carla with a glass of prosecco in her hand, leaned in and whispered, “What now?”
Carla chuckled. “Age-old tradition. Just wait—it’s daft, but it’s a laugh.”
Sarah waved a stack of certificates in her hand. “Now, you all know the drill. These awards are not exactly BAFTAs, but they come with bragging rights and, if you're lucky, a leftover mince pie. So let's get started!”

She glanced at her list and grinned. “First up—we’ve got the ‘Most Likely to Break the Coffee Machine’ award. This one goes to our lovely Kirk , who has managed to jam the thing with everything from marshmallows to… what was it last time? Instant soup?” Laughter rolled through the room. Kirk stood up, did an exaggerated bow, and shouted, “I regret nothing!” before accepting his certificate.

Next up: “The ‘Walking Health and Safety Violation’ award—goes to none other than Beth , who this year alone has climbed four unstable ladders, tripped over two crates, and once managed to staple her scarf to a bolt of fabric.” Beth proudly strutted up, threw her scarf like a model, and shouted, “Still standing!”

“Right,” Sarah continued. “The ‘Best Brew Maker’—voted unanimously—goes to Izzy . Honestly, we’d be lost without her cuppas.”
Izzy blushed as she accepted the certificate, waving bashfully. Then came the “Early Bird Award.” Sarah raised an eyebrow. “We’re talking ‘doors unlocked, kettle on, and already halfway through a to-do list before anyone else even shows up.’ That one goes to our own machine of efficiency— Sally !” Sally accepted the award with pride, holding her certificate like a trophy. “Punctuality is a lifestyle,” she said to chuckles.

The ‘Most Creative Excuse for Being Late’ award drew roars of laughter when Sean took the stage. Sarah read from the list: “Flat tyre, sick hamster, haunted toaster… mate, your imagination deserves its own Netflix deal.”
Sean flicked his scarf and winked. “I’ll be here all week.” Then, the room softened slightly as Sarah introduced a more heartfelt one. “The ‘Most Supportive Teammate’ award goes to someone who’s always the first to check in, the first to lend a hand, and the one who remembers everyone's birthday— Izzy , again!”
Izzy looked stunned as she came up again, people clapping even louder this time.

The ‘Undercover Comedian’ award had people chuckling as Craig was named—not a factory worker, but someone who often visited with packages and managed to have a new one-liner every time.
“Alright,” Sarah said, wiping a fake tear. “The ‘Fashion Fail of the Year’… oh, you know who you are. Come on down, Kirk , for your legendary summer outfit—Crocs and socks with a fluorescent tank top.”
Kirk returned to the stage, bowing like a rockstar. “Style icon in the making!”

A few more came and went—the ‘Most Buttons Pressed at Once’ for Gemma , the ‘Most Dramatic Zipper Malfunction’ went to Beth , who told an overly detailed story as she claimed her prize. Then Sarah paused and looked up. “This next one’s special. It’s for Best Creative Ideas , and honestly, it’s probably the easiest award to hand out tonight.”
Carla’s gaze shifted toward Betsy before Sarah even said it. Sarah continued, “She’s brought a new energy, loads of incredible ideas, sketches, mood boards—and really pushed us forward creatively. The award for Best Creative Ideas goes to… Betsy !”
A cheer went up. Betsy blinked, looking genuinely stunned. Lisa gave her a gentle nudge, and she stood slowly, walking up with wide eyes. Sarah handed her the award, a special gold certificate with a navy ribbon. Betsy took the mic and smiled nervously. “Wow. Um. Thanks. I honestly just came in to help out at first, and I didn’t think I’d end up doing all this. Carla never treated me like a kid. She took my ideas seriously. And that’s been huge for me. I feel like I’ve found something I want to do… maybe even for good. The applause that followed was warm and heartfelt. Carla’s eyes glistened. Betsy returned to her seat, and Lisa wrapped an arm around her.

“And finally,” Sarah said, “We’ve got a last-minute addition to the list. This person isn’t technically one of our factory crew… but we’d all riot if she didn’t get recognised. She’s been a rock for Carla, a sounding board for Betsy, and somehow got involved in helping decorate the whole place.”
Lisa’s eyes went wide.
Sarah grinned. “The ‘Unexpected MVP’ award goes to—Lisa!”
There was a whoop from the back, and Lisa looked around stunned. Carla nudged her forward. “Go on, they’re right.”
Lisa walked up, cheeks flushing slightly. She took the mic and laughed softly.
“Well, I definitely didn’t see that coming,” she said. “I didn’t do anything special, really—just tried to be there when I could. But I love this lot. Even when they’re winding Carla up or breaking machinery or setting off health and safety alarms. You’ve made me feel part of something, and that means more than I can say.”
A big cheer followed as she stepped down, returning to Carla and Betsy, who both looked proud as anything. Carla slipped her arm around her waist and whispered, “Told you it was worth coming.”
The awards done, the DJ picked the beat back up, and the party rolled on, full of lights, laughter, and that slightly dysfunctional—but deeply loyal—Underworld family.

The drinks had been flowing steadily for a while now—wine, fizz, whatever random concoctions the factory lot had put on the tab. The music had crept louder with each passing hour, and the crowd had thinned slightly, with a few heading home early while others leaned harder into the night.
Lisa was mid-conversation with Abi, both of them laughing over something daft one of Abi’s lads had done when she felt a familiar touch at the small of her back. Carla. She’d sidled up silently, one hand snaking around Lisa’s waist, the other lazily brushing a strand of hair from her shoulder. Her fingertips lingered longer than necessary.
Lisa’s breath caught for just a second.
“Alright, love?” Carla murmured, voice warm with a hint of wine, her mouth near Lisa’s ear. Lisa turned slightly toward her, aware of every nerve ending lighting up under Carla’s hand. “You’re handsy tonight.”
Carla smirked, “Can’t help it. You look fit.”
Abi rolled her eyes with a grin. “And here I thought you two were subtle.”

Just then, a pop beat kicked in—one of those throwback noughties numbers that made everyone scream in nostalgia. From across the room, Shona clocked it and charged over. “Come on! It’s this one!” she shrieked, grabbing Abi’s arm and then tugging Lisa’s. “You’re not getting out of it!”
Lisa laughed, resisting only for a moment before relenting. “Alright, alright, don’t rip my arm off!”
She looked back at Carla and grabbed her hand. “You too. No excuses.”
Carla blinked. “I don’t dance.”
“Now you do,” Lisa said, tugging her through the crowd. The dancefloor was chaos—Kirk doing something vaguely resembling a crab. Abi was throwing her head back in full scream-singing mode, and Lisa? Lisa was dancing like she didn’t care who was watching.

Carla stood still for a moment, watching her with something close to awe. Then Lisa grabbed her hips, pulled her in, and that was that. They moved together, bodies close, rhythm syncing with the beat and the buzz of alcohol. Carla let herself go, finally, her hands on Lisa’s waist, and Lisa’s arms draped around her shoulders. The song changed to something slower, heavier, the lights dipping into a warmer red. Carla’s fingers brushed up Lisa’s spine, teasing the fabric, and Lisa’s breath hitched as they leaned in, foreheads touching, noses brushing— Then they were kissing. Properly. Messily. Like they’d waited all night. Lisa’s hand threaded through Carla’s hair, Carla’s lips soft but demanding. It was hot, dizzying, and for a moment the noise of the party fell away.

A voice cut through the haze: “Can you not, please?” They broke apart, breathless, to see Betsy standing nearby with an exaggerated grimace and her arms folded.
“Get a room,” she said, deadpan. Lisa burst out laughing. Carla shook her head, flushed but amused.
“Alright, alright, we’re going,” Lisa said, grabbing Carla’s hand again and leading her toward the quieter corner of the room near the tree. They collapsed into the seats, giggling, cheeks red and hearts pounding. Carla rested her hand on Lisa’s knee.
Lisa leaned in, still flushed. “You were having way too much fun with that.”
Carla shrugged innocently. “Just following your lead.”

They turned their gaze toward the party, watching the madness unfold—Sean dramatically lip-syncing to Mariah, Sally trying to out-jive Mary, and someone—probably Kirk—failing to do the worm.
Lisa sipped her drink. “We’re a weird lot.”
Carla smiled. “Yeah… but they’re our weird lot.”
And they sat there, warm and wrapped in each other’s space, soaking in the chaos and joy around them. Back on the dance floor, the music had changed again—something upbeat and chaotic—and the crowd had gotten louder with it. From their little hideaway in the corner, Carla and Lisa were nestled together on a low velvet bench, half-watching the chaos unfold, half-lost in each other. Lisa had somehow ended up perched on Carla’s lap, her legs draped lazily over the side, an arm looped loosely around Carla’s neck. Carla’s hand rested innocently on Lisa’s thigh, but her thumb wasn’t so innocent—tracing slow, lazy circles that made Lisa shift slightly every so often.

Then came the commotion. Someone—Ricky from dispatch, who’d definitely had more than his fair share—was suddenly raising his voice at one of the newer lads from packaging. It wasn’t clear what had been said, but the sharp tone sliced through the music, turning heads.
“Oh no,” Lisa muttered, peering over Carla’s shoulder.
“Inevitable,” Carla replied dryly, sipping the last of her drink as they both watched. Within seconds, a small swarm of people—Fizz, Kirk, even Chesney—were dragging the lads apart, half-laughing, half-shouting. The moment passed as quickly as it had erupted, the scuffle defused without too much fuss, and the crowd spilled back onto the dance floor like nothing had happened.
Lisa giggled, relaxing back into Carla. “You know it’s a proper party when someone nearly gets punched.”
Carla smirked. “And here I thought we’d make it through one year without a dramatic showdown.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Carla’s hand began to move again, not-so-subtly now, sliding higher along Lisa’s thigh, fingertips brushing just under the hem of her dress. Lisa’s breath hitched. Her arm tightened around Carla’s shoulders.
“You’re dangerous,” Lisa whispered, voice catching.
“Me?” Carla replied, mouth brushing against Lisa’s jaw. “Completely innocent.”
Lisa gave a shaky laugh. “Mmhmm.”
They kissed again—longer, deeper this time. Carla’s hand crept higher. Lisa’s lips parted against hers, a soft sigh escaping as she felt Carla’s fingers brushing closer to the line of her underwear.

Carla broke away just enough to whisper in Lisa’s ear, hot breath sending shivers across her skin. “Wanna take this to the stationary cupboard?”
Lisa leaned back, eyebrows raised, eyes narrowing in mock scandal. “You’re joking.”
Carla grinned. “Am I?”
Lisa opened her mouth to protest—but then Carla’s fingers dipped just slightly beneath the edge of her lace and Lisa’s brain short-circuited. She exhaled sharply. “You are absolutely—” Her sentence trailed off as she stood abruptly, grabbed Carla by the hand, and hissed, “Come on then, before I change my mind.”
Carla chuckled low in her throat, rising quickly, following Lisa as she tugged them both through the crowd, past the DJ booth, and down the corridor that led toward the back offices. Lisa glanced back, cheeks flushed, heart pounding. Carla looked smug.

As they reached the cupboard door, Lisa turned. “If anyone catches us—”
“They won’t,” Carla promised, already kissing her again. The cupboard door clicked softly behind them, muffling the throb of music and the party's chaos outside. Inside, the small space was dimly lit by a strip of light seeping under the door, enough to cast Carla’s smirk in shadowy contrast. Lisa's back was already against the wall, breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a gasp as Carla moved in close.
“You really dragged me in here,” Lisa whispered, her voice low, teasing.
Carla’s hand was already at her hip, fingers brushing along the silky hem of her dress. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”
Lisa's eyes flickered with amusement, but her body betrayed the tension that had been building all night. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re irresistible.”

They were a breath apart now. Carla leaned in, catching Lisa's lips with hers—slow and deep at first, like she had all the time in the world. Lisa melted into the kiss, gripping Carla’s waist to pull her closer, her fingertips slipping beneath the open back of Carla’s dress. The kiss deepened, turned urgent. Carla's hands found the hem of Lisa’s dress again, this time higher, skimming over her thighs with a clear sense of direction. Lisa bit her lip, letting out a soft sigh that only made Carla smile harder against her skin.
“Still want to go back to the party?” Carla murmured against her neck.
Lisa laughed, breathless. “You’re such a bad influence.”
“I’ll take that as a no.”

Outside the cupboard, the muffled sound of laughter and music carried on without them. But in that small, hidden space, it was just the two of them — tangled in tension and teasing, in shadows and silk and warmth. It was messy, urgent, and addictive, but more than anything, it was theirs. The party was still going strong as Lisa and Carla emerged from the far end of the corridor, cheeks flushed and hair slightly tousled. They tried to blend back into the crowd, but it was no use. Betsy was standing near the drinks table, arms crossed and eyebrow arched the moment she spotted them.
“Well, well, well,” she said, strolling over with the smug satisfaction of someone who knew exactly what had just happened. “Care to share with the class where you two disappeared to?”
Lisa immediately looked down, trying—and failing—not to laugh. Carla, ever the cool one, just raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “We were… exploring the office layout,” she said with exaggerated nonchalance.
Betsy snorted. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
Carla grinned and leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, there might have been a bit of… filing involved. Some hands-on archiving. Very tactile.”
Betsy held up a hand. “Nope. Stop. That’s enough detail, thank you very much.”
But Carla was in full mischief mode now. She turned to Lisa, eyes dancing. “Shall I tell her about the bit where you knocked over the mop bucket trying to—”
“Carla!” Betsy groaned, covering her ears. “You’re worse than her!”
Lisa was doubled over laughing now, wheezing as she wiped her eyes. “You walked right into it, Bets. Never challenge Carla to overshare.”
Betsy groaned louder, her face somewhere between amused and mortified. “I’m going to need therapy. So much therapy.”
Carla slung an arm around her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “We love you, really.”
“Yeah, yeah. Come on, you two filthy reprobates, lets go home” Betsy muttered, but she smiled despite herself. The three of them wandered out into the cool night air, arms linked, still laughing as they made their way home through the glittering fairy lights and distant echoes of Christmas songs from the pub behind them. It had been a night to remember—for more reasons than one.

Chapter 57: Christmas with the Swains

Summary:

Christmas morning begins with Lisa waking Carla with soft kisses, before heading downstairs to start prepping dinner. Carla joins her, followed by a cheerful Betsy shouting “Merry Christmas, boomers!” and handing out hugs. After coffees and chatter, the three settle in to open presents. Lisa receives a touching gift from Betsy, then Betsy is surprised and emotional over Carla’s generous gift—an iPad to support her creative talent. Lisa is shocked by the cost, but Carla explains it’s her way of paying it forward, believing in Betsy’s future. Carla then gives Lisa a deeply sentimental gift: Lisa’s own journal from the year after Becky died, now entrusted to Carla, bringing everyone to tears and sealing their bond.

Notes:

I'm back! Well sort of. Fly home in a few hours but found some WiFi to update. Managed to catch up with Corrie - 😱😱 🫠🫠. So excited for this week! Hope you like this very long chapter 😉

The days leading up to Christmas were cozy and calm, a welcome contrast to the chaos of work and the factory party. With the tree already up and work finished for the year, the house was filled with a quiet buzz of excitement. They had nowhere to be and nothing urgent to do, and it suited them just fine. By Christmas Eve afternoon, Lisa had poured the mulled wine and was stirring it gently on the stove while humming along to the Christmas playlist echoing from the living room. Carla lounged on the sofa in leggings and a hoodie, flipping through a magazine, and Betsy was upstairs, suspiciously quiet.

Then Betsy emerged from her room, victorious. “They’re here!”
Carla looked up, wary. “What’s here?”
Betsy held up the delivery box like it was a trophy. “The jumpers. You agreed, Carla. If you were staying here Christmas Eve, you had to wear the jumper.”
Carla raised an eyebrow. “I was tipsy when I agreed to that. I feel like I should have had legal representation.”
Lisa leaned against the doorframe, already wearing hers—a soft green knit with snowflakes and a reindeer that suspiciously resembled a cartoon version of Carla. “You shook on it. I was there. There’s even a photo.”
Carla groaned as Betsy handed her a neatly folded jumper. This one lit up. “Oh, come on.”
“No backing out,” Betsy said, grinning. “Internet’s waiting.”
Carla finally pulled the jumper over her head with a theatrical sigh. “You know I’ve run businesses, survived hostage situations, dodged bullets... but I draw the line at a blinking jumper.”
Betsy ignored her and waved them both into the living room. “Come on. Selfie time.”
They squeezed together on the sofa, wine glasses in hand, fairy lights glowing behind them. Betsy snapped a picture and immediately posted it. “Right, now we wait.”

It didn’t take long. Comments flooded in as Betsy read them aloud between sips of wine:
“‘Is that THE Carla Connor in novelty knitwear?!’”
“‘This is the cutest family photo ever.’”
“‘Lisa wins. No contest.’”
And from Sean: “‘Tell Carla I want the jumper back when you’re done. It’s clearly mine.’”
Carla rolled her eyes but she was smiling, the warmth of the evening wrapping around her like a second blanket. Lisa nudged her shoulder. “Told you. It's fun.”
Betsy kept scrolling. “Oh! Here’s one from Fizz—‘Betsy’s really got an eye for aesthetics. I’m impressed.’”
Carla leaned into Lisa with a smirk. “Well, she is the one running the creative department now.”
Lisa smiled but didn’t say anything. She just looked around the room—the twinkling lights, the ridiculous jumpers, the firelight flickering across the tree—and her eyes landed on Carla, curled up beside her, already looking more at home than she ever had anywhere else. Betsy turned the telly on and they picked a Christmas film. As it played, she continued reading out the best comments, offering running commentary and teasing Lisa and Carla every time they looked a little too cozy. At one point, she snapped another photo of them, not posed, just quietly laughing together, their jumpers flashing in different rhythms. She didn’t post that one either. She saved it—for herself. Because no matter what Christmas looked like from the outside, this one—this warm, glittery, wine-sweet evening—felt exactly right.

The soft grey morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the bedroom. Carla stirred slightly as she felt something warm brush her cheek—a series of slow, delicate kisses trailing down to her jawline. A sleepy smile tugged at her lips before her eyes even opened.
“Mmm,” Carla murmured, voice husky with sleep. “You do know it’s criminally early, right?”
Lisa chuckled against her skin. “It’s Christmas. That gives me full rights to wake you up with affection. Also... the turkey’s not going to put itself in the oven.”
Carla rolled onto her back, stretching slightly, her smile lazy and content. “Fine. But this better come with coffee.”
Lisa leaned over and kissed her one more time, softer this time. “Coming right up, grinch.”
She slipped out of bed, pulling her dressing gown around her and leaving Carla to bask in the warm aftermath of her wake-up call. The bed was still warm, the air cool, and for a moment Carla just lay there, arms behind her head, staring up at the ceiling with a sleepy grin. This—this kind of morning—still felt new, but it was quickly becoming her favourite kind of routine.

Eventually, she rolled out of bed and padded downstairs in her Christmas pyjamas—dark red tartan bottoms and a white long-sleeve top with “I guess I believe in Santa” printed across the chest. Her hair was still tousled and she hadn’t bothered with makeup. Somehow, that felt right today. Lisa was already in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hands expertly peeling carrots while humming along to a Christmas classic playing low on the radio.
“Merry Christmas, chef,” Carla said, brushing past her and heading for the kettle.
Lisa looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Merry Christmas, you. Kettle’s just boiled. You’ve got good timing.”
Carla made two mugs of coffee, passing one to Lisa with a kiss on the cheek. “Anything I can help with?”
“You can finish these sprouts if you want.”
Carla wrinkled her nose. “Hard pass. I’ll do the parsnips.”
Lisa smirked. “Coward.”
They stood in companionable silence, chopping and chatting softly, the smells of herbs and roasting meat beginning to fill the room.

Just then, a thunder of footsteps could be heard on the stairs. Betsy burst into the kitchen in her oversized Christmas jumper, socks sliding across the floor, hair a festive disaster. “Merry Christmas, boomers!”
Lisa turned, hands on hips. “Oi! It’s barely eight o'clock!”
Betsy grinned and made her way over, throwing her arms around Lisa, then Carla, hugging them both tightly. “Love you both. Even if you’re ancient.”
Carla rolled her eyes, handing her a mug of coffee. “Here. Get caffeinated before you do more damage.”
Betsy clutched the mug like it was gold. “You’re the best, Connor.”
She shuffled off to the living room, the sound of wrapping paper rustling and the telly flicking on in the background. Carla glanced over at Lisa, who was now gently seasoning the roast potatoes. She walked up behind her and slipped her arms around her waist, resting her chin on her shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Lis.”
Lisa leaned back into her. “Merry Christmas, love.”
They stood like that for a moment, wrapped in warmth and the comfort of their little world. Then, finally, with all the veg prepped and the oven on full, they wandered through to join Betsy—where presents, laughter, and a morning full of memories were already waiting.

Carla and Lisa walked into the lounge together, coffees in hand, the comforting clink of their mugs soft against the morning quiet. The house was warm with the scent of roasting turkey, hints of cinnamon and cloves still hanging in the air from the mulled wine the night before. Betsy was already curled up on the sofa under a fleecy throw, her legs tucked beneath her and her phone glowing in one hand. She looked up as they came in and grinned.
“Took you long enough,” she said, stretching.
“We were dealing with actual vegetables,” Lisa replied, easing down onto the other end of the sofa, pulling the throw over her legs with a sigh of satisfaction.
“And real adult responsibilities,” Carla added, sitting beside Lisa and nudging her shoulder playfully.
Betsy rolled her eyes. “You two were probably snogging in the kitchen again.”
Lisa grinned into her coffee. “And what if we were?”
“Then I hope you washed your hands before prepping the carrots,” Betsy muttered with a smirk, tossing her phone aside. “Right. Can we do presents now? Or are you gonna make me wait till the King's Speech?”
“No way we’re making it to the King's Speech without opening at least one,” Carla said, setting her mug down on the coffee table.
“Tradition then,” Betsy announced, clapping her hands together. “Age before beauty.”
Carla groaned. “Again with the age thing?”
Betsy shrugged. “It’s not my fault you’re both older than the internet.”
Lisa chuckled, nudging Carla. “Go on, eldest goes first. Rules are rules.”
Carla gave them both a mock glare before accepting the first wrapped box with a resigned sigh. “This better not be socks.”
“It’s not socks,” Betsy said, winking.
It wasn’t. It was a sleek leather-bound sketchbook, with Carla’s initials embossed in the corner and a set of fine-liner pens tucked into the elastic loop. She blinked, genuinely touched.
“I thought maybe you could draw in it,” Betsy said quietly. “Like, design stuff. Or ideas. Or just… whatever.”
Carla cleared her throat. “Thanks, Bets. It’s perfect.”
Lisa gave her thigh a squeeze and leaned in. “Told you she'd get you something decent.”
Betsy leaned over the side of the sofa, fishing out a neatly wrapped rectangular box with a silver ribbon. “Right, Mum. Your turn. This one’s from me.”
Lisa sat up a bit straighter and took the box with a playful raise of her eyebrows. “Should I be worried?”
“Always,” Carla said under her breath with a smirk.
Betsy laughed. “Oi! It’s actually thoughtful, thank you very much.”
Lisa carefully unwrapped the paper, unfolding it to reveal a slim presentation box. She lifted the lid and her mouth parted in surprise. Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, simple and elegant, with a single charm dangling from the chain — a tiny engraved letter "B" next to a heart.
Lisa’s eyes filled almost instantly.
“I know it’s not super fancy,” Betsy said, suddenly fidgeting, “but I thought... it’s like... just so you always have me with you, even when I move out or go to uni or whatever. You can look at it and know I’m always annoying you in spirit.”
Lisa smiled, her voice soft and cracking as she ran her fingers over the charm. “It’s beautiful, Bets. I love it.”
Betsy gave an awkward shrug. “You’re welcome. Just don’t cry too much, or Carla’s going to get competitive.”
Lisa laughed through the lump in her throat and leaned over to hug her daughter tightly. “You daft thing. Thank you.”
Carla watched them, quietly moved, her fingers tightening around her coffee mug. She didn’t say anything, just smiled warmly as Lisa settled back again, slipping the bracelet onto her wrist and admiring it with a soft sigh.

They worked their way through the small pile of gifts from neighbours and friends—little bath sets, novelty mugs, a chocolate orange or two. Betsy made a pile on the floor, giving each item a polite nod and a “cute” or “that’s handy,” clearly waiting for something more. Lisa disappeared for a moment and returned with one final present—flat, rectangular, wrapped in dark green paper and tied with gold ribbon. She handed it to Betsy with both hands, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“I’m sorry there’s nothing else,” Lisa said quietly, brushing her hand nervously over her thigh. “But you’ll understand once you’ve opened it.”
Betsy raised an eyebrow, suddenly intrigued. She sat up straighter, her phone abandoned on the coffee table. “Dramatic much,” she muttered with a smirk, carefully untying the ribbon.
Carla watched from the armchair, hands wrapped around her coffee mug, eyes on Lisa. Betsy peeled back the paper slowly, revealing a sleek black folder. She opened it. Inside were pages—some laminated, some printed on thick card. A design portfolio, but not just any. Lisa had taken Betsy's early coursework sketches and partnered them with Carla to turn them into a professionally printed portfolio, complete with mock-up brand pages, mood boards, and layout designs. It looked like something straight off the desk of a fashion school admissions officer.
Betsy stared, flipping through the pages. “What... is this?”
Lisa sat next to her and gently took hold of the corner of one page. “It’s everything you’ve done this year. Carla helped me pull it together—well, let’s be honest, she did the layout—but I wanted you to see what we see when we look at your work. It’s bloody amazing, Bets. You’ve got talent. Real talent.”
Betsy blinked hard, lips parting as emotion caught her off guard. “Mum…”
Carla chimed in gently, “We thought it might come in handy, when you’re applying to those design courses in the new year.”
Lisa shrugged, eyes shimmering a little. “I know it’s not some big shiny thing to open, but I thought… this mattered more.”
Betsy reached out and hugged her mother tightly, then pulled Carla in too. “It’s perfect. Actually perfect.”
They stayed there like that for a moment, wrapped up in warmth that had nothing to do with Christmas jumpers or heating. Then, without breaking the hug, Betsy whispered, “Okay but now you’ve both raised the bar. My birthday better be incredible.”
They all laughed, and the tension of the moment gave way to something lighter, full of gratitude and love.

Once the laughter settled and Betsy carefully set the portfolio aside, Carla cleared her throat softly. “Right, my turn.”
She reached behind the sofa and pulled out a gift bag—sleek and understated, black with a gold ribbon tied neatly around the handle. Betsy eyed it suspiciously.
“Is it gonna explode?” she teased, but her curiosity was already getting the better of her.
“Only with potential,” Carla said with a little wink.
Betsy opened the bag, pulled out a neatly boxed package, and unwrapped it. As soon as the Apple logo appeared, her mouth dropped open.
“No way.”
Carla nodded. “Yes way.”
“Is this…? It’s an iPad. A proper one. With the pen thingy!”
Lisa's eyes widened. “Carla, that must’ve cost a fortune—”
Before she could say more, Carla turned to her with a calm, sincere expression. “Lisa… I know. And it’s okay.”
Lisa frowned, still stunned. “It’s too much.”
“No,” Carla said gently. “It’s not.”
She turned back to Betsy, her voice warm. “A long time ago, I was a kid with nothing but a chip on my shoulder and a bad attitude. Someone gave me a break—Michelle’s parents. They gave me a place to stay, and a way to start. They bought me a sewing machine and some fabric, and told me to show them what I could do. That one gesture changed my life.”
She paused for a second, her eyes softening as she looked at Betsy.
“You’ve got more raw talent than I ever did. I’ve seen it. And if someone doesn’t believe in you now—really believe in you—you might never get the chance you deserve. So this is me paying it forward. Because you can do more than I ever have, Betsy. And I want to help make that happen.”
Betsy didn’t speak. Her hands were still cradling the iPad box like it might vanish if she blinked. Her face was red, eyes glassy with unshed tears.
“Carla…” she whispered.
Carla chuckled. “No tears. That’s the only rule. You cry, I cry, and it gets embarrassing.”
Lisa looked between the two of them and let out a soft sigh. “Well. In that case… thank you, Carla. For believing in her. And for doing what I didn’t even think to do.”
Carla gave her a half-smile. “We’re a team, you and me.”
Betsy suddenly threw her arms around both of them in a massive bear hug. “This is the best Christmas ever.”
“Merry Christmas, kiddo,” Carla said softly.

Once the iPad was safely placed beside the sofa and Betsy had disappeared to make a fuss of it properly, Lisa leaned back with her coffee, watching Carla with an affectionate, knowing look.
“You’re up to something,” Lisa said softly.
Carla smirked. “Guilty. Wait there.”
She reached behind the tree and pulled out a smaller box, carefully wrapped in deep navy paper with a silver ribbon. She hesitated a moment before handing it to Lisa, who took it with a raised eyebrow.
“This better not be a diamond necklace,” Lisa joked. “You’ve already outdone yourself.”
Carla just shrugged, unusually quiet. Lisa opened it slowly, carefully peeling back the paper. Inside was a delicate wooden box, hand-carved and smooth to the touch. She opened it, and her breath caught. Inside, nestled in velvet, was a gold bracelet. But not just any bracelet—linked along its delicate chain were tiny charms. A sewing machine. A little Christmas tree. A music note. A small book. And right in the middle, a heart-shaped locket. Lisa opened the locket with trembling fingers. Inside was a tiny photograph of Becky and Betsy from years ago, smiling together. On the opposite side, a more recent photo—Lisa, Betsy, and Carla, taken just a few weeks ago by the tree.
Lisa’s hand went to her mouth.
“I wanted something that held all of you,” Carla said, her voice quiet, unsteady. “Not just who you are now, but everything that’s made you who you are. Becky… Betsy… me. All of it. You carry so much, Lisa. I wanted you to have something that carries a bit of it for you.”
Lisa blinked rapidly, the tears already falling. “Carla, this is… it’s beautiful.”
Carla reached forward and gently fastened it around her wrist. “You don’t have to say anything. Just know… I see everything. All of it. And I love you for it.”
Lisa leaned forward, cupping Carla’s face in her hands. “You have no idea how much this means. Thank you.”
They kissed—soft and lingering. Not rushed or giddy, but full of weight and meaning. When they broke apart, Lisa whispered, “You’ve given me more than I ever thought I’d have again.”
Lisa wiped her eyes gently with the sleeve of her jumper, still glancing down at the bracelet on her wrist, the weight of its meaning settling over her like a warm blanket. Carla watched her quietly, her fingers laced together in her lap. The morning had already been thick with emotion, but Lisa wasn’t finished yet.
“I’ve got something for you too,” she said softly, standing up.
Carla looked up, surprised. “Lisa, you didn’t have to—”
“I did.” Lisa walked over to a drawer and pulled out a slim rectangular box, wrapped neatly but simply in cream paper. She came back and pressed it into Carla’s hands, not sitting down yet. “You changed everything for us, Carla. This is just a bit of that back.”
Carla opened it slowly, carefully unwrapping the paper. Inside was a leather-bound journal. It looked old, but clearly well cared-for. Tucked into the front pocket was a folded letter, and a key.
Carla frowned softly, pulling the letter out first.
“It’s from me,” Lisa said, voice slightly thick. “You should read it.”
Carla opened the letter, and silence fell across the room except for the faint rustle of the tree and the distant hum of a song on the radio. Her eyes moved across the page slowly, widening as they did.
Lisa’s voice cracked as she explained. “It’s my journal from that first year after Becky died. I’ve never let anyone read it. Never. It’s not easy, some of it. But it’s real. And now you’re part of my story, Carla, and I think… I think you deserve to see the journey.”
Carla looked up at her, eyes glassy. “Lisa…”
“The key’s for the little lock on the side,” Lisa went on. “And the last entry… well, I added it a couple of weeks ago. It’s about you.”
Carla stood slowly, clutching the journal to her chest, her breath catching. “I don’t know what to say. No one’s ever trusted me like this before.”
Lisa took her hands. “You gave me a home again. You gave Betsy a person to look up to. And you gave yourself to us, fully, even when you didn’t have to. That journal… it’s the most personal thing I own. And I want you to have it.”
Carla was crying now, quiet tears spilling down her cheeks. She pulled Lisa into a hug, burying her face in her shoulder. “I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too,” Lisa replied, her arms wrapping around her tightly.

At that moment, Betsy reappeared from the kitchen, holding a piece of chocolate in one hand and stopping in her tracks when she saw them. “Oh God,” she said, “Are you two crying again? What now?”
Lisa looked at her over Carla’s shoulder. “It’s nothing bad, love. Just… feelings.”
Betsy narrowed her eyes. “You gave her the journal, didn’t you?”
Carla pulled back and nodded, showing it to her. Betsy blinked, her eyes already glistening. She stepped forward and, without a word, wrapped both of them in a big hug, her arms slung tightly around their shoulders. “We’re a right mess, aren’t we?” she muttered.
Lisa laughed through her tears. “Yeah. But a bloody good one.”
The three of them stood there in silence for a long moment, surrounded by twinkling lights, half-drunk coffee, and the kind of love that doesn’t come around twice.

Chapter 58: Christmas Lunch

Summary:

After a cozy morning of presents and laughter, Lisa, Carla, and Betsy prepare for Christmas lunch. Guests including Roy, Nina, Ryan, Lauren, and baby Frankie arrive to a warm, festive meal. The afternoon is filled with food, wine, and laughter, followed by a spirited round of charades where everyone gets involved in silly antics.

Notes:

I love a good game of charades 😆 Wanted to really bring the family together for Christmas. Another long chapter for you 😊

They headed upstairs to get ready for Christmas lunch, the buzz of the morning still fizzing in the air like static. Carla followed Lisa into the bedroom, both of them still smiling as they kicked off their slippers and wandered toward the ensuite.
“Come on then,” Lisa grinned, tugging Carla’s hand. “We’ve got about twenty minutes before the turkey needs basting again.”
Carla raised an eyebrow. “That’s just enough time.”

They stepped under the warm cascade of the shower, steam rising around them. The closeness was less about lust now—though that was never far away—and more about the quiet comfort of being together, wrapped in the sounds of water and breath. Lisa washed Carla’s hair, fingers gentle but firm, and Carla returned the favour, massaging shampoo in slow circles, taking time to just look at her. Her skin, her smile, the way her eyes crinkled when she teased her. Once out, wrapped in towels, they stood side by side at the sink, brushing out damp hair and chatting idly about the day ahead. Carla was just pulling the hairdryer plug from the wall when the kitchen timer shrieked from downstairs. Lisa groaned. “Duty calls.” Carla gave her bum a light pat. “I’ll finish up here. Go on, you domestic goddess.”

By the time the first knock sounded on the door, the house smelled gloriously of roast potatoes and caramelised vegetables. Carla opened it with a grin to find Roy holding a neatly wrapped panettone and Nina standing beside him in a stunning tartan dress under a faux fur jacket.
“Merry Christmas,” Roy said, handing over the tin. “We come bearing slightly overpriced seasonal carbohydrates” Nina said. Lisa laughed and ushered them inside just as Lauren arrived, juggling a nappy bag and a cooing baby Frankie in a knitted elf onesie. Ryan trailed behind with a bag of drinks and desserts, giving Carla a sheepish smile.
“You didn’t go to Ireland then?” she asked. He shrugged. “Didn’t fancy the airport drama. Plus… couldn’t face the thought of missing out on Lisa’s roasties.”
Lisa beamed as she returned from the kitchen, cheeks already flushed with heat. “You say the sweetest things. Get yourselves in, drinks are on the side.”

Everyone settled in, coats flung over the bannister, laughter echoing through the hall. Carla stood at the edge of it all for a moment, just watching—Lisa pouring wine, Betsy handing Frankie a musical toy, Ryan handing Nina a glass, Roy complimenting the table layout. And in the middle of it all, Lisa looked over and caught her eye. Carla smiled, full of the kind of warmth that went deeper than the mulled wine on the stove. This was her Christmas now. Her home. Her people.

By one o’clock, the dining table was groaning under the weight of plates and platters. Roast turkey golden and steaming at the centre, crisp potatoes piled high, stuffing, parsnips glazed in honey, pigs in blankets tucked beside bowls of cranberry sauce and thick, rich gravy. Lisa had outdone herself, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed. Roy sat at the head of the table with Frankie’s baby carrier nestled beside him on a chair. Nina and Lauren flanked him, already deep in discussion over whether Lisa’s roasties could rival Roy’s, while Ryan took the opposite end, carving up his second helping before everyone else had even started on theirs. Betsy had printed silly menus and placed cards with doodles of everyone at their place setting—Carla’s had a sketch of her in a power suit holding a wine glass, with a Christmas crown on her head. She grinned when she saw it and pulled her paper crown into place.

Carla raised her glass as Lisa sat down beside her. “You’ve done a bloody brilliant job, chef.”
Lisa gave a mock bow. “Thank you, thank you. I accept payment in compliments and clean plates.”
Betsy piped up. “Well if that’s the case, you’re rich already. This is lush, Mum.”
“Best stuffing I’ve ever had,” added Ryan, mouth full and voice muffled. Lauren wiped Frankie’s chin and passed him a mashed bit of carrot. “I can’t believe how calm he is. This is his first Christmas with real people, and not just me and CBeebies.”
“Real people?” Nina smirked. “That’s debatable.”
As laughter filled the room, Carla reached under the table and gave Lisa’s thigh a squeeze. She leaned in close and whispered, “This is perfect.”
Lisa gave a soft smile, blinking back a touch of emotion. “Yeah. It is.”

Midway through the meal, Roy stood with a glass of water and tapped his spoon gently against it. “If I may…” Everyone turned to him, quieting instantly. “This is my first Christmas lunch in quite some time where I haven’t been in a cafe or a kitchen. And I just wanted to say thank you—for the food, the company, and for letting us into your home.”
“To Lisa,” Roy said warmly. “And to all of you—for making this feel like family.”
They clinked glasses—some with prosecco, others with juice or wine—and settled into warm chatter and second helpings. Carla and Lisa shared soft looks across the table, their knees still touching under the tablecloth. It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t grand. But it was real, and it was full of love. And for all three of them—Carla, Lisa, and Betsy—that was what made this the best Christmas they’d had in years.

After plates were cleared and the last roast potato defended in a heated fork duel between Ryan and Betsy, Lisa reappeared from the kitchen holding a tray like it was treasure.
“Ladies, gents, and festive chaos monsters… may I present: dessert.” She placed it down to a round of impressed sounds. There was a classic Christmas pudding with a brandy butter flame, a chocolate yule log with gold dusting, and—by popular demand—a trifle so tall it looked structurally unsound.
“I helped make the trifle,” Betsy announced proudly.
“You layered two biscuits and licked the spoon,” Lisa quipped, earning laughs all around. Carla leaned forward to peer at the desserts. “I think we should start with the pudding before Ryan eats it all.”
Ryan looked mock-offended, spoon already in hand. “I resent that—but fair.”
Lisa lit the pudding dramatically, the brandy flames flickering blue for a few seconds before dying down, and applause broke out like a West End encore. Everyone helped themselves—some going for tiny slivers of everything, others declaring it was ‘just a taste’ before refilling their bowls. Frankie, now perched on Nina’s lap, squealed happily with every spoonful Lauren fed him of custard-soaked sponge, while Roy declared the yule log “deceptively complex for a chocolate roll.” Lisa sat beside Carla, who nudged her gently. “You’ve really made this feel like magic,” she said quietly.
Lisa turned her head, her face flushed from heat and happiness. “It wasn’t just me. It was you, Betsy, everyone. You brought the joy.”
Betsy piped up between bites of trifle. “Yeah well, don’t get used to it. You Carla are on cooking duty next year.”
“Oi,” Carla said, mock scandalised. “I did the veg!”
“You peeled one carrot and flirted through the rest,” Betsy shot back.
“Efficient multitasking,” Carla replied with a wink, making Lisa nearly choke on her custard from laughing.

As the plates were cleared again and coffee and liqueurs came out, the room was warm with more than just heat from the oven. It was the kind of warmth that came from contentment, from love shared in small glances and loud laughter, from the feeling of being full—in every sense that mattered.
The lounge buzzed with post-lunch energy as everyone gathered around the coffee table. Roy stood up and lifted the time-worn charades box from a side cupboard, its edges frayed and lid loose from decades of use. “Tradition,” he declared, holding it up like a sacred artifact.
Betsy clapped her hands. “Yes! This is what Christmas is about. Family humiliation.”
Carla rolled her eyes playfully from the sofa, curled against Lisa with her feet tucked under a throw. “Just a reminder, I didn’t agree to any public humiliation today.”
Lisa grinned at her. “Too late. You’re in the inner circle now. There’s no escape.”
Carla handed Betsy a glass of mulled wine, much to her surprise.
“Wait—am I actually allowed this?” Betsy asked, looking between the two women.
“One glass,” Carla said with mock sternness. “It is Christmas.”
Lisa smirked. “And we’re feeling generous.”
Betsy raised the glass dramatically. “To boomers finally relaxing their rules.”
“Oi,” Carla laughed, flicking a bauble at her.

The box was opened with the kind of reverence one usually reserved for fine wine or priceless heirlooms. Roy shuffled the stack of little handwritten cards and passed them around. “Classic rules. No talking, no props, no shame.” First up was Ryan, who enthusiastically pulled a card and immediately began stomping around the room. His arms flailed like T-Rex limbs, and he let out a loud growl that made baby Frankie blink wide-eyed.
“Jurassic Park!” Betsy shouted.
“Dinosaur?” Nina guessed, frowning.
“Godzilla?” Carla added.
Ryan shook his head, then proceeded to pretend to eat a bush before falling dramatically to the floor.
“Okay, now he’s just dying,” Lisa said, sipping her mulled wine.
Eventually Roy called time. “It was The Land Before Time , apparently.”
“Oh for—no one was going to get that,” Lisa snorted.

Next was Nina, who silently drew a card, read it, and immediately dropped to her knees with an eerie precision. She began mimicking a crab-walk, arms stiff and jerking. Her head lolled to one side. She hissed. Then started spinning her head as much as her neck would allow.
“ The Exorcist !” Carla cried, slightly horrified.
“Correct!” Nina said, bowing deeply to applause. Carla’s turn came, and she stared at the card like it had personally offended her. With a groan, she stood and immediately started slow-motion falling backwards, arms in the air.
Lisa tilted her head. “You… fell?”
“No, no, she’s drowning!” Betsy yelled.
Carla, lips pressed tightly, climbed up onto the arm of the sofa and dramatically stretched her arms outward like the prow of a ship.
“Oh my god,” Lisa burst out laughing. “ Titanic! ”
“YES!” Carla flopped back down into the cushions, dramatically over-exerted. “Never again.”

Then came Betsy, who read her card and instantly struck a pose—arms out like she was cradling something. Then she began bouncing slightly.
“Are you holding a baby?” Nina guessed.
“No, she’s got a sack,” Lisa offered.
Betsy began sneaking around on tiptoe, dramatically ducking behind furniture and pretending to toss objects up high.
“Santa!” shouted Ryan.
“Grinch!” Lisa guessed again.
Betsy finally dropped the baby and began chucking presents across the room.
“ The Grinch Who Stole Christmas! ” Carla called out.
“Yes!” Betsy said, beaming. “Easy win.”
Lisa’s turn brought chaos. She took her card, nodded confidently, and without a word, dropped straight into a dramatic windmill motion—her arms whirling so fast she almost clipped the standing lamp behind her. Carla flinched and chuckled. “Bloody hell, we’re starting strong.”
Lisa began prancing in place, miming reins and kicking up her heels like she was riding a horse.
“Wind… horse… cowboy?” Nina guessed, brows furrowed.
“No, no, it’s like—oh! Is it Don Quixote ?” Ryan tried.
Lisa pointed at herself, then did an exaggerated romantic swoon.
“Gone with the Wind?” Betsy offered skeptically.
Lisa grinned and gave a dramatic bow.
Betsy groaned. “That was chaos.”
Carla laughed. “I think I’ve just seen a whole play and a half of interpretive dance.”
“First-timer’s flair,” Lisa said, sitting back down with a breathless grin.

They played round after round, laughing until their sides ached. Nina’s impromptu impression of Love Actually was just her pretending to hold up cue cards until Roy guessed it. Lisa howled at Carla’s attempt at Home Alone , which consisted mainly of her running around and slapping her cheeks. And when Roy had to act out Die Hard , he did so with such understated drama that baby Frankie applauded.
Betsy was crowned the undisputed charades queen by the end, having guessed more than anyone else. She wore a paper crown from a cracker like a trophy.

As the laughter from the last round of charades fades and everyone tops up their drinks — including Betsy, still smug over being allowed one glass — Lisa claps her hands to get their attention.
“Right, you lot,” she announces, “we’ve had the acting — now it’s time to test your brains. It’s Christmas quiz time!”
Betsy groans. “Mum, no—”
“Yes,” Carla interrupts, already reaching for her phone. “She’s been working on this all week.”
“Thank you,” Lisa says, proud. “And you’re all playing.”
They split into teams: Carla and Lisa on one, Roy and Nina on another, Ryan and Lauren make the third, and Betsy insists on being her own team, declaring, “I don’t need backup.”
Lisa reads the questions with theatrical flair. “Round one: General Christmas Knowledge! Question one — What is traditionally hidden inside a Christmas pudding?”
“A raisin of disappointment,” Carla deadpans.
Lisa smirks. “Incorrect. It’s a coin. Next.”
The quiz rolls on with laughter, debates, and occasional cheating attempts — mostly from Betsy.

Ryan whispers wrong answers into Lauren’s ear, earning playful nudges. Roy and Nina are surprisingly competitive. Carla keeps leaning into Lisa’s shoulder to sneak glances at the questions and whispers ridiculous fake answers to distract her.
When Lisa announces the final round is worth double points, Betsy yells, “This is rigged!” but jumps back in with renewed energy. By the end, with everyone buzzing and half-teasing each other, Lisa tallies the scores. “And the winners are… Roy and Nina!”
Roy nods like he expected nothing less. Nina high-fives him, unusually enthusiastic.
Betsy throws herself onto the couch in mock despair. “I demand a rematch. New Year’s quiz. Let’s go.”
Carla leans over and clinks her glass against Lisa’s. “Best quizmaster I’ve ever had.”
Lisa grins. “Wait till you see the Easter round.”

As the evening began to wind down and everyone started gathering their things—coats pulled from hooks, gifts scooped into bags, leftovers wrapped and offered—Carla found herself lingering by the fire, mulled wine forgotten in her hand. Roy stood quietly at the bookshelf, absently straightening a row of books that didn’t need tidying. The soft hum of goodbyes and laughter faded into the background. Carla crossed the room, sitting carefully on the arm of the sofa. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” she said quietly.
Roy glanced over his shoulder. “What is?”
“This,” she said, gesturing around the room. “This house, this Christmas, this… peace.” She let out a breath. “It’s beautiful. And it’s different. But it’s not what I imagined this year would be like.”
Roy nodded, his eyes soft behind his glasses. “It rarely is, I find.”
She looked into the fire, her voice lowering. “A few years ago, I'd have thought Peter would still be around. That we’d argue over the best wine and he’d go on one of his rants about the commercialisation of Christmas. Last year I thought maybe I’d be... I don’t know... still in the wreckage of us.”
Roy moved to sit beside her, folding his hands in his lap. “He’s chasing peace now, in his own way.”
Carla smiled faintly. “A sailboat and the open sea.”
“Not such a bad dream, really,” Roy said.
“No. Just not mine.”
There was a pause, warm and heavy.
Carla turned slightly. “I miss her too, you know.”
Roy looked at her. “Hayley?”
Carla nodded, her voice catching. “She would have had a field day today. Organising everything, making lists... I’d have found it all maddening.”
“But secretly appreciated it,” Roy said gently.
Carla gave a small laugh. “Always.”
Roy’s gaze dropped to his hands. “It’s been years. But days like this... they make the absence louder somehow.”
Carla reached out and placed a hand on his. “I never told you... but I still think about the baby too.”
He blinked, lips tightening just slightly.
“We lost so much that year,” Carla said. “I buried it. But it never really leaves you.”
Roy’s voice was a whisper. “I know.”
The silence between them was full, sacred.

From the hallway, Lisa’s voice floated through: “Carla? You seen Roy?”
Carla turned just as Lisa stepped into the room. She paused, catching sight of the two of them in their quiet embrace—Carla’s hand still on Roy’s, his head bowed slightly.
“Everything alright?” Lisa asked softly.
Carla nodded, wiping her eyes quickly. “Yeah... just talking.”
Roy stood and adjusted his scarf, his composure returning with a gentle smile. “We were simply... remembering.”
Lisa smiled and walked over to wrap an arm gently around Carla’s waist.
Roy looked at them both, then picked up his coat. “You’ve made a lovely home here,” he said. “One Hayley would have very much approved of.”
Carla gave him a watery smile. “Thank you.”
Roy joined the others by the door as goodbyes were exchanged. Nina kissed Carla’s cheek, and Ryan gave a half-smile and a “Merry Christmas.” Lauren rocked Frankie in her arms, beaming with quiet joy, before stepping out into the cold. And then it was just the three of them—Carla, Lisa, and Betsy—left in the soft warmth of the Christmas-lit lounge.

Chapter 59: Memory Lane

Summary:

On a quiet Christmas night, after Betsy goes to bed, Lisa and Carla share an intimate, heartfelt conversation over mulled wine. Carla opens up about the pain of losing Hayley, the chaos of the year she died, and a deeply personal secret—her miscarriage of a baby girl known only to Roy, Michelle, and Peter. Moved, Lisa comforts her and gently tells Carla that she’s more than just a friend—she’s also a mother figure to Betsy. Despite Carla’s initial resistance, Lisa reminds her of all the nurturing things she’s done for Betsy. Carla, overwhelmed, cries and thanks Lisa, and the two women end the night in quiet companionship and emotional closeness.

Notes:

Disclaimer - I know a lot of others have been writing about this recently and I don't want to be accused of copying anyone. I wrote this a while ago as I like to get a number of chapters ahead. I still wanted to post it though but I apologise if it is similar to anyone else's!

The night had settled thick and still over the house. Upstairs, Betsy had taken herself off to bed, claiming she was just tired—but Carla had caught the flicker of excitement in her eyes when she mentioned her iPad. She’d vanished under her duvet, headphones in, the familiar glow of the screen lighting up her little world. A quiet retreat.

Downstairs, the world was softer. Dim lighting, the gentle crackle from the log burner, and two glasses of mulled wine warming chilled hands. The scent of orange peel, cloves, and cinnamon hung in the air, mingling with the faintest trace of perfume and firewood. Lisa and Carla were curled up on opposite ends of the sofa, legs tucked beneath them, wrapped in throws like girls at a sleepover—except this wasn’t giddy or light. There was a heaviness in the air, like the kind that comes before a confession. Carla stared into her glass, her finger tracing the rim. She hadn’t sipped much.

“Hayley was…” She paused, searching for the right words. “She was one of those people who shouldn’t exist. Too good. Too kind. Like, if you ever met her, you’d think—no one is really like this. No one’s that patient. That wise. But she was.”
Lisa tilted her head, listening. She hadn’t known Hayley, not really, only from stories. But the name always carried weight, reverence, like someone whose loss had carved out space in people that never quite filled in.
“She and Roy… they took me in,” Carla continued. “When I was barely holding it together. Roy gave me a job at the café when no one else would. And Hayley—she looked at me like I was worth saving. No agenda. Just… care. Real care.”
Lisa's voice was soft. “That’s rare.”
“Yeah,” Carla breathed. “And then she got sick. Cancer. It was brutal. She tried to face it with dignity—and she did, to the end—but watching her go through that, it was like watching the sky fall, slowly, piece by piece.”
Lisa said nothing. She knew the value of silence, how sometimes the right space was better than the right words.
“That year,” Carla went on, voice a little rawer now, “was the worst of my life. Hayley died. Peter—my Peter—was cheating on me with Tina. Behind my back, while I was grieving. And then Rob—my brother—he killed her. Tina. I can barely even say that sentence out loud, it’s so mad. So bloody surreal.”
She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “Everything I loved or trusted just… dissolved. And I told myself I’d get through it. That I had to. But…”

Lisa looked over, sensing the shift. Carla was winding toward something else—something heavier.
“There’s one thing I haven’t told you,” she said after a pause. Her voice had dropped to a near-whisper. “Something only three people in this world know. Roy, Michelle… and Peter.”
Lisa sat a little straighter, eyes gentle. “You don’t have to—”
“No, I do,” Carla interrupted, suddenly resolute. “You should know. You’re family now, and I’ve carried it too long.”
She set her wine down with trembling fingers.
“I was pregnant. That same year. I didn’t know at first—I was drinking too much, not looking after myself. I wasn’t thinking. But when I found out, I was shocked… and terrified. And then, before I could even begin to get my head around it, it was gone.”
She exhaled shakily. “Miscarriage. They told me it was already happening when I went in. Said there was nothing anyone could do. It was a girl. A baby girl.”
Lisa’s heart broke quietly, without ceremony. She reached over, placed her hand gently on Carla’s knee.
“I never told anyone else,” Carla said, blinking back tears. “Never even said her name—not that I had one. But I think about her. I think about what could’ve been. Especially now, with Betsy in the house. Watching her grow up, watching you be a mum… it brings it all back.”
She finally looked up, eyes shining. “That baby, she would’ve changed everything. And I never got the chance to know her.”
Lisa nodded, eyes misty. “She mattered. Even if she never got here—she mattered.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was full. Full of grief and memory, of love and trust and quiet understanding. The kind of silence that only lives between two people who’ve seen the edge of things and come back. The fire had burned low. Only the soft hiss of embers remained, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Lisa hadn’t moved her hand from Carla’s knee. Instead, after a moment of stillness, she reached up and gently brushed her fingers through Carla’s hair. It was a slow, soothing gesture—one that said I’m here without needing to say anything at all. Carla closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself be held in the calm.

Then Lisa spoke, her voice warm and certain. “You know… it’s not just me who’s Betsy’s mum.”
Carla let out a breath of disbelief and gave a small, almost amused scoff. “Come on, don’t be daft. You and Becky—you’re her mums. That’s more than enough. I’m just… me.”
Lisa turned to her, not letting her look away. “No, Carla. That’s not true. You’ve done more for her than most people would think to. You gave her that placement at the factory, taught her things—real things—about work and self-respect. You’ve helped her with her projects, sat with her when she’s cried over friends. You gave her confidence. Security. You made her feel seen.”
Carla opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her throat was tight.
Lisa continued, her voice softer now. “Yes, Becky’s her other mum. She always will be. But Betsy? She’s lucky. She’s got a third mum too. One who never asked for the title, but earned it anyway.”

The words landed hard—and true. Carla’s face crumpled, and the tears she’d been holding back all evening finally broke free. She pressed her hand to her mouth and laughed through the sobs. “God… I’m a big wetty, aren’t I? Crying on Christmas day.”
Lisa leaned in, resting her forehead against Carla’s with a smile. “You’re not. You’re just full of love, and it’s spilling out. That’s nothing to apologise for.”
Carla wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper and nodded. “Thanks, Lis. Really.”
There was nothing left to say after that.

They sat a few moments longer, finishing the last sips of their now-lukewarm wine. The clock on the wall ticked softly in the background.
“Come on,” Lisa whispered. “Let’s have an early night. We’ve earned it.”
The bedroom was dimly lit, a single bedside lamp casting a golden glow across the room. The bed was already turned down, sheets cool and crisp against skin. As they moved quietly through the familiar rhythm—changing into pyjamas, brushing teeth—it felt companionable, almost ritualistic. No fuss. No pretence. Just a natural rhythm between two people who knew each other down to the breath. Lisa climbed into bed first, slipping under the duvet with a contented sigh. Carla followed, pulling the covers up and over her shoulder as she settled close.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.
Carla lay on her side, facing Lisa, her hand resting gently between them on the sheet. Lisa reached out and threaded her fingers through Carla’s, their hands nestled together in the quiet space between their bodies. There was nothing romantic in it—just something softer. Closer. A kind of intimacy born of trust, of years and wounds and quiet love that wasn’t easily named. A soul-level bond. Carla blinked slowly, the weight of the day catching up to her.
“Night, Lis,” she murmured.
“Night, love,” Lisa whispered back, brushing her thumb gently over Carla’s knuckles.
The light clicked off. The room fell into darkness. And together, they drifted into sleep, hearts full and safe.

Chapter 60: The Journal

Summary:

Boxing Day begins with an unexpected early wake-up call when Betsy bursts into Lisa and Carla’s bedroom at 4:30 a.m., catching them naked under the covers. After a chaotic exchange, Betsy announces she’s off to the Boxing Day sales with Sabrina. Later, Lisa heads out for a run in her new trainers, while Carla stays behind and quietly begins to read the journal Lisa gifted her.

Notes:

Well this morning was rather disappointing wasn't it! I sort of expected it but had blindly held out hope 🤡 Anyway...hopefully this will cheer you up. I really love these next few chapters. Loved writing them so I hope you enjoy reading them too.

The bedroom was dark, the first light of dawn still a long way off. The house was silent, peaceful—until the sudden clatter of a door being flung open shattered the calm.
“Wake up! Wake up!”
Carla shot upright with a scream, yanking the duvet up to her chin. Beside her, Lisa gasped, grabbing the other edge and pulling it over herself as the lamp toppled slightly on the nightstand.
“Betsy!” Lisa shouted, blinking furiously. “What on earth ?!”

In the doorway stood Betsy, one hand slapped dramatically over her eyes, the other holding her phone aloft like it might shield her from the horror. “Why are you naked ? It’s December! It’s freezing ! What is wrong with you two?!”
Carla groaned and flopped back onto the pillows, dragging the covers higher. “Why do you think , Bets?”
“Ugh!” Betsy gagged theatrically. “Oh my God, too much information! ”
Carla gave a sleepy smirk. “You asked.”
Lisa sat up a little straighter, still gripping the duvet like a lifeline. “What are you even doing bursting in here at four-thirty in the morning ?”
“I’m off to meet Sabrina!” Betsy announced, eyes still closed tight. “The Boxing Day sales, remember?”
Lisa blinked, completely baffled. “ Now ?!”
“Gotta get the best deals,” Betsy said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Lisa rubbed her face. “And how exactly are you getting there, Miss Bargain Hunter?”
“Sabrina’s mum’s taking us. She’s already warming up the car.”
“Well, rather her than me,” Lisa muttered. “Alright, fine, but you need to be back for tea. You’ve got to pack for tomorrow, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah, I will!” Betsy called over her shoulder, already disappearing down the hall. “Sorry for… scarring myself for life!”

The door slammed shut again, leaving behind silence—and a lingering cloud of awkward amusement. Carla turned her head, still snuggled under the duvet. “Well… that’s one way to start the day.”
Lisa chuckled softly. “If she ever bursts in on us again like that, we’re locking the door permanently.”
“Agreed,” Carla said with a yawn, nestling closer. “Although she’s got a point. It is freezing.”
Lisa rolled onto her side, tucking herself into Carla’s warmth. “Then let’s warm up. Sleep first. Parenting decisions later.”
With that, the room returned to stillness. The laughter faded into soft breathing, the shared heat of the duvet wrapping around them as they drifted back into sleep—grateful, tired, and just a little bit scandalised.

By the time Carla stirred, Lisa was already halfway into her new running gear, lacing up the pristine white trainers she’d been eyeing for weeks. A soft light crept through the curtains, and the air in the room held the crisp stillness of a Boxing Day morning.
Lisa glanced back over her shoulder. “You coming with me? Boxing Day run?”
Carla, tangled in the duvet and blinking blearily, gave her a withering look. “You know I don’t run unless there’s something on fire. Or chasing me.”
Lisa laughed. “Didn’t think so. I’ll be back before the kettle’s even boiled.”
She popped in her headphones, gave Carla a wink, and slipped out the door into the biting morning air.

Carla lay back for a moment, savouring the warmth Lisa had left behind. Her gaze drifted across the room—and landed on the leather-bound journal resting on the bedside table. Something about it called to her in the quiet. She reached over, picked it up carefully, and let it fall open to the ribbon-marked page.

The Day After
16 March – The world without Becky

The handwriting was a little uneven, as if written through shaking hands. Carla swallowed hard, then began to read.

I still hear it.
The sound of the car.
The shout.
The impossible silence that followed.
Becky is gone.
It feels like my lungs have been emptied and no one told me how to breathe again.
Yesterday she was here—laughing at me burning the potatoes, teasing me for crying at some silly Christmas ad. Kissing Betsy goodnight. And today… today she’s a name in a file. A headline. A tragedy.
I can still see her lying there.
Still see the red on the road.
Still feel the way Betsy’s hand clutched mine and asked, “Why isn’t Mummy waking up?”
I didn’t have an answer then. I still don’t.
Everyone says I’m strong.
But I feel hollow. Brittle.
Like I’m pretending to be someone who’s still whole.
But I have to hold it together for Betsy.
I have to find a way through the rubble.
Even if I crawl.

Carla didn’t realise she was crying until the tears had already fallen, slipping silently down her cheeks. She closed the journal slowly, reverently, her fingers lingering on the leather cover. The pain in those words clung to her, real and heavy. It was grief, naked and unfiltered. And it made her love Lisa even more fiercely than before.

The room was silent except for the muffled hum of life outside—a distant car, a bird on the sill, the echo of Boxing Day morning. Carla sat motionless on the bed, the leather-bound journal heavy in her lap. Her eyes were still red from the first entry, but something made her keep going. As though Lisa’s words had reached out, asking to be heard—completely. She flipped a few pages ahead, the next entry dated 19 March , just three days after Becky’s death. The ink looked darker, the handwriting more erratic, as if the pen had been gripped tighter. Carla took a breath and began to read.

19th March
Three days later, and the house feels like a coffin.
Everything still smells like her.
Her shampoo’s still in the shower. Her coat is still hanging on the hook. Her bloody toothbrush is still sitting next to mine like it’s waiting for her mouth. I keep walking into rooms and expecting to find her—reading, folding laundry, singing to the radio. But all I get is silence. A silence that screams.
I sat on the floor in the kitchen today and cried until I couldn’t breathe. Betsy found me. She just wrapped her arms around me and said, “It’s okay, Mummy.” But it’s not okay. It won’t ever be okay again. I should be comforting her, not the other way around. But I don’t know how to stand up right now. I don’t even know how to cook dinner without Becky telling me I’m adding too much salt.
I keep seeing the road. The blood. The way Becky’s hair was splayed out on the tarmac like some kind of cruel painting. The way her hand was stretched toward me. I dream about it. I wake up gasping, thinking I can still hear the impact.
Everyone’s saying nice things. “She was so full of life.” “She had such a good heart.” “She’ll always be with you.”
It’s meant to help. It doesn’t.
Because she’s not here. And I am. And I don’t know what to do with that.
People keep dropping food off. Pasta bakes. Soup. One woman brought us a quiche, for God’s sake. Like a quiche is going to fix the hole in my soul. I smile. I say thank you. I close the door and fall apart.
Betsy asked me if Becky is still her mummy in heaven. I said yes. I said Becky is watching over her, always.
I lied.
Because I don’t know if anything is watching.
Because if there’s anything out there, why would it take her? Why her?
I look in the mirror and I don’t recognise the woman looking back.
I look like someone who’s been scraped out and stitched back wrong.
I don’t know how to love without her.
I don’t know how to live without her.
But tomorrow, I’ll get up.
I’ll make Betsy breakfast.
I’ll fold laundry.
I’ll pretend I’m whole.
And I’ll write again. Because this is the only place I can scream.

By the time Carla reached the end, her chest was tight with grief that wasn’t hers, but that she could feel as if it were. She stared at the final lines, the ink smudged slightly at the corners. There was something sacred in the rawness—something brave and utterly exposed.
She closed the journal gently and held it to her chest. Tears slid down her cheeks silently, this time not just for Lisa, but for Becky too—for all the stolen moments, the quiet pain, the weight of trying to keep going when your world has shattered.
Lisa’s words were more than grief. They were survival.

Chapter 61: Songbird

Summary:

When Lisa returns, Carla thanks her again for trusting her with the journal. That afternoon, Betsy returns triumphantly with bags of shopping, treating them to a spontaneous fashion show. Carla admires Betsy’s taste, while Lisa is both amused and bewildered. The day winds down with packing and quiet moments between Lisa and Carla, deepening their emotional connection.

The shower steamed thickly around Carla, beads of water trailing down her skin as she leaned into the heat. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the journal on Lisa’s bedside table—just two entries read so far, but they lingered, heavy and raw in her chest. Downstairs, the front door opened. A familiar rustle of footsteps, the shuffle of trainers being kicked off. Moments later, the bathroom door eased open.
“You using up all the hot water?” Lisa called with a grin.
“Always,” Carla replied.

Lisa stepped inside, cheeks flushed from the cold, her running gear damp with frost and effort. She peeled it off quickly, letting out a soft groan as she joined Carla under the stream.
“Bloody hell, that’s better,” she muttered, wrapping her arms around Carla from behind. “You’re like a human heater.”
Carla smiled, her hand sliding over Lisa’s. “You’re like a snowman.”
Lisa chuckled, pressing her face into Carla’s shoulder. “That run was brutal. But worth it. These new trainers are magic.”
“Mm. I’ll take your word for it,” Carla murmured, brushing wet hair back from Lisa’s face. “Still not running.”
They stood together, skin to skin, water cascading over them, the silence between them peaceful and familiar.

Later, they padded back into the bedroom wrapped in towels. Carla pulled on her soft grey joggers and a black hoodie she’d had since forever. Lisa threw on leggings and a fleecy jumper before turning toward the wardrobe. Carla was already packed—she’d come prepared yesterday, her case tucked neatly by the door. It was Lisa now moving through her usual last-minute routine, tossing jeans onto the bed and muttering about forgetting toothpaste. Then her eyes caught on the journal sitting on the bedside table. She paused.

Carla watched her from the corner of the room, quiet, waiting. Lisa stepped toward the table, laying her fingers lightly on the cover. She didn’t open it—just traced its edge. Carla came up behind her, sliding her arms around Lisa’s waist and resting her chin on her shoulder. Lisa let out a long breath, soft and steady, and leaned into her without hesitation. Carla’s voice was low. “Thank you. For letting me read it.”
Lisa placed her hands over Carla’s. “I wanted you to.”
“I’ve only read a little,” Carla added. “But… it means more than I can say.”
Lisa smiled gently. “You don’t have to. I know.”
They stood like that for a few moments—no urgency, no weight—just warmth between them, familiar and steady.

Then Lisa pulled back with a grin. “Right. Back to packing before Betsy comes home and demands to know where her glitter lip balm is.”
Carla laughed. “God forbid.”
Lisa smirked. “Exactly. Do me a favour and check if I’ve got any socks in that drawer over there?”
“As long as I don’t have to match them,” Carla quipped, flopping down beside the half-packed bag. They moved through the morning in sync—chatting, laughing, folding, and teasing. Just a normal, quiet day. But one stitched through with comfort, and the kind of love that didn’t need explaining.

Later that afternoon, the house was calm and warm. Carla and Lisa were curled up on the sofa, legs tangled under a blanket, Carla’s fingers gently threading through Lisa’s hair while a film murmured in the background. The front door banged open.
Footsteps pounded through the hall. Bags rustled.
“I’m home!”
Lisa blinked, lifting her head as Betsy strolled in, absolutely laden with shopping bags from what looked like half the Trafford Centre.
Lisa’s jaw dropped. “Betsy! Oh my god—have you bought the entire Trafford Centre?”
Betsy grinned, dropping her haul in the middle of the living room. “No, and before you ask—I used my money. Factory money. And I didn’t spend over two hundred.”
Lisa sat up straighter, mouth falling open. “ Two hundred pounds ? On clothes?!”
“Mum,” Betsy said with a theatrical sigh, “it’s not cheap to look this good.”
Carla chuckled. “Alright then, let’s see what this style queen has picked out.”

Without hesitation, Betsy launched into her impromptu fashion show. She flicked through her bags, holding up items, pulling jumpers over her head, modelling new jeans and jackets, spinning in a circle to show off the cut of a coat. Carla offered playful but sincere commentary—“Love that one,” “Great shape,” “Nice boots, very sharp.” Lisa, meanwhile, looked at some pieces like they were alien artifacts.
“Wait, is that a top?” she asked at one point, holding up a fine mesh crop. “Where’s the rest of it?”
Betsy rolled her eyes. “You’re so uncultured.”
Lisa laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Eventually, as Betsy twirled in a pair of wide-leg trousers and a cropped jumper, Lisa shook her head with a grin. “Alright, alright—fashion week’s over. You’d better get upstairs and start packing, madam.”
Betsy groaned. “Now?”
“Yes, now. Or I’ll come up there later and pack your case with random socks and Christmas jumpers.”
“Ugh, fine,” Betsy muttered, gathering her bags dramatically. “But I’m definitely bringing this jumper. It’s a new personality.”
She trudged upstairs, already talking to herself about outfit pairings. Carla leaned back into the cushions, glancing over at Lisa. “She’s got energy, I’ll give her that.”
Lisa gave a soft smile. “She’s a force of nature.”
Carla nudged her gently. “Takes after someone, then.”
Lisa tilted her head. “Not just me.”
Carla didn’t reply, just offered a quiet smile, and reached for Lisa’s hand.

The house was winding down for the night. Upstairs, Carla sat cross-legged on the bed in their room, soft lamplight pooling over the duvet. The door to Betsy’s room was open across the hall, Lisa’s voice carrying gently as she helped her daughter zip up her suitcase and double-check for toothpaste and phone chargers. Carla glanced toward the bedside table. The journal was still there, right where she’d left it. She hesitated for only a moment before picking it up again, carefully flipping to the next folded page. She knew she hadn’t read everything yet. But something about the way Lisa had shared it—quietly, without pressure—gave her the courage to keep going. She smoothed the next page and read.

12th May
I had to go see her today.
The funeral director was kind. One of those men who speak in low, careful tones like they’re worried if they’re too loud, you might shatter. I didn’t really hear him. Everything he said was muffled, like I was underwater.
All I could see was Becky.
She looked… still. Too still. Her face was pale and perfect and nothing like the chaos and life I knew. I wanted to scream at her to get up. Tell her she was being dramatic. But she didn’t move.
I had to say her name out loud. I had to confirm it was her. Like I wouldn’t know the woman I’ve loved more fiercely than anyone in my life.
I sat there for a while afterward. I don’t even remember crying. I think I just stared.
Then they asked me about songs. Coffin styles. Readings. All these questions about how I wanted to say goodbye. But I don’t want to say goodbye. I want to say, “Becky, come on, let’s go home.” I want to hear her laugh and see her roll her eyes and make some rude joke to cut through the sadness.
But she won’t.
I chose Songbird. It was hers. It always made her cry in the good way. And now it makes me cry in the worst way. But I know she’d have liked it. I hope she’d think I’m getting this right.
I don’t know how to do this without her.
I don’t know how to be me, alone.

Carla blinked hard, one tear slipping free, then another. She didn’t wipe them away. She just closed the journal slowly, reverently, and placed it back on the table. A few seconds later, Lisa appeared in the doorway, her voice low and a little amused. “Crisis averted. She nearly packed three pairs of the same jeans but forgot socks.”
Carla turned to her, eyes soft and red-rimmed.
Lisa’s expression shifted as she saw the journal. “You read more?”
Carla nodded. “Yeah.”
Lisa crossed to the bed and knelt beside her. “That one was a hard day.”
Carla gently reached for her, resting a hand on Lisa’s knee. “I don’t know how you did any of it.”
Lisa gave a small, tired smile. “I didn’t have a choice.”
They stayed there in silence for a moment—no need to fill the space. Then Lisa leaned in, brushing Carla’s hair off her forehead. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”
Carla nodded, and together they slipped under the covers, the night settling around them with a quiet kind of peace.

Chapter 62: The Journey to Perran Sands

Summary:

On Boxing Day, Lisa, Carla, and Betsy begin their road trip from Manchester to Perran Sands in Cornwall for a winter surf getaway. Lisa drives the whole way, joking that they should finally get on each other’s car insurance. While Betsy sleeps in the back, Carla quietly reads more excerpts from the journal Lisa gifted her, delving deeper into Lisa’s grief after Becky’s death, her return to police work, and the effort it took to hold everything together for Betsy. They stop at a motorway services for food and a break before continuing on. As they drive, Carla grows more emotional, having absorbed so much of Lisa’s past pain and resilience through the journal. The long drive gives space for reflection, quiet conversations, and shared silences. By the time they arrive at Perran Sands, there’s a sense of emotional closeness between them all—and anticipation for what the sea might offer in return.

It was still dark when the alarm buzzed on Lisa’s phone, cutting through the quiet of the house. She groaned and flopped an arm over Carla, who was already stretching with a grin on her face.
“Too early,” Lisa mumbled into her pillow.
“Too exciting,” Carla replied, sitting up and pulling her hair into a loose ponytail. “You do realise I’ve got a brand-new board in the boot and actual waves waiting for me, right?”
Lisa peeked up with one eye. “In December ?”
Carla shrugged, already halfway out of bed. “Cold water’s good for circulation. And my soul.”
Lisa groaned louder. “You’re mental.”

Across the hall, a thud and the sound of Betsy dragging her case signaled she was up too—surprisingly chipper for 6:15 a.m. “Are we leaving yet?” she called out, her voice already halfway down the stairs.
Lisa rubbed her face and sighed. “Remind me why we’re staying in a caravan again?”
“Because the Headland Hotel costs more than your gas bill,” Carla said cheerfully. “And this trip isn’t about fluffy robes and room service. It’s about sand in your socks, instant hot chocolate, and teaching your daughter how to catch a wave.”
Lisa gave her a long look. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Carla leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I know.”

By 7 a.m., they were packed and ready—flasks of tea, biscuits for the road, Carla’s board tucked safely beside the luggage. Lisa double-checked the house, Betsy double-checked the aux cord, and soon they were pulling away from the quiet Manchester street. Carla rolled the window down just a crack, the cold morning air crisp and full of promise. “Next stop: Cornwall.”
Lisa, still adjusting to the idea of surfing in thermals, muttered, “This better be worth it.”
Carla just grinned. “It will be.”

The motorway hummed beneath the tyres as Lisa kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead. Manchester had disappeared behind them, grey buildings giving way to frosty fields and low golden light bleeding through the morning clouds. Carla sipped from a takeaway cup and glanced at the dashboard clock. “We’ve only done two hours?”
Lisa blew out a breath. “Only two. My back already hates me.”
Carla chuckled. “Maybe we should finally sort the insurance out. I could’ve taken the second half.”
Lisa gave her a sideways look.

In the backseat, Betsy was curled under a hoodie, headphones on, fast asleep with her mouth slightly open and her phone gripped loosely in one hand. Carla smiled at the sight of her—peaceful, unaware, safe. She reached quietly into her bag, pulled out the journal Lisa had given her for Christmas, and rested it on her lap. Lisa glanced at her, but said nothing. Carla turned to the next marked page and read in silence.

18th May
The funeral was today.
I didn’t think I’d be able to do it.
I woke up and stared at my dress for half an hour, just hanging on the wardrobe like it was mocking me. The same dress I wore to someone else’s wedding. Becky told me I looked hot in it. She’d have laughed if she saw me try to zip it up through tears.
I nearly stayed home.
But then Betsy came in, still in her pyjamas, and said, “Mum, do you want me to sit with you?”
And I remembered—I wasn’t the only one grieving. Becky was her mum too.
So I got dressed.
I held it together until the song started. Songbird. The one Becky always said made her feel like she was flying. And just like that, I fell apart.
The service was beautiful. Honest. It felt like her. Everyone had a story—some hilarious, some heartbreaking. I realised she didn’t just belong to me. She belonged to a hundred people. And every single one of them had a different Becky they loved.
The hardest part was the walk behind the coffin. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I didn’t know how to breathe.
And when it was over, when everyone was leaving and talking about flowers and food, I sat in the front row of the empty chapel and whispered, “I don’t know how to live without you.”
And for the first time since she died, I said goodbye.

Carla closed the journal slowly, holding it in her lap as she looked out the window. The countryside blurred past in browns and greens, and her chest felt tight with grief that didn’t even belong to her—but that she shared now, through Lisa. Lisa spoke gently, without taking her eyes off the road. “Which one did you read?”
“The funeral,” Carla murmured.
Lisa nodded once, her grip on the wheel tightening. “That was the longest day of my life.”
Carla looked at her, her voice soft. “I don’t know how you did it.”
Lisa exhaled, her eyes flicking briefly to the rearview mirror where Betsy still slept peacefully. “Because of her. Because I had to.”

They drove in silence for a while longer, the soft crackle of the radio filling the space, and the weight of what they’d both carried—what they were still carrying—settled gently between them. By the time they hit the services just outside Gloucester, Lisa’s fingers were stiff from the steering wheel and her stomach was starting to growl. She pulled into a bay, cutting the engine with a sigh of relief.
“Thank God,” she muttered. “My spine has fused.”
In the backseat, Betsy stirred from her nap, blinking in the sunlight. “Are we there yet?”
Carla snorted. “We’re barely halfway, surfer girl.”
Betsy groaned dramatically. “I need chips. Like, now.”

Inside the building, the familiar mix of fast food, the smell of fresh pastry, and the drone of announcements welcomed them in. Betsy made a beeline for the food court while Lisa stopped to stretch her back with a wince. Carla wandered with her, linking their arms. “You okay?”
Lisa smiled tiredly. “Just old.”
“Stop. You’re uncomfortable and tired, there’s a difference.”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “Flattery won’t get you out of driving next time.”
They found Betsy standing triumphantly with a tray piled high—fries, a sausage roll, a smoothie, and somehow, a hot chocolate too.
“Don’t judge me,” she said as they sat at a window seat. “I’m fuelling the fashion.”
Carla stole a chip. “She’s not wrong.”
Lisa nursed a tea, grateful for the break, and watched Carla tuck the journal back into her bag without saying a word. She knew she’d read something heavy—there was a softness to her now, an unspoken understanding that needed no explaining.

After twenty minutes, they were back on the road—slightly more caffeinated, a little warmer, and closer to the sea.
“Next stop,” Carla said, sliding her sunglasses on, “Perran Sands.”
Betsy whooped from the back. Lisa smiled. The road unwound through rolling countryside, the sky shifting from grey to pale blue as the miles wore on. Betsy was plugged back into her music, feet up on the edge of the back seat, singing softly to herself. Lisa had settled into a rhythm at the wheel, fingers tapping on the steering wheel in time with a song playing low on the radio. Her eyes stayed focused, but she was more aware of Carla than she let on—Carla, curled up in the passenger seat, journal in hand, reading slowly, silently.
Carla turned another page and paused.

22nd June
I went back to work today.
Uniform felt tighter than I remembered. Maybe it shrunk. Or maybe grief just makes everything feel heavier.
I walked into the station and could feel the silence follow me. Everyone tried not to stare, but I could feel it. That look they give you when they don’t know what to say. Like I’m fragile. Like I’m not the same Lisa who ran into fights and stared down drunk lads in alleyways. Like I might fall apart if someone says Becky’s name.
Maybe I would.
But I needed to be there. I needed structure. Orders. Paperwork. Radios. Things I could control. A shift pattern that told me what to do and when. I needed to feel like I still had a place in the world that made sense.
I took statements today. Drove the van. Dealt with a shoplifter who burst into tears when I cuffed him. I didn’t cry. Not once.
But I saw her. Becky. Not really—but in the faces of people on the street. In a woman crossing the road in a denim jacket. In someone laughing two aisles over in the station canteen. My heart stopped every time.
Coming home was worse. It felt louder than the station. Emptier.
So I pulled out a report and started writing. Stayed at the kitchen table until nearly 1 a.m.
I don’t know if this is coping or hiding. But right now, I don’t care. I just need to make it to the next day.

Carla traced the edge of the page with her fingers, eyes stinging. She closed the journal gently and stared out the window at the blur of fields, trees, and road signs. Lisa spoke without looking. “That was the summer I worked until I couldn’t feel my hands.”
Carla turned to her. “I don’t know how you kept going.”
Lisa gave a small smile. “I didn’t. Not really. I just… faked it.”
Carla rested her hand gently on Lisa’s thigh. “You don’t have to fake it with me.”
“I know,” Lisa said softly. “That’s why I gave you the journal.”
They didn’t say much after that. There was nothing to fix, no pep talk to offer—just the simple act of being there.

They pulled into Perran Sands just as the afternoon sun was softening, casting golden light across the cliffs and dunes. The holiday park was nestled between rolling hills and windswept grasses, a line of static caravans stretching toward the sea, their windows catching the last of the daylight. Carla sat forward in the passenger seat, practically vibrating with excitement. “Look at it! You can smell the salt in the air.”
Lisa laughed, easing the car into a gravelled space beside their cream-coloured caravan. “Don’t lick the dashboard, woman.”
Betsy stirred in the backseat. “Are we here? Finally?”
Before Lisa could even cut the engine, Carla was already out, grabbing her board from the roof rack with practiced hands. “I’m going in.”
Lisa blinked. “You’ve not even unpacked.”
“Don’t care,” Carla said, hauling her wetsuit from her case. “I’ve got the bug back for surfing—and it’s been over two months . That water’s calling my name.”
She ducked into the caravan to change, and within minutes, she was back out—board tucked under one arm, wetsuit clinging to her like armour. “Coming?” she called to Betsy, who had dumped her phone and was pulling on her hoodie.
“Definitely!”
They disappeared together down the sandy path, leaving Lisa behind in the doorway, shaking her head with a smile.

A few minutes later, wrapped in her thick coat, Lisa followed them. She found Betsy perched in the dunes, legs tucked beneath her, watching intently as Carla charged through the waves with effortless confidence. Her silhouette danced over the water, gliding, twisting, riding the rhythm of the tide like it was stitched into her bones.
Lisa dropped onto the sand beside her daughter and pulled her close.
“She’s good, isn’t she?” Lisa murmured, eyes fixed on the water.
“She’s incredible,” Betsy whispered back, almost in awe. “Like, properly amazing.”
They watched quietly for a while, the ocean filling the silence between them. Carla paddled back out, a figure of calm determination against the growing waves.
“She’s read some of the journal,” Lisa said gently, almost more to herself than Betsy.
Betsy nodded. “Yeah… I wondered. I saw her looking at it yesterday and she had it in the car today.”
Lisa’s voice softened. “She read about when I went back to work. About the funeral. Those days.”
“I remember them,” Betsy said. “Not all of it. Just how weird everything felt. You were still… you. But different. Strong and kind of distant. Like you were trying to hold the sky up by yourself.”
Lisa's eyes stung. “I didn’t know how else to do it.”
“You did everything, Mum.” Betsy looked up at her. “You kept us together. You kept me together.”
Lisa wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter. “So did you.”

Out in the surf, Carla caught a final wave and rode it in, landing with a laugh and a splash at the shoreline. Betsy stood up, brushing the sand off her jeans. “Can we surf tomorrow?”
Lisa chuckled. “Ask your unofficial step-surfer.”
Betsy glanced back at Carla, her smile softening. “She kind of is, though… isn’t she?”
Lisa watched Carla, her heart full. “Yeah. She really kind of is.”

Chapter 63: Saltwater Solace

Summary:

Carla heads out for a surf to gather her thoughts about what she has read. The journal stirring up her own emotions about the people she has lost. Later on she teaches Betsy how to surf. Carla reads a raw journal entry about Lisa’s grief and distance after Becky’s death. The day ends with warmth, connection, and a deepening sense of healing.

Notes:

Disclaimer - This may not all be true to the Corrie timeline/events.

The caravan was quiet when Lisa stirred. No clatter of a kettle, no shuffle of Carla slipping into clothes—just silence and the faint hiss of wind through the window. She reached across the bed. Cold sheets. Carla was already gone. Out on the beach, Carla was in the sea—her dark figure slicing through the low, early waves. The sky was overcast, but the light shimmered across the water like brushed steel. She paddled past the break and let herself drift, the board rocking gently beneath her. She felt the breeze whip across her face, biting through the rubber of her wetsuit and catching strands of damp hair as they stuck to her cheek. She closed her eyes and let it sting.

Grief had a strange texture out here—cleaner, maybe. Sharper. The saltwater cut through everything else. Her mind drifted, unbidden, back to Liam.

Liam.

The man she wasn’t supposed to fall in love with. Her ex-husband's brother. A quiet soul who’d seen her in a way few others had. Kind. Steady. Solid. And hers, briefly, secretly, heartbreakingly. Losing him had gutted her. Not just the grief—but the shame that came with it. She hadn’t been allowed to mourn him openly. Not really. The affair had been a betrayal. His death, a brutal full stop on something never meant to begin. So she’d buried it. Like she buried everything.

Drink. Work. Drama. The next man. The next crisis. That had been her rhythm for years. But Lisa had broken that rhythm. Lisa, with her journal, her grief spelled out in ink and heartbreak. With her directness, her steadiness, her refusal to pretend. Loving Lisa had made Carla feel like maybe she was allowed to slow down. To look back. To feel things, instead of sprinting past them.
Carla tilted her head toward the horizon, waves lapping gently under her board. She hadn’t even realised how much she’d stopped herself from feeling. How much she'd locked away. This—this relationship—was healing her in ways she’d never expected. She’d never been a reflector. Never paused long enough to sit with herself. Her life had always been right—done—onto the next thing. But now?
Now there was space.
Now, there was Lisa.

With a slow breath, Carla turned and paddled toward the shore catching a wave, the cold no longer biting—just crisp and grounding. Carla paddled out again, her arms slicing cleanly through the cold Atlantic water. The wind had picked up slightly, turning the surface choppy, but she didn’t care. She had a goal in mind—a trick she hadn’t dared try in years. Something she used to pull off with ease back when her body moved on muscle memory and adrenaline. She turned her board, waited for the right swell, and went for it.

Too slow.

The wave bucked beneath her, and she lost balance, tumbling hard into the surf. She came up spluttering, brushing the salty tang from her lips, grinning despite the wipeout.
“Alright,” she muttered to herself, “again.” Carla paddled back out, eyes locked on the horizon, chest rising and falling with focused breath. Another set rolled in. She caught it, popped up, and went for the move—this time nearly nailing it before her foot slipped. A grunt of frustration echoed as she hit the water again.

From the balcony of the caravan, Lisa stood wrapped in her thick cardigan, hands curled around a steaming mug. She squinted into the wind, watching the lone figure out on the waves. Carla. She’d know that silhouette anywhere now. Lisa’s eyes followed as Carla rose again, paddling back out with determination, her movements fluid but powerful. Another wave built behind her, bigger this time. Carla angled herself, took it with perfect timing, rose—and this time, she stuck it. A bold, graceful move—clean, sharp, committed. As the board carved across the wave’s face, Carla punched the air triumphantly before diving cleanly into the water with a whoop that Lisa couldn't hear but could feel. On the balcony, Lisa smiled softly, her heart warm despite the chill. She took a sip from her mug, eyes still fixed on the sea.
“There she is,” she murmured to herself. “There’s my girl.”

Carla jogged up the wooden steps of the caravan, droplets of seawater trailing behind her as she stripped the top half of her wetsuit down to her waist. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold and the adrenaline, her grin wide and childlike.
She peeled the wetsuit off completely and hung it on the rail outside to drip-dry, then stepped up to Lisa, who was still on the balcony with her now-cold mug of tea. Without warning, Carla leaned in and planted a quick kiss on Lisa’s lips, her soaked hair slapping damply across Lisa’s face.
“Oh— bloody hell , Carla!” Lisa laughed, wiping the wet strands from her cheek. “You’re freezing!”
Carla smirked. “Saw my trick, did you?”
“I did. Very impressive.” Lisa raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. “You were showing off.”
Carla’s grin deepened as she darted past her. “Damn right I was. Now move, I’m turning into an icicle!”
She dashed inside, bare feet thumping across the floorboards, her voice echoing down the corridor. “Shower! Now!”

By the time both of them had thawed out under hot water, the smell of toast and sizzling bacon filled the caravan. Betsy was already at the little table, poking at a pile of scrambled eggs, still in her pyjamas with her hair a sleepy mess.
“Morning, surf star,” she said with a grin as Carla entered in her joggers and hoodie.
Carla gave a mock bow and slid into the seat beside her. Lisa brought over two mugs of coffee and sat opposite them, ruffling Betsy’s hair before biting into a piece of toast. The three of them sat there, warmth settling in the small space—salt and sand clinging to their skin, the sound of the sea still faintly audible through the caravan’s windows. It was a simple moment, but thick with comfort. Easy. Familiar. The kind of morning none of them had known they needed, but all of them treasured.

Betsy bounced on her toes, wetsuit half-zipped as she wriggled impatiently. “Come on, Mum! I wanna get in the water before the tide changes!”
Lisa, clutching her takeaway coffee and trying not to laugh, raised a brow. “It’s five degrees, Betsy. You do realise it’s December , right?”
“I’ve got a wetsuit! And I’m tough,” Betsy grinned, practically vibrating with excitement.
Carla appeared beside them, carrying her own board under one arm, salt and breeze already in her hair. “She’s got the bug,” she said, nudging Lisa with a smirk. “Can’t fight it.”
They headed into Perranporth to the surf hire shop. While Carla leaned her board outside and helped Betsy choose the right size wetsuit and board, Lisa made a show of hugging her coat tighter. “Still think you’re mad.”
“Completely,” Carla called from inside. “And loving it.”

Once Betsy was kitted out, the trio made their way back down to the beach. Lisa peeled off to The Watering Hole pub, securing a table on the deck with the perfect view of the waves. She ordered a refillable hot chocolate and pulled out her book, but her eyes kept drifting to the beach. She smiled as she spotted Carla and Betsy standing with their boards, Carla gesturing animatedly. Lisa lifted her phone and snapped a few quick photos—Carla showing Betsy how to pop up, Betsy mimicking her on the sand, both of them laughing. Eventually, Carla led them down the beach a little, and Lisa lost sight of them behind a slight dune. She sipped her hot chocolate and tried to read, but after a while, curiosity got the better of her. Leaving her book behind, she kicked off her shoes and wandered down to the shore. The water was cold against her ankles, but she barely noticed. Her eyes found them instantly—Carla further out, already gliding across the face of a wave with easy grace, and Betsy near the shore, trying again and again to get to her feet.

Lisa stood quietly, watching as Betsy wiped out once… twice… then on her third attempt, she popped up, wobbled—and stood . She stayed upright for all of five glorious seconds before tumbling into the foam.
Lisa whooped and clapped. “YES, Betsy! That’s my girl!”
A golden retriever bolted over out of nowhere, dropping a soggy tennis ball at her feet. Lisa laughed and gave him a quick rub before lobbing it back down the beach. He bounded after it, tail high. Betsy and Carla emerged from the water, cheeks pink and eyes sparkling. Lisa stepped forward, arms open.
“High five, surfer girl.”
Betsy grinned and slapped her hand. “Did you see me?!”
“I saw everything,” Lisa said, beaming. She looked at Carla. “You’ve made another addict.”
Carla shook her head, pulling her hair back out of her face. “Takes one to know one.”

After a brisk rinse and quick change in the hire shop’s basic but welcome facilities, the three of them emerged fresh-faced and windswept, hair damp and cheeks flushed. Betsy tugged her bobble hat low over her ears as they made their way to a small café tucked just off the beachfront — all wood-paneled warmth and the scent of coffee, chips, and something sweet baking behind the counter. They claimed a corner table by the window, still able to glimpse the grey shimmer of the sea through the salty glass. Lisa ordered hot drinks and toasted sandwiches for them all, grateful for something warm to wrap her hands around.
As soon as they sat down, Carla and Betsy were off — talking a mile a minute about wave shapes, balance shifts, tricks, wipeouts.
“You kept your knees too stiff, that’s all,” Carla said, leaning in with her hands mimicking a board. “Once you loosen up, your balance just clicks.”
“I almost got the turn!” Betsy said, eyes wide. “You saw that, right?”
“Definitely,” Carla grinned. “And your paddle was strong. You’re a natural.”
Lisa smiled behind her mug of tea, quietly watching them bounce off one another. Carla’s voice was full of encouragement and playful teasing, while Betsy soaked it all up with that open eagerness that made her seem younger than usual — like she’d stepped back into a softer, simpler version of herself for the day.
“Alright, surf nerds,” Lisa cut in with a grin. “Eat something before you both collapse.”
Betsy giggled, taking a bite of her toastie. “We’re just enthusiastic.”
Carla leaned back, stretching her legs under the table. “Don’t worry. I’ll bore you both senseless with surfing stories by the end of the week.”

Lisa glanced out at the sea, the tide just beginning to roll out, and felt something settle in her chest — quiet and steady. After lunch, the three of them wandered through the quaint streets of Perranporth, the wind cool but the sun casting everything in a warm glow. The shops were a delightful mix of surf stores, fudge stands, and quirky little boutiques full of personality. Betsy darted into a colourful shop with psychedelic patterns practically vibrating off the walls. She emerged moments later holding up a neon tie-dye T-shirt. “This is me ,” she declared proudly.
Carla grinned. “You’ll be visible from space.”
Lisa arched a brow. “It’s hurting my eyes.”
“Good,” Betsy smirked, marching to the counter with it.

Next, they ducked into a small souvenir shop bursting at the seams with novelty gifts and ornaments. “Mum!” Betsy called out in a stage whisper, waving frantically from an aisle. “Come here. You have to see this.”
Lisa cautiously approached. “What now?”
Betsy pointed at a set of ceramic figurines — two dolphins in an unfortunately suggestive pose. “How is that allowed on a shelf?”
Lisa covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Oh, God .”
Carla chimed in, holding up a tiny surfer gnome flashing its rear. “And this one has pants halfway down. That’s dedication.”
Betsy moved on to a shell-shaped salt and pepper shaker that looked entirely innocent — until you looked at the positioning. “Mum, it’s art,” she said with mock seriousness.
Lisa was in fits of laughter by now. “You are not bringing anything from this shelf into my house.”
“You’re just jealous you didn’t find the mooning gnome first,” Carla teased.

A few shops later, a quiet little gallery drew Lisa in. While Carla and Betsy loitered outside with fudge samples and more giggles, Lisa stepped into the calm, airy space. She stopped in front of a painting that stole her breath: a woman surfing, captured mid-motion, her body cutting through the wave with grace and power. The brushstrokes gave it movement, but the feeling was peace. Strength. She didn’t hesitate. When she rejoined them outside, carrying the wrapped painting, Betsy raised an eyebrow. “You bought art , Mum?”
Lisa smiled. “It’s for the living room.”
Betsy leaned closer to the wrapping, squinting. “Let me guess. Surfer woman reminds you of Carla?”
Lisa chuckled, cheeks faintly pink. “A little.”
Carla pretended not to hear, though she gave Lisa’s side a soft nudge as they strolled on.

In a charming bookshop filled with local crafts, Carla’s eye caught a wooden automaton — a detailed little scene of a steam train puffing past a café. Turning a small handle set the wheels in motion and made the steam puff from the chimney.
She held it up, smile soft. “This is so Roy. Trains and coffee.”
Lisa nodded. “That’s perfect. He’ll love it.”
Their arms full and spirits high, they made their way back to the caravan, the sea air still clinging to their skin and laughter following them down the lane.

Back at the caravan, the soft rustle of sea breeze tapped gently against the windows. The evening sun filtered through, painting everything in warm, peachy light. Betsy was curled up on one end of the sofa, legs folded, earbuds in as she scrolled through her camera roll. Her tie-dye shirt was already a firm favourite, and she kept giggling at the pictures of her surfing wipeouts. Lisa was nestled between Carla’s legs, resting against her chest with a blanket thrown over the two of them. A half-read book lay forgotten in Lisa’s lap — her eyes occasionally drifted to the pages, but mostly she just let herself enjoy the stillness and Carla’s hand idly brushing along her arm. Carla had Lisa’s journal balanced across her knees. The weight of the words she’d already read lingered in her chest as she carefully turned to the next page. The handwriting was a little sharper that day — more tense — and dated just about a month after the funeral.

18th September
Some days are easier now, but they come with guilt. I hate that I can laugh. I hate that I can drink a coffee, get through a shift, and not cry for ten hours. It feels like a betrayal — like I’ve left Becky behind just by surviving.
Betsy asked me yesterday if it was okay for her to start laughing again. Eleven years old and needing permission to feel joy. I told her yes, of course — that Becky would want that. That Becky would want her to smile. But after she left the room, I cried until I couldn’t breathe. That kind of grief — it shows up in your child's face. You can’t outrun it.
I still dream about Becky. Sometimes I wake up and forget she’s gone. Sometimes I wake up furious at her for leaving me. And then I feel sick with the guilt.
I tidied the wardrobe today. Just a few things. Not to erase her. Just… to make room for what’s next. For what’s still here. It’s the smallest steps that feel the biggest.

Carla stared at the page for a long moment after finishing. Her eyes prickled. She blinked slowly, closing the journal gently and letting it rest on her lap. Lisa turned slightly in her arms, her voice soft. “That one hit, didn’t it?”
Carla nodded. “The bit about Betsy asking if it was okay to laugh… that absolutely broke me.”
Lisa let out a quiet breath, her voice low. “She was so small. And so scared of doing the wrong thing. I didn’t even know how to tell her what the right thing was.”
“You did,” Carla said, her arms tightening around Lisa. “You got her through it. You’re still getting her through it.”
Lisa looked up, her eyes searching Carla’s. “I never wanted her to lose two mums.”
“She didn’t,” Carla whispered. “You’re both still here — just in different ways.”
Lisa leaned into her, resting her head back against Carla’s shoulder. Betsy, still in her music bubble, gave them a little wave and grinned before going back to her photos.
Carla turned another page of the journal, holding it carefully as Lisa leaned back between her legs on the sofa, a book resting in her own lap. Outside, the late afternoon light cast golden shadows across the caravan walls. Betsy was still lost in her music, legs tucked up on the other end of the sofa, a world away in her headphones. But here, in this small shared silence, Carla kept reading.

December
Six months. Half a year. I wrote that number down today and just stared at it. Six months since Becky died. Six months since I heard her voice, since she laughed at one of her own terrible jokes, since I felt whole.
People talk about time healing. What they don’t mention is how time also sharpens things — it draws attention to the gaps. The silence at dinner. The second cup of tea you still instinctively make. The empty side of the bed. Grief doesn’t soften with time, not at first. It deepens. It takes root.
I’ve thrown myself into work. Completely. Double shifts, overtime, callouts I don’t need to take. I can’t sit still. When I’m still, I remember. When I remember, I hurt. So I work. I run. I nod and smile. I pretend.
But the truth is… I’ve become a ghost in my own home. Betsy and I cross paths, but we don’t connect. I haven’t asked about her day in weeks. I don’t know who her friends are anymore. I missed another one of her school performances. She didn’t even tell me about it. Just said, ‘You wouldn’t have made it anyway.’ That shattered me.
She’s eleven. She needs a mum. And I’ve been… functioning. That’s it. Functional. Efficient. Cold. I haven’t laughed with her. I haven’t held her properly. I haven’t even looked at her long enough to really see her. And I know I’m losing something I won’t get back.
I don’t want to be this version of myself anymore. I don’t want to be the mum who forgets, who withdraws, who disappears under the weight of what’s been lost. Becky would be so angry at me. Or worse — she’d be disappointed.
I need to find my way back to Betsy. Back to myself. Before I lose both.

Carla swallowed, her arms instinctively circling Lisa’s waist more tightly. She didn’t speak straight away — didn’t need to.
Lisa shifted slightly, her voice a quiet murmur: “That one was hard.”
Carla pressed a soft kiss to Lisa’s temple. “It’s honest,” she said gently. “It’s brave.”
Lisa nodded slowly, her fingers resting lightly over Carla’s. “I hated the person I was in that stretch. Hated how empty the house felt — and how much of that emptiness was my doing.”
Carla rested her chin against Lisa’s shoulder. “But you came back,” she whispered. “You found her again.”
Lisa turned her head just enough to meet her eyes. "Just about.”
Carla smiled, brushing her fingers over Lisa’s hand. “She’s lucky to have you.”
Lisa exhaled slowly, allowing herself the smallest smile. “We’re lucky to have each other.”

Chapter 64: Coastal Walks

Summary:

The day includes a scenic coastal walk where Betsy takes photos of seals while Lisa and Carla reflected on past holidays. That evening, after a quick surf for Carla, they enjoy dinner at a seafood restaurant where Carla opened up about her difficult childhood and how she built her career, leading to a touching moment of connection and pride between them all.

The morning sun was soft as they stepped onto the coastal path, the sea air cool against their cheeks. The cliffs loomed ahead in gentle, sweeping curves, and the waves below murmured in a steady rhythm.
Betsy trudged ahead of them with her hoodie up and music blasting through her earbuds, clearly not thrilled with the idea of a long walk.
“I thought holidays were for lying down,” she groaned as she passed them, before popping one earbud back in.
Lisa smirked. “It is. Just not all day, every day.”

Once Betsy had wandered out of earshot, Carla and Lisa settled into a slower, companionable pace. The gravel crunched beneath their boots, and Carla reached for Lisa’s hand.
“Do you remember the first proper holiday you went on?” Lisa asked, looking out over the water.
“Yeah,” Carla said after a pause. “With Paul. Spain. Benalmádena.”
Lisa nodded — she already knew. Paul had come up before, one of those names with complicated weight behind it.
“You’d never been before that?”
Carla shook her head. “Not unless you count bunking off school and sneaking into the local pool.”
Lisa gave a small smile. “I remember you telling me that trip changed things for you.”
“It did,” Carla said quietly. “Just getting on the plane… hearing Spanish instead of Mancunian. It was the first time I’d been somewhere I didn’t have to be anyone. No expectations, no dramas. Just heat and cheap sangria and plastic loungers.”
Lisa looked over at her. “And sunburn.”
Carla laughed. “The worst. I thought I was being dead glamorous, didn’t realise I’d end up looking like a lobster in designer knock-offs.”
Lisa chuckled. “And now look at you. All Cornwall chic, surfer girl vibes.”
“Oi,” Carla bumped her shoulder playfully. “Don’t mock the surfer life.”

They paused at a lookout point, the wind picking up just slightly. Down below, the ocean rolled in steady waves, and a flock of gulls swooped over the shore. Lisa turned to her. “So this trip… does it feel like freedom too?”
Carla didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze stayed fixed on the horizon. “It feels like healing,” she said finally. “Not dramatic. Just… steady. Safe. I’ve never had that before.”
Lisa’s eyes softened. “You do now.”
Carla squeezed her hand, both of them falling into a quiet moment that didn’t need filling. Betsy waved dramatically from further down the path, clearly bored of waiting. Lisa laughed. “We’d better catch up before she starts narrating her suffering to Instagram.”

They continued walking, hand in hand, the cliffs stretching ahead of them, the ssa a steady presence at their side. They caught up with Betsy just as the path opened out to a grassy ledge above a secluded cove. A weather-beaten bench sat off to one side, and just behind it, a small café stood snug against the hillside — not much more than a shack, but painted in bright blues with a handwritten chalkboard offering “Hot Pasties, Proper Coffee & Cream Teas.”
Betsy collapsed onto the bench with a groan. “Finally. I swear my legs are going to fall off.”
Lisa raised an eyebrow. “We’ve done two miles, drama queen.”
Carla smirked. “We’re not even halfway, babe.”
Betsy glared. “You two are actual sadists.”

Inside the café, it was warm and comforting — a mixture of steam, fresh pastries, and milky coffee in the air. They ordered a round: flat white for Lisa, peppermint tea for Carla, and a hot chocolate topped with cream and marshmallows for Betsy. Back outside, they sat beneath a covered patio area, the sea rumbling far below.
“This is the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had,” Betsy declared, mouth full of whipped cream.
Lisa smiled. “Walking has its rewards.”
Carla leaned back in her chair, stretching her legs. “I love it down here. I get why people disappear to the coast for a reset.”
Betsy flicked a marshmallow at her. “You just want to surf every five seconds.”
“Exactly,” Carla said, catching it before it hit her. Lisa sipped her coffee, eyes flicking out to the horizon. “This is nice, though. No noise, no phones. Just... us.”
Betsy made a mock gagging sound but smiled anyway, cheeks rosy from the wind and cocoa.

They lingered until their drinks were gone, the wind tugging gently at their sleeves, the smell of sea salt and pastry clinging to the air. Then, they got up again, refreshed and recharged, ready to carry on along the winding path ahead. As they rounded the next bend of the coastal path, the wind lifted sharply, and then—
“Oh my God,” Betsy blurted, stopping dead in her tracks. “Look at that !”
Below the cliff, nestled in a wide, sheltered cove, the beach was teeming with life. Hundreds of grey seals lounged across the sand, their silvery bodies glinting in the low sun, some sprawled lazily like sunbathers, others wriggling their way toward the lapping tide. Betsy had her phone out in seconds. “This is insane. I’m putting this everywhere . Insta, TikTok—oh my god, that one is literally waving.”
Carla leaned on the wooden rail, eyes scanning the beach. “That one’s clearly the boss. Look at him—sprawled out like a king, not moving a muscle.”
Lisa squinted. “That one’s shouting at the others. Probably yelling that someone’s nicked his rock.”
Carla smirked. “Or maybe that’s the local mum seal who’s had enough .”
They all laughed as a particularly tubby seal attempted to shuffle up the beach only to give up halfway and flop dramatically in the sand.
“That one’s me,” Lisa said, pointing. “Just trying to get up but deciding the floor is fine.”
“Nope,” Carla said, nodding to another seal snuggled between two rocks, “ that’s you. Stubborn, wedged in, warm, and refusing to move.”
Lisa chuckled. “Okay, accurate.”
Betsy was still snapping away. “I think I’ve just found my spirit animal,” she announced. “That one yawning like it’s seen too much .”

They stayed for a while, mesmerised by the scene — the gentle grunts, the flapping flippers, the occasional seal slipping into the waves. There was something soothing and ridiculous about it all at once. Lisa reached over and linked her fingers with Carla’s. “I love that we just stumbled on this.”
Carla squeezed her hand. “Best walk I’ve ever agreed to go on.”
“Even if you’re emotionally invested in a seal drama now?”
“Especially because of that.”
Betsy rolled her eyes but smiled. “You two are insufferable.”
Carla grinned. “You're lucky we let you come.”
Betsy snorted and went back to filming. “Yeah, yeah — wait until I make a viral video out of this. We’ll be seal-famous.”
Lisa laughed, and they lingered a little longer, wind tugging at their coats, the tide rolling in — three very different lives momentarily still, watching the strange and beautiful quiet of nature.

Back at the caravan, the golden light of the late afternoon filtered in through the windows as Lisa stood at the mirror, adjusting an earring. Betsy was perched on the arm of the sofa, curling the ends of her hair with one of Lisa’s straighteners, her phone balanced on her knee playing music quietly. Lisa glanced over at her. “How many outfit changes did we go through, Bets?”
Betsy grinned. “Three. But this one is the one. Coastal chic, thank you very much.”
Lisa smirked. “You’ll spill sauce down it within five minutes.”
Betsy stuck out her tongue and then looked out toward the beach. “Think Carla’s coming in soon?”
Lisa joined her at the window. Far in the distance, a small black figure carved through the waves. “She’ll be in soon — probably riding one last wave like she’s in bloody Point Break .”

Out on the sand, Carla was paddling back in, her surfboard tucked under her arm, wet hair slicked back and wetsuit glinting in the dusk. She’d squeezed in a quick session before dinner, saying she needed just one more hour in the water. By the time Lisa and Betsy had touched up their lip gloss and sprayed their perfume, the door opened with a burst of sea air.
“Bloody freezing,” Carla muttered, grinning as she kicked off her flip-flops and shook out her hair. “But totally worth it.”
Lisa passed her a towel. “Go shower before you ice over.”
“On it,” Carla said, disappearing into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, dressed in jeans, boots and a black blouse with sea-salt curls still damp around her shoulders, Carla emerged, rubbing moisturiser into her hands.
“All right,” she said, giving Lisa a once-over and raising a brow. “You clean up pretty nice.”
Lisa smirked. “You’re not so bad yourself, surf rat.”
Carla kissed her quickly. “Let’s eat.”
They stepped out into the crisp evening air, the stars beginning to prick the sky above as they made their way down the track toward the cosy seafood restaurant by the bay, hungry and ready for a night of good food and easy laughter. The restaurant was warm and inviting, all dark wood, candlelight, and the soft clatter of cutlery against plates. The three of them had tucked into a window booth overlooking the darkening sea, the sound of waves faint through the glass.

Betsy was midway through a plate of calamari when she leaned forward, chin resting on her hand. “So… Carla, what were you like in school?”
Carla glanced up from her seafood linguine, the smile flickering from her face for a moment. She looked down, twisting her fork slowly. Lisa noticed. She reached under the table and gave Carla’s hand a gentle squeeze. Her eyes met Carla’s with a soft, reassuring nod. Carla took a breath, then looked back at Betsy. “Honestly? Not great.”
Betsy tilted her head, surprised. “Really?”
Carla gave a dry laugh. “I didn’t really go much. My mum… she wasn’t well. She was an addict. There were always people in our flat—strangers. Loud, high, dangerous. It was easier to stay out. I spent a lot of time at Michelle’s house, her mum was like a second mum to me.”
Betsy’s face fell slightly. “That sounds really hard.”
Carla shrugged, like she was brushing it off but not quite succeeding. “We used to bunk off school. A lot. And when I was there…” She paused. “People talked. Thought I was just like my mum. Called me the slag, the mess. No one expected anything of me, and for a while… I didn’t expect anything of myself either.”
Lisa gave her hand another squeeze. Carla smiled weakly, grateful for the anchor. Betsy was quiet, then said softly, “So… how did you end up with the factory?”
Carla perked up a little at the question, shifting into firmer ground. “Paul. He gave me my first chance. Just a machinist back then. I was awful at first. But I worked. Late nights, watching the older girls, learning everything. I soaked it all up—design, materials, production.”
“And you ran it?” Betsy asked, wide-eyed.
“Not straight away,” Carla said. “I left for a bit. Went to LA after… after a rough time. Needed space, a reset. When I came back, I had some money saved and bought in as a shareholder. I started designing. My stuff started selling. One thing led to another, and eventually… yeah. I was running it.”
Betsy sat back, clearly impressed. “That’s… honestly amazing.”
Carla smiled, this time with more confidence. “Thanks. It wasn’t easy. But I was lucky. And stubborn.”
Lisa gave her a look full of quiet admiration. “It sounds like you were brilliant .”
Carla chuckled. “Don’t overdo it, woman.”
Betsy raised her glass of Coke. “To the boss lady.”
Lisa raised hers too. “To the woman who never gave up.”
Carla lifted her wine, cheeks flushed. “To second chances.”

Chapter 65: Entries, Decisions and Quizzes

Summary:

The day was filled with fun and laughter as the group explored Newquay. They started with a relaxing morning at the caravan, where Carla enjoyed some quiet time surfing and the others took in the scenery. After grabbing a taxi to the pub, they spent the evening enjoying a delicious dinner and gearing up for the quiz night. The Quizards of Oz participated in a spirited and lighthearted competition, tackling rounds on general knowledge, TV and film, music, sports, and true or false questions. While they didn’t win, they had an amazing time together, laughing and bonding throughout the evening. The day ended with the trio feeling closer than ever, proud of their teamwork and excited for the rest of the holiday.

The next day, the three of them decided to stay close to the caravan. After a few busy days of surfing, shopping, and exploring, a slow, quiet day was just what they needed — especially with the pub quiz planned for that evening. Betsy was lounging in the hot tub on the deck, her music playing quietly from her phone as steam curled into the chilly afternoon air. Lisa sat inside at the small table near the window, playing a few lazy rounds of solitaire with a cup of tea beside her. The sliding doors were open just enough for her to keep an eye on Betsy. Carla, curled up on the sofa in joggers and a hoodie, had the journal in her lap again. She’d read only a few pages at a time, giving each entry space to settle — but now, she found herself turning to the next one almost instinctively. Her eyes moved slowly across the page.

May 2nd -
It’s nearly been a year since Becky died, and I think this might be the first time I’ve truly admitted to myself that I’m not coping.
I thought going back to work would help. That structure and routine would fill the silence and force me to keep moving. And at first, it did. I got up, I put on the uniform, I did the job. But now I’m just… running on fumes. And no amount of structure can fix what’s broken underneath.
I see people every day living their worst moments — and I don’t feel anything anymore. Not sympathy, not outrage, not even frustration. It’s like something inside me has shut down. A switch flipped, and I can’t find it to turn it back.
And Betsy… God, my girl.
She’s grown up so much in the last year and I’ve barely noticed it happening. I leave the house before she’s up and come back when she’s already in her room or halfway through dinner she’s made herself. Sometimes I sit on the sofa next to her and pretend I’m present, but I’m not. I’m somewhere else. Somewhere still stuck in the hospital, or in the silence after the phone call. Somewhere I can’t bring her.
She came to my room the other night. Said her own room was too cold, but I know that wasn’t it. She just wanted company. Wanted me. She sat with her blanket on the floor by my bed like she used to do when she was little. I could’ve reached for her. I should have. Instead I rolled over. I didn’t know how to be close to anyone in that moment — not even her.
And that’s when I knew. Something has to give.
This job... it’s taken so much from me. I used to believe I was helping people, that I was part of something bigger. But lately, all I see is how far I’ve drifted from the mother I want to be. From the person Becky knew and loved. From myself.
So I’ve started writing the letter. The one that says I’m leaving the force. I don’t know what comes next. I don’t even know who I am outside the uniform anymore. But I do know I want to be someone my daughter can rely on again. Someone who shows up.
It’s terrifying. And it hurts. But staying where I am? That’s hurting more.

Carla exhaled slowly, her fingers brushing the edge of the page. She looked up through the open doors, watching as Lisa turned another card, completely unaware of the eyes fixed on her with a new kind of awe. Carla sat still for a moment, then turned the page. She wasn’t ready to stop reading — not now. The next entry picked up only days later.

May 10th
Today, I did it.
I walked into the station, handed the letter to DI Marsh, and told him I was done. My heart was in my throat the entire time. He looked at me for a long moment and then just nodded, quietly. He said he’d known it was coming. That I hadn’t been myself for a long time. I wanted to argue — to say of course I haven’t, how could I be? But I didn’t. I just nodded back.
It felt like a freefall. Like letting go of the only lifeline I’ve ever known. The badge, the structure, the purpose — all gone in a single page of typed words and my shaking signature at the bottom.
And then came the harder part.
Telling Betsy.
She was on the sofa when I came home. I stood in the doorway longer than I should have, just watching her — long legs curled underneath her, some daft show on in the background. For a second, I wondered if I should wait. Another day. Another week. But then I remembered how many moments I’d already missed.
So I sat down beside her, and I told her. I said I was leaving work. That I needed time — to be her mum again, properly. She blinked at me like she didn’t quite believe it. Then she asked, softly, “Is it because of Becky?”
I told her yes. And also, no. That it was because of everything. That I couldn’t keep pretending I was okay when I wasn’t. That I’d been so busy holding it together that I’d forgotten how to just be present.
She didn’t cry. Neither did I. But she leaned her head against my shoulder and didn’t move for ages. And when she whispered “I’ve missed you,” something broke inside me.

Carla swallowed thickly and pressed her palm to the centre of the journal for a moment. Then she turned the page again.

June 2nd -
I went to therapy today.
Even writing that sentence feels surreal. I never thought I’d be the sort of person to sit in a softly lit room, talking about feelings to a stranger. But there I was. A small grey office, two chairs, one box of tissues I pretended not to notice.
Her name was Janine. Middle-aged, calm voice, kind eyes. She let me talk. Or not talk. I think I spent the first ten minutes just staring at a water stain on the ceiling, unsure of how to start.
Eventually, I said Becky’s name. Just that. One word, and my whole chest caved in.
She didn’t ask me to explain right away. She just said, “Tell me what you miss about her.”
And I did.
I talked about her terrible singing voice and her habit of falling asleep halfway through films. The way she used to leave little notes in Betsy’s lunchbox — awful puns and doodles that made her groan. How she always insisted on buying extra milk for the neighbours even when we had none left for ourselves. I talked until my throat hurt.
And then I cried. Properly cried. For the first time since the funeral.
When the session ended, I felt like I’d been wrung out. Like someone had turned me inside out and left me hanging in the wind. But there was also this strange flicker of something I hadn’t felt in months.
Hope.
It’s small. Tentative. But it’s there.

Carla closed the journal gently and laid it across her lap, her eyes shimmering. She didn’t say a word — just sat there, absorbing it, while behind her, Lisa shifted slightly in her seat and reached for Carla’s hand without needing to ask. Lisa stretched and glanced over her book, a teasing smile playing at her lips. “Fancy getting in the hot tub for a bit?”
Carla looked up from the journal, her eyes still soft from what she’d read. She gave a small nod. “Yeah. I think I could do with it.”
They stood, and as they slid open the patio door, Betsy caught sight of them heading out and immediately bolted upright. “Nope!” she cried, scrambling for her towel and phone. “I am not getting in the hot tub with you two lovebirds.”
Lisa raised a brow. “Excuse me?”
Betsy backed away, towel wrapped around her like a protective barrier. “You can’t keep your hands off each other. I don’t need that trauma, thank you.”
Carla snorted. “Oh, come on. We’re not that bad.”
Betsy pointed at them both with dramatic flair. “Yes, you are. I'm going to the arcade. I’d rather lose £10 on a claw machine than be stuck in a bubble bath with you two making goo-goo eyes.”
And with that, she slipped on her sliders and vanished around the side of the caravan.

Lisa shook her head, laughing. “Well, I guess that’s us told.”
Carla chuckled, leaning in to murmur near Lisa’s ear, “Guess we’ve got it all to ourselves then.”
The water bubbled gently around them as Carla slid into the hot tub beside Lisa. Steam curled into the chilly air, wrapping the two of them in a private little world. Lisa shifted closer, her arm grazing Carla’s, and they shared a quiet smile. It started with a soft kiss, a brush of lips that deepened as the warmth between them grew. Lisa’s hand traced along Carla’s arm, fingers trailing beneath the water. Carla pulled her gently onto her lap, water rippling around them as their bodies found each other. Their kisses grew slower, more intense, the kind that said everything without words. Lisa let out a small sound as Carla’s hand drifted up her thigh.
“Shut up,” Carla whispered against her lips, smirking. “We’ve got neighbours.”
Lisa laughed softly, then caught Carla’s mouth again, both of them lost in the sensation and the steam, hands roaming with familiarity and care.

When the moment ebbed, they rested back, breathless and flushed, the cool air prickling their damp skin. After a long silence, Carla leaned in and whispered, “Maybe Betsy was right.”
Lisa burst into laughter, and Carla quickly followed, the sound echoing into the evening. They jumped out of the hot tub, steam rolling off their bodies into the cool evening air. Carla let out a sharp gasp as the cold hit her skin, grabbing a towel and quickly wrapping it around herself. Lisa giggled, rubbing down her arms as she glanced toward the horizon where the sky was painted in strokes of amber, peach, and soft lavender.

“I’m going back in,” Carla said suddenly, nodding toward the beach. “The tide’s just right and the waves are picking up. Sunset surf. Can’t resist.”
Lisa stared at her like she was mad. “Are you ever not in the sea on holiday?” she teased.
Carla grinned, water still dripping from her curls. “Not if I can help it.”
Lisa rolled her eyes affectionately. “Alright, alright. I’ll come and sit on the beach. Watch you tear it up... and the sunset.”
Wrapped in a hoodie and a thick coat, Lisa made her way down to the sand a short while later. She laid out a blanket on a dry patch just above the tide line and curled up, a flask of hot tea in one hand and her eyes fixed on the shimmering silhouette of Carla dancing on the waves. The sight filled her chest with something warm and deep — admiration, peace, maybe even love.

About twenty minutes later, she heard footsteps crunching softly on the sand behind her. Betsy dropped down beside her, her cheeks rosy from the breeze, hair swept up into a messy ponytail.
“You alright?” Lisa asked, nudging her.
“Yeah. Just came to watch the madwoman surf again,” Betsy said with a smirk. “Oh — and check it out.” She held up a bright blue plastic keyring in the shape of a surfboard. “Prize from the claw machine. Took me three quid and nerves of steel.”
Lisa laughed. “Living the dream.”
Betsy leaned into her mum’s side, wrapping Lisa’s arm around her without asking. The air between them filled with the sound of crashing waves and distant seagulls.
“This holiday’s been really wonderful,” Betsy said suddenly, her voice quiet. “I wasn’t sure at first, but… I’ve really loved it.”
Lisa looked down at her, gently brushing a strand of hair from her daughter’s face. “Me too. It’s been just what we needed.”
Betsy paused. “I’ve been thinking about Carla. And… I think I’m getting used to having her around. Like… it feels normal now.”
Lisa felt her heart lift. “That’s really good to hear, sweetheart.”
“I’ve even been thinking about calling her… step-mum. But I don’t know if she’d like it. Or if it’s weird.”
Lisa blinked, a mixture of surprise and emotion hitting her all at once. “Sweetheart, I think that would mean more to her than you can imagine. She’s trying so hard. She loves us. She loves you .”
They both looked out at the waves again, Carla a small figure on her board, gliding gracefully across the water.

Lisa hesitated, then asked, “What would you think if I asked her to stay? I mean properly stay. Move in with us.”
Betsy sat up straighter, brows lifting. “Like, live with us? At home?”
Lisa nodded, a little nervous now. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I wasn’t sure if you were ready.”
Betsy didn’t answer straight away. She looked out at the sea, thoughtful. Then she nodded slowly. “I’d love it. I mean, she’s already part of our lives. She might as well live with us too. Then we’d be a proper family.”
Lisa swallowed the lump in her throat and gently squeezed her daughter’s hand.
“What do you think Becky would say?” she asked softly.
Betsy turned to her, eyes glossy but certain. “I think… I think she sent Carla to us. Like she knew you’d need someone. That we’d need someone. She wants us to be happy, Mum. And Carla — she makes us happy.”
Tears pricked Lisa’s eyes and she pulled Betsy into a tight hug, holding her as the waves rolled and the sky shifted into twilight. She watched Carla paddle back out again, silhouetted by the golden light.
“Yeah,” Lisa whispered. “I think you're right. I’ll ask her. Soon.” And with that, the three of them — one surfing, two grounded in love — watched the sun sink into the sea, each of them feeling the quiet promise of something new just beginning.

Back at the caravan, they quickly got dressed and prepped for a night out. The evening air had turned cold, so they bundled up in jeans and sweaters. Betsy tied her hair up and dabbed on a bit of mascara in the mirror, giving herself a satisfied smile. Lisa zipped up her boots, while Carla rifled through her bag, making sure she had everything she needed for the evening out. When the taxi pulled up, they piled in, chatting and laughing about the cool breeze. The pub they were heading to was in Newquay, just a short ride away. As they entered, the warm, comforting smells of fried food and wood smoke filled the air. The fire crackled in the corner, casting a soft glow across the room, and the pub’s rustic charm made it feel like home. They found a table near the fire and ordered their drinks. The conversation flowed easily as they dug into their meals—fish and chips for Lisa, a burger for Betsy, and a hearty stew for Carla.

After the meal, the pub landlord stood up and called over the chatter, “Quiz time! Starts in 15 minutes. Sign-up sheet’s at the bar!”
Carla looked at Betsy with a grin. “Right, what’s our team name going to be?”
Betsy thought for a moment, tapping her finger on the table before coming up with an idea. “I’ve got it. How about The Quizards of Oz ?”
Carla laughed and nodded. “That’s brilliant.”
Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Are we going to be good, though? Or just good at making terrible puns?”
Betsy gave them both a mischievous smile. “Why not both?”
Carla headed to the bar to sign them up, returning with their team name proudly written down. She plopped back into her seat and said with a grin, “There we go, The Quizards of Oz . Let’s hope we have more brainpower than a flying monkey.”
Lisa leaned back in her chair and smirked. “Well, we’ll be lucky if we don’t end up like the Cowardly Lion.”
“Speak for yourself,” Betsy teased, already scanning the quiz sheet. “I’ve got this in the bag.”
Carla leaned back and laughed, raising her glass. “We’ll see about that.”
The three of them shared a smile, the warm ambiance of the pub, their closeness, and the shared excitement for the quiz making it feel like the perfect end to a wonderful day.

The picture round began, and the atmosphere in the pub shifted. Everyone became a little more focused, their eyes glued to the big screen at the front. The host announced, “Okay, folks, it’s time for the picture round! Grab your pens, and let’s see how well you know your landmarks, celebrities, and famous faces!”
The first image flashed up, an iconic landmark with a tower rising high against the backdrop of a city skyline. Lisa squinted at it, her mind racing to identify it. Betsy was the first to speak.
“That’s the Eiffel Tower, no doubt,” Betsy said confidently.
Carla nodded. “It’s got to be. It’s too distinct with the shape and the metalwork.”
Lisa jotted down “Eiffel Tower” on their quiz sheet, then added, “Definitely French vibes. Can’t miss that one.”
The next image came up quickly—a vintage black-and-white portrait of an actress with soft curls and an elegant smile. Both Carla and Lisa recognized her instantly.
“Oh, that’s Grace Kelly,” Carla said, smiling at the familiar image. “I know that face.”
Betsy glanced at them, wide-eyed. “I would’ve never guessed that one. But now that you say it, totally her.”
Lisa wrote down “Grace Kelly” without hesitation, feeling confident. “She’s got that old Hollywood glamour.”
The third image was a bit more obscure—a blurry, outdated photo of what seemed like an industrial scene. A large, complex-looking machine took center stage. It wasn’t immediately clear what it was.
“Hmm,” Lisa muttered, leaning forward. “That’s tricky.”
Carla squinted at it, analyzing the equipment. “It looks like part of a loom, from a textile factory or something like that.”
Betsy scratched her head. “Oh yeah! I think you’re right. I’ll go with a loom.”
Lisa quickly wrote down “loom,” knowing it wasn’t an obvious one but trusting Carla’s instincts. The fourth image was a lot clearer—an old black-and-white photo of a famous musician, electric guitar in hand. The pose was unmistakable, and the wild hair was a dead giveaway.
“Jimi Hendrix!” Carla said without a moment’s hesitation, her voice full of certainty. Lisa laughed. “That’s probably the easiest one of the lot.” They all filled in their answers, and as the picture round came to an end, they felt a sense of pride. They’d tackled most of the pictures with confidence, and the atmosphere was light-hearted but competitive. Carla handed in their answer sheet, and the three of them exchanged excited glances.

“That felt pretty solid,” Lisa said with a smile. Betsy grinned. “We’ve definitely got this.”
The quiz host returned to the mic with a grin, tapping it for attention. “Alright, next up—general knowledge! Ten questions, one point each. Let’s see who’s been paying attention to the world around them!”
Carla leaned forward, her competitive streak kicking in. Lisa smirked, ready with her pen, while Betsy sipped her lemonade and got serious.
Question 1: “What’s the capital of New Zealand?”
Carla answered immediately. “Wellington.”
Lisa raised an eyebrow. “I always mix that up with Auckland.”
“Nope, it’s Wellington,” Carla said, firm.
Lisa wrote it down.
Question 2: “In what year did the Berlin Wall fall?”
There was a beat of silence.
“1989,” Lisa said, certain.
Betsy blinked. “That long ago?”
Question 3: “What’s the chemical symbol for gold?”
“A-U,” Carla said before the host had finished.
“Show off,” Lisa teased.
Question 4: “Which author wrote The Handmaid’s Tale ?”
“Oh, I know this!” Betsy said. “Margaret Atwood, right?”
Lisa gave her an impressed nod. “Nice one.”
Question 5: “Which country has the most islands in the world?”
They all paused.
“I want to say Indonesia,” Lisa offered.
Carla shook her head. “I think it’s Sweden. I read that somewhere.”
Lisa hesitated, then trusted Carla. “Sweden it is.”
Question 6: “What’s the tallest mountain in Africa?”
“Kilimanjaro,” they said in unison.
Question 7: “Which planet is closest to the sun?”
“Mercury,” Carla answered confidently.
Question 8: “Who painted the Girl with a Pearl Earring ?”
Carla turned to Lisa. “You’ll know this—art’s your thing.”
“Vermeer,” Lisa said without missing a beat.
Question 9: “What’s the currency of South Korea?”
They all hesitated.
“Isn’t it the won?” Betsy guessed.
Carla looked thoughtful. “Yeah, that sounds right.”
Lisa nodded and scribbled it down.
Question 10: “Which language has the most native speakers worldwide?”
“Mandarin Chinese,” Lisa answered.
They leaned back as the host called for papers to be collected.
“I think we did pretty well,” Carla said, grinning. Betsy added, “We should definitely win something for that round.”

The quizmaster’s voice rang out over the mic:
“Alright folks, time for round three — TV and Film! Pens at the ready!”
Question 1: “Which long-running British soap is set in the fictional village of Emmerdale?”
Betsy immediately scribbled. “Emmerdale,” she said confidently.
Carla raised an eyebrow. “Was that not a trick question?”
Lisa chuckled. “Don’t overthink it, love.”
Question 2: “Who played Jack Dawson in Titanic ?”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “Leonardo DiCaprio. But I was far more interested in Kate Winslet.”
Carla gave her a teasing look. “Weren’t we all?”
Betsy smirked. “Classic answer.”
Question 3: “In Stranger Things , what is the name of the girl with psychic powers?”
All three answered in unison, “Eleven.”
Carla grinned. “One we all know!”
Betsy nudged Lisa. “You still haven’t finished season four.”
Lisa raised her hands. “Alright, alright, I’ll catch up.”
Question 4: “Which film won Best Picture at the Oscars in 2023?”
Carla furrowed her brow. “Was it Everything Everywhere All At Once ?”
Lisa nodded. “Yeah, I think so. That film was wild.”
Betsy scribbled it down. “The one with the googly eyes, right?”
“Exactly,” Carla said.
Question 5: “What is the name of the coffee shop in Friends ?”
Carla and Lisa both said at the same time, “Central Perk.”
Betsy snorted. “You two are so old.”
Lisa narrowed her eyes playfully. “Watch it.”
Question 6: “Who directed the Lord of the Rings trilogy?”
Betsy shrugged. “I’ve no idea.”
Carla said, “Peter Jackson.”
Lisa nodded. “One of my old flatmates was obsessed.”
Question 7: “In The Crown , who plays Queen Elizabeth II in seasons three and four?”
Carla whispered, “Olivia Colman.”
Lisa smiled. “National treasure.”
Betsy wrote it down. “I thought that was Judi Dench?”
Lisa laughed. “There’s room for more than one!”
Question 8: “What’s the name of the fictional paper company in The Office ?”
Lisa quickly said, “Dunder Mifflin.”
Carla blinked. “How do you know that?”
Lisa smirked. “We had a boring stakeout once. Watched the entire U.S. version in a car.”
Question 9: “Which actress plays Villanelle in Killing Eve ?”
Betsy’s eyes lit up. “Jodie Comer!”
Carla nodded. “Brilliant performance.”
Lisa added, “And a scouser.”
Question 10: “What colour pill does Neo take in The Matrix ?”
Carla whispered, “Red.”
Lisa nodded. “To stay in Wonderland.”
Betsy grinned. “You two are nerds.”

The quizmaster tapped the mic with a grin. “Okay everyone, we’re halfway through and it’s time for a scores update!”
A hush fell over the pub as the teams leaned in.
“In third place, with 29 points… The Cornish Pasties! ”
Some polite clapping followed from a table near the bar.
“In second place, with 30 points… Universally Challenged! ”
“Alright,” Carla muttered. “Neck and neck.”
Lisa sipped her drink, nodding. “We’re close.”
“And currently in the lead… with 32 points… The Quizards of Oz! ”
Betsy threw both arms in the air. “Yes!”
Carla laughed. “That’s us!”
Lisa raised her glass. “Let’s not get cocky. Still a few rounds to go.”
Betsy smirked. “Cocky is how we win.”
Carla leaned over and whispered, “Let’s just hope there’s no sport round.” They all laughed, spirits high as the next round began.

The quizmaster cleared his throat and announced, “Alright folks, it’s time for the Music Round! ”
A hush fell over the pub as the speakers crackled to life, and the first song began to play. The quizmaster gave a quick explanation. “You’ll hear a short clip of a song, and your job is to write down both the song and the artist. Get it right, and you earn a point each.”
Betsy grinned. “I’m gonna crush this round. Music’s my thing.”
Lisa smiled. “Let’s see about that, Bets. No shouting out the answers.”
Carla glanced over at the sheet in front of her. “Let’s make sure we get these right.”
The first clip blared through the speakers—a distinctive guitar riff with a catchy beat.
Da-na-na-na, da-na-na-na, da-na-na-na-na...
Betsy scribbled quickly on her answer sheet. “Oasis, Wonderwall, ” she muttered under her breath, then looked at the others. “Got it?”
Carla nodded, writing the same thing down. “Same here.”
Lisa added her answer with a smirk. “Agreed.”
The next clip started, a soft piano intro filling the pub. A familiar voice started to sing.
Is it too late now to say sorry...
Betsy scribbled again. “Justin Bieber, Sorry, ” she wrote down, her pen moving quickly.
Carla nodded and followed suit, adding her answer. “That was a no-brainer.”
Lisa chuckled, marking her sheet. “Definitely heard that one a lot.”
The next track was upbeat, with a heavy bass drop and a driving rhythm.
I’ve got the eye of the tiger, a fighter...
Betsy quickly wrote down her answer. “Katy Perry, Roar. ”
Carla grinned and added her answer. “Easy.”
Lisa leaned back, pen tapping the table. “Let’s hope we’re not getting cocky just yet.”
The next clip started, and it was a slow ballad with soaring vocals.
And I will always love you...
Betsy immediately wrote down her answer with confidence. “Whitney Houston, I Will Always Love You. ”
“Definitely,” Lisa agreed, marking her sheet with a smile.
Carla leaned back in her chair. “A classic.”
As the quizmaster continued to play the next few tracks, the team stayed focused, writing down their answers with care and confidence. The Quizards of Oz were nailing each song and artist, their energy building as the round went on. The quizmaster wrapped up the music round. “Alright, that’s it for the music round, folks. Time to see if you’ve got all the answers right!”
The Quizards of Oz exchanged knowing smiles, confident they had done well. They passed their sheets over for scoring, ready for the next challenge.

The quizmaster announced the start of the Sports Round . "Alright, folks, it’s time for the Sports Round. Let’s see how well you know your sports trivia! Ready?"
The Quizards of Oz exchanged uncertain glances. None of them were particularly known for their sports knowledge, but they were in it together. Betsy gave them a half-smile. "Let’s just have fun with this, alright?"
Carla rolled her eyes but smiled. "This is going to be a trainwreck, but I’m game."
Lisa chuckled. "We’ve got this."
Question 1: Which country won the 2018 FIFA World Cup?
Betsy immediately looked at the others. "Wait, was that... Germany? Or was it Brazil? I swear, I’m getting these mixed up."
Carla sighed, trying to think. "I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Brazil. I’m leaning toward... France?"
Lisa nodded. "Yeah, France seems like a safe bet. They were on fire that year."
"Alright, let’s go with France," Betsy said, jotting it down.
They moved on to the next question.
Question 2: Who holds the record for the most Olympic gold medals?
Betsy’s eyes widened. "That’s got to be Michael Phelps, right? It has to be."
Carla nodded. "Yeah, he’s the swimmer, and I remember something about him winning a ton of golds."
Lisa smiled. "Michael Phelps, definitely. No question."
"Okay, we’re all in agreement," Betsy said, writing down their collective answer.
They moved on to the next question.
Question 3: Who won the men’s Wimbledon singles title in 2019?
Betsy immediately shot a look at Carla. "Who plays tennis? This is so not my thing."
Carla sighed, shaking her head. "I know this one! It was Novak Djokovic, right? He had a killer year."
Lisa quickly added, "Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s him."
"Alright, Djokovic it is," Betsy wrote down, relieved to finally know an answer.
They moved to the next one.
Question 4: Who won the Super Bowl in 2020?
Betsy blinked. "Ugh, I have no clue. Maybe... the New England Patriots?"
Carla shrugged. "I think it might have been the Kansas City Chiefs. I heard a lot about them that year."
Lisa agreed. "Yeah, I think I heard Chiefs too."
"Okay, Chiefs it is," Betsy wrote, trying to sound confident.
They quickly moved on.
Question 5: Who holds the record for most goals scored in the Premier League?
Betsy thought for a moment. "That’s gotta be... Harry Kane, right?"
Carla frowned. "I thought it was Alan Shearer."
Lisa nodded. "Yeah, Shearer definitely had a long run at the top."
"Alright, let’s go with Shearer," Betsy decided, writing it down.

Once the last answer was written down, the team sat back, silently exchanging looks.
"I think we did alright," Lisa said with a smile. "We’re not experts, but we did our best."
Carla smiled at the team. "I’m actually surprised we got a few right. This is fun!"
Betsy grinned, tapping her pen on the table. "We’re definitely in with a shot now. But, I won’t get my hopes up. We’re already doing better than I expected."
They leaned back in their seats, ready for the next round to start. The quizmaster came back to collect their papers, saying, "Alright, we’ll tally up the scores in a bit, but now it’s time for the next round!"
The Quizards of Oz exchanged one last look, feeling more confident than ever as they prepared for the next challenge.
Quizmaster: "Alright, folks, time for the True or False round! I’ll say a statement, and you have to decide whether it’s true or false. No pressure, just remember—only one answer per statement! Let’s get started."
The Quizards of Oz exchanged grins. Carla raised an eyebrow, "This might actually be our best round yet."
Question 1: A kangaroo can jump as high as a giraffe’s neck.
Betsy scrunched up her face, considering. "Hmm. I don’t think that’s true, is it? A kangaroo’s strong, but that seems... a bit too much."
Carla nodded. "Yeah, it sounds a bit too far-fetched. Giraffes have pretty long necks."
Lisa agreed. "I’m going with false."
Betsy wrote down "False" and looked up at the others, hoping they were all in agreement.
Question 2: Cleopatra was Egyptian.
Carla immediately shook her head. "Wait, I’ve heard she was Greek. She was from the Ptolemaic dynasty, which was Greek."
Betsy looked puzzled. "I thought she was Egyptian...?"
Lisa raised an eyebrow. "I’d say she was Greek too. I’m pretty sure that’s right."
They all wrote down "False."
Question 3: There are 360 days in a year.
Betsy groaned. "Well, that’s obviously false. A year is 365 days... give or take."
Lisa laughed. "Yeah, false. I think that’s just meant to throw us off."
Carla smiled, writing "False" without hesitation.
Question 4: The Great Wall of China is visible from space.
Betsy giggled. "I’ve heard this one before, but it’s actually false. It’s a myth."
Lisa nodded. "Yeah, that’s one of those common misconceptions. It’s not visible from space."
They wrote down "False."
Question 5: Venus is the hottest planet in the solar system.
Betsy furrowed her brow. "Wait, isn’t Venus the one with all the clouds? It’s really hot, isn’t it?"
Carla said, "Yeah, it’s pretty hot, but I thought Mercury was the closest to the sun?"
Lisa smiled, clearly enjoying the confusion. "No, no, it’s Venus. It has a thick atmosphere that traps heat."
The three of them wrote down "True," although a little uncertain.
Question 6: Sharks have been around longer than trees.
Betsy’s eyes widened. "No way. I didn’t think sharks have been around that long."
Carla smirked. "Actually, they have. Sharks have been around for over 400 million years, while trees evolved much later."
Lisa nodded. "I’m going with true on this one. It sounds right."
They all wrote down "True."
Question 7: The Eiffel Tower was originally intended to be a temporary structure.
Betsy looked interested. "Wait, really? I didn’t know that."
Carla nodded. "Yeah, it was supposed to be taken down after the 1889 World’s Fair, but it was so popular, they kept it."
Lisa smiled. "True. It was supposed to be temporary, but now it’s iconic."
The three of them wrote down "True."
Question 8: Polar bears are left-handed.
Betsy snorted. "Left-handed? What? I’ve never heard that before."
Carla laughed. "Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s false. I mean, how would they even know that about bears?"
Lisa joined in. "False for sure. I’m pretty sure they’re just bears, and they don’t have a preference."
They wrote down "False."
Quizmaster: "Alright, that’s the True or False round! Let’s see how you did. Hang tight for the final scores!"

The Quizards of Oz felt cautiously optimistic, laughing at some of the tricky questions. Betsy smiled at her teammates. "Well, that was interesting. Can’t wait to see the results."
Quizmaster : "Alright, everyone! The moment you've all been waiting for... let's see the results!"
The quizmaster shuffled the papers, glancing at each team’s scores. After a dramatic pause, the quizmaster grinned and looked up.
Quizmaster : "In third place with 54 points... we have ‘The Quizards of Oz!’"
There were some groans and laughter from the team.
Lisa chuckled. "Well, we tried!"
Quizmaster : "In second place with 58 points... it’s 'The Pub Quiz Legends!’"
The competition was getting tight, and the quizmaster didn’t waste any time.
Quizmaster : "And finally, the winners of tonight's quiz, with 62 points... the team who clearly knows their stuff, ‘The Knowledgeable Neighbors!’"
Cheers erupted in the pub. The Quizards of Oz exchanged glances, feeling satisfied with their performance. Despite not coming in first, they had a great time.
Betsy gave a big grin. "We didn’t win, but we did pretty good!"
Carla nudged Lisa. "For once, I didn’t feel like I was dragging you two down."
Lisa smiled. "I think we did alright. There’s always next time, right?"
The team high-fived each other, enjoying their time together. The night was a success, and they’d had fun competing—winning or not. As they celebrated and joked, Lisa felt a sense of warmth in knowing that, regardless of the quiz outcome, their bond had grown even stronger.

Chapter 66: Healey's

Summary:

On their final day in Cornwall, Carla, Lisa, and Betsy visit Healey's Cyder Farm. Betsy gets a taste of cider, and they explore the farm before heading back to the caravan to relax. Carla surfs one last time while Lisa enjoys the hot tub. Betsy captures some photos of Carla, and they share a heart-to-heart when Betsy calls Carla “Mum.”
Later, Lisa and Carla head to the arcade, playing games and having fun. Carla wins a seal from the claw machine, and they share a sweet moment in the photo booth. The evening ends with a walk on the beach, where Lisa quietly asks Carla to move in with them, marking a new step in their relationship.

Notes:

Just pure fluff at this point 😉

After Carla’s early morning surf, the three of them pile into the car and make their way through the winding country lanes to Healeys Cyder Farm. The sun is out but there’s still a chill in the air as they pull into the car park. The place smells of fresh apples and warm hay, and Betsy is already bouncing with excitement as they head toward the main entrance. They begin with a guided tour of the orchards, wandering between rows of gnarled old apple trees, some of which have been there for generations. The guide explains the process of harvesting, and Lisa gently teases Carla when she tries to reach up and pluck an apple only to be told off kindly by the guide.

From there, they head into the production area. The sweet, yeasty smell of fermentation fills the air as they step inside the factory. Betsy presses her nose up to the glass of one of the huge fermentation tanks, fascinated as the guide explains the cider-making process — from pressing to fermentation, to bottling. Lisa watches her daughter with a warm smile as Betsy peppers the guide with questions about alcohol content and how strong “the strongest one” is. Finally, they’re led to the tasting room, where Lisa glances at the sign offering small tasters for under-18s with parental consent. Betsy’s eyes light up as she spots it.
“Please, Mum?” she pleads, clasping her hands together in exaggerated hope.
Lisa raises an eyebrow, but eventually sighs with a smile. “Alright. Just a tiny sip, okay?”
Betsy practically squeals and jumps up and down. Carla grins and nudges Lisa. “You’ve made her whole trip.”

Betsy tries a small glass of the classic apple blend and pulls a face. “Oh my god, that’s so sour—but good?” she says, unsure if she likes it or not but delighted by the novelty. Lisa and Carla share a laugh as Betsy goes in for another cautious sip.
As the tour ends, they browse the farm shop, picking up a bottle of mulled cider for later and a few treats. Betsy insists on buying a souvenir cider mug and a caramel apple lolly, and Carla grabs a couple of chutneys and jams to take home.

Back at the caravan for their final night, the mood is mellow and content. Lisa sighs as she sinks into the hot tub with a book and a glass of cider, steam rising around her in the chilly evening air. She can hear the distant crash of the waves and knows exactly where Carla is—determined to get one last surf in before they head home tomorrow. Meanwhile, Betsy has gone out with her phone in hand, chasing the last golden light for some Instagram-worthy photos. She meanders across the dunes and ends up spotting Carla in the water, carving through the waves with practiced ease. Betsy crouches in the sand, capturing a few shots of Carla just as she nails a clean turn, spray catching the fading sun.
As Carla emerges from the water, hair dripping and grin wide, Betsy meets her halfway along the sand. She holds up her phone proudly. “Look at these! You look like some kind of surf goddess.”
Carla laughs breathlessly, brushing her wet hair back. “You’ve got a good eye, kid.”

They plop down onto the cool sand together, Carla wrapping a towel around her shoulders. There’s a quiet moment between them as the waves roll in and the sun slips lower. Then Betsy, almost casually, says, “You know… I’ve been thinking about calling you Mum.”
Carla turns her head slowly, blinking. “What?”
“I mean,” Betsy rushes, suddenly unsure. “Only if it’s okay with you. You don’t have to say yes. I just… I kind of want to. You’ve been here. You’ve shown up. And it feels… right.”
Carla’s throat tightens. She swallows hard, her voice softer than usual. “Bets… you’ve no idea what that means to me.” Her eyes shimmer. “You don’t have to call me anything you're not ready for. But if you are—if you want to—then… yeah. I’d be proud to be your mum.”
Betsy grins, brushing away a tear quickly. “Good. Because I already changed your name in my contacts.”
Carla bursts into warm laughter, reaching out to pull Betsy into a tight, salty hug. “You little menace.”

They sit there together for a while, watching the sky bleed into twilight, both a little changed from when the holiday began. Later that evening, after drying off and changing into comfy clothes, Lisa and Carla decide to leave Betsy to her own devices for a bit. She’s curled up under a blanket on the caravan sofa, snacks within reach, fully absorbed in binge-watching her favourite show. “You two go,” she waves them off. “I’ve got a date with season three.”
The couple stroll into the bright buzz of the on-site arcade, neon lights flickering around them. Lisa spots the basketball game and nudges Carla with a grin. “Come on, let’s see if you’ve got any game.”
Carla raises a brow. “You’re on.”
They feed the coins in and the countdown starts. Lisa’s immediately swishing baskets like a pro, while Carla flails awkwardly, missing most of her shots.
“This hoop is definitely rigged,” Carla mutters as the ball bounces off the rim again.
Lisa laughs, barely pausing her rhythm. “Or maybe you’re just terrible at this.”
Carla narrows her eyes playfully. “Alright, alright. Warm-up round. Next one, I’m taking you down.”
They burst into laughter, caught up in the silly fun, the arcade noise echoing around them, their shared joy palpable even in the smallest moments.

After Carla’s basketball defeat, they wander further into the arcade and spot the flashing lights of the dance mat game.
“Oh no,” Carla groans. “You want to humiliate me again?”
Lisa smirks. “C’mon, you might surprise yourself.”
“I highly doubt that.”
They feed in the coins, pick a track, and take their positions. The beat kicks in—fast and relentless—and the arrows start flying. Lisa is immediately in the zone, feet flying across the mat in perfect time. Carla, meanwhile, is about two steps behind the music, flailing with a mix of effort and confusion.
“I look like a malfunctioning robot!” she yells over the music.
Lisa barely manages to keep her balance from laughing, her own score climbing ever higher. By the end, she’s breathless and victorious.
“Okay, okay, I admit it,” Carla pants. “You’re a machine.”
“I warned you,” Lisa teases, reaching out to steady her. “Stick to surfing, love.”
Carla laughs and leans into her. “That, I can do.”
After recovering from the dance mat chaos, they drift over to the row of 2p machines, the constant clink and rattle of coins drawing them in. Carla’s eyes immediately lock onto a small, sparkly keyring shaped like a surfboard perched precariously on the edge.
“I need that,” she declares with determination.
Lisa laughs, dropping a few coins into Carla’s hand. “Go on then, show me your skills.”
Carla starts feeding 2ps into the machine, leaning in with intense focus. “It’s all about strategy,” she mutters, as if giving a TED Talk.
“You mean luck?” Lisa teases.
“Excuse me, this is an art form.”
One coin drops—nothing moves. Another—barely a shift. Carla groans in frustration but refuses to give up. Lisa slips off to get more change while Carla’s still plotting angles like a pool player. Finally, with one lucky coin, the stack tips just enough—and the keyring clatters down the chute.
“Yes!” Carla yells triumphantly, scooping it up and holding it in the air like she’s just won an Olympic medal.
Lisa claps with mock applause. “You gonna put it on your keys?”
Carla grins. “Nope. I’m giving it to you.”
Lisa smiles, touched. “You soppy cow.”
“I know,” Carla says, slipping an arm around her. “But I’m your soppy cow.”

As they wander further into the arcade, Carla pauses in front of a brightly lit grabber machine. Her eyes widen.
“Oh my god,” she says, pointing through the glass. “Look at that seal!”
Inside the claw machine, nestled among an army of plush toys, is an adorably round, squishy grey seal with big sparkly eyes and a stitched-on grin. Carla is already grinning like a kid. Lisa glances at the machine, then back at Carla, who’s still staring at the toy. “You want it?”
Carla shrugs, trying to play it cool. “It’s just really cute. But those things are impossible.”
Lisa smirks and cracks her knuckles. “Stand back, Connor. You’re about to witness greatness.”
Carla folds her arms, watching with amusement as Lisa slips a pound coin into the machine and takes hold of the joystick. The claw creaks to life. The first attempt is laughable—completely misses the seal. Carla chuckles. “Greatness, huh?”
Lisa narrows her eyes. “Warming up.”
On the second go, she nudges the claw precisely above the seal. It drops, closes—wobbles—then lifts.
“Come on… come on…” Lisa murmurs, gripping the sides of the machine. The claw swings slightly as it travels to the chute. It dips. The seal drops.
“Yes!” Lisa exclaims, punching the air as the plush seal tumbles into the prize box.
Carla leans in, laughing. “No way. You actually did it!”
Lisa pulls the seal out and hands it to her. “Told you. Greatness.”

Carla spots the photo booth tucked away in the corner, lit up with a cheesy neon glow. She nudges Lisa excitedly. “Oi, look—photo booth! Come on.”
Lisa raises an eyebrow. “You serious?”
Carla grins. “Absolutely. We need at least one strip of us looking ridiculous.”
Lisa laughs but lets herself be pulled toward it. “You’ll regret this when I out-pose you.”
They squeeze into the tiny booth, knees knocking, the machine groaning slightly under the two of them. Carla jams her finger on the start button.
3... 2... 1... FLASH!
Lisa pouts like a supermodel while Carla goes full gurn-face.
FLASH!
They both pull horror-movie scream faces.
FLASH!
Lisa leans in, sticking her tongue out; Carla’s eyes cross exaggeratedly. As the final countdown begins, Carla suddenly turns, cups Lisa’s face, and kisses her full on the lips. FLASH!
They stay kissing, the machine forgotten, caught in the rush. It isn’t until the screen beeps loudly and the strip begins to print that they break apart, breathless and grinning. Lisa laughs, cheeks flushed. “God, you’re trouble.”
Carla snatches the strip before it finishes curling. “You started it with the dance mat domination. Payback.”

They stare at the last photo, lips locked mid-kiss, eyes half-closed.
Lisa snorts. “We’re not showing Betsy that one.”
Carla folds it carefully, sliding it into her back pocket. “Agreed. It’s going in the memory box.”
Lisa leans into her. “We’re making some pretty good memories.”
Carla rests her forehead to Lisa’s. “The best.”
Then Carla spots the air hockey table and lights up. “Now come on—I’m redeeming myself.”
Carla pulls Lisa toward the air hockey table with a mischievous grin. “Right, no excuses this time. I’m due a win.”
Lisa chuckles, inserting the token. “You sure you want to embarrass yourself again?”
“Oh I’m counting on embarrassing myself,” Carla replies, picking up her paddle. “But I’m taking you down with me.”
The puck drops and chaos ensues. The two go at it with intensity—Carla’s eyes narrowed in concentration, Lisa’s smirk growing with every hit. Carla scores the first goal and cheers like she’s won the World Cup. Lisa immediately evens the score with a sneaky backhander.
“You little sneak!” Carla shouts.
“It’s called skill,” Lisa quips.
They jostle, dodge, and swipe with dramatic flair. A kid at a nearby machine starts watching like it’s the finals. At 6–6, tension mounts. Carla slams the puck with all her strength, only for Lisa to expertly deflect and score the winning point. Carla throws her head back. “I can’t catch a break tonight!”
Lisa smirks and reaches across the table. “But you love me anyway.”
Carla sighs dramatically. “Unfortunately.” Then she grins. “Alright, next holiday—I train.”
Lisa laughs as they walk away, hand in hand, still mock-arguing over whose technique was better.

The beach is eerily quiet as the moonlight reflects off the soft waves, the rhythm of the ocean soothing and constant in the background. Carla clutches the little plush seal tightly under one arm, its tiny flippers barely visible in the crook of her elbow, as if it’s a new possession she never wants to let go of. Her other hand is wrapped around Lisa’s, fingers tightly entwined. The warmth between them stands in contrast to the crisp evening air, which kisses their cheeks as they walk. Their footsteps leave temporary prints in the sand, quickly washed away by the lapping tide. The world around them feels far away, like they’re in a bubble, safe and far from everything else. They exchange quiet glances, their eyes meeting more often now as they continue their walk, their smiles barely able to be contained. They share that secret joy only the two of them understand—a connection so deep and effortless that words aren’t needed.

Lisa glances over at Carla, who is still holding the seal protectively under her arm. She grins, amused. "You really are proud of that thing, huh?"
Carla laughs softly, squeezing the plush toy gently. “I think it’s cute. Plus, you won that for me. It’s... it’s something to remember.”
Lisa chuckles. “I don’t think I’ll be able to forget tonight anytime soon.”
“Me neither,” Carla replies softly, her tone carrying more emotion than she expects. “It feels like everything’s falling into place, doesn’t it?”
Lisa squeezes her hand tighter, a silent affirmation of the thought. "I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life."
They walk in silence for a while longer, just enjoying the presence of the other. Carla notices how her steps match Lisa’s, as if they’re dancing to the same rhythm. It’s like they’ve been walking this path together for years, even though it’s only been months. Everything feels so natural, so right. Carla pulls Lisa gently down toward the sand, and they settle together on the beach, side by side. She spreads out her hoodie, creating a makeshift blanket beneath them. The sand is cool against their skin, but it doesn’t matter. They’re so wrapped up in each other that it’s impossible to focus on anything else.

They lie on their backs, their bodies touching but not quite overlapping—just enough contact to remind them of each other’s presence. Carla turns her head toward Lisa, and Lisa does the same. The sky above them is clear, the stars twinkling like millions of tiny diamonds scattered across the vast expanse.
"This is perfect," Carla murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. The night feels sacred, like the universe has given them this moment just for them. Lisa turns her head to face her fully, smiling softly. "You’re perfect."
Carla laughs lightly, a sound that rings out in the still night air. "I’m not so sure about that, but this—this feels perfect."
Lisa’s smile grows as she brushes a stray strand of hair from Carla’s face, tucking it behind her ear. "This feels like everything we’ve needed, everything me and Betsy have been waiting for," she says, her voice full of quiet certainty.
Carla feels a lump rise in her throat, but she swallows it back, willing herself not to be overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. "I’m just glad I’m here," she replies. "With you."
Lisa moves closer, resting her head on Carla’s shoulder. "I’m glad you’re here too."

For a long time, neither of them speaks. They just lie there, letting the peace of the night settle around them. The ocean whispers its secrets, the stars continue to shine, and for the first time in what feels like forever, they are at complete peace. In this moment, everything is perfect—just the two of them, the beach, the sky, and the feeling that they are right where they’re meant to be. Carla, still clutching the seal with one arm, gently pulls Lisa a little closer, feeling the warmth of her body seep through the fabric of their clothes. They stay like that for what feels like hours, the world slipping away, leaving only them. Eventually, Carla turns her head to look at Lisa again, the quiet whisper of the waves becoming the soundtrack to her thoughts.
“You know, if someone had told me a few years ago that I’d be here, on a beach, with you, I wouldn’t have believed them,” Carla says softly, almost to herself.
Lisa shifts slightly, looking at her with a soft smile. “If someone had told me that either, I probably would’ve laughed in their face.”
Carla smiles back, her heart full. “I think I’m finally starting to believe in fate.”
Lisa’s smile deepens, and she presses a soft kiss to the top of Carla’s head. “I think I am, too.”
They both laugh, the sound light and carefree, as the world continues to spin around them. The waves continue to crash, the stars continue to shine, and in that moment, everything is just right.

Carla lies there for a moment, the words Betsy had said earlier still echoing in her mind. She turns her head toward Lisa, her voice soft but filled with emotion. "You know, Betsy called me 'Mum' earlier. It took me by surprise. I didn’t expect it... not yet."
Lisa’s fingers tighten slightly on Carla’s hand, and she turns her face to meet Carla’s eyes, her expression warm but tinged with a quiet seriousness. "She asked me first," Lisa says, her voice low and steady. "But I told her it’s her choice. Not mine."
Carla nods, understanding the weight of Lisa’s words. She can feel the depth of the decision, the complexity of what Betsy is trying to navigate, and how careful Lisa has been with her heart. "I know," Carla murmurs. "I just wasn’t prepared for it. It made me... feel things, you know?" She sighs softly, resting her head back against the sand. "I want to be that for her, but it’s a lot."
Lisa smiles, the expression full of affection. "It’s a big thing," she agrees, her voice almost a whisper, as though speaking too loudly would break the magic of the moment. "But it’s also a good thing. It means she’s starting to accept me... us. I think she’s been waiting for this. She’s just... afraid to let herself, I guess."
"She’s so strong, though," Carla says, her voice filled with admiration. "I can see so much of you in her. It’s incredible."
The silence between them deepens, but it’s comfortable—warm, almost like the night has wrapped them in its embrace. The gentle sound of the waves lapping against the shore fills the space between them, creating a kind of peaceful rhythm.

After a few moments, Lisa breaks the silence. Her voice is soft, almost tentative, as though she’s still deciding if she’s brave enough to say it out loud. “Carla… move in with us.”
Carla turns her head sharply, her breath catching in her throat. "What?" she asks, her heart skipping a beat. She can’t quite believe what she’s hearing. Lisa’s face is just inches away, her eyes meeting Carla’s with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt. “Move in with us,” she repeats, her voice steady but vulnerable. "I want you to. I want this to be... more. I want us to be... together. For real."
Carla feels a sudden lump in her throat, emotions flooding her in a rush. She didn’t expect this—didn’t expect the question to come so soon, but at the same time, she realizes she’s been wanting it, too. She swallows hard, her heart racing.
"But… are you sure?" Carla asks quietly, her voice thick with emotion. "I mean, this is huge. We’ve only been together for a few months, and... we’ve both got so much baggage. Are you sure you’re ready for that? For all of us?"
Lisa squeezes her hand, her gaze never leaving Carla’s. "I’m sure," she says, her voice soft but firm. "I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life. I don’t want to go back to the way things were. I want us to be a family, Carla. Not just for me, but for you and Betsy too. It’s time. We’re ready."
Carla feels her heart swell with emotion, the weight of Lisa’s words sinking in. She’s always been someone who’s run from commitment, from settling down—but with Lisa, everything feels different. It feels like the right time, like this is where she’s meant to be.
"I… I think I’m ready too," Carla whispers, her voice trembling slightly. She can barely believe what she’s saying, but it feels true. "I want to be with you. I want to be with both of you. I want to make this work."
Lisa smiles then, a slow, radiant smile that makes Carla’s heart flutter. “Then it’s settled. We’ll talk to Betsy when we get home. We’ll figure it out together.”
Carla nods, her eyes filling with tears she hadn’t realized were threatening to spill. It’s overwhelming, this love, this sense of belonging that’s been building between them. She’s finally found her place, her home, and it’s with Lisa—and with Betsy.

They lie there for a while longer, their hands entwined, staring up at the stars. Carla feels a deep sense of peace settle over her, knowing that whatever comes next, they will face it together. She pulls Lisa closer, resting her head on her shoulder.
“Thank you,” Carla murmurs, her voice filled with gratitude. "For believing in this."
Lisa kisses the top of her head softly. “You don’t have to thank me. This is where we belong.”
The night stretches on, and in the silence, they both know that their lives are about to change forever. But for now, in this moment, it’s enough to just be together.

Chapter 67: Going Home

Summary:

On the journey home from their holiday, Carla quietly reads the final entries of Lisa’s old journal, moving through the emotional account of Lisa and Betsy’s move to Manchester and their fresh start. As they near home, Carla reaches the last page — a recent letter written directly to her by Lisa. It's heartfelt and deeply personal, expressing everything Lisa feels but finds hard to say aloud. The letter moves Carla to tears. As they pull into the driveway, she finishes reading, overcome with emotion. Lisa gently takes her hand, and Carla tells her the letter means everything. They sit quietly in the parked car, holding each other, the journal now closed but the connection between them stronger than ever.

Notes:

This is a long one but I didn't want to split it up 😊 I've edited this over and over and I'm still not entirely happy with it but I can't change it again so here you go.

The next morning, Carla and Betsy walk along the beach, the chilly sea breeze brushing against their faces. The sky is painted in soft hues of pink and orange as the sun begins to rise. It's quiet, peaceful, just the two of them as they stroll along the shoreline. Carla glances over at Betsy, her heart feeling full as she watches the girl beside her, knowing how much has changed over the last few months. Finally, breaking the silence, Carla speaks up.
“Betsy,” she begins, her voice soft, “Your mum asked me to move in with you both.”
Betsy looks over at her in surprise, her eyes wide. “Wait, Mum asked you?” she asks, a little taken aback. Carla nods slowly, her eyes looking out at the sea. “Yeah. She told me it was my choice, but she wanted me to know how much it would mean to her… to both of you. And I’ve been thinking about it a lot. It’s scary, but I think it’s the right thing to do.”
Betsy’s face brightens, and she walks a little closer to Carla. “I think that would be amazing. Mum would be so happy. And I would be, too.”
Carla smiles warmly, her heart swelling. “It feels like we’ve all been heading in the same direction, you know? I’ve never felt so... at home, I guess.”
Betsy grins, nudging her lightly with her elbow. “Then it sounds like you’re in. You’ll be a permanent part of our weird little family.”
Carla chuckles, her fingers brushing against Betsy’s. “I think I’m ready for that.”
The two of them stand there, watching the waves, knowing that this moment marks the start of something new and beautiful.

After a few moments of peaceful silence, they turn back toward the caravan, feeling a quiet excitement about the future. As the car starts down the quiet country road, the sound of tires humming over the pavement fills the air. The quiet is interrupted only by the soft rustling of pages. Carla’s eyes are focused on the journal in her hands, the words pulling her deeper into Lisa’s past. Lisa glances over at her from time to time, but for the most part, she’s focused on the road, hands steady on the wheel. Carla continues to read, the words unfolding as she settles into the rhythm of the drive.

March 15th 
It’s been well over a year now, almost two. I still can’t quite wrap my head around it. Over a year without Becky. I keep expecting her to come home, to hear her laugh again, to see her walk through the door. But she’s not coming back, and the weight of that is always there. It doesn’t matter how many days pass. The hurt doesn’t go away.
I’ve been to therapy for a while now. It’s not easy. I’m not sure what I expected, but I know I didn’t expect this—this sense of emptiness I keep carrying around. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s about learning how to live with it.
I started working at Tesco a few months ago. It’s not where I imagined myself, but it’s steady work. It doesn’t ask too many questions, and that’s exactly what I need right now. I don’t have to pretend to be someone else. I just have to get through the day.
I’ve also started training to be an electrician. It feels strange to be learning this, but it’s the only thing that feels right. Dad used to do it. I remember the smell of his tools, the way he’d talk about how important it was to do a job right. I don’t know if it’s because I’m finally trying to reconnect with that part of myself, or if it’s just something that helps fill the void, but it feels like I’m doing something with my life again.
I don’t know where I’m headed, but I know that I have to keep moving forward. The past still weighs me down, but I’ve got to make a future somehow. I’ve got to find a way to live again.

Carla slows her reading for a moment, letting the weight of Lisa’s words settle in. She knows what Lisa has been through, but reading it in these raw, unfiltered thoughts makes her heart ache for the woman she’s come to care for. The struggle to move on, the battle with grief, it’s all right there in black and white. And the pain of it all still lingers, even though so much time has passed. Carla flips the page, eager to understand more.

June 2nd
I’m starting to think maybe I’m capable of more than I thought. I’ve been working with the team at the factory more, learning the ropes. It’s not glamorous, but it’s something. I’ve been doing late shifts, working my way up. It’s hard work, but it’s mine. It’s something I can be proud of.
I’m still not sure what’s next, but I’m trying to figure it out. Maybe that’s the most important thing right now. Just to keep moving, even if it’s in small steps.
I know I’ve been avoiding some things. There’s a part of me that just wants to bury myself in work, to keep pushing everything else aside. But it’s catching up with me. The pain, the guilt, the questions I don’t have answers to. It all comes rushing back when I’m alone.
Maybe I need to talk about it more. Maybe I need to open up. But I don’t know if I’m ready. I’m scared to.

Carla’s heart aches as she reads Lisa’s words. The guilt, the fear, the uncertainty. It’s all so painfully familiar, and yet, reading it from Lisa’s perspective makes Carla want to hold her, to be there for her in a way she knows she hasn’t been able to yet. But she’s patient. She’s learning that Lisa will open up when she’s ready. Carla turns the page, her fingers tracing the edges of the paper, almost as if she’s searching for more answers within the words.

July 18th
I think I’m starting to feel like myself again. It’s not perfect, and I’m still not where I want to be, but it’s something. I’ve been keeping busy with work, and I’m getting the hang of things. I’ve been making some good friends at the factory. They’re teaching me things I never thought I’d learn. I feel like I’m growing, and for the first time in a while, it feels good.
The hardest part is still the guilt. The guilt of moving on, of living again. But I’ve realized that I can’t live in the past forever. I can’t just shut myself off from everything. It’s not fair to me, and it’s not fair to the people who care about me. Especially Betsy.
I’m learning to be kind to myself. It’s still a struggle, but I’m getting there.

Carla pauses after finishing this entry, her eyes lingering on the page. Lisa’s journey is one of profound loss, but also one of quiet strength. Even though she hasn’t yet found all the answers, she’s still fighting, still pushing herself forward, and Carla admires that more than anything. She closes the journal with a soft exhale, the weight of Lisa’s words settling in her chest. There’s so much more to Lisa than she’s let on, so much more pain that she hasn’t shared yet. Carla can’t help but feel a deep sense of empathy for her, a need to support her in whatever way she can. Lisa glances at her, catching the quiet expression on Carla’s face.
"Everything okay?" she asks, her voice soft.
Carla gives her a small smile, a mix of understanding and affection in her eyes. "Yeah," she says, her voice quiet. "Just… I’m glad I got to read this. You’ve been through a lot, Lisa."
Lisa nods, her grip on the steering wheel tightening for a brief moment before she relaxes again. "It wasn’t easy," she says quietly. "But I’m getting there."
Carla reaches over and gives Lisa’s hand a squeeze, silently offering her support.
"I know you are," Carla whispers, squeezing a little tighter.

They drive in comfortable silence after that, the road winding ahead of them, both of them contemplating the past and the future, knowing that no matter what comes next, they will face it together. As the car drives on, the familiar scenery passing by, Carla picks up the journal again, eager to see where Lisa’s story continues. She flips through the pages, her fingers pausing at an entry dated April 15th , nearly four years after Becky’s death.

April 15th
It’s been nearly four years since everything changed, and I can’t believe how much has shifted in that time. I’ve come so far from where I was—lost, overwhelmed, and unsure. I didn’t think I’d make it this far, but here we are. Betsy’s thriving. She’s grown up so much, and I’m starting to feel like I’m really starting over too.
But there’s one more change we’ve decided on.
I sat Betsy down this morning, and we talked about moving. I’ve secured a job with a company called Cobbles Electricals. It’s not a dream job, but it’s steady, and it pays well enough for us to live comfortably. And after everything, I think a fresh start is exactly what we need.
Manchester. It’s a big change. But it feels right. It feels like it’s the right time, the right place. I told Betsy about the move, and she was actually excited about it. She wants a fresh start too. I know it won’t be easy, but I think it’s what we both need.
The house hunt is going well, and I’m hoping we’ll find the right place soon. Somewhere that feels like home. I keep thinking it feels like I'm running away. But it also feels like I’m running toward something better, something that could finally make sense of all the chaos we’ve been through.
I think this move is going to be good for us. It’s a chance to rebuild, to breathe, and to heal.

Carla gently lowers the journal and stares out the window for a moment, her mind filled with the weight of Lisa’s words. Four years. Four long years since Becky had died. It was clear that Lisa had spent so much time trying to make things work, making tough decisions. The idea of a fresh start in Manchester—new job, new home, new opportunities—was a big leap, but Carla could understand the need for it.
Carla glanced at Lisa, who was focused on the road, her expression thoughtful.
“Manchester, huh?” Carla said softly, breaking the silence.
Lisa nodded, giving a small smile. “Yeah. It was a big decision, but we needed a fresh start.”
Carla smiled faintly. “I can see why it was a big decision. You wanted to create a new life for you and Betsy.”
Lisa’s smile grew a little. “I think it was the right one.”
Carla leaned back in her seat, the journal’s words still lingering in her mind. She could see how hard that decision had been for Lisa. It was a leap into the unknown, but she had done it for herself and for Betsy.

As the miles passed by, Carla thought about how everything that had brought them here was part of a bigger journey. She didn’t know Lisa during those years, but she could feel the weight of them, the courage it had taken for Lisa to make those decisions. And now, here they were, at the edge of another new chapter, together. Carla turns the page of the journal, her fingers brushing over the worn edges of the paper. She pauses as she reaches an entry dated August 5th . It was the day they officially packed up their lives in Leeds, starting the transition to Manchester.

August 5th 
It’s hard to believe this is happening. Today feels like a dream. We've been planning this move for months, but now that it's here, I don't know how to feel. There’s excitement, sure. But there’s also a kind of sadness, like we’re leaving behind pieces of ourselves in Leeds. The memories are in these walls, in the spaces we’ve filled with so much over the years.
But it’s time. It has to be. The job at Cobble’s Electricals is waiting, and the house in Manchester—well, it’s just a house right now, but it’s going to be our home. I can already picture it. A fresh start for the two of us.
Betsy’s been packing up her room all morning. She’s surprisingly calm, talking about how she can’t wait to find a café in Manchester that has the best hot chocolate. Her excitement is contagious. I wish I felt as sure as she does.
But I know this move is the right thing to do. For her, for me. For us.
I tell myself that every time I start doubting. We’re not running from anything. We’re just stepping forward. I remind myself of that when I look at the boxes—packed, sealed, ready to go. I’m doing this for her.
It’s scary, though. Leaving everything behind. And maybe it's that fear that gets to me. What if I can’t make it work? What if I fail? What if this new life doesn’t feel like the life I’ve been dreaming of?
But then I remember that I’m not alone.
Betsy’s right beside me. And I’ve always been strong enough to make things work. I just have to trust that this will be another chapter worth writing.
It’s time to close one door and open the next.

Carla lets out a breath, her fingers resting on the journal as she contemplates Lisa’s words. The nerves and uncertainty in that entry are clear, and Carla can feel it deep in her chest. The move to Manchester was a huge leap for Lisa and Betsy—leaving behind the familiar for a new start in a city neither of them had known. It was a bold move, and Lisa had been the driving force behind it all.
"Moving’s a big deal," Carla mutters to herself, eyes still on the road ahead. "But you did it, Lisa."

August 6th
I’m standing at the door of the new house, bags under my eyes from the sleepless nights of packing. The house feels strange, empty, and unfamiliar. It's ours now, but it doesn’t feel like home yet. It’s a fresh start, and I tell myself that this is what we need.
Just as I’m about to close the door behind me and carry the last of the boxes, there’s a knock. I open it to find a lady called Sally from next door, standing there with a bunch of flowers. Flowers.
Who brings flowers on moving day? I can’t help but raise an eyebrow at the gesture. It feels like something out of a sitcom.
But there she is, smiling brightly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I accept the flowers, unsure of how to respond, but all I can think is, Really? Flowers?
There’s something endearing about it, though. Maybe she’s just the type who would do something like that. 

Carla laughs, shaking her head.
“Oh, our Sally,” Carla chuckles, a smile tugging at her lips. “Honestly, she’s got a heart of gold, but she’s so nosey.” 

August 6th

I know I have already written today but I had to come back and add this. I met Carla today. A lady from down the street. There was something calming about her, something steady in the way she carried herself. We only spoke for a few minutes but even in the brief exchange, I felt a sense of ease I hadn't known I needed. She feels different.
The way she spoke about the gossip, almost as though she had seen it all before, made me feel like she understood. I’d been wary of moving here, of the small-town whispers that would inevitably swirl around, especially with Betsy and me being new faces. But Carla's casual acceptance of it, her nonchalance about the nosiness of the neighbors—it gave me a glimmer of reassurance.
She wasn’t just the friendly neighbor, though. There was something about her smile, her voice, that stayed with me after she walked away. Something unspoken, yet familiar, as if I’d known her longer than just a few minutes. The way she casually brushed off Sally’s well-meaning but intrusive gesture left me feeling strangely lighter, like she had put me at ease about my own anxieties.
I didn’t know why I felt so at home, so quickly, in her presence. There was no reason to feel a pull, no reason to want to see more of her, but the thought lingered. I can't help but wonder if we will c ross paths again soon, if this is the start of something more than just an introduction. Or maybe I am just reading into things.
For now, though, I feel grateful for the conversation, for the simple connection. Carla has given me something I wasn’t expecting—honesty, comfort, and a reminder that small towns don’t have to be full of judgement. Maybe this is the right place for us.

I can almost hear Lisa’s voice in my head as I read these words. The tone is so familiar, like the quiet, hesitant way she spoke when we first met. I remember that moment clearly—her standing at the edge of her drive, unsure but trying to smile through it. I can’t say I was much different, trying to offer something comforting without overstepping. She was new to the area, trying to figure out what it meant to be in a place where everyone knew everyone else’s business. It’s funny, isn’t it? How that’s something I’ve grown used to. Small towns , gossip , nosy neighbors —they’ve all become part of the fabric of my daily life. But back then, I could see how it bothered her, how it weighed on her. I remember her laugh as she made that comment about the gossip. That small chuckle, like she was letting me in on a secret, even though we were barely strangers.

I know she’d never say it out loud, but I could tell she was a little taken aback by Sally’s intrusion, the flowers, the over-the-top kindness. She wasn’t the type to be swept away by it. She was more guarded, more self-reliant. But I couldn’t help but think, God, she’s trying so hard to make this work . And then, as I read on, I see how she really felt—this sense of relief when I offered that bit of honesty. It’s strange, reading someone’s inner thoughts. To know, for a brief second, that she wasn’t just seeing a neighbor. She was seeing me as something more—maybe a kindred spirit, or maybe just someone who understood.
“Thanks for the advice,” she’d said with that smile of hers, the one that always felt like it had layers to it. There was more going on in her mind than she let on. Even back then, I could sense that.

I chuckle softly to myself, leaning back in my seat as I take in her words. It feels odd, reading this, seeing how she viewed me in that moment. I remember the slight unease she had, but there was also something else there—curiosity, maybe? I don’t know. Maybe it was just a passing thing for her. But for me, it’s one of those memories I can’t forget. As I flick over the page I realise this is the last page and it isn't laid out like it usually is. 

Dear Carla,
I’ve been meaning to write this letter for a long time now, but I never had the right words. You see, writing this feels different from anything I’ve ever written before. It’s more than just a few jumbled thoughts or a scribbled entry on a hard day. This is more—this is me, trying to be honest in a way I haven’t been able to do in person. I’m not even sure if I can do it right, but I have to try.
You’ve probably noticed over the past few months how hard it is for me to let anyone in completely. I’ve always prided myself on being able to handle things alone, to shoulder the weight without needing help, without showing too much of myself. I guess that’s how I’ve gotten through most of my life—by closing parts of myself off from the world. But with you, it’s different. I can’t shut you out. I don’t want to.
I think you’ve always known that about me, even if I’ve never said it. You’ve never pushed, never made me feel like I was failing for being guarded. Maybe that’s why, over time, I let you in. Slowly, little by little, until you were no longer just a friend or a neighbor. You were someone I found myself needing in ways I never anticipated.
This is where I struggle. This is where the words get tangled up. Because if I’m honest with myself—and with you—I’ve never known what it means to need someone in the way I need you. It’s not something I can explain in neat little sentences. It’s more than just wanting to be around you or enjoy your company. It’s that ache in the chest when I’m not near you. It’s that quiet, unexpected joy when I hear your voice, when you’re there beside me. It’s that certainty that, even when things fall apart or I can’t keep everything together, you’ll be there. You always are.
But that’s what scares me the most. Because for as much as I’ve let you in, I don’t know if I can fully let myself fall. I don’t know if I can give you all of me without breaking into pieces. I’ve done that once before, Carla. I’ve given everything, and it didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to. But with you, I don’t want to hide anymore. I don’t want to hold back. I want to let you see all the mess, all the cracks, and hope you’ll still be here when it’s all laid bare.
I don’t know what the future holds for us. I don’t know if we’ll always be together or if life will pull us in different directions. But I do know that these past few months have been some of the best of my life, and it’s because of you. Because of how you’ve cared for me, how you’ve stood by me when I thought I had nothing left to give.
I don’t know what you see when you look at me, but when I look at you, I see strength and softness in equal measure. I see someone who doesn’t just walk through life, but lives in every moment with intention. Someone who makes me believe, even when I’ve had so little faith in myself. That’s who you are to me, Carla. That’s what you’ve become to me.
And I need you to know that, even though I may not always say it, you’ve changed my life in ways I’ll never be able to fully express. You’re the reason I’m still standing. The reason I’m still here, still trying, still willing to take chances on something I’m so afraid of.
There’s so much more I want to say to you. So many things I wish I had the courage to tell you face-to-face, but I’m still learning to open up. I hope one day, I’ll be able to give you everything I can’t say in these pages. But for now, I hope you understand what’s written here. I hope you see the truth in these words, the depth of feeling I can’t hide.
Thank you, Carla. Thank you for being in my life, for being the one I can lean on, for showing me that it’s okay to let someone in again. For being the person I never thought I needed, but now can’t imagine living without.
With all my heart,
Lisa.

As the car turned off the motorway and wound its way through the familiar streets back home, Carla sat in the passenger seat, the journal resting open on her lap. She hadn’t spoken in a while. Her eyes were glassy, her breath shallow. She wiped at her cheek with the sleeve of her hoodie, but the tears kept coming. Lisa glanced over briefly, her grip on the steering wheel tightening. “You got to the end,” she said quietly, not a question. Carla gave the slightest nod, then looked down again at the very last page. Carla’s lip trembled as she clutched the cover to her chest, as if it could physically keep her together. She stared out of the window, not seeing anything at all. Just feeling.

By the time Lisa pulled into the driveway and stopped the engine, Carla was quietly sobbing. Betsy sensed it was time to give them some space so quickly jumped out of the car and made her way into the house. Lisa reached across and touched her hand gently. “Hey…”
Carla turned to her slowly, her face crumpled with emotion. “You… you wrote that for me?”
Lisa nodded, her own eyes misting over. “Yeah. I didn’t know when the right time would be. I just… needed you to know.”
Carla let out a soft, watery laugh. “You’ve completely wrecked me, y’know.”
Lisa smiled gently. “Good. Well not good but...you know.”
They sat in silence for a long moment, hands clasped. Then Carla whispered, “It means everything. Every single word.”
“I meant every single word,” Lisa said.
Carla leaned forward, resting her forehead against Lisa’s. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
They stayed like that, the journal closed between them, but the meaning of it still wide open in the air.

Chapter 68: Moving Houses and Unintentional slip-ups

Summary:

Lisa and Ryan chat while she’s collecting some of Carla’s things. When Ryan accidentally reveals it’s Carla’s birthday on January 3rd, Lisa is surprised but quickly starts thinking of ideas to mark the day. They agree Carla wouldn’t want a party, so they brainstorm something lowkey—maybe a sunrise walk and breakfast with just the three of them. Ryan offers to cook a big roast for the evening. They both agree to keep it simple but meaningful, knowing Carla will appreciate the thought behind it.

Over the next few days leading up to New Year, Carla gradually begins moving her things into Lisa’s house—one box at a time, a wardrobe rail here, a record collection there. It’s a slow and intentional shift, not rushed, but full of quiet anticipation. Before fully settling in, she stops by her flat to speak with Ryan. He’s lounging on the sofa with a takeaway when she walks in.
“Thought I’d find you here,” Carla says, closing the door behind her.
Ryan grins. “Where else would I be? You never keep this place stocked.”
Carla rolls her eyes and sinks into the armchair. “Listen, I need to talk to you about something.”
Ryan looks over, curious. “Go on.”
“I’m moving in with Lisa properly. Not just staying over—actually moving in. Which means, this place… it’s going to be yours, if you want it.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, seriously? Like, the whole flat?”
She nods. “Yeah. But don’t start planning a games room just yet. You’ll be paying me rent. I’m not running a charity.”
Ryan laughs. “You mean I don’t get it free just for being your favourite?”
“You’re not even in the top five,” she smirks. “And I can’t afford to keep two places going. So if you want to stay, it’s yours—on the condition you treat it with some respect.”
He throws his arms up. “Deal! I’ll turn the spare room into a man cave. Leather chair, projector, surround sound.”
Carla raises a warning brow. “No drilling into the walls.”
He throws a mock salute. “Understood, boss.”
Despite the joking, there’s a flicker of emotion between them—a quiet acknowledgment of how far they’ve come, and the new chapter they’re both about to begin.

As the conversation winds down and Ryan scrolls idly on his phone, he glances up at Carla with a sudden thought.
“Oh, hey—your birthday’s coming up, isn’t it?”
Carla makes a vague sound and shrugs, fiddling with the sleeve of her jacket. “Yeah. I suppose it is.”
Ryan narrows his eyes. “You suppose? Are you doing anything for it?”
She shakes her head. “Nah. Not planning anything. Just another day, really.”
Ryan scoffs. “Come on, you can’t not do anything. You’re officially shacking up with Lisa now—you’ve got a whole new domestic life to celebrate.”
Carla chuckles softly. “Maybe. But I don’t want a fuss.”
He studies her a moment. “Not even a little one?”
She smiles, more to herself than to him. “If there is one, I’d rather not know about it in advance.”
Ryan grins knowingly. “Got it. Mysterious surprise it is.”
Carla points a finger at him. “No surprise party, I mean it.”
“Me?” Ryan says, mock-offended. “Would I do that?”
Carla rolls her eyes. “Yes. Yes, you would.”
They both laugh, the ease between them genuine. Despite her words, there’s a faint glint in Carla’s eyes—like maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t mind a little bit of fuss after all.

The next day, Lisa arrives at Carla’s flat mid-morning to help collect a few more of her things. Carla and Betsy are off on a shopping trip—a bonding exercise Lisa had politely declined, claiming she hated shopping, especially post-Christmas chaos. Ryan answers the door, still in joggers and a hoodie, sipping coffee.
“Morning,” Lisa greets with a smile, stepping inside.
“Hey, come on in,” Ryan says, waving her through. “Carla said you’d be by.”
Lisa glances around at the already half-cleared living room. “She’s actually letting me pick what comes over. Brave move.”
Ryan chuckles. “Reckon she’s just tired of carrying boxes.”
Lisa drops her bag near the door and starts toward the stack Carla had left ready. “I’ll just grab what I can and leave the rest for later.”
Ryan leans on the doorframe, watching her for a moment before he says casually, “You doing anything for the 3rd?”
Lisa pauses, turning to look at him. “The 3rd?”
“Yeah—Carla’s birthday,” he says offhandedly, taking another sip of coffee. “Didn’t she tell you?”
Lisa’s brows shoot up. “No. She didn’t mention it.”
Ryan blinks, realising too late. “Oh. Damn. I thought you knew.”
Lisa shakes her head slowly, a half-smile forming on her lips. “No… she didn’t say a word.”
“She probably didn’t want a fuss,” Ryan offers quickly. “She said she wasn’t planning anything.”
Lisa’s smile turns thoughtful as she picks up a box. “Yeah… that sounds like her.”
Ryan watches her closely. “You’re not going to make a fuss, are you?”
Lisa smirks, walking past him toward the door. “Of course not.”
But the glint in her eye tells a different story.
Ryan raises an eyebrow as Lisa pauses in the doorway, clearly already planning something despite her last words.
“She’s going to kill me,” Lisa mutters, half to herself.
Ryan grins. “Oh, definitely. But she’ll secretly love it.”
Lisa places the box down again, turning to face him. “What do you think she’d actually want to do? I mean, no party—she’d hate that. But something?”
Ryan leans against the kitchen counter, thinking. “Something chill. Lowkey. Something that’s about her but doesn’t put her on the spot. You know what she’s like.”
Lisa nods. “Yeah… Maybe something outdoorsy? Or just a day that’s all hers. No pressure, just… nice things.”
“She always bangs on about wanting to try paddleboarding but never does,” Ryan says. “Too cold for that now, though.”
Lisa chuckles. “Yeah, I don’t fancy a frozen Carla for her birthday.”
Ryan snaps his fingers. “What about something like a spa day? Or a proper walk somewhere followed by a fancy dinner?”
Lisa tilts her head, considering it. “She’d like that. Maybe a sunrise walk? And a breakfast somewhere nice? Just the three of us?”
“Perfect,” Ryan nods. “Then I’ll cook her a big roast or something when you’re back. Something man-cave-worthy.”
Lisa laughs. “Deal. I’ll sort the morning, you do the food.”
Ryan smirks. “We make a decent team, you know.”
Lisa gives him a playful nudge as she lifts the box again. “Let’s just see if we survive giving Carla a birthday surprise first.”
Ryan lifts his coffee mug in salute. “To surviving Carla.”
Lisa grins. “To spoiling her—just a little.”
And with that, she steps out, already forming the plan in her head.

Chapter 69: New Year

Summary:

New Year's Eve at the Rovers Return is filled with laughter and celebration as Carla and Lisa share a quiet moment together at the bar, toasting to new beginnings. The countdown to midnight brings the entire pub together, with residents like Mary, Tim, and Fiz adding their own unique energy to the festivities. When the clock strikes twelve, party cannons explode, and Carla and Lisa share a passionate kiss, interrupted by a teasing Betsy. The night ends with a joyful rendition of "Auld Lang Syne," marking the start of a new year and a new chapter for Carla and Lisa.

Notes:

A few nods to real scenes and events from the show in this one 😊

The late afternoon sky outside was already dimming as the final day of the year began to wind down. Inside Lisa’s house, however, the air buzzed with anticipation. The living room was strewn with hair straighteners, makeup palettes, empty coffee mugs, and a single stiletto missing its pair—signs of a night out in progress. Upstairs, Carla stood at the full-length mirror in Lisa’s bedroom, carefully lining her eyes with a steady hand. Her black blouse, silk and faintly sheer under the lamp light, was tucked into tailored trousers, accentuating her frame. She checked the sleeves again—she liked how they flowed when she moved. Her hair was styled into soft, casual waves, just enough to say she’d made an effort, not too much to look like she was trying too hard.
Lisa entered the room holding two pairs of earrings. “Hoops or studs?”
Carla glanced over. “Hoops. Definitely. You look—wow.”
Lisa grinned, cheeks flushed as she clipped them in. She wore a sleek black jumpsuit, cut just right at the waist, with tiny silver threads that shimmered when the light hit. She had gone for bold red lipstick, a rare choice that made Carla pause mid-motion to admire her again. “You’re staring.”
“Can you blame me?”

Down the hall, Betsy was giving herself a full glam treatment in the bathroom. The counter was a war zone of brushes and palettes. She wore Carla’s silver sequined blouse over black skinny jeans and had spent a good twenty minutes curling her hair into soft waves. The speakers on her phone pumped out a playlist of party anthems as she sang along, half-concentrating on getting her mascara even.
Lisa popped her head into the bathroom. “How’s it going in here?”
Betsy turned and gave a dramatic twirl. “Do I look hot?”
“You look amazing,” Lisa said, genuinely impressed. “And very grown up.”
Betsy smirked. “Carla said I could wear her top, by the way. Just so you don’t freak.”
“Freak? No. I’m just amazed she let it out of her wardrobe,” Lisa teased, sharing a look with Carla as she appeared in the doorway.

The three of them congregated downstairs for final checks—perfume spritzes, lipstick top-ups, accessories thrown into clutches. Carla grabbed her leather jacket from the hook, slinging it over one shoulder, her hand instinctively reaching for Lisa’s as they exchanged a knowing glance.
“Right then,” Lisa said, keys in hand. “Let’s go celebrate the end of the year in style.”
Betsy let out a small whoop of excitement. “Let’s make it a good one.”
And with that, the three of them stepped out into the cool night, glittering and full of promise.

As Carla, Lisa, and Betsy stepped into the Rovers, the warm air and the scent of beer and cheap aftershave hit them all at once—but so did the chaos.
“Oi! I said that’s enough, Mick!” Sean’s voice rang out, high-pitched and desperate, as he planted himself—far too delicately—between two bristling men. Mick, a stocky bloke with flushed cheeks and a face that looked like it’d been carved out of concrete, was inches away from Ronnie, who stood with his arms folded, jaw set tight. There was a barely restrained fury in both of them.
“You slashed my bloody tyres!” Mick shouted, finger jabbing in the air.
Ronnie, his face twisted in frustration, shook his head. “I didn’t slash your tyres, Mick! I don’t even know who did—stop blaming me!”
Sean flailed his arms like a frantic referee. “Gentlemen! This is a pub, not a cage match! People are trying to celebrate!”

Just then, a shriek erupted from the other side of the room, where Debbie was standing, drenched from shoulder to ankle, eyes narrowed in disbelief. Carla’s mouth dropped open as she saw the culprit—Mick’s wife or girlfriend (she wasn't sure as she was definitely out of the loop on the street gossip these days)—still clutching an empty glass and looking furious.
“You cow! That was Prosecco!” Debbie bellowed, stomping forward like a woman possessed. Chairs scraped as people jumped out of the way, drinks spilling, and a tray of crisps met the floor. Betsy turned to her mum with wide eyes. “Is this normal?”
Lisa blinked, utterly unfazed. “For this place? It’s practically tradition.”
Carla smirked. “Remind me again why we got dressed up?”
Sean spotted them then, his face breaking into frantic relief. “Carla! Lisa! Thank God. Can you please—”
Carla held up a hand. “Nope. We just got here. We’re neutral.”
Lisa nudged her. “Come on. Let’s at least help someone find a mop.” They skirted the chaos, Betsy snapping a discreet photo with a mischievous grin. “This is so going on my story.”
Ronnie and Mick were still growling insults, Debbie was demanding an apology, and Sean looked one Prosecco away from fainting. All in all, it was shaping up to be a very Weatherfield New Year.

Before long the scene erupted into full chaos as Mick, in his fury, threw the first punch at Ronnie. The bar, already buzzing with people, seemed to freeze for a moment as Mick’s fist flew through the air. The punch landed with a sickening thud, and Ronnie staggered back. Before anyone could react, Lisa’s instincts kicked in. She moved like lightning, her old police training taking over. Without hesitation, she lunged toward Mick, grabbed him by the collar, and with a swift motion, she brought him down to the floor. Within seconds, Mick was sprawled on his back, his face contorted in surprise and rage. Lisa, agile and determined, straddled him with one knee firmly pressed into his back, pinning him to the ground with effortless control. The bar was silent for a split second, before the voices of the onlookers erupted in gasps and murmurs. Mick struggled beneath her, but Lisa’s strength and experience were evident as she kept him pinned.
“Someone call the police!” Lisa shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.
Todd, who had been trying to keep Ronnie calm, was still standing between him and Mick, trying to block the fight from escalating further. Meanwhile, Jenny was already marching Mick’s wife out of the door, her face tight with frustration. “Come on, love, you’re leaving, now,” Jenny muttered, her arm around the woman’s shoulder.

On the other side of the bar, Glenda was fussing over Debbie, who was dripping wet, looking like she wanted to strangle someone. Glenda offered her a towel, but Debbie wasn’t having any of it. “It’s Prosecco , Glenda!” she yelled. “Not water! The dress is ruined!”
Before anyone could say anything else, the door to the Rovers swung open with a soft creak. And then, like a calm in the storm, Kit Green stepped through. His eyes quickly assessed the scene—the fight still brewing, Lisa in full control of Mick, and the rest of the pub in an uproar.
“What’s going on here?” Kit asked, his voice cutting through the noise. Lisa took a deep breath, her muscles still tense from the adrenaline. She didn’t hesitate to give him a detailed rundown of the situation, explaining how Mick had attacked Ronnie, how she’d stopped the fight, and what had led to the chaos. Kit nodded, processing the information. His eyes flicked briefly to Mick, who was still squirming beneath Lisa’s hold, and then to the bystanders in the pub. With a firm look, Kit approached.
“Mick, you’re under arrest for assault. You’ve got the right to remain silent...” he began, stepping forward to cuff Mick, who had stopped struggling, his anger turning into frustration.

As Kit read Mick his rights, the tension in the room started to ease. The pub went from chaos to a stunned silence, everyone still processing what had just happened. Lisa stayed where she was for a moment longer, watching as Kit expertly handled the situation. She finally stood up from Mick, wiping her hands as though she’d done something as simple as moving a chair.
“Well, that was fun,” Lisa muttered under her breath, her tone dry as ever. Carla, who had watched the whole thing unfold, couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath. “You’re really not out of practice, are you?”
Lisa gave her a smirk. “Wouldn’t want you to think I’ve lost my touch.”
With Mick in handcuffs, Kit gave a quick nod of acknowledgment to Lisa. “Good job,” he said. “I’ll take it from here.”
Lisa nodded back, her eyes meeting his for a moment. “Thanks.”

As the crowd began to settle down, the chaos of the moment started to dissipate. The noise of the pub picked up again, though it was far more subdued. The drama was over—at least for now. Betsy, who had been watching the scene unfold with wide eyes, came over to Lisa. “That was awesome, Mum,” she said, her voice full of admiration. Lisa smiled at her, ruffling her hair. “I don't know about that kiddo.”
As the pub returned to its regular vibe, Lisa and Carla shared a glance, both of them aware of the unexpected drama they’d just witnessed. It had been an eventful New Year’s Eve, to say the least.

The tension in the air lightened as Glenda, who had been keeping a watchful eye on the proceedings, stepped forward with a wide grin. “Alright, alright, everyone,” she called out, her voice carrying over the murmur of the pub. “As a thank you to our very own Lisa for saving the day— free drinks for Lisa all night! ”
The crowd erupted into cheers and applause. Some raised their glasses, others clapped, and a few even gave whoops of approval. Lisa, still trying to process what had just happened, gave a modest smile and raised her drink. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention, but it felt good—really good.
“About time someone showed Mick who’s boss,” shouted someone from the back of the pub, prompting another round of cheers.

Over in the corner, Ronnie, who had been standing near the bar, finally made his way to Debbie. He looked at her with a soft smile, but there was a weary edge to his expression. “Come on, Deb,” he said, his voice more tender now. “Let’s go home.”
Debbie, who had been in a storm of her own emotions just moments before, gave a nod and, without saying much, followed him toward the door. As they walked out, a quiet wave of relief seemed to pass over the pub. The fight was over, and so were all the associated tensions. Betsy made her way over to Nina, who was sitting with a couple of her friends at the far end of the bar. “Hey, can I sit with you?” Betsy asked, her voice a little shy as she approached. Nina gave her a warm smile and nodded. “Of course, sit down. I think we’ve all had enough drama for the night.”
Betsy sat, her eyes glancing back over at Lisa and Carla, who had made their way toward a booth in the corner of the pub.

The two women slid into the comfortable seat, the chaos of the fight slowly fading into the background. Carla shifted closer to Lisa, her body subtly pressing into hers as she leaned in close. The pub was quieter now, with most people either in their own little conversations or catching their breath after the chaos. Carla’s lips hovered near Lisa’s ear as she whispered in a low, heated tone, “You were so hot back there, you know. Watching you take Mick down? Damn.”
Lisa’s breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline still running through her or Carla’s proximity, but she could feel the heat rising in her face. She swallowed, trying to keep herself together.
“You’re a real charmer, you know that?” Lisa whispered back, a teasing smile forming on her lips as she tried to maintain her usual cool demeanor. Carla’s smile widened, her hand unconsciously brushing against Lisa’s under the table. “I only speak the truth,” she said softly, her voice low and full of meaning. “I like it when you take charge.”
Lisa’s heart raced as she looked at Carla, the spark between them undeniable. The evening had taken so many unexpected turns, but right now, with Carla close, it felt like everything was finally falling into place.
They sat in the booth together, the noise of the pub fading as their conversation turned into something quieter, more intimate. For now, they were content just being in each other's company, the lingering adrenaline from earlier still buzzing in the air.

The karaoke machine made its grand reappearance, much to the collective groan of the pub’s patrons. It was the kind of thing that seemed like a good idea at the start of the evening, but by now, everyone had had enough of off-key renditions of 80s hits and impromptu renditions of classic rock ballads. Carla and Lisa, however, stayed nestled comfortably in their corner booth, snickering at the parade of hilarious performances happening just a few feet away. Sally’s unmistakable voice rang out before her appearance even did. "Well, if it isn't my new favorite neighbors!" she beamed, sliding into the booth without waiting for an invitation. Her infectious grin spread across her face as she sat down next to Carla. Carla looked up from her drink, unable to suppress her smile. "Oh, you’ve heard I’ve moved in then?" she teased, raising an eyebrow. Sally grinned mischievously. “Well, I just assumed. I’ve seen all the boxes coming over from the flat this week,” she said, her tone full of cheeky amusement. “And you know what they say—if there’s a box, there’s a new neighbor!”
Carla laughed, unable to deny that the idea of moving in had caused a bit of a stir. “Guess I can’t hide my moving in party,” she said, her voice light.
“Well,” Sally continued, her eyes twinkling, “if you two ever want to come over, I’ve got a hot tub just waiting for you!”
Lisa and Carla exchanged a look, trying their best to remain polite despite the offer. Sally’s enthusiasm was undeniable, but the thought of the neighborhood gossip circle was enough to make them both hesitant. “Thanks, but—” Carla started.
“Yeah, we’ll pass for now,” Lisa finished with a smile, trying to sound gracious. Sally didn’t seem to take the polite rejection to heart. She stood up from the booth, her eyes sparkling with a playful energy. “Oh, come on! It’ll be fun. Don’t be shy!” she said before making her exit, laughing as she walked away. As soon as Sally was out of earshot, both Lisa and Carla burst into laughter, the tension melting away as they shared the moment.

Carla leaned back in her seat, shaking her head with amusement. “A hot tub offer this early on, huh? I don’t know if I’m quite ready to become that close with the  neighborhood just yet.”
Lisa snickered, her eyes dancing with humor. “I’ve heard all sorts from the other side of the fence,” she teased, lowering her voice as she leaned in closer. “What they get up to in that hot tub? No thanks.”
Carla raised an eyebrow, the teasing light in her eyes growing. “What exactly have you heard?”
Lisa smirked. “Nothing I’d care to repeat in front of a lady. But let’s just say, some of those stories are best left untold. I like the sound of no hot tub .”
Both of them laughed again, settling back into the cozy corner of the pub, away from the chaos of karaoke and neighborhood gossip. Despite all the noise and attention, it felt nice to simply be with each other, sharing a moment of easy banter. They didn’t need the hot tub—or anyone else’s approval. They had their own corner, their own space. And that was enough for now.

As the night drew closer to midnight, the atmosphere in the Rovers was buzzing with energy and excitement. The pub was filled with laughter, chatter, and the clink of glasses as everyone eagerly awaited the final countdown. Lisa and Carla stood side by side at the bar, their arms wrapped around each other, both feeling a sense of calm amidst the festivities. Carla smiled to herself, quietly appreciating how perfect everything felt in that moment. She glanced at Lisa, who was gazing around, and whispered, "This is the best New Year I’ve had in a very long time."
Lisa nodded, resting her cheek against Carla’s shoulder. "I agree," she replied, her voice filled with warmth. Together, they raised their glasses, sharing a toast just as the countdown began.

"Ten…" The first number echoed through the pub, and a collective hush fell over the crowd. Everyone was ready. At the bar, Mary, with her usual flair, was trying to convince Dev to sing a duet with her at karaoke. Dev, clearly unimpressed, simply shook his head, offering a playful grin. Mary, however, was undeterred, continuing to plead her case. "Come on, Dev, it'll be the highlight of the night!" she said dramatically, drawing the attention of nearby patrons.
"Nine…"
Across from them, Eileen and George were deep in conversation. Eileen was leaning in close, laughing at something George had said, her hand resting on his arm. She looked genuinely happy, the connection between them unmistakable as they exchanged soft smiles. It was clear to anyone watching that they were completely in sync.
"Eight…"
At the other end of the pub, Tim and Sally were enjoying a quiet moment together, away from the chaos of the room. Sally was holding Tim's hand, smiling at him, while Tim leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. "Here's to us," he said, his voice low but full of affection. Sally blushed slightly, squeezing his hand in return.
"Seven…"
Fiz and Tyrone were sitting together at one of the booths, surrounded by their kids, but both of them seemed lost in their own world for a moment. They shared a look, an unspoken understanding between them as the countdown drew nearer. Fiz pulled Tyrone into a quick kiss on the cheek, her face lighting up with joy. It was clear that they were grateful for their family and for the love they had.
"Six…"
Sean and Billy were at the jukebox, dancing to a song that was playing softly in the background. Sean, ever the life of the party, was spinning around, attempting to get Billy to join him in a ridiculous dance move. Billy laughed and shook his head, but couldn't help but join in, their laughter echoing through the pub as they shared a moment of lighthearted fun.
"Five…"
Meanwhile, in a quieter corner, Evelyn was talking animatedly to Roy about her plans for the upcoming year. Roy, who had half his attention on the countdown and half on Evelyn’s ramblings, nodded occasionally. 
"Four…"
Nearby, Amy and Aadi were sharing a table, their conversation more subdued but no less meaningful. Amy looked at Aadi, her face softening with affection. Aadi, in turn, reached across the table and took her hand, squeezing it gently. As they exchanged a smile, it was clear that their bond had grown stronger over time.
"Three…"
Carla and Lisa stood together, arms wrapped around each other, feeling a sense of calm and closeness amidst the growing excitement. The energy in the room was palpable, but they were content just being there together. Lisa leaned in slightly, her voice low, "I think this is the best way to start the year, with you."
Carla smiled, nodding in agreement. "I couldn’t ask for anything more."
"Two…"
The entire pub felt like it was on the edge of something monumental. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the clock, the seconds counting down toward the new year. The air was filled with energy as people shifted closer to one another, anticipating the moment.
"One…"
The final number rang out, and immediately, party cannons exploded in the air, sending confetti raining down over the room. Cheers erupted as balloons popped and everyone shouted, "Happy New Year!" The pub was filled with the sound of laughter, clapping, and joyous shouting.

Lisa and Carla, amidst the chaos, shared a kiss. It started out as a soft, innocent kiss, just a brief connection between them in the middle of the excitement. But as the seconds ticked by, their kiss deepened, and everything around them seemed to blur into the background. The warmth of the moment, the taste of champagne on their lips, and the electricity between them made it feel like they were the only two people in the room. The kiss continued until they were interrupted by Betsy’s voice, full of playful exasperation as she approached. "You two are embarrassing me!" she teased, a grin tugging at her lips. "Happy New Year, boomers!"
Carla broke away from the kiss, laughing. "How many times do I have to say it? I’m not a boomer!" she replied, shaking her head, but unable to suppress her smile.
Lisa chuckled, pulling Carla closer. "You heard the girl. Happy New Year, boomers!" she teased, sticking out her tongue playfully at Carla.

Before they could continue their teasing, the sounds of "Auld Lang Syne" began to play, and the entire pub joined in. The song rang out, filling the space with a sense of tradition and camaraderie. Everyone in the pub, from the regulars to the new faces, linked arms and sang together, their voices carrying through the room. Carla and Lisa stood there, hands clasped, taking it all in, their smiles wide and full of joy. As the song continued, Carla pulled Lisa in close again, their foreheads touching as they shared a quiet moment. The year had just begun, and it was clear to both of them that this was only the start of something incredible.

Chapter 70: Birthday Surprises - Part 1

Summary:

Carla’s birthday turns into a day full of surprises, laughter, and love as Lisa whisks her away on a thoughtful date.

Notes:

So updates might be a bit sporadic this week. I'm back at work and it is my wife's birthday tomorrow (talk about getting the best birthday present with hopefully the engagement 🤞) so I am a little busy. I have split this one to give you a bit more haha 😄

The morning of January 3rd was unusually still. Pale winter light peeked through the edges of the curtains, casting a soft hue over the bedroom. Carla shifted slightly beneath the duvet, still half-dreaming, when she heard the faintest sound—quiet footsteps and the clink of crockery. Before she could fully open her eyes, the bedroom door creaked gently open. Lisa stood there, framed by the doorway, a tray in her hands. Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun, and she wore one of Carla’s old oversized jumpers. Her expression was warm, a quiet pride dancing behind her eyes as she stepped into the room.
“Happy birthday, you,” she said softly, as if she didn’t want to disturb the peacefulness of the moment.
Carla blinked away sleep and sat up, the covers slipping down as she rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?” she asked, her voice raspy with sleep.
“Early,” Lisa admitted with a shrug. “But I couldn’t wait.”
She crossed the room carefully, placing the tray gently on Carla’s lap. It was beautifully arranged: scrambled eggs topped with a little cracked pepper, grilled tomatoes, toast with butter melting in its ridges, a glass of fresh orange juice, and a large mug of steaming black coffee—exactly the way Carla liked it. There was even a small square of dark chocolate next to the juice, as if Lisa knew she’d want something sweet to follow.

A single daisy, placed in a tiny bud vase, stood upright between the plate and the mug. Carla stared at it for a second, lips parting in surprise.
“You made all this?” she asked, her voice low with disbelief.
Lisa nodded, watching her reaction closely. “Didn’t burn a thing.”
Carla laughed, a low, throaty sound that filled the room. “Well, colour me impressed.”
Lisa smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, one leg curled beneath her. “I just wanted your birthday to start right. Nothing fancy. Just… us.”
Carla took a bite of toast, her eyes lingering on Lisa. “It’s perfect. Really.”
They sat together in a content silence, Carla eating slowly as Lisa brushed a bit of hair back from her face. The quiet intimacy between them needed no words. It was the kind of morning Carla hadn’t realised she craved—no noise, no pressure, just the comfort of being looked after and loved in the simplest of ways.

After a moment, Carla set the fork down and turned slightly. “You know, I don’t usually make a big deal out of my birthday.”
“I know,” Lisa said, smiling. “But I wanted to make it a good one anyway.”
Carla looked at her, really looked—at the soft lines around her eyes, the quiet confidence in her presence, the gentleness with which she existed in Carla’s space. “Well, mission accomplished.”
Lisa grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to Carla’s temple. “Plenty more surprises where that came from.”
Carla raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to try and throw me a party, are you?”
Lisa smirked but said nothing. “Eat your eggs.”
Carla narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’re trouble.”
“Always,” Lisa said, with a wink.
The room swelled with laughter again, the kind that settled deep into the chest. Outside, the frost clung to the edges of the windowpanes, but in the room, it was warm, soft, and safe. It was a birthday morning wrapped in comfort and quiet affection—one Carla would remember for a long time.

Later that morning, with the tray cleared and the winter sun casting lazy shapes on the duvet, Carla and Lisa lay side by side under the covers. The calmness between them made it easy to talk, and Lisa, tracing gentle circles on the back of Carla’s hand, asked, “So… what were your birthdays like growing up?”
Carla gave a quiet laugh, but it wasn’t one of amusement. “They weren’t really a thing,” she said, her voice flat but not bitter. “Mum was always more interested in when her next fix was coming, or whichever bloke was hanging around at the time. And Rob… I don’t think he ever remembered the actual date. Sometimes I’d get a ‘happy birthday’ a few days late if he overheard it from someone else.”
Lisa’s brows drew together, her face shifting into a mix of sympathy and disbelief. “That’s awful,” she murmured.
Carla shrugged, a faint, wry smile tugging at her lips. “It was what it was. I got used to it.”
Lisa tightened her grip on her hand, grounding her. “What about later? When you were older?”
“Adult birthdays were slightly better,” Carla said, her tone softening as her mind wandered through memories. “I’ve had the odd card. Dinner out here and there. Peter… he surprised me a couple of times. Once he booked us into a spa. Another time we went to Paris for a weekend, which was… nice.”
Lisa raised an impressed eyebrow. “Paris? That’s not bad.”
Carla nodded. “Yeah, but it wasn’t about the place. It was about the effort. And even then, it was rare. Most years I’d be working, or just couldn’t be bothered. It always felt like more hassle than it was worth.”
Lisa tilted her head. “And you’ve never had breakfast in bed before? Not once?”
Carla smiled, almost shyly. “Nope. First time. Not even as a kid with burnt toast and orange squash on a tray. I think this might be a first for a lot of things.”
Lisa stared at her for a long moment, then leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Carla’s shoulder. “Well, it won’t be the last.”
Carla chuckled, leaning into her. “You’re setting the bar pretty high.”
Lisa smirked. “Good. You deserve high bars.”
The duvet rustled as they pulled each other closer, the kind of closeness that spoke of both comfort and care. Carla’s birthday had started with something simple, something warm—and already, it was more meaningful than most. And Lisa was quietly determined to make sure it only got better from there.

After their lazy, laughter-filled morning in bed, Lisa and Carla eventually made it out of the warmth of the duvet and into the shower, giggling and teasing each other as steam filled the room. It wasn’t rushed—it never was with them—but eventually they were dressed, Lisa grinning as she handed Carla a soft parcel wrapped in brown paper.
“What’s this?” Carla asked, eyeing her with suspicion.
Lisa shrugged like it was no big deal. “Just something I thought you’d look ridiculously hot in.”
Inside was a beautiful forest green blouse with a subtle shimmer to the fabric, paired with a sleek pair of black tailored trousers. Carla raised a brow, impressed.
“You’ve got taste, I’ll give you that,” she muttered, already pulling the blouse on.
They headed downstairs to the smell of fresh coffee and the quiet clink of a spoon in a mug. Betsy was perched at the breakfast table, still in pyjamas, legs crossed, looking at her phone. She looked up as they came in and grinned.
“Happy birthday, Mum,” she said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Carla’s heart fluttered for a second. She didn’t let it show too much—just smiled, wide and easy. “Thanks, love.”
Betsy reached under the table and passed over a small, neatly wrapped present. “It’s nothing big, but I thought it was cool.”
Carla opened it slowly, revealing a worn, second-hand paperback of a poetry collection, one she’d mentioned once in passing when they were watching a film together. Inside was a folded-up polaroid of the three of them in the photo booth at the arcade. On the back, in Betsy’s handwriting: You’re stuck with us now x.
Carla blinked a few times. “Alright,” she said, clearing her throat, “this is stupidly sweet.”
Lisa laughed and kissed her on the cheek. “Told you she’s the thoughtful one.”
“Oi,” Betsy said, grinning. “I’m still the cool one too.”
The three of them shared a look, the kind only families have—soft, warm, unspoken. Then Lisa clapped her hands.
“Right,” she said. “Birthday breakfast, round two?”
Carla rolled her eyes but didn’t stop smiling. “Best birthday ever.”

Carla and Lisa were already standing by the door, ready to head out for their planned day. As they pulled on their coats, they turned to Betsy, who was sitting on the couch, her bag slung over her shoulder.
"Have fun, sweetie," Carla said with a warm smile, ruffling Betsy's hair. "What are you going to see at the cinema?"
Betsy froze for a second, her eyes darting to Lisa. She opened her mouth, but no words came out immediately. She cleared her throat. "Uh, just... you know, some action movie," she finally said, her voice too high-pitched to be convincing.
Carla raised an eyebrow. "An action movie? Since when do you like those?"
Betsy quickly adjusted, trying to sound more confident. "I’ve been into them lately. You know, explosions and car chases and stuff. Totally my thing."
Carla smiled but her suspicion was clear. "Alright then, enjoy yourself. I’ll expect a full review when you get back."
Betsy hurried out the door, clearly relieved to be on her way, but Carla watched her go, a puzzled frown on her face.

Once the door clicked shut, Carla turned to Lisa as they made their way to the car. “What was that about?” she asked, still skeptical. "Betsy is terrible at hiding things, and that whole cinema excuse didn’t exactly convince me."
Lisa glanced at her, biting back a smile. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, pretending to sound nonchalant as she unlocked the car door. "Maybe she just really wants to go see a movie."
Carla shot her a look, not buying it for a second. "You're not fooling me, you know. What’s going on? She’s up to something."
Lisa grinned, sliding into the driver’s seat. "I think you might be a little paranoid," she teased, starting the engine. But she couldn't hide the gleam in her eye.
Carla folded her arms across her chest, leaning back in the seat as they pulled out of the driveway. "I’m just saying, she didn’t exactly act like she was headed out for a normal cinema trip," she muttered. "And when Betsy’s up to something, I notice."
Lisa gave her a playful sideways glance. "Maybe she’s just trying to keep a surprise for you. Have you ever thought about that?"
Carla’s expression softened. "A surprise? For me?"
Lisa smiled. "Could be. Let’s just say... maybe someone else is planning something for your birthday later tonight."
Carla’s eyebrows raised as she processed this. “You didn’t...?”
Lisa’s grin widened. "You’ll find out soon enough. It’s going to be a good one, I promise."
Carla stared at her for a moment, eyes narrowing playfully. "You really are terrible at keeping secrets, you know that?"
Lisa just laughed, pulling out of the neighborhood, as they continued on their way.

The drive was peaceful, the kind of easy silence that felt comfortable between them. As they cruised through the streets of Weatherfield, Lisa casually reached over and took Carla’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"Alright, we're not going straight to the surprise just yet," Lisa said with a grin. "I've got a whole date day planned for us, remember?"
Carla smiled, squeezing Lisa’s hand back. "I’m looking forward to it," she admitted, still curious but excited. "What’s the plan?"
Lisa’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the mystery she’d built up. "Well, for starters, I thought we’d head straight to the art gallery. You know, the one by the canal?"
Carla raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "An art gallery? Now that’s unexpected."
Lisa chuckled. "I thought it’d be a nice change of pace. Something a little different. You’ve always said you liked art."
Carla nodded, the anticipation growing in her chest. "Alright, you’ve got me hooked."

The drive took them through Weatherfield and out into the quieter streets near the canal. The day was crisp, the sky a pale blue, and the trees along the water's edge stood bare, their branches reaching up like delicate fingers. As Lisa parked the car near the gallery, Carla couldn't help but feel the excitement build. She hadn’t expected this, but something about the quiet elegance of the idea made her smile. They got out of the car and walked hand in hand toward the entrance of the gallery, the soft sound of their footsteps echoing on the pavement. Carla could feel a quiet calm settling in, a sort of peace that came with being with Lisa. They stepped inside, and the warm, hushed atmosphere of the gallery surrounded them. The soft glow of the lights highlighted the art pieces, casting everything in a gentle, contemplative light.
Lisa led the way, walking confidently through the open space. Carla followed, her curiosity piqued by the exhibits that lined the walls. They passed sculptures and paintings, each piece evoking something different in Carla—a sense of wonder, introspection, and appreciation.
"Do you have a favorite?" Lisa asked, glancing over at her as they stopped in front of a large painting that depicted a stormy sea. The brushstrokes were wild and chaotic, but there was something beautiful in the madness of it.
Carla studied the painting for a moment before answering. "I think I like this one," she said, her fingers lightly brushing the frame. "There’s something... raw about it. It feels like the artist was putting everything into it."
Lisa smiled, clearly pleased. "I thought you’d like it. I knew you’d appreciate the emotion in it."
They wandered through the exhibits, talking softly about the art that surrounded them. Each piece seemed to spark a new conversation, a new thought or idea they shared. The time slipped away unnoticed as they lost themselves in the gallery, in the art, and in each other’s company.

After a while, they stopped in front of a painting of a calm, serene landscape. The soft greens and blues of the rolling hills and the placid sky made Carla feel at ease. It was the complete opposite of the stormy sea, and yet, it felt just as powerful in its own way. Lisa looked over at Carla with a soft smile. "I’m glad you’re enjoying this," she said quietly. "I thought it’d be a good way to take a moment and just... be present."
Carla smiled, her heart warming at the thought. "It’s perfect," she said simply. "You always know how to make things feel special."
They lingered for a few more moments, Carla taking in the final pieces, before Lisa took her hand again. "Ready to move on to the next surprise?" she asked with a wink.
Carla’s heart skipped a beat. "You’ve got more?"
Lisa just grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You’ll see."
Carla laughed, feeling a sense of excitement bubbling up inside her. "Alright, I’m intrigued now."
They walked back through the gallery, the quiet hum of conversation filling the space as they exited. Carla couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace settle over her. It had been a day of simplicity, of quiet moments, and she felt closer to Lisa than ever before.

As they stepped out into the cool air of the afternoon, Carla turned to Lisa, a playful smile on her face. "So, what’s next?"
Lisa’s grin widened. "Well, I thought we’d go somewhere special for lunch. I made a reservation at that little bistro you like down by the river."
Carla’s eyes lit up, her excitement growing. "You really thought of everything, didn’t you?"
Lisa just winked. "I wanted today to be perfect for you."
Carla smiled softly, touched by the thoughtfulness of it all. "It already is."
They climbed back into the car, the anticipation building as they drove toward the bistro. The peaceful drive was a lovely contrast to the energy of the morning, and Carla felt a deep sense of contentment in the moments they shared.

When they arrived at the bistro, the charming little restaurant was just as inviting as Carla remembered. The scent of freshly baked bread and herbs filled the air as they stepped inside, and the warm, rustic atmosphere made it feel like a hidden gem. The sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a golden glow over the wooden tables. The hostess greeted them with a smile, leading them to their reserved table by the window, where Carla could see the river flowing gently outside. Lisa pulled out Carla’s chair for her, a simple gesture that made Carla feel even more special. They sat down, the soft murmur of other guests filling the background, and Carla couldn’t help but feel grateful for the thoughtfulness Lisa had put into everything today.
As the waiter brought over the menus and they placed their orders, Carla reached across the table to take Lisa’s hand. "You really have spoiled me today," she said quietly, her voice full of warmth.
Lisa squeezed her hand gently, her smile softening. "I just wanted to give you the kind of day you deserve, Carla. You’ve been through so much, and you’ve never asked for anything. So today, it’s all about you."
Carla’s chest tightened with emotion, her eyes welling with appreciation. "Thank you, Lisa. This means more to me than you know."
Lisa simply smiled, her gaze filled with love and affection. "You don’t need to thank me. I just want you to be happy."

As they settled into their meal, the quiet hum of the bistro around them felt like the perfect backdrop to a day that had been carefully planned, just for Carla. It was a day of love, appreciation, and simple joys—everything Carla had longed for and more.
And as the afternoon stretched on, Carla couldn't help but think that this was exactly what she'd been missing: a sense of peace, a sense of belonging, and someone who truly cared about making her feel special. Today, she had everything she needed—and more.

Chapter 71: Birthday Surprises - Part 2

Summary:

After a day of art, lunch, and silly fun, Carla is greeted by all her friends and family, leading to heartfelt speeches, drunken dancing, and hilarious chaos. The night ends with the trio wobbling home, sharing kebabs, and collapsing into bed in a messy, joy-filled finale.

Notes:

This is quite a long one but I just couldn't stop writing! I think this story might be coming to an end soon though. Struggling with ideas to keep it going 😞 It does mean that the sequel to Goal Bound will be coming soon though!

After their lunch, Lisa gave Carla a mischievous smile, clearly holding something back. “Alright, ready for your next surprise?”
Carla raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Another one? How many surprises are there today?”
Lisa grinned. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. This one’s a bit... silly.”
Carla laughed, already bracing herself. “I’m starting to worry.”
“Oh, don’t worry. You’ll love it,” Lisa teased, her tone light and playful. “Just trust me.”
They drove for a little while longer, with Carla growing more curious by the minute.

When they finally arrived at their destination, Carla couldn’t help but stare at the sign in front of her.
"Pottery Painting Studio"
Lisa’s grin widened as she pulled into the parking lot. “Surprise! You’ve been painted as someone who’s always wanted to get their hands dirty, right?”
Carla blinked a few times, trying to process the situation. “You’re serious. Pottery painting?”
Lisa nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! I thought it’d be fun. It’s not something we’d normally do, but that’s the point. A little creativity, a little mess, and a lot of laughs. I’ve got everything set up for us.”
Carla’s mouth twitched into a smile as she shook her head. “You’re unbelievable. I’m not even sure what I’m going to paint.”
“Doesn’t matter!” Lisa said as she grabbed her hand. “It’s not about the final product. It’s about having a good time and making something together.”
With a laugh, Carla allowed herself to be pulled into the studio. The inside was warm and inviting, with shelves of unpainted pottery in all shapes and sizes. There were ceramic mugs, plates, bowls, and even quirky little animal figurines waiting to be decorated.

A friendly staff member greeted them at the door and handed them each a set of paintbrushes and a palette of colors. They were led to a table filled with blank pottery pieces. Carla stood there for a moment, eyeing the various items. She could tell this wasn’t exactly a sophisticated art studio, but it was charming and fun, and Lisa seemed absolutely giddy about the experience.
“What do you think?” Lisa asked, already picking up a small elephant-shaped figurine.
Carla eyed a ceramic mug. “I think I might stick with something simple. A mug sounds safe.”
Lisa laughed. “You’re boring! Come on, let’s paint the most ridiculous thing we can find.”
Carla grinned at Lisa’s excitement. “Alright, alright, I’ll go for something fun. I’ll pick the biggest thing I can find, just for you.”
And just like that, they were both immersed in their own creative worlds. The table became a whirlwind of paintbrushes, colorful glazes, and plenty of laughter as they worked on their respective pieces. Lisa was already in full-on artistic mode, covering her elephant with a pattern of bright, mismatched stripes. Carla, on the other hand, had decided to go for a whimsical design on her mug, making a simple blue and purple swirl pattern that she found oddly calming.

Every now and then, they’d exchange playful comments, pointing out how ridiculous their creations were turning out, yet neither of them seemed to care about perfection.
“Wait, are you seriously making your elephant look like a rainbow threw up on it?” Carla teased, giggling as Lisa added another layer of neon orange to the already colorful animal.
Lisa raised her head and grinned. “You’ll see! This is going to be a masterpiece. Who needs subtlety?”
“Subtlety is overrated,” Carla agreed, her tone light. They worked in companionable silence for a while, with the occasional giggle escaping as they got paint on each other’s hands or accidentally dripped a little too much glaze. The room had a relaxed atmosphere, and it was so different from anything either of them had done together before.

Eventually, they finished their pieces, both of them holding up their creations with a sense of accomplishment. Lisa’s bright elephant stood proudly next to Carla’s more subdued mug, and despite their obvious differences, Carla couldn’t help but love how they’d spent their time. It wasn’t about what they’d made—it was about the joy of doing something fun and new together.
Lisa looked at Carla, a soft smile on her face. “You know, I think these will be the most unique pieces in the studio.”
Carla chuckled, examining her mug with pride. “They definitely won’t be winning any art awards, but I have to admit, I had fun.”
“That’s all that matters,” Lisa replied. “You’re a natural.”
Carla leaned across the table, giving Lisa a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for this. It was ridiculous, but in the best way possible.”
Lisa’s smile grew wider as she reached for Carla’s hand. “I knew you’d love it. And hey, the best part? You can drink your coffee out of that mug every morning and think of me.”
“I’ll probably think of you every time I see the elephant,” Carla teased.
Lisa raised her eyebrows dramatically. “You’re just jealous of my artistic skills.”
Carla rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the laughter bubbling inside her. “Alright, fine. You’re Picasso.”
“I’ll take it,” Lisa said with a wink. The two of them laughed together, the kind of carefree laughter that only came after a silly, fun day. Carla had no idea what the next surprise would be, but for once, it didn’t matter. She was exactly where she wanted to be—with Lisa, enjoying a day full of unexpected moments and pure joy.
“Alright,” Lisa said as they finished cleaning up their area. “One last stop before we wrap up the day. You ready?”
Carla raised an eyebrow. “What now?”
Lisa grinned. “I promise you, this one’s the best surprise yet.”

As they left the pottery painting studio, Lisa’s phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out, glancing at the screen. It was a message from Ryan.
Ryan: “Got the decorations up! Everything's coming together. Betsy’s still working on the cake. Don’t let Carla get suspicious.”
Lisa’s lips twitched into a grin, but she quickly tucked the phone back into her pocket before Carla could see it. They continued walking toward the next destination, but Carla’s curiosity was clearly piqued. She could tell that Lisa was a little too chipper, a little too secretive, and it wasn’t hard for her to start wondering what was really going on.
“Lisa,” Carla said, glancing sideways at her, “You’re acting all mysterious again. Where are we going?”
Lisa, ever the expert at playing coy, flashed a playful smile. “It’s a surprise, remember? Trust me, you’ll love it.”
Carla raised an eyebrow, but she wasn’t about to give up easily. “You’re being way too sneaky. What’s really going on? I’m starting to think you’ve got something up your sleeve.”
Lisa glanced at her phone again as it buzzed once more, but this time, she held it discreetly in her hand, trying to keep it out of Carla’s view. Betsy’s message read: “Almost done with the balloons, decorations look fab! Just need to finish setting up the lights. We’re getting everything ready, almost there!”
Carla noticed the brief flicker of Lisa’s eyes and the way she hurriedly shoved her phone back into her pocket, her curiosity intensifying. She stopped in her tracks and crossed her arms, a skeptical look on her face.
“Lisa,” she said slowly, “What’s going on? You’ve got that look. What are you hiding from me?”
Lisa tried to mask her nervousness with a grin, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Nothing, I swear. I’m just trying to make sure everything’s perfect for you today. You said you wanted surprises, remember?”
Carla was not convinced. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she reached for Lisa’s phone, intending to playfully swipe it from her pocket, determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on.
“No,” Lisa said, a little too quickly, taking a quick step back.
Carla smirked, “You’re acting suspicious. You can’t keep avoiding this forever.”
Lisa fumbled for a second, holding her phone tightly to her chest. “Honestly, you’re going to like it. It’s a work in progress. So just trust me on this one.”

Carla wasn’t having any of it. With a quick movement, she reached for Lisa’s phone, her fingers grazing the device, just as Lisa tried to step further away. In her haste, Carla didn’t realize how close they were to the canal. With one swift motion, Lisa misjudged her step as she pulled the phone out of Carla’s reach and—whoosh!—the phone slipped from her grip. Carla froze in horror as Lisa’s phone tumbled from her hand, sailing through the air in what felt like slow motion. With a sickening splash, the phone hit the water, sinking rapidly into the dark depths of the canal.

Lisa stood there, frozen for a moment, her face a mix of disbelief and frustration. “No!” she groaned, rushing to the edge and peering into the murky water, but it was too late. The phone was gone. Carla’s face flushed with embarrassment, but she quickly let out a nervous laugh. “I—uh—I didn’t mean to—”
Lisa, though obviously annoyed, couldn’t help but shake her head. “Well, that’s one way to ruin a surprise.”
Carla winced, clearly regretting her attempt to steal a peek at the phone. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think it would—”
“You’re really good at this,” Lisa teased sarcastically, but there was no malice in her voice. “You’ve just ruined my only lifeline to keeping track of everything. Ryan’s going to kill me.”
“I really didn’t mean it,” Carla said, trying to make it up to Lisa, her face redder by the second. “I’ll buy you a new one. I swear.”
Lisa gave her a soft smile, albeit a bit strained. “Well, it’s not just the phone that’s ruined now, but I guess it’s the thought that counts.”
Carla’s expression softened. “Can you still give me the surprise without it?”
Lisa grinned again, clearly not letting the mishap spoil the fun. “Oh, trust me, I’ll make sure you still get the best surprise. It’s just... a little less organized now.”
“Good,” Carla said, her voice warming. “Because I’m still looking forward to it.”
Despite the disaster with the phone, Lisa’s excitement was back. “Alright, let’s keep walking. It’s only a few more steps, and you’re going to love it.”

As they continued walking, Carla couldn’t help but smile at how, even in the face of such a silly mistake, Lisa’s optimism and determination were unwavering. She still had no idea what the final surprise was, but at that moment, she realized it didn’t matter. The day had been full of laughter, surprises, and more than a little mischief. And, for the first time in a long time, everything felt perfectly right. As they walked along the path, with Carla still playfully teasing Lisa about her ruined phone, Lisa glanced at her watch and then looked back at Carla, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Alright, we’re almost there," she said, her voice brimming with mystery. "The final surprise before the big one. I hope you're ready for it."
Carla raised an eyebrow, intrigued but still skeptical. "What else can you possibly have planned?"
Lisa simply smiled, squeezing Carla's hand, and they walked a little faster as they made their way to the final destination. "Trust me, this one’s gonna be unforgettable."

After a few more minutes, they arrived at their destination. Carla looked around and realized they were at a private little garden tucked away just off the main street, a hidden gem that she had never noticed before.
"Where are we?" Carla asked, glancing around at the peaceful setting. The garden was small but beautiful, with ivy crawling up the stone walls, and fairy lights twinkling in the trees. There were a few benches scattered throughout, and in the middle was a little stone fountain that softly bubbled with water. It was a place of tranquility—an oasis in the middle of the city. Lisa smiled, letting go of Carla’s hand and gesturing around them. "This is the surprise. I thought you’d appreciate a little peace and quiet."
Carla’s face softened, a sense of calm settling over her. "It’s beautiful," she said quietly, her voice full of awe. "I’ve never seen this place before. How did you even find it?"
"I’ve got my ways," Lisa replied with a wink, clearly proud of the surprise she’d managed to keep under wraps. "I thought it would be nice to have some time here, just the two of us. You deserve a quiet moment to just... breathe."
Carla stepped closer to the fountain, running her fingers over the smooth stone of the basin, then looking up at Lisa. "You really do know how to make me feel special," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "This... this is exactly what I needed today."

Lisa joined her by the fountain, and for a moment, they stood side by side, just taking in the peaceful surroundings. Carla had always been someone who had learned to enjoy the quieter moments in life, and this space felt like it was made just for that. It was the perfect way to round out an already special day.
"You like it?" Lisa asked, her voice soft and sincere.
"I love it," Carla replied with a smile, her heart full. "Thank you. You’ve really thought of everything."
Lisa smiled back, her eyes shining. "I just want today to be as perfect as it can be for you. And I still have one last thing to share."
Carla gave her a puzzled look. "Last thing? After all this? What could possibly top this?"
Lisa reached into her bag and pulled out a small, elegantly wrapped box. She handed it to Carla, who took it with a mix of curiosity and affection. "I thought we’d end this day with something meaningful," Lisa said softly, her voice tender. Carla’s heart fluttered a little as she carefully untied the ribbon and opened the box. Inside was a simple yet stunning silver necklace, with a delicate pendant shaped like a heart. Lisa watched her closely, waiting for her reaction. "I know it’s not much," she said, her voice a little uncertain now, "but I thought it could be a reminder of today—of how much you mean to me."
Carla’s eyes softened, and she lifted the necklace out of the box, holding it in her palm. "It’s beautiful," she whispered, her voice full of warmth. "I’ll never take it off."
Lisa’s smile widened as she gently took the necklace from Carla’s hand and fastened it around her neck. The gesture felt intimate, tender, and meaningful—something that Carla would always carry with her.
"I’m glad you like it," Lisa said, her voice almost a whisper as she stepped back to admire Carla. "You deserve everything, Carla. You really do."
Carla looked at Lisa, the depth of emotion in her eyes impossible to miss. "Thank you. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to put into words how much today means to me."
Lisa leaned in, kissing her softly on the cheek. "You don’t have to," she said with a smile. "I’m just happy I could give you a day you’ll never forget."

As they stood together in the quiet garden, the sun dipping lower in the sky, Carla felt something she hadn’t in a long time—a sense of peace, of belonging, of finally feeling truly loved. But even as she felt that contentment, she knew that this wasn’t just about the perfect day—it was about the connection between them, the love that had blossomed and deepened.
"You know," Carla said softly as they stood together, "I don’t need anything more than this. But I can’t wait to see what you have planned next."
Lisa just smiled, squeezing her hand as they started to walk toward the car. "You’ll see," she said playfully. "But the best part of the day? It's just being with you."

As Lisa pulled the car into the alley behind the Bistro, she threw Carla a cheeky glance. “Alright, one last thing before we go in,” she said, putting the car in park.
Carla raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess—another surprise?”
Lisa grinned. “Sort of. You’ve got to act surprised, alright? Even if you suspect something. I want to see proper theatrics.”
Carla smirked. “You dragged me all over Weatherfield, slipped off with your phone half a dozen times, and now you’re parking behind the Bistro… I think I’ve cracked the case, Columbo.”
Lisa laughed. “Just promise you’ll pretend.”
“Fine, but only because it’ll make you happy,” Carla said, rolling her eyes with affection.

They stepped out of the car and walked hand-in-hand through the side entrance. As soon as they pushed the doors open, a wall of noise hit them.
“SURPRISE!!”
The Bistro was packed—almost the entire street had turned out. Friends, family, neighbours. Streamers and fairy lights hung from every available surface, and a huge “Happy Birthday Carla!” banner was stretched across the bar. The room burst into a chorus of Happy Birthday , and Carla froze in place, her mouth opening in mock shock before breaking into a wide, warm smile.
“Oh, you lot,” she laughed, slightly overwhelmed but visibly touched. She turned to Lisa. “You did all this?”
Lisa winked. “Told you I had one last thing.”
As the singing faded into applause, Carla was quickly swept into a sea of hugs and birthday wishes. Roy approached first, giving her a gentle pat on the shoulder and handing her a neatly wrapped book. “Just a little something I thought you might enjoy,” he said kindly.

Next came Maria, dragging Gary with her, both holding prosecco. “Happy birthday, Carla! You look incredible,” Maria beamed, handing her a glass.
“You trying to get me drunk already?” Carla teased, accepting the drink.
“You better pace yourself,” Gary chuckled. “We’ve all chipped in for your bar tab.”
Before she could reply, Glenda swept in, wrapping Carla in a dramatic hug. “Darling, this place needed a bit of glamour and it just walked in. Happy birthday!”
Throughout the evening, Carla made her way around the room, chatting with everyone. Aadi and Amy insisted on buying her shots, much to her amusement and mild horror. She laughed with Sally over one of her signature gossip sessions and shared a quiet, heartfelt moment with Roy in the corner. Even Evelyn, seated at the bar with her usual dry wit, raised a glass. “Here’s to another year of sarcasm and surviving this lot.”

As the night buzzed on, Carla stood by the bar for a moment, soaking it all in—the laughter, the music, the way people came together just for her. She looked over at Lisa across the room, deep in conversation with Betsy and Ryan, and felt that familiar tug in her chest. For once, she didn’t feel like she was on the outside looking in. Tonight, she belonged. And for the first time in years, she felt truly celebrated. As Lisa made her way over to where Ryan and Betsy were standing by the makeshift DJ booth, Ryan raised an eyebrow and held up his phone.
“Oi, you stopped replying to my texts like an hour ago,” he said, grinning. “I thought you’d run off with Carla to a cabin in the Lakes.”
Betsy smirked, arms crossed. “Yeah, I was starting to think I’d be decorating the Bistro on my own.”
Lisa groaned and ran a hand through her hair. “Right. So... bit of a situation.”
Ryan leaned in, intrigued. “Go on.”
Lisa laughed. “Carla nearly caught me texting you, so I panicked and tried to hide my phone... and accidentally yeeted it into the canal.”
Betsy’s eyes widened. “No way.”
Ryan burst out laughing. “You’re joking!”
“I wish I was,” Lisa replied, shaking her head. “It nearly slipped right out of my fingers while I was trying to pretend I wasn’t hiding something. I had to watch it splash in like it was in slow motion. Carla just gave me this look—like she knew something was up but couldn’t quite put her finger on it.”
Betsy doubled over laughing. “Mum, you’re an actual disaster.”
Lisa raised a finger. “But! The surprise stayed intact. So... worth it.”
Ryan clapped her on the shoulder. “Legend.”

As Betsy wandered off to grab another soft drink, Lisa found herself beside Roy, who was quietly observing the party from a small table near the corner, a fond smile resting on his face. She sat beside him, and for a moment they just watched Carla, who was now laughing with Sean and Glenda near the bar.
“She looks happy,” Roy said softly.
Lisa followed his gaze, her expression tender. “She is. I’ve never seen her like this. Not really.”
Roy nodded. “It’s taken her a long time to find peace. She’s always been… strong. Resilient. But that’s not the same as happy.”
Lisa turned to him, her voice low and sincere. “She’s been through more than most. But she deserves this. She deserves to feel loved. And to be surrounded by people who actually care.”
Roy looked at Lisa, his tone gentle. “That’s down to you. And Betsy.”
Lisa’s throat tightened slightly. “We just... showed up. That’s all.”
“Sometimes,” Roy said, “that’s exactly what someone needs. To be loved without having to ask for it.”
Lisa swallowed hard, emotion bubbling under the surface. She gave Roy a quiet smile. “Thank you. For saying that.”
Roy offered a small nod, and the two of them sat in comfortable silence, watching the woman they both cared about, surrounded by warmth, laughter, and light.

Carla eventually found Lisa hovering near the buffet table, balancing a plate piled high with sausage rolls and miniature quiches. With her heels in one hand and a slightly mischievous grin on her lips, Carla sauntered over, clearly a few drinks in.
“There you are,” she said, swaying slightly as she wrapped her arm around Lisa’s waist. “I’ve been lookin’ all over for you. What’re you doing over here, hiding with the vol-au-vents?”
Lisa raised an eyebrow, steadying Carla with one hand. “Trying to get something in you before you fall over. You’re half a glass away from singing show tunes.”
Carla giggled, pressing her forehead against Lisa’s. “Oh come on, it’s my birthday. I’m allowed to be a bit merry.”
Lisa smirked. “You’re not merry, you’re flammable.”
She handed Carla a sausage roll. “Eat. Now. And don’t even try and say no.”
Carla took it reluctantly, still grinning. “Bossy.”
Once Lisa was sure Carla had eaten at least a few bites, Carla suddenly turned, eyes bright with mischief. “Right! Your turn. You’ve been pacing yourself all day and I’m not standing for it anymore.”
Lisa blinked. “What?”
Carla grabbed her hand and dragged her to the bar. “Three shots. Right now. Birthday rules. I’m not drinking alone.”
Before Lisa could protest, Carla had already lined them up. “Tequila, vodka, something neon and probably illegal. Bottoms up, love.”
Lisa sighed, but Carla’s beaming face was impossible to resist. “Alright, alright, but if I fall over later, you're carrying me home.”
Carla clinked her glass to Lisa’s. “Deal.”
Lisa knocked back all three in a row, grimacing. “Ugh. You’re a menace.”
Carla laughed, looping her arm around Lisa’s waist. “I’m your menace.”

They wandered back into the party, arm in arm, where they were immediately pulled into conversations with residents—Sally insisted on retelling an old story about Carla on a hen do, while Dev enthusiastically complimented Lisa’s “party planning stealth.” Even Evelyn gave Carla a curt nod and a muttered “Not bad, this,” before heading back to the buffet. As they mingled, the drinks kept flowing, the music kept playing, and Carla never strayed far from Lisa’s side—always touching, always smiling. It was chaos in the best possible way, and for once, Carla was letting herself simply enjoy it.

As the party buzzed on with laughter, clinking glasses and music echoing through the Bistro, Ryan suddenly stepped up to the small stage area and quietened the music, raising a hand to get everyone’s attention.
“Oi, settle down, you lot!” he called out, grinning as the room began to hush. “Right, before we all end up too sloshed to speak, I just wanted to say a few words about the woman of the hour.”
The crowd gave a little cheer as Carla, red-cheeked and already clutching a fresh glass of prosecco, rolled her eyes with a smile.
Ryan looked toward her fondly. “Carla Connor... or should I say, Carla Queen of Weatherfield. You’re the toughest, smartest, most brilliant woman I know—and believe me, I’ve known you in your best moments and your worst.” He paused. “And through it all, you’ve been nothing but fiercely loyal and completely yourself. Which, let’s be honest, is usually terrifying—but in the best way.”
Laughter rippled through the room, and Carla mock-glared at him.
Ryan chuckled and added, “But seriously, you’ve been family to me, even when I didn’t deserve it. Happy birthday, Carla. We all love you.”
He turned toward Roy and handed over the mic. The pub quieted again with a reverent hush. Roy cleared his throat. “Carla is not someone who seeks praise or affection openly. But she gives it, in her own way—often quietly, sometimes with sarcasm, and always with conviction.” He glanced over at her. “She’s like a daughter to me. And like all daughters, she can be stubborn, reckless, and difficult to reason with… but she is also brave, resilient, and deeply kind. I’m very proud of you, Carla.”
Carla blinked a little too quickly and looked away with a shy smile as the room gave a gentle round of applause.

Then Betsy stepped up, grabbing the mic with zero nerves. “Okay, I’m not great at this stuff, but… since moving in with you, Carla, things have changed—for me and for Mum. You put up with a lot, especially from me, and you still somehow make this whole weird thing we have work. So yeah… happy birthday, Mum. You're stuck with us now.”
There was a cheer, a few “awws” and one loud “Boom!” from Glenda at the bar.
Ryan raised the mic again. “Alright, alright, that was lovely. But I reckon we need one more speech—from Lisa herself.”
The room turned to Lisa, who was mid-sip and startled. She set her drink down and stepped forward, cheeks flushed but smiling.
“Okay… wow, no pressure.” She laughed nervously. “Um, first off, thank you. All of you. For coming, for making tonight feel really bloody special. Especially Roy, Ryan and Betsy—this wouldn’t have happened without them. And Carla…” she turned to look at her, her voice softening, “You’ve had a rough road to today, but somehow you’ve still got room in your heart for everyone else. For me. For Betsy. You’ve made us a family. And you deserve to feel just how loved you are tonight.”
The crowd gave a round of applause, and someone yelled, “Speech!” toward Carla.
Carla groaned, laughing. “You lot don’t let up, do you?”
She took the mic, composing herself, then let her gaze wander across the room.
“Alright,” she began. “I never expected… this. Any of this. When I think about where I’ve come from, and all the stuff I’ve survived, I don’t think I ever really imagined standing in a room full of people like this—who actually care.”
She cleared her throat.
“I want to thank Roy—my compass when I’m lost. Ryan—who’s more like a little brother than he knows. Betsy—who drives me mad and melts my heart in equal measure. And Lisa…” She turned to find her, smiling through tears now. “You. You’re the surprise I never saw coming, the home I didn’t know I needed. You’ve made me feel seen… and safe. I don’t think I’ve ever had that before.”
There was a long pause before the room erupted into cheers, applause, and more than a few misty eyes. Someone at the back shouted, “To Carla!” and everyone raised their glasses in a toast. Carla shook her head, laughing, before leaning into Lisa’s side and whispering, “You’re lucky I’m tipsy or I’d never have said all that out loud.”
Lisa just kissed her temple and whispered back, “Best speech I’ve ever heard.”

As the cheers from Carla’s speech settled, Ryan, ever the cheeky host, returned to the DJ station and turned the volume down. “Alright, enough soppiness,” he said into the mic. “Time for the lovers to show us how it’s done. This one’s for you, Carla.”
A soft, romantic tune began to drift through the Bistro—the kind of slow song that practically demanded swaying under dimmed lights. There were some playful wolf-whistles as Ryan waved dramatically at Carla and Lisa, encouraging them toward the makeshift dance floor. Lisa raised an eyebrow at Carla. “Shall we?”
Carla gave a mock groan. “If we must,” she teased, taking her hand.
As they stepped onto the floor, Betsy groaned loudly. “Nope, I’m out,” she said, covering her eyes dramatically and vanishing off into the crowd to find her friends. “Can’t watch that. Gross.”
Lisa just laughed as she pulled Carla in close. The pair swayed gently, their foreheads brushing, hands resting lightly on each other’s waists. They whispered to one another between small kisses and soft smiles—quiet jokes, silly confessions, and the occasional "I love you" murmured just for the other’s ears.

Eventually, caught up in the moment, their kiss deepened—until Maria walked past and gently nudged Lisa’s arm with a knowing smirk. “Oi, you two. Save it for when there aren’t canapés five feet away.”
Carla pulled back, grinning. “Buzzkill,” she muttered playfully, and Lisa giggled. Then, the slow track faded—and with it, the vibe snapped into full-on party mode. The unmistakable beat of "YMCA" hit the speakers, and the room exploded into chaos.
“Now this I can do,” Carla said with a wicked grin. “You coming?”
Lisa hesitated. “Not without more alcohol.”
They headed to the bar, where Lisa took another drink with a raised eyebrow. “You not joining me?”
Carla shook her head firmly. “One more and I’ll be snogging the sink instead of you.”
“Fair enough,” Lisa laughed, knocking her drink back.

Fuelled by her drink and the electric energy of the party, Lisa was soon pulled onto the dance floor by Carla. Betsy returned just in time to see her mum doing The Macarena , and let out a shriek of laughter.
“Not the arms, Mum! You’re gonna knock someone out!”
They danced through a blur of hilariously bad moves:
• Carla nailed Saturday Night but Lisa insisted the steps were “too choreographed.”
• Cha Cha Slide came on, and the whole street was sliding left and stomping right like a chaotic flash mob.
• Oops Upside Your Head had them all sat in a wobbly row on the floor, with Norris awkwardly trying not to topple backwards.
• Lisa attempted the Worm , failed spectacularly, and nearly took out a chair—sending everyone into fits of laughter.
• Cotton Eye Joe had even Evelyn tapping her foot and muttering that it was “a bit of a tune, actually.”

By the end, Carla’s mascara was smudged from laughing so hard, Lisa had a stitch in her side, and Betsy was filming half the street doing The Conga . It was the kind of night you remembered not because it was perfect, but because it was full of joy, silliness, and people who made you feel like you belonged.

By the time they reached the front door, Carla was leaning almost entirely against Lisa, and Lisa was clinging to the wall like it might start spinning. Betsy, rolling her eyes like only a teenager could, juggled the house keys and finally got the door open.
“In you go, you total embarrassments,” she muttered, ushering her very drunk mums inside. The second they crossed the threshold, Carla let out a triumphant cheer. “Kebab time!” she declared, flinging her arms up like she’d just won the lottery.
Lisa squinted at her. “You’re not actually serious.”

But ten minutes later, the pair were slumped on the sofa, giggling over the messiest kebabs in Weatherfield. Lisa was basically horizontal, half her chips spilled into the cushion beside her, while Carla sat cross-legged, licking garlic sauce off her thumb.
“I think mine’s got chili sauce,” Carla said, eyes wide and delighted, before promptly dropping a hunk of meat into her lap. “Classic.”
Betsy leaned against the doorframe, watching them with an expression of sheer amusement. “You two are unreal.”
Lisa attempted to pick up a chip with her kebab wrapper, failed, and then looked up with a dopey grin. “We're not drunk, we're... celebratory.”
“Yeah,” Carla added, “celebrating my youth. And sauce.”
Eventually, the kebabs were abandoned—half-eaten and leaking grease onto napkins—and Betsy sighed dramatically.
“Right, you absolute lightweights, time for bed.”

Getting them up the stairs was a full comedy sketch. Carla mistook the landing for another step and nearly took Lisa down with her, while Lisa kept one hand glued to the wall like the house might tilt. Betsy guided them like a long-suffering tour guide on a field trip of fools. At the top of the landing, Betsy paused, then pulled out her phone. With a grin, she hit record just as Carla tripped over Lisa’s foot and grabbed her like she was going overboard.
“Lisa,” Carla gasped dramatically, “I forgot how to leg.”
Lisa was already bent over laughing. “You’ve never legged in your life.”
Betsy zoomed in. “This is so going in the family group chat.”
Carla pointed at the camera. “No! Betrayal!”
“You’ll thank me when you're sober,” Betsy quipped, filming them as they fumbled with the bedroom door, bounced off the frame, and finally staggered inside. She stopped recording and leaned against the wall, shaking her head fondly. “Happy birthday, Mum,” she murmured, before heading off to her room.

Inside the bedroom, Carla and Lisa collapsed in a heap, clothes tangled, laughter echoing as they tried—and failed—to undress properly. Carla ended up with her shirt halfway over her head, Lisa stuck trying to shimmy out of her jeans, both of them howling.
“This is not sexy,” Lisa wheezed, kicking one leg free.
“It’s real love,” Carla replied, snorting. “Messy, meat-covered, sexy chaos.”
Eventually, they collapsed under the covers, half-dressed and wrapped around each other, still giggling like teenagers.
“Best birthday ever,” Carla mumbled sleepily.
Lisa kissed her forehead. “Best everything.”

Chapter 72: The Video

Summary:

Carla and Lisa wake up hungover after the party, only to be greeted by a mortified Betsy with painkillers. A hilarious chase ensues when Carla finds an embarrassing video Betsy recorded, ending in a chaotic tickle fight on the sofa—until Betsy realizes, to her horror, her mums’ dressing gowns are wide open. Laughter, embarrassment, and love fill the morning after.

The next morning, the bedroom was dim with drawn curtains, but the pounding in Carla’s and Lisa’s heads made the silence feel almost loud. Both lay sprawled under the covers, limbs tangled, hair a mess, mouths dry as sandpaper. Lisa let out a groan. “Please tell me I’m still dreaming.”
Carla didn’t even open her eyes. “If this is a dream, it’s the kind with a hangover and no water.”
Before either of them could muster the strength to move, the bedroom door creaked open and in came Betsy—eyes squinted, arm outstretched with two glasses of water and a couple of painkillers. She didn’t step far before immediately turning her head and dramatically shielding her eyes.
“Oh, seriously?” she groaned. “Why are you always naked?”
Lisa chuckled weakly. “We’re not always naked.”
“You’ve been naked more times than I’ve seen my own reflection,” Betsy said, placing the water and pills blindly on the bedside table.
“Thanks, babe,” Carla croaked, reaching for the pills.
“Yeah, thanks, daughter of the year,” Lisa muttered as Betsy backed out of the room, one eye open just enough to make sure she didn’t trip.
“You’re welcome. Try not to traumatise me further,” Betsy called as she shut the door behind her. They both popped the painkillers and lay in silence a moment before the giggles started bubbling up—dry, scratchy, hungover laughter, but laughter all the same.

Eventually, they wrapped themselves in their dressing gowns and padded downstairs, phones in hand, moving like two women at least three decades older. Betsy had placed two steaming coffees on the table for them.
“You angel,” Carla said, flopping into a chair.
“Actual sainthood pending,” Betsy replied, sipping her juice. They started recapping the day before—the date, the party, the speeches, the dancing, the kebab—and were halfway through debating who danced the worst when Carla unlocked her phone.
“Oh my god,” she said, blinking at the screen.
“What?” Lisa asked, suddenly cautious.
Carla turned the screen to her. “You need to see this.”
It was the video. Betsy’s video. Them, on the landing, barely upright, giggling, clutching each other, trying to shush one another while Carla attempted to whisper something romantic and instead nearly fell backwards into a wall. Lisa covered her face in horror.
“No. No no no,” she moaned. “Tell me that’s not real.”
“She got angles,” Carla said, half-laughing, half-dying inside. Betsy, innocently munching toast, raised her eyebrows. “You’re welcome.”
“You are dead,” Lisa said, standing slowly.
“Absolutely deceased,” Carla agreed, rising with her.

Betsy barely had time to register the shift before they both lunged. With a squeal, she shot off the chair, toast flying, as Lisa and Carla chased her around the kitchen, bumping into chairs and laughing hysterically.
“Delete it!” Carla shouted.
“Make me!” Betsy laughed, dodging them.
“No more phone privileges for you!” Lisa yelled, as they careened into the living room in a tangle of laughter, robes flapping behind them like capes. The chase around the house escalated quickly. Carla and Lisa, both a little more agile than their hangovers would suggest, managed to corner Betsy near the sofa. Without warning, they lunged at her like a pair of rugby players, knocking her onto the couch in a heap of laughter and wriggling limbs.
“Gotcha!” Lisa grinned, straddling Betsy and pinning her down, while Carla dove for the phone, her fingers desperately swiping across the screen.
“Stop! You’re going to break my ribs!” Betsy squealed, squirming beneath them.
“No mercy,” Lisa chuckled, her fingers finding Betsy’s sides and beginning to tickle her mercilessly. Betsy’s giggles filled the room, her body convulsing with laughter as she tried to wriggle free.

Carla, now with the phone in hand, managed to get to the chat with the incriminating video just as Betsy’s wild wriggling made it impossible to hold her down.
“No! Don’t!” Betsy protested, but Carla was already quick to delete the video from the chat and, in a burst of triumph, swiped it from Betsy’s phone too.
“Mission accomplished!” Carla grinned, tossing the phone like a frisbee across the room. It landed with a soft thud on the far side, far out of reach. Betsy gasped in horror, eyes wide. “Nooooo!” she groaned, realizing what had just happened. But before she could do anything about it, Carla had joined in, reaching over to grab her sides and continue tickling her. Betsy’s squeals of laughter filled the room as she tried to fend off the ticklish assault. “I’m going to die of laughter!” she cried, flailing helplessly.

After a few moments, they finally relented. Carla, still grinning, helped Lisa off the couch, and they both collapsed back onto the cushions, trying to catch their breath from the chaotic wrestling match.
“Okay, truce,” Lisa said, laughing through her words. “Truce.”
Betsy, still struggling to compose herself, wiped away tears of laughter and sat up, glaring at them with mock seriousness. “You two are evil.”
Carla reached for her coffee, her robe slipping slightly as she leaned over the table. Lisa did the same, both women feeling oddly at ease as they finally stopped their laughter.

But then, as the moment of calm hit, Betsy’s eyes went wide again, her face turning redder than it had already been. Her gaze dropped, and her cheeks flushed even deeper. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks.
“Oh no,” she muttered, her eyes darting quickly between Carla and Lisa. They both paused, completely unaware of what was about to unfold. And then it hit them both.
Carla and Lisa, in their playful frenzy, had forgotten to tie their dressing gowns. Their robes were wide open, and they were lying atop Betsy, half-clothed, in full view of their very embarrassed daughter. Betsy’s hands flew to her face in sheer mortification. “Oh my god!” she squeaked, scrambling to get up and clutch the couch cushions in front of her. “I—I—I can’t—oh god, I’m going to be scarred for life!”
Carla and Lisa both froze, their eyes widening as they finally realized the situation. Slowly, a smirk appeared on Carla’s face, and she couldn’t help herself.
“I think you’ll survive,” she said with a teasing grin, tugging her robe closed. “But you might need therapy.”
Lisa, still red-faced but trying to hide it behind a smirk, pulled her own robe tighter, looking over at Betsy. “Sorry, love, didn’t mean to traumatize you for the rest of your life.”
Betsy covered her eyes dramatically. “I’m not even looking at you two anymore. I can’t unsee this. This is my new nightmare. What is wrong with you two?”
Carla and Lisa collapsed into another round of giggles. They may have been a little tipsy still and completely reckless, but nothing could top the hilarious chaos that had just unfolded between them.
“I think we need to get you a drink,” Carla said with a mischievous grin.
Betsy groaned. “I need more than that.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll make it up to you,” Lisa added, still trying to contain her laughter.
“Just… keep me away from the bedroom for the rest of my life, please,” Betsy begged, her voice dripping with faux horror. "Please, I can’t take it."
The three of them shared another round of laughter, the morning chaos only adding to the absurdity of the previous night.