Loves Young Dream

by K8eymai

Summary:

Betsy and Mason find comfort in each other but Lisa’s not happy with her daughters choice of boyfriend

Chapter 1: Lisa’s Worst Nightmare

Lisa’s shift had run late. Again. It was the 3rd time this week. Lisa let the front door of Carla’s flat fall shut behind her with a dull thud, the keys jangling in her hand as she kicked off her work boots - it had been a long day and her feet were killing her. She was exhausted—her bones ached with it—but until they had a result from the spate of car thefts doing the round it was going to be late shifts and lots of them. As she headed into the kitchen something didn’t sit right. The house was too quiet. Carla was out at a supplier meeting she knew that but Betsy… well, Betsy should’ve been home ages hour ago.

Lisa checked her phone. No messages.

8:42 p.m.

She sighed and headed toward the kitchen, but a flicker outside the window caught her eye. Betsy. Crossing the street. Laughing. And beside her—Mason Radcliffe. The family that had caused her no end of problems in her line of work.

Lisa’s chest clenched.

He wasn’t touching her. He didn’t have to be. It was the ease between them—the way Betsy tilted her head, smiling at something he’d said, the way he looked back like it mattered. Lisa knew that look, she had been a teenager herself once.

Lisa opened the door and waiting for Betsy to appear at the bottom of the stairs.

“Inside. Now.”

Betsy froze mid-step. “Mum—”

“Don’t ‘Mum’ me. It’s late - and you know it’s way too late to be still out - and you know my feelings on him.”

Mason had the sense to hang back. “Evening, Miss Swain,” he mumbled. “Just walking Bets back”

Lisa turned her eyes on him—sharp, unforgiving. “It’s Detective - not Miss and Don’t pretend to be polite. Go home, Mason.”

He hesitated.

“Leave.”

Betsy stepped forward, indignant. “Oh My God - you are so rude! Masons my boyfriend so get used to him being around. He hasn’t even done anything and you’re horrible to him.”l it’s so embarrassing.”

Lisa rounded on her. “Hasn’t done anything? Betsy, he terrorised kids last year. He put one lad in hospital—”

“No - He didn’t,” Betsy snapped. “He was there but He didn’t do it.”

“Oh well - that’s ok then isn’t it - it’s no better?” Lisa’s voice rose. “You think being the quiet one standing at the back makes it okay?”

Mason had gone now, fading into the shadows down the street. Lisa exhaled hard, like holding back a scream.

“You’re grounded,” she said. “No phone, no going out. And don’t even think about lying to me again.”

Betsy stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs.

“You can’t keep me locked up forever,” she said finally, shouting. “You just see what you want and you want to hate Mason - you won’t even give him a chance.

Lisa’s replied sternly. “I know his family. I arrested his brother. I know what families like that can do.”

“So that’s it, then?” Betsy’s eyes blazed. “He doesn’t get a chance because of someone else’s mistakes?”

Lisa’s words failed her. She wanted to say it wasn’t that simple. She wanted to scream that she was just trying to keep her safe and protect her. But Betsy was already stomping up the stairs, the door slamming behind her like a gunshot.

Lisa didn’t follow. She slumped onto the bottom step, head in her hands.

Carla appeared in the doorway finding Lisa sat on the step.

“I can’t deal with her Carla - She was with him after all we’ve said,” Lisa said flatly.

“Mason?”

Lisa nodded.

“And?” Carla asked cautiously. It was clear she’d walked into something given the atmosphere and the fact it looked like Lisa had been crying.

Lisa looked up, eyes dark. “I think we’re in trouble.”

Chapter 2: Mattys Shadow

The morning light spilled through the window into the flat, as Carla filled the kettle. Lisa sat at the table, staring at her laptop, her eyes heavy from a sleepless night.

Carla said nothing at first. She knew the look—knew when silence was safer than sympathy and had spent the night next to Lisa tossing and turning.

“I should’ve told her,” Lisa said eventually, voice flat. “From the start - then maybe she wouldn’t have fallen so hard.”

Carla turned, leaning against the counter. “Shes a teenager with her first proper boyfriend. It’s normal to disapprove. What should you have told her.”

Lisa hesitated. Then, as if peeling off a plaster, she spoke.

“Matty Radcliffe. Mason’s brother - well one of them. The families full of wrong uns. He was part of a case I worked on—years ago now. It was Armed robbery and arson attacks. One instance involved two pensioners who were beaten, robbed and then left left to burn. It was on the news - a brother and sister in their 60s. The fella, Alfie Grimshaw—he died a few weeks later. And the sister she never really recovered.”

Carla’s face fell. She remembered the Grimshaws - it was awful. No one could believe something so horrible had happened in such close proximity to Weatherfield.

Lisa pushed her tea away. “Matty was clever. Covered his tracks for months. But he slipped up, eventually. I was the arresting officer. I still remember the look on his face when I put the cuffs on. Like I’d betrayed him.”

“You knew him?” Carla asked.

Lisa nodded. “He was one of the kids we tried to help. He was known to us. Him and his brothers. Deadbeat parents and a life of crime that was inevitable. They were In and out of trouble, but Marty was always charming. I wanted to believe he could change.” She huffed a bitter laugh. “We all did.”

“And now Mason’s with Betsy.”

Lisa nodded. “I see the same eyes. Same charm. But I also see the edge.”

Carla sat opposite her. “He isn’t Matty though Lisa?.”

“No. But Matty’s out soon and who know they’re cut from the same cloth. It’s only a matter of time before they all fall back into that world.”

There it was. The real fear. “And if he drags Mason back in… there’s a real chance Betsy gets caught in the middle—”

She broke off. Carla reached across the table and placed her hand over Lisa’s.

“Well - we will keep our eyes and ears and we stay involved. She’s a good kid - and Mason - maybe he won’t stray back. Tim’s given him a chance at the garage and he’s a place to stay now. So we could be worrying over nothing. I’m proof you can leave that world behind you”

⸻

Elsewhere, that same morning… Mason scrubbed grease from his hands at the garage sink, jaw clenched tight. The clink of tools and steady hum of the radio filled the air, but he barely heard it.

Tim leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. “You alright, kid? Seem quiet”

“Fine,” Mason muttered, drying his hands on an oily rag.

Tim frowned. “You’ve been jumpy all morning,m. Mason didn’t answer. He turned away, fiddling with a broken indicator that didn’t need fixing. Tim waited quietly, he could tell Mason wanted to talk.

“Matty’s out soon,” he said finally. Quiet. Like saying it out loud made it more real.

Tim exhaled slowly. “Right.”

“He’ll find me. He always does.”

Tim hesitated. “You gonna tell him you’re working here?”

“No,” Mason said quickly. “He’d just use it. Pull me into something. He always does.”

Tim stepped forward, more serious now.

“You’re not that lad anymore. You’ve been grafting, staying out of trouble. That’s not nothing. You’re one of the best workers I’ve had here for a long time and you’ve a home with me and Sal as long as you need. You hear me.”

“He doesn’t care,” Mason said. “To Matty, I’m still his little brother and the kid who owes him favours - blood is blood.”

“Then maybe it’s time to stop paying,” Tim said, and gave him a firm nod. “And if he shows up, you come to me. Alright?”

Mason nodded, but didn’t look convinced. As Tim walked away, Mason glanced at his phone. No messages.

He opened one from Betsy—just a photo of her sketching in the park, grinning at the camera.

He smiled… then deleted it. Just in case.

⸻

That night, in her room, Betsy stared at her phone.
No reply from Mason. Not since her mum had shouted at him in the street.

She bit her lip and typed:

“Still thinking about you.”
“Don’t let her scare you off.”

She hovered over the send button…
Then closed the app and turned out the light.

Chapter 3: A Question of Trust

Tim’s voice carried over the street fence like it always did—loud, matey, confident. Lisa was heading to Roy’s.

“Oi, The Swainy!!” he grinned. “You got a minute?”

Lisa raised an eyebrow, smirking despite herself. “That nickname’s getting old, Metcalfe.”

Tim had his arms folded. “So’s your grudge against Mason Radcliffe.”

Lisa tensed immediately. “You don’t know him like I do.”

“No, but I know what I’ve seen,” Tim said calmly. “He shows up on time and he is a grafter. He says ‘thank you’ when I hand him a bacon butty as despite everything still has decent manners. That’s more than I can say for some of the little scrotes we’ve had through the garage on so called apprenticeships.”

Lisa didn’t reply, so he continued, quieter now.

“Look, Sal and I were the ones who gave him the job. We’re not stupid you know. We know who his brother is. But he isn’t Matty. He’s a kid trying not to become him and despite all that he’s faced follow a different path to the rest of his family.”

Lisa’s jaw tightened.

“And your Betsy’s a smart girl,” Tim added. “If you push too hard, you’ll lose her trust, I know all about teenaged daughters to.”

That hit deeper than she expected. She forced a smile. “Thanks, Tim. I’ll bear it in mind.”

⸻

Meanwhile…

Betsy perched on the edge of a rusted workbench, swinging her legs as Mason wiped oil from his hands. The garage was quiet; the older mechanics had gone home, and Tim was off on a parts run.

“My mum hates me being here,” she said, looking around. “With you.”

“Yeah, I have noticed,” Mason said, smirking.

She nudged him with her foot. “She thinks you’re going to drag me into a life of crime.”

“Oh, well I am corrupting you,” he teased and kissed her. “Look at you—skipping school lunches, getting grease on your jeans…”

She smiled, then grew serious. “You’d tell me, wouldn’t you? You know if Matty tried getting back in touch, dragging you into something?”

Mason paused, then looked her straight in the eye. “I’m not going back to that. Not for Matty. Not for anyone. I’ve something good going on here, the job, Tim and Sal looking out for me. I’m not going to ruin that.”

Betsy reached out and laced her fingers through his.

“Then I believe you.”

⸻

Later that evening, at home…

Carla poured a glass of wine and leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Lisa pace from kettle to fridge and back again like she was casing a crime scene.

“Babe, You’re wound up tighter than a spring,” Carla said casually.

“It’s Betsy,” Lisa muttered.

Carla raised her eyebrows. “Thought we talked about this. Mason’s been working hard. He’s not perfect, but he’s does seem to be trying. I recognise the upbringing he’s had and can see he’s trying to make good. It’s possibly you know”

“It’s not just him,” Lisa snapped, then sighed. “It’s Betsy as well. She’s not my baby anymore. She lies to me without blinking. She hides where she’s been. I used to know everything”

Carla gave a small smile. “Maybe that’s the problem.”

Lisa frowned.

“You have spent her whole life keeping her safe,” Carla said gently. “But you can’t protect her from growing up. Or from making her own mistakes - do you not remember being a teenager Lisa.”

Lisa crossed her arms. “So what? I should just let her walk into the traffic?”

“No - not at all.” Carla said. “But maybe instead of putting up roadblocks, try walking beside her. Ask, not accuse.”

Lisa looked away, jaw clenched.

“You think I’m overreacting.”

“No,” Carla said softly. “I think you’re scared. And I think this has less to do with Mason Radcliffe… and more to do with Betsy not needing you the same way she used to.”

That silence stretched for a long moment.

“Pour me one of those,” Lisa muttered finally, nodding at Carla’s glass.

Carla smirked. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter 4: Second Chances

Summary:

Mason gets a chance

Lisa didn’t like it. And she wasn’t pretending otherwise. But, after a long (and slightly wine-fuelled) conversation with Carla the previous evening, she’d agreed to one thing: Mason Radcliffe could have a chance. A controlled, monitored, short leash chance. And it was a one off! He blew this that was it.

“Rules,” Lisa had said, arms folded. “And boundaries.” Carla had smirked in response. “Sounds like you’re getting a new puppy.”

Lisa wasn’t amused. But she’d promised for the sake of her relationship with her daughter she’d have to!

⸻

The Dinner

Mason turned up early. That, Lisa grudgingly noted, was a good start. He looked nervous enough to throw up on the doorstep. Carla smiled and let him upstairs at the flat before Lisa could interrogate him like she was in the interview room at work.

The dinner itself was… awkward. Like everyone was waiting for something to explode. Betsy sat glued to Mason’s side, determined to prove a point Lisa wasn’t even sure of anymore. To be fair to Carla, she had tried to help, keeping conversation moving filling any awkward silences.

“So, Mason… Tim says you’re decent with engines?” Carla asked after yet another silence. Mason nodded, then surprised them both by actually speaking.

“Yeah. I’ve been helping him out - Just part-time. Him and Sal; they’ve been really good to me”

“Good lad it’s always worth getting a trade behind you,” Carla said lightly, ignoring Lisa’s unimpressed expression.

Then Mason did something unexpected. He started talking.

“Matty taught me when we were kids on the estate. There were always motors knocking about”

Lisa stiffened. Even Mattys name made her shudder.

“He used to look after me - Matty did. Before he… got into things and led astray.”

Carla met Lisa’s eye across the table. A silent message: Listen - and don’t jump in all detective swain mode!

“When my dad left, Matty stepped up. I thought he was a legend. But - well then he changed.”

Betsy squeezed his hand under the table. Mason glanced quickly across at Lisa before looking down and replying:

“I’m not like him - I’m not.”

There was Silence.

Lisa cleared her throat.

“We’ll see.”

Mason just nodded. “Thanks for the meal Mrs C, it’s lovely” Betsy gave him a look to indicate stopping talking!

⸻

Later That Night

Betsy had barely closed the bathroom door before Lisa knocked and walked in behind her.

“Mum, seriously - a bit of privacy please?”

“We’re talking. Now.”

Betsy groaned. She had a feeling this was about to get awkward. Lisa stood there, arms folded, face grim.

“Look… I know you and Mason are… involved.”

Betsy blinked. “Mum—stop”

“Don’t interrupt me. I know I’m supposed to be cool about this, but you’re my daughter, and frankly, I’m not cool.”

Betsy’s stomach dropped. She could see where this was going.

“We need to talk about protection, you’re using protection, arent you?”

“What? Seriously!”

Lisa’s face reddened. “When you’re… sleeping together.”

Betsy gaped. “OMG - why would you assume that - We’re not.”

“Betsy.”

“Mum, seriously! We’re not. Ok”

Lisa frowned. “But—you’re always with him. And sneaking around”

Betsy’s cheeks flushed.

“That’s because I know you hate him. Look - I’m not saying it wasn’t going to happen. But it didn’t. It wasn’t right.”

Lisa blinked. “Oh.”

“We just… talked.”

Lisa, surprised and relieved, felt something else too—ashamed.

“I jumped to conclusions.”

“No kidding.”

“I just… want you to be safe.”

Betsy crossed her arms. “Then stop treating me like I don’t know anything.”

Lisa’s walls cracked. “That’s fair enough. When did you get so smart and grown up.”

A pause. Then, unexpectedly, they both smiled. Awkward, but real.

⸻

In the living room Carla was sipping wine on the sofa, she looked up when Lisa slumped down beside her.

“Sorted?”

Lisa gave her a look. “I thought she was sleeping with him.”

Carla snorted into her glass. “Oh!…God, you’re so predictable.”

“Oh Shut up. That was single handedly one of the most awkward conversations of my life! Oh how did I get to the teen daughter stage!”

Carla laughed softly imaging Lisa’s conversation upstairs, and—for once—Lisa let herself join in.

Chapter 5: The Scare

Betsy winced as the door to the flat clicked shut behind her. She slipped her trainers off and tiptoed across the flat towards her room. The flat was still—lights out, no footsteps. She exhaled, ready to open her bedroom door when—

“Betsy?”

She jumped out of her skin. “Jesus!”

“Nope, just me” Carla stood in the doorway, hair messy, holding a water glass and a packet of painkillers. Her expression softened from confusion to realisation within seconds. “Where’ve you been?”

Betsy froze. “Just… out.” Carla raised one eyebrow. “Don’t insult me kid”

Betsy’s face flushed. “Alright - I was at Mason’s.” Carla nodded slowly, unscrewing the tap and filling her glass. “Figured.”

“You’re not going to tell Mum, are you?” Carla took the tablet, winced, then looked up at her.

“Not unless I’ve got reason to.”

Betsy hesitated. Then, barely audible: “We were careful.” Carla leaned against the counter, arms folded. “Well good. That’s something.”

A long silence settled between them.

Then Carla said, without looking at her, “are you okay?” Betsy nodded too quickly and Carla tilted her head in response “…You don’t look it.”

Betsy shrugged, eyes glassy. “It’s just… weird, I guess. Doing something that adult.”

Carla smiled faintly. “Yeah. It is.” For a second, Carla’s expression changed—something private flickering in her eyes.

“I wasn’t,” she said quietly.

Betsy frowned. “Wasn’t what?”

Carla shook her head, brushing it off. “Never mind.”

She reached over and tucked a bit of Betsy’s hair behind her ear.

“Come on - go to bed - let’s get some sleep.” Betsy nodded and turned away. But the knot in her stomach didn’t ease.

⸻

The next morning Betsy’s phone buzzed that was on the side of her bed. She was half-awake, curled on her side, trying to ignore the early light. She picked the phone up and saw Masons name light up

Mason (🖤):

Bets. Need to tell you something.

She rubbed her eyes and called him. “Mase, it’s so early!”

His voice was low, strained.

“I need to tell you something. The condom. I think it split.”

The world lurched. Betsy sat up quickly, “What? What do you mean”

“I didn’t notice until this morning. When I was cleaning up and it was light. Look I’m so sorry.”

She was shaking now. “Mason, this wasn’t supposed to happen - What am I supposed to do?”

“Pharmacy. Morning after pill. Soon as you can.”

“I don’t even know where to go.”

“Bets - I’ll come pick you up we can go together?”

But she’d already hung up. She opened her messages to her mum. Typed:
Mum. I need to talk to you. It’s important.

Quickly, she deleted it. She stared at the screen. Then got dressed, shoved her hands into her pockets, and walked out.

⸻

Across Coronation Street at Underworld Carla was alone, behind her desk, sipping a coffee and scanning emails. She looked up as Betsy stepped in.

“Well good morning, didn’t think I’d see you this side of lunchtime.”

Betsy closed the door. She didn’t speak.

Carla watched her closely. “What’s happened?”

Betsy swallowed hard, then whispered, “I think - actually it’s nothing.” She stood up quickly

Carla stood up “sit down, what is it love” she slowly set down her mug.

“Mason called. I think I need the morning after pill, but I don’t know what to do. Can you help me”

Then she stood, came around the desk put her hand on Betsy’s shoulder, and just said, “Okay.” No shock. No lecture.

Just: “Come on. Let’s go now.”

⸻

They sat in silence in Carla’s car outside the pharmacy. Betsy picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. Carla said quietly, “ I’m glad you came to me.”

“I almost called Mum.” But freaked out.

Carla waited.

“I didn’t think she’d… be like you.”

Carla gave her a small, sad smile. “She’d panic. Probably shout…. A lot. But then she’d still help.”

Betsy bit her lip. “I don’t want her to be disappointed in me. We were careful, I was ready it just well”

Carla rested a hand on hers. “She already thinks the world of you. That won’t change you’ll always be her little girl. And Betsy, please don’t beat yourself up about it, these things happen. What matters is what you did afterwards”

Betsy nodded slowly.

“I’ve booked you in at the GP too. For the pill. We’ll say it’s for something else if you want.”

“Thanks. Yeah, I think that’s good idea”

“And Betsy?”

“Yeah?”

“You should still talk to your mum. It’s better coming from you.”

Betsy looked away. “I will. Just… not yet.”

Carla squeezed her hand once, then let go.

Chapter 6: Pressure Points

Matty Radcliffe was back. He didn’t knock or ring he just arrived—outside the garage, lounging against the brick wall like he’d never left, like the last three years inside had been a bad dream.

Mason was about to lock up. He turned and saw Matty from the forecourt and froze. His whole body turned cold. Matty grinned.

“Alright, little bro?”

Mason didn’t smile back. “What are you doing here? I’ve told you, I don’t want to see you”

Matty pushed off the wall. “Now then, that’s not very nice is it! I’ve just got out. Thought I’d check in on the little bro. A nice little family reunion and all that.”

Mason glanced toward the door. “You can’t just show up.”

“Relax.” Matty clapped him on the shoulder, hard enough to sting. “You’re looking good bro. Clean. Got your head down.”

Mason nodded tightly. “I have - well I’m trying to.”

Matty leaned in, voice lower now. “Good. Because I need someone I can trust.”

Mason’s stomach twisted. “I’m not doing anything, Matty. I told you—”

“Stop panicking! It’s nothing heavy. Just a job. Quick. In and out.”

Mason stepped back. “No. This is how it always starts, now if you don’t mind I’ve places to be.”

Matty’s smile dropped. His voice changed—cold and flat. “Don’t make me ask twice. You head off to see the pretty blonde? I’ll be back tomorrow to sort the details - and Mason. You’d better be here.”

Mason stood frozen as his brother walked off, whistling like nothing had happened

Over at Carla’s flat Lisa had just arrived home. Lisa wasn’t meant to be home yet. She’d headed back early - feeling sick. Must have been dodgy chicken salad coincided with a pounding headache. She must have looked rough as even Kit had provided some sympathy.

The flat was quiet. She dumped her bag in the hallway, headed for the kitchen, and pulled open the medicine cupboard. Empty. Of course it was! Grumbling, she trudged into the bathroom to check the cabinet over the sink but still couldn’t find any paracetamol or anything that may help. Finally, about to give up home she spotted Betsy’s bag slumped over the side of the sofa.

Lisa rifled through it without guilt. That’s what mums did. Notebooks. Lip balm. Chewing gum. And then…
A small box. Crumpled. The pharmacy label still faintly visible.

Her heart stopped.

Levonorgestrel – Emergency Contraceptive Pill.
⸻

Ten Minutes Later Betsy pushed open the front door, back from walking to the shop for some emergency chocolate. Lisa stood in the living room, arms folded, pale.

“Where did you get it?”

Betsy blinked. “Get what?”

Lisa threw the box down on the table. “Don’t play dumb with me Betsy.”

Betsy’s face crumpled. “You went through my bag - mum, that’s bang out of order!”

Lisa’s voice was raised now “I was looking for painkillers!” Silence crackled between them. Then, Lisa’s voice dropped, hoarse. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

Betsy swallowed. “Because I knew how you’d react. It wasn’t to hurt you, I promise”

“I wouldn’t have shouted….” Lisa continued

“You’re shouting now!”

Lisa’s hands trembled. “You’re my daughter. I should’ve been the one you turned to, you shouldn’t have had to deal with this on your own.”

She stopped. Betsy’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t on my own.” Betsy hesitated, then continued. “I went to Carla. She took me to the pharmacy and she made the appointment. She was brilliant. Please don’t be angry with her”

Lisa’s face twisted. “She had no right to. She’s lied to me.”

“It wasn’t literally this morning. She was there when I needed someone! And she’s begged I tell you. I knew you would overreact”

“She’s not your mother!” Lisa was really shouting now, hurting.

“You weren’t there!” Betsy shouted back. That landed like a punch.

Betsy instantly backtracked. “I didn’t mean it like that—”

Lisa’s voice cracked. “Yes, you did. She shouldn’t be interfering”

“She wasn’t interfering, she was helping because I asked her to!”

The door opened.

Carla stepped in, dumping her bag. “What’s going on? Can hear you two down the street. I thought you were on a late shift?”

Lisa rounded on her like a storm. “You knew. You let me walk around this house like an idiot while you handled it behind my back.”

“She knows, found the pill in my bag.”

Carla looked between them, stunned. “Oh, Lisa look—”

“She’s my daughter Carla!”

“I know, And she needed help!”

“But It wasn’t your place!”

Carla’s voice dropped, suddenly sharp. “And what, exactly, is my place, Lisa?”

Silence.

Lisa’s mouth opened. Closed. Then finally, bitterly: “You’ve got no idea what it’s like. You haven’t raised a child. Not really.”

Carla flinched like she’d been slapped.

Betsy gasped. “Mum!”

Carla stood still for a moment. Then she quietly picked up her bag and walked out the front door without another word. The silence in the house was unbearable.

“That was so below the belt,” Betsy whispered, tears streaming. “You don’t know what she’s been through. Why are you like this. You hurt everybody!”

Lisa stared at the door. “I didn’t mean it. I just…”

She trailed off.

Then Betsy’s phone rang - Mason. She answered, still crying.

“Bets—I’m sorry. I have to go. I can’t stay here. Matty’s not going to let it go.”

“What do you mean, go?”

“I’m leaving. I just—I needed to say goodbye. I’m leaving and I’m sorry. I’ve got Tims car and I’m getting far far away.

“Mason—please. Wait - I’ll be there in 5, please let me say goodbye.”

The line went dead. Betsy ran out of the flat. Lisa sat down slowly onto the sofa before breaking down. The realisation Betsy was right - she was pushing everyone away.

Chapter 7: The Wreckage

The car was crushed around them like a steel coffin. The bonnet was folded up like origami, the driver’s side crumpled inwards from the impact with a tree. Mason’s legs were pinned beneath the twisted frame, the dash pressing into his chest. His face was slick with blood, eyes glassy but open. Betsy gasped, coughing on smoke and the sharp, acrid tang of leaking fuel.

“Mason?”

He blinked slowly. “Still here.”

She reached for him, panicked. “You’re stuck—we have to get you out.”

“Window,” he croaked. “You get out and get some help. There’s a main road - just up there.”

Her side of the car had taken less of the hit, though glass was shattered everywhere. Betsy reached up with trembling hands, shoved at the cracked door. It groaned but didn’t budge. Then she pushed herself through the smashed window, jagged edges catching her jacket and skin. She landed hard in the muddy ditch, her ankle buckling under her. Pain shot through her leg. Her palms were raw. Blood trickled down the side of her head. But she didn’t stop. She crawled up the embankment, crying out with every movement and groaning in pain.

She followed the track up to the main road. The road was silent. Empty. She passed the other car, Tim’s car, that Matty must’ve stolen was vacant. He’d be long gone by now. Her phone slipped out of her shaking hands three times before she managed to unlock it. No signal. “Nooo, someone help me please.” Betsy staggered onto the road, screaming for help.

A short time later, they for Betsy felt like an age, headlights appeared. There was a car heading towards her. A silver SUV slowed, pulling up at the sight of a bloodied teenager stumbling along the road, clutching her side and sobbing.

A woman in her fifties jumped out first. “Oh my God—are you hurt?”

Betsy collapsed to her knees. “It’s my boyfriend—he’s trapped—we crashed—please—he’s really hurt!”

“Peter, go! She said someone’s still down there! Ok, I’m Melanie. I’m going to call an ambulance and get some help Ok?” The woman pulled her mobile out, hands steady despite her panic. “Ambulance please. Yes there’s been a crash. Just off the main road by the woods near Lower Farm Lane. A young girl has an head injury and is out of the vehicle and a boy—he’s trapped I believe. My husbands gone to see if he can get to him” Betsy nodded, grateful the couple had stopped.

Meanwhile, Peter sprinted down into the ditch, navigating the debris-strewn slope. “Mason?” he shouted. “Hey—can you hear me?!” As the Good Samaritan got to the car the only reply was the hiss of steam and the creak of metal. Inside the wreck, Mason’s head lolled to the side, breaths shallow.

Then—nothing.

⸻

8:17 PM – Emergency Services Arrive

Blue lights flooded the scene. Paramedics rushed to the vehicle, pushing Peter aside gently. “He’s not responding.” One paramedic climbed into the wreck through the broken window. “No pulse. No response.”

“Starting CPR.”

Betsy and the lady who had stopped to helped were watching on in disbelief. It was a terrible sight. The paramedics moving at speed.

“No! No, no, no—MASON!” Betsy screamed, struggling against the medic trying to hold her back. Her voice cracked with desperation. “DO SOMETHING!”

“Let then do their jobs sweetheart,” Melanie said firmly “you never told me your name? I think we should get someone to look at you as well?”

“It’s Betsy” Betsy collapsed against the older woman, sobbing into her coat as the sirens blared and uniforms moved like clockwork around the carnage. “I want my Mum 😢” Betsy cried.

She didn’t see the police photographing the scene.
She didn’t hear the words: possible pursuit.
She just kept whispering: “Please don’t die. Please don’t die.”

⸻

8:31 PM – Lisa and Carla’s Flat

It was still quiet at the flat. Lisa’s phone rang on the kitchen counter. She didn’t recognise the number but answered instantly. Her face drained. Carla looked up from the sink.

“What is it?” Carla replied. Already moving at speed across the room to hold onto Lisa, who looked like she’d seen a ghost.

Lisa’s voice was barely a whisper. “There’s been an accident. They said—Betsy… and Mason… a crash.”

Carla was already grabbing her keys. “Where?”

“Somewhere out towards Cheshire.”

Lisa’s legs buckled, and Carla caught her without thinking.

“I have to get to her,” Lisa gasped. “There going to countess of Chester Hospital”

“Come on - I’ll drive. We’d better tell Tim and Sally”

They left the flat and headed into the unknown.

Chapter 8: Storm Front

Carla and Lisa ran down the stairs and out the door as fast as their legs could carry them. Carla banged on Tim and Sally’s door like her hands were on fire. “Tim, TIM” Carla shouted

Tim answered, hair rumpled, dressing gown half-on. “Carla? Where’s the fire!”

“It’s Mason,” Carla said breathlessly. “There’s been a crash. He’s in hospital. Betsy too. We’re on our way, thought you should know”

Sally appeared behind him, hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. Are you ok?”

Tim’s face drained of colour. “Where—what happened?”

“I don’t know detail” Carla said. “But you’d better come - it sounded bad. They’re on their way to Chester Hospital.”

He turned to grab his keys, then paused. “Wait—my car’s gone.” Carla and Lisa exchanged a look. Lisa’s stomach dropped.

“No,” she murmured. “He didn’t…”

“There’s no time to go over that now. You two best jump in with us”

Tim didn’t finish the thought and agreed with Carla. “Let’s go.”

The windscreen wipers struggled against the downpour, sheets of rain thrashing the car as it sped through the dark. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. Carla leaned forward in her seat, eyes on the road, jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

Lisa sat beside her, white-knuckled and silent, staring at the dashboard like it might somehow make time go faster.

“She has to be okay,” Lisa whispered. “She has to.”

Carla didn’t respond. She didn’t trust her voice. Sally sat in the back seat gently placed her hand on Lisa’s shoulder. The gesture saying more than any words could. Lisa gripped it. Terrified.
⸻

The car ride was cramped and silent, the rain hammering down like it was trying to drown the world.

“Where were they going.” Sally finally asked. “It’s miles away.”

“No one knows,” Carla replied. “No one knows why they were out there. Or what happened. We just need to get there.”

Lisa’s mind raced with possibilities. She’d been so caught up in her own anger—had she missed something? Was Mason running from something? She couldn’t bare the last thing they did had been an argument, she’d said some awful things to Carla and Betsy. It couldn’t be happening again could it.

⸻

Meanwhile at the Countess of Chester Hospital in the Emergency Wing the white lights were blinding.
Betsy sat curled in a plastic chair in the waiting room, a blanket draped over her shoulders, a cup of untouched tea trembling in her hands. The doctors had rushed Mason somewhere, she didn’t know if he was dead or alive.

Her jeans were soaked with blood and rain. Her lip was split. She hadn’t said a word since they brought her in. She looked up when she heard the footsteps. Lisa was running down the corridor. Sally, Tim and Carla all following.

“Mum…”

Lisa didn’t wait. She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around her daughter, holding her like she might disappear. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Betsy buried her face in her mother’s coat and sobbed. Carla stood frozen for a moment, then sat beside them, one hand resting on Betsy’s shoulder.

“Where’s Mason?” Tim asked one of the nurses at the desk. “Mason Radcliffe. He was brought in with the crash. We his guardians”

The nurse looked strained. “He’s in surgery.”

Sally stood nearby, twisting her hands together. “Can we see him?”

“I’m sorry. Not at the moment, they are working on him at the moment. I’ll make sure the doctors know that the family have arrived.”

⸻

40 Minutes Later A man in green scrubs appeared in the corridor. Mid-forties. Tired eyes. Blood on his sleeves.

He looked around and asked quietly, “Are you here for Mason Radcliffe?”

Everyone stood.

“I’m Mr Conway. I was one of the surgeons.”

He glanced at Betsy, then back to the adults.

“We did everything we could. But his injuries were… catastrophic. Internal bleeding. Major trauma to the chest and lower body. I’m so very sorry to inform you that Mason has died. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

The room froze. Sally covered her mouth with a cry and let out a scream. Tim slumped into a chair.

“No…” Betsy whispered. “No, no, no he can’t, no…. ”

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said again. “He didn’t suffer. He wouldn’t have felt—”

“STOP!” Betsy screamed suddenly, clutching her head. “Stop, please, stop talking!”

Lisa moved to hold her, but Betsy staggered back.

“Betsy, what is it love” Carla looked concerned.

The fluorescent lights seemed too bright. The noise too was too sharp. The pain bloomed behind her eyes like fireworks. She screamed out still holding her head. Eyes

“Betsy?” Carla said, stepping forward.

Betsy’s legs gave out.

She collapsed to the floor, her scream echoing down the sterile corridor.

Chapter 9: Aftermath

The waiting room felt like a different world—quiet, grey, and cold despite the humming radiators. The storm outside had eased into a persistent drizzle, but no one hadnoticed. Inside, the air was thick with unspoken questions and that horrible hospital smell.

Sally sat curled in on herself, her scarf pulled tight around her neck, tears tracking silently down her cheeks. She hasn’t been keen at first when Tim suggested allowing Mason to stay but she’d grown quite fond of him over the last few months. It was nice having a youngster in the house again. Tim leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees, staring at the scuffed floor tiles. “I don’t get it,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “Where was he going? What was he running from?”

No one had the answers. A police officer approached, a notebook tucked under his arm, his expression serious but not unkind. “Mr. Metcalfe?”

Tim stood, slowly. “Yeah? That’s me”

“We’re still trying to piece everything together, but your vehicle was involved in the incident. It appears the driver of your car fled the scene before we arrived. We’re currently trying to locate them.”

Tim blinked. “Wait—Mason wasn’t driving my car?”

“We located a wallet in the front seat and we have reason to believe it may have been Matty Radcliffe,” the officer said. “Mason’s brother. From the way the vehicles are positioned off the road it would seem there may have been a chase. We are continuing to examine the scene however it is proving difficult in this weather.”

Sally sucked in a breath. “Matty’s out?”

“Do you have any way of contacting him?” The police officer asked

“No,” Tim said. “God, no. I wouldn’t even know where to start. I know Mason wasn’t keen on seeing him again.”

“We’ll be in touch if we need more information. In the meantime, we’re doing everything we can. If you do get any word on Matty, do call as soon as you can.”

The officer moved on.

Tim sank back into his seat, stunned. Sally reached over and gripped his hand tightly. “He was trying to protect Betsy, wasn’t he? He was trying to get away.”

Tim gave a small, broken nod.

⸻

Lisa stood stiffly in the corner, arms folded tightly across her chest, watching the double doors that led to the theatre wing. Her stomach was in knots.

“She hasn’t woken up yet?” she asked quietly.

“No,” Carla said beside her. “They’re still running scans.”

Lisa swallowed hard, trying to steady her breathing. “I can’t… I can’t lose her Carla, I just can’t”

“You won’t,” Carla said, her voice firm. “Betsy’s tough.”

“So was Mason,” Lisa whispered. “And he’s currently on a slab in the mortuary. He was a kid Carla and I was so awful to him. Maybe if…..”

“Don’t,” Carla said. “Don’t what if - This isn’t your fault. It was an accident.” Before Lisa could reply, a doctor appeared through the doors—tired, kind-eyed, clipboard in hand.

“Ms Swain?” Both Lisa and Carla stepped forward.

“Betsy’s out of surgery,” he said. “She has a small bleed on the brain. We’re monitoring closely, but it’s not currently requiring further surgery.”

Lisa’s knees nearly buckled.

“We also discovered some internal bleeding in her abdomen. That’s been addressed—we’ve stopped the bleeding. She’s in recovery now. You can see her, but she’ll still be drowsy.”

“She’s going to be OK, Thank you Doctor,” Lisa whispered, her voice breaking. The doctor nodded and led them down the corridor.

⸻

Betsy looked so small in the hospital bed, pale and bruised. Like she did as little girl. There was a bandage on her head, an oxygen mask resting loosely against her face. Machines beeping softly around her. Lisa stepped in slowly, hesitating at the edge of the bed before sinking into the chair beside her. Her hand trembled as she reached out and took Betsy’s fingers in her own. Carla following close behind. Giving Lisa some space.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “You’re okay now, sweetheart. You’re safe.”

Carla stood quietly behind her, eyes glassy, arms wrapped around herself. Lisa didn’t look back, but her voice was thick with emotion.

“The events of today seem so ridiculous now. I am grateful you know. And thank you - For being there. For being the person she turned to; listening to her and taking her to the doctors. For knowing what to do and not shouting when I would’ve.”

Carla moved closer, resting a hand gently on Lisa’s shoulder.

“You’re allowed to be scared. So am I.” Carla replied gently.

“And I’m sorry, for what I said, about you and kids. Betsy, and I - we’re luck my to have you.”

Together, they sat in the silence, the machines beeping gently in the background, holding onto the girl they both loved as the storm slowly began to pass.

Chapter 10: Fallout

Summary:

Betsy comes round

Tim sat by the vending machine with a lukewarm tea cupped in his hands. He hadn’t spoken in a while. Not since the doctor’s words had settled in his chest like concrete.

“He was just a kid,” he said finally, voice rough. Sally, still beside him, wiped her nose on a tissue. “He wasn’t perfect, but… he was trying, wasn’t he?”

Tim nodded, his eyes glassy. “He was scared. I know he was. He showed it, Sal. That day in the garage—he looked over his shoulder like he was being hunted. I think he knew Matty was looking for him.”

“Do you think he’d been in contact?”

“Has to be. I should’ve… I don’t know. Locked the car. Done something….”

“No, Don’t Tim.” Sally said gently. “Don’t do that. We’re not doing that, what we could have done. Mason knew what you thought of him”

Tim blinked hard, like it might stop the tears. “Didn’t do much though did it. As now he’s dead. Forever 17…”

They sat in silence, the quiet interrupted only by the soft hum of hospital machinery and the faint echoes of voices down the corridor.

⸻

In the recovery room, Betsy stirred. Lisa leapt up from the bedside chair, heart pounding. “Sweetheart?” Betsy’s eyelids fluttered open. Her gaze was hazy at first, then sharpened—and filled instantly with panic.

“Mason?”

Lisa paused. Carla stepped closer from the doorway, her expression soft, wary.

“Betsy…”

“Mason—no, where is he? I need—” Betsy tried to sit up, but the pain stopped her. She gasped, her face contorting.

Lisa held her hand, gently urging her back down. “Don’t move. You’re safe now. There was a crash… Mason, he…” but Lisa couldn’t finish.

Betsy’s eyes searched hers, desperate for the truth.

Carla stepped forward quietly. “Betsy. Mason died from his injuries as he got to hospital, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

The words didn’t seem to land at first. Then they did.

Betsy went quiet. Utterly still. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She turned her face away, slowly, like something inside her had been switched off. Closing her eyes she was back in the car. Looking across at Mason, as he talked her through getting out of the car.

“Betsy?” Lisa whispered. “Talk to me.”

Nothing. Just the beep of the monitor. The shallow rise and fall of her chest and her eyes tight shut.

⸻

Later that day, Betsy refused food. Wouldn’t speak. Wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. The nurse tried gently. So did Lisa. So did Carla.

Nothing.

Lisa paced the hospital corridor, her arms crossed tightly, eyes stinging.

“She won’t even look at me,” she said to Carla. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve always known how to help her. Even when she was little—when she scraped her knees, or had a nightmare—I always knew.”

Carla nodded, calm but pained. “You’re not supposed to know what to do with this kind of grief.”

Lisa looked at her. “She’s a kid Carla, and so was he”

Carla leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly. “When Liam died, it was like a part of me just… stopped. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t eat. I didn’t speak for days. And I was much older than Betsy. This—what she’s going through—it’s a storm. You can’t fix it. You can only wait it out with her.”

Lisa’s voice cracked. “But what if she never comes back from it?”

“She will,” Carla said quietly. “But it’ll leave a mark. That’s just grief. It changes you.”

Lisa looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Carla added, gently, “Just be here. That’s all you can do. Just love her through it.”

Lisa nodded, silent.

Inside the room, Betsy stared blankly at the window. The sky outside had cleared, but the storm inside her was just beginning.

Chapter 11: Standing Still

Summary:

Betsy struggles to come to terms with Masons death

The TV in the hospital lounge buzzed with reruns of sitcoms from 20 odd years ago and bargain advert jingles, but nobody was watching. Betsy stared through the screen as if she might melt into it. She hadn’t said much that morning, just mumbled that she was fine. That was the thing about being discharged. Just because someone in scrubs had decided you could go home it was assumed you were OK.

Lisa stood by the nurses’ station, scrolling through her phone. She left the hospital room earlier when Kit called. Betsy overheard something about tracking a dodgy number plate linked to a lock-up out in Prestwich. Betsy picked at the frayed hem of her hoodie, tuning her mum’s voice out.

Then:
“Mason Radcliffe was pronounced dead at the scene—”
Betsy’s head jerked up.

The news report played as if it were reading from someone else’s life.
“A 17-year-old boy has died following an accident on the A537 close to the Welsh border. Police are currently interested in locating the driver of a second vehicle that was also involved in the accident. Police are urging anyone who was in the vicinity who may have seen anything to call the below number. The victim has been named locally as Mason Radcliffe, a trainee mechanic. Also injured was a 16 year old female who is in hospital recovering from their injuries.”

Her throat dried. Static filled her ears. Her fingers curled into her palms, nails biting skin. The photo they used—a school photo—caught Mason mid-smirk, he’d have hated that photo! Lisa didn’t notice.

Carla did. She stepped closer, gently turning Betsy’s chair away from the screen. “Hey,” she said softly. “You ready to get out of here?” Betsy nodded. Didn’t trust herself to speak.

⸻

The car ride back to Weatherfield felt too bright. Outside, the world looked offensive in its normality—people walking dogs, cars honking, someone laughing on the other side of the street. Inside, it was quiet. Betsy pressed her forehead to the window, watching the blur of old brick and new builds as they headed back towards Wetherfield.

“Do you want to grab something to eat on the way?” Carla asked from the front passenger seat. Lisa was driving, still taking calls on speaker.
“No, I’m not hungry,” Betsy said. A lie. Her stomach ached, but the idea of chewing, of swallowing anything—it made her feel sick. Carla glanced back through the rearview mirror but said nothing.

⸻

Flashback.

They’d been at the canal behind the precinct. Mason had brought stale bread to throw at ducks and a bottle of cheap cider tucked in his hoodie. “You reckon we’ll ever be, like, normal?” he asked, chucking crusts at the water.
Betsy laughed. “What’s normal?”
He shrugged. “Like normal kids with a man, dad, brothers that love you. Not being the kid who’s mum OD’d, or who’s brothers in the nick!”
She smiled “hmm, or the one with dead mum”

Mason had offered her the bottle. “Go on. Who needs normal! We can be weird and stick together.”

⸻

The memory hit like a punch. Betsy blinked hard and looked out of the window again. She didn’t want to cry. The ache in her stomach twisted tighter. She could still hear the newsreader’s voice. Could still see his face in that photo.

Carla turned slightly in her seat. “What did you say, love? You sure you’re okay?”

“Fine,” Betsy said, more sharply than she meant to. Carla didn’t push it, but her eyes stayed on her just a little longer than before. Lisa ended her call. “We’ll be home soon. There’s some pasta left from last night if you want.”

“I said I’m not hungry,” Betsy snapped.
Silence.
“Alright, no need to bite my head off,” Lisa muttered.

Carla sighed. “It’s been a long day and night. It’s been a lot to process for everyone”

Betsy slumped further down into her seat. Her stomach growled softly—but she ignored it. She could go without. She had to. She didn’t deserve anything else.

Chapter 12: A New Normal

A week or so had passed a d Lisa had convinced Betsy to go back to college. Life had to go on. At college, Betsy drifted between lessons, not really taking anything in.

She didn’t sit with anyone. Didn’t answer questions. Didn’t even pretend to be present. She was sick of people saying they were sorry - sorry about what! No one gave him a chance when Mason was alive so why were they pretending that they did. She opened her textbooks so people wouldn’t ask questions, but she wasn’t reading—just staring through pages and AirPods in. She’d come across a podcast and some bloggers diarising their journeys with grief, it was nice to know she wasn’t totally alone even if they were behind a screen.

She opened her bag and saw the sandwich Lisa had packed for her. She couldn’t stomach eating, hadn’t been able to properly for week. The usual process was to sit in the canteen till just before the bell, then quickly head into the toilets whilst it was quiet before flushing the contents so it wouldn’t be found.

No one noticed. Not really. She made sure of it.

⸻

Flashback. Betsy closed her eyes and remember the last lunchtime she’d felt normal.

It had been raining - she didn’t want to go into college. She’d been having a bad spiral. But Mason said he had a car to drop off near the college. He’d picked her up before driving to towards the Park. He’d parked awkwardly across two bays and turned to her like it was a challenge. He was a terrible Parker!

“You good?” he’d asked.
“Nope,” she’d said honestly.
He’d looked at her for a second longer than she liked, then leant across her and opened the glove compartment.

“Dinner is served my lady!?”
Mason produced a Greggs sausage roll and a chocolate donut! Betsy laughed!
“Don’t say I don’t treat you!.”

It had worked. She was smiling!

⸻

Back in the present, Betsy didn’t go home after college. Didn’t text Lisa.m or Carla. Her mind wandering. She walked for hours until her legs ached and her thoughts blurred into grey static. She walked and walked and remembered happier times. Tomorrow was going to be the funeral, and Betsy didn’t want the day to come. So instead she kept walking and walking and avoided going home.
⸻

Meanwhile, at the station.

Lisa slapped a photo down on the desk. “That’s the third stolen car dumped near known drop sites, and guess whose name keeps coming up?”

Kit squinted. “Not a clue l - but your going to tell me!?”

“Young, Ricky Young. Got kids playing courier for him. They’ve been using vans to shift more than stolen phones.”

“Drugs?” Kit asked.

Lisa nodded. “Heavy stuff. Stuff Mason was starting to distance himself from. This might not just be a turf thing. This might be about control. Costello’s got phone records and CCTV placing Young with Matty Radcliffe the day of his release. They were getting ready for a big job. We get Young and we’re closer to Matty”

Kit glanced between Lisa and the images she’d put in front of her. “Think you may be onto something here. Good work - well get them Lisa. And how’s Betsy, funerals tomorrow isn’t it?”

Lisa exhaled, the air coming out of her like a punctured tyre. “It is - she’s Distant. But that’s normal for her. It’s hard to know what’s grief and what’s teenager.”

Kit didn’t look convinced. “And you?”

Lisa didn’t answer “I’m going to speak to Jess, we need all eyes looking for this vehicle”.

⸻

That night.

When Betsy finally came home, she didn’t say anything. Lisa was asleep on the sofa, the TV still playing an old episode of Silent Witness. It hadn’t taken long for Lisa to crash out, it had been a long day.

Betsy tiptoed into her room. She opened the bottom drawer of her wardrobe and pulled it out: the hoodie. Mason’s. Grey Oversized and Worn out. It still smelled faintly of his aftershave, the garage, and Lucozade! She curled up on her bed and slipped it on over her she didn’t bother brushing her teeth. Didn’t check her phone. Didn’t eat - She fell asleep with the hood pulled tight over her face, as if hiding from the world could bring him back.

Chapter 13: Black Clothes and Smudged Mascara

Summary:

The day of Masons Funeral arrives

[Betsy’s Private Journal Entry – written at 3:30am, the morning of the funeral]

Funerals are weird. You’re meant to cry but not too much. Wear black but don’t be too depressing. Say something deep and meaningful when all you want to do is scream. I keep thinking about Mason’s stupid laugh. Like when he couldn’t stop giggling because someone in the corner shop dropped a scotch egg and it bounced like a ball. Now it just feels like drowning. In slow motion. With people watching. And all of a sudden, something totally random like a greggs Sausage Roll has be crying.

Mum keeps asking if I’m “alright.” She hasn’t noticed I’ve not eaten since Thursday. But that’s fine. I don’t want to be noticed. Not really. I just want to disappear completely and maybe come back as someone who didn’t mess everything up.

I don’t know what to wear tomorrow. I don’t know what to say. I just want him back.

⸻

Betsy managed an hours sleep after her early morning journaling session. The pink journal and fluffy pen sat on top of a geography revision guide in the middle of Betsy’s desk. Carla had bought it - said it may help. Betsy didn’t believe her but thought she may as well give it a try.

The morning was grey. Not stormy and not dramatic—but dull. It felt typically Mancunian! Mason hated the rain - messed with his hair!

Betsy pulled on the biggest hoodie she could find—Mason’s, again—and layered a black bomber jacket over the top. Black jeans. Boots with mud still on them. Everything oversized, shapeless, like armour ready for the day ahead.

She avoided the kitchen. Lisa was making toast, humming absently. Betsy slipped past her like a ghost.

“Breakfast?” Lisa asked, not looking up.

“Not hungry; maybe later,” Betsy lied.

She didn’t even pause.

⸻

At the crem, Tim and Sally were waiting outside, there was a young lad she didn’t recognise, Carla, her mum and Billy ready to lead the service.

Not exactly full of people. Not like it was at her mums funeral. Where the streets where lined with people in uniform. Talking about what a great person she was. Betsy’s stomach clenched. Not from hunger—just pure revulsion.

Lisa stood stiffly at the back, eyes scanning the crowd. She wasn’t in mum mode. She was in copper mode—clearly on the lookout. Betsy sat near the aisle, far enough from the front to avoid eye contact but close enough and her getaway planned if it all got too much. Then, it was all over. The curtains closed and that was Mason gone for ever.

⸻

She couldn’t breathe. It started slow. The feeling of too many eyes. The heat under her jacket. The ringing in her ears.

She stood up too fast and bolted for the loos.

Inside, she slammed the stall door and sank to the floor. The tiles were cold. Her face burned.

Breathe.
You’re fine.
Just Breathe.
You’re not dying.
You’re fine.
You’re fine.
You’re—

She wasn’t. She wasn’t fine. And this was a new, scary feeling.

Her chest heaved. Fingers numb. She clawed at her sleeves, trying to get out of her jacket but couldn’t—too tight, too hot, too much.

The door creaked open.

“Betsy?”

Carla’s voice. Sharp and warm all at once. Betsy didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer.

Carla didn’t knock. She sat on the floor just outside the stall. “I can’t see you, love, but I can hear you. You’re okay. You’re having a panic attack. It’ll pass. I promise.”

Betsy pressed her forehead to her knees.

“I can’t breathe.”

“You can. Just not how you’re used to. It’s like… like your body’s having a row with your brain. Happens to the best of us. Even me.”

Carla’s voice stayed low. Calm. Like she wasn’t fazed by it. Like it was normal. She put her hand under the toilet door, and Betsy held it. Eventually, her breath slowed.

She opened the stall. Carla stood up with a packet of tissues and a bottle of water like some kind of goth fairy godmother. How did she look so good at a funeral.

“Don’t say anything,” Betsy mumbled, wiping her face.

“It’s Normal Betsy, you’ve been through something huge,” Carla said. “But for what it’s worth… you’re not alone. Alright?”

Betsy nodded, too exhausted to argue.

⸻

Outside, Lisa was still trailing a lad in a grey tracksuit who’d arrived late. She didn’t even notice Betsy had gone until after the service.

Later, she found her in the car, silent, face pale but calm.

“You okay?” Lisa asked.

Betsy shrugged.

Lisa didn’t push.

Carla, from the back seat, met Betsy’s eyes in the mirror. Just a flicker of understanding passed between them.

⸻

Back in the safety net of her own bedroom Betsy picked up the pen.

What a weird day. I don’t like funerals. Today though was the first time I realised Carla Connor might actually get it. Like really get it.

She ended with a doodle or two hands holding and a love heart.

Chapter 14: Breaking Point

Summary:

Lisa and Kit make a breakthrough with the case. Betsy lashes out at Lisa.

At the police station Lisa was reviewing CCTV footage of the youth shed spotted at Masons funeral. Kit arrived shortly after looking pretty pleased with himself. “What’s that” he asked Lisa, overlooking her footage currently on the screen.

“It’s the abandoned petrol station with a history of dodgy deals. The one down Coles Hill Road, just off the estate. I’m sure I’ve spotted the kid that turned up at masons funeral”

“Pause it there,” he said, pointing to the screen. “Go back.”

Lisa leaned in.

Matty Radcliffe. Clear as day, hoodie up but face visible for a split second as he looked up at a passing van.

“Bingo,” Kit muttered. “And there, is our little mate from the funeral. I’ll run a check on that reg but I’d say they’ll be two more stolen vehicles. We find that car I reckon we get them Matty and which other scumbags they’ve got running a teenage crime ring.”

Lisa knew he was right, but before she had chance to reply her phone rang.

Back in Weatherfield the flat was silent. Not a peaceful silence either— that thick, charged silence that usually came before something exploded.

Betsy was in her room, door slammed, music barely playing — just loud enough to suggest life, not loud enough to invite questions.

Lisa arrived home full of anger. She wasn’t stupid. She knew Betsy hadn’t been to college that day. She’d kind of been expecting the call from college, the third time this week was a little bit unexpected.

Lisa didn’t wait for an answer. She pushed the door open. Betsy lay on the bed, hoodie up, knees tucked under her. Her laptop glowed with an empty Word document. The cursor blinked like it was mocking her.

“You didn’t go in today.”

Betsy didn’t move. “Wasn’t feeling it.”

“You’ve not been in all week.”

“So? you don’t care?”

Lisa blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re suddenly noticing me not going to school, but you’ve hardly noticed me for the last three weeks, did you? You were too busy chasing drug dealers to realise your own daughter was falling apart!”

Her voice cracked halfway through, but the fury in it made up for the wobble.

Lisa’s jaw tightened. “That’s not fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is you being more of a cop than a mum. Mason died. I’m grieving, or did that not make it into your little investigation file?”

“That’s not—”

“Yeh I know - it’s not fair! Well life isn’t fair at the moment! You never see me! You didn’t see me at the funeral!” Betsy shouted. “You didn’t see me panic, or run, or cry in a toilet because you were too busy watching some scrote in a tracksuit!”

Lisa took a breath. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“Protect me, pull the other one. It’s a joke. You were the same when mum died. DS Swain comes out and mum and Lisa disappears. You’re so predictable mam”

Lisa looked gutted. Truly gutted. But she didn’t know how to say the right thing, so she turned away instead and proving Betsy right left to head back to work.

Later that evening, Kit and Lisa’s made a move.

They’d had notice of the same beat-up Vauxhall Corsa, parked on an estate notorious for being Radcliffe turf, was flagged as stolen. Two teenagers inside, one driving like he’d borrowed the car from Fast & Furious, the other clearly off his head.

When they stopped the car, Lisa yanked open the passenger door to be greeted by the teen from Masons funeral. The kid was barely 15. Shaking, muttering about not knowing anything. The other, the driver, was long gone.

Kit searched his backpack, he found it — tightly packed wraps, at least twenty — stashed inside a pack of Quavers and taped under the lining. Class A. No doubt. “Well well well, what have we here.”

The kid broke. Told them he was “running” for Matty, said if he didn’t, he’d get “done in.” Said Mason tried to get out — and that’s when everything started going wrong.

Lisa looked at Kit, eyes hard. “We’ve got him.”

Back at home carla finished work and returned to the factory with a bag of shopping and that no-nonsense face she wore like armour. She knocked on Betsy’s door to no reply. She peeked in and could see Bets fast asleep, clutching Masons hoody. She shut the door quietly and proceeded to make some tea. Around 9 the door opened.

“Where’ve you been”

Lisa tried to act like everything was fine. She always did. “Had a breakthrough, had to wait for an appropriate adult”

“You were meant to be here today Lisa, you said this morning?”

“I know but crime doesn’t stop because I’ve said I’ll be here for lunch”

“She’s skipping meals, Lisa. And college. And hasn’t seen fresh air in days”

“I know. I know; I just - I upset her whatever I do. So the way I can help is locking up Matty Radcliffe”

“She’s pale. She’s angry. And she’s shrinking into herself. That doesn’t just happen. That’s a scream for help. And she doesn’t need a police officer, she needs a Mam.”

Lisa sat heavily on the sofa. “She says I’m never here. That I missed everything.”

Carla softened, but only slightly. “Well, maybe she’s got a point.”

“I’m doing my job. If I back off now—”

“Mason’s dead, Lisa” Carla interrupted. “He’s dead, don’t push her away”

That shut Lisa up. Properly.

Carla took her hand. “You’re allowed to take the badge off when it’s your kid.” While one case was getting closer to being cracked wide open, Lisa couldn’t shake the feeling that her own daughter — the one person she should’ve known how to protect — was slipping further through her fingers.

Chapter 15: Control Freak

Betsy’s sitting on the floor, back against her bed, hair shoved into a messy ponytail with her journal and fluffy pen on her knee. Her eyes are ringed with exhaustion, but she brings herself to write. She didn’t know how and she didn’t know why but Carla was right, writing down her thoughts did seem to help.

So. Day… I dunno. Five? Of no proper meals. I don’t feel powerful. I thought I would. If I’m honest I feel like a half-inflated balloon someone’s left under a table after a party. All wrinkly, pointless and weird.

Still. There’s something satisfying about seeing the number go down. Not enough. Never enough. But lower.

Mother is still none the wiser. She says she’s “watching me closely.” However, as she’s clearly constantly thinking about work she didn’t notice me binning my dinner again. Or that I didn’t go to college (again!) Or that my body is trying to give up and I’m kind of… letting it - as I just don’t care anymore.

I miss Mason. But also I want to punch his ghost in the face for leaving me - for checking out, like mum did. I keep thinking if I make myself smaller, maybe it won’t hurt as much. Maybe I’ll vanish. Neatly. Quietly.

Anyway. That’s your trauma dump for today, diary. Like, comment, and subscribe for more spirals and starvation

She closed the diary and curls up in silence.

⸻

Meanwhile, Lisa was on the move over the other side of Manchester. The lead from the teen they’d arrested pointed them toward a disused warehouse on the edge of Salford — industrial estate, broken fences, the usual charm. Lisa tailed a scrawny runner on a battered bike, watched him slip through the back entrance. She was careful. Quiet. Professional. Until she blinked — and he was gone.

“Shit.”

By the time she circled the warehouse, all she found was a pile of dumped packaging, one glove, and the stench of cheap weed. It had been active. Recently. She knew it.

Her radio buzzed. Kit.

“I’ve got the kid in interview again. He says Mattys getting paranoid. There’s a big shipment coming, and he thinks he knows we’re watching him.”

Lisa exhaled through her teeth. “We are. He’s just not scared enough yet. Nothing here Gov; empty drugs packet and a kid on a bike that didn’t stop. I’ll head back and we can compare come up with plan B”

⸻

At Underworld, the machines hummed gently.

Carla had called Betsy in with zero fuss and even less pressure. A change of scenery should do her good.

“Could do with a hand,” she’d said casually. “Folding sample packs. Mindless, boring work. My favourite kind.”

Betsy didn’t ask why. Just shrugged and showed up.

She sat at a desk with a neat stack of fabric swatches. Her hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, she worked slowly but steadily. Carla made her a cuppa and brought a biscuit on the saucer. Didn’t say anything about it. Just left it there like it was no big deal.

Betsy ignored it for ten minutes.

Then ate it.

Quietly. No drama.

She finished the tea too.

Carla didn’t mention it — didn’t smile or comment — but she clocked it.

⸻

Later, Carla and Lisa sat in carlas office at Underworld. Lisa rubbed her face, looking worn down. “Carla, I’ve messed it up.”

Carla, putting her hand on Lisa’s gently replied. “You haven’t. Youre getting closing to getting one less scumbag off the streets.”

“I wasn’t. Not properly. Im buried in the case because it’s easier than coming home and seeing her fall apart. And I can even get that right. We were so close to a lead and I couldn’t catch him”

Carla gave her a look. “At least you admit it. And it’s not down to you to single handedly save the world”

“I keep telling myself she’s fine. That this is just a phase or grief or… whatever.”

“She’s not fine,” Carla said bluntly. “But neither are you. It’s OK to admit it”

Lisa flinched slightly. “I’m managing - I am, I’m fine really.”

“Lisa: you’re not fine. Managing maybe - but That’s not the same as coping.”

Lisa looked away. “I just… I need to fix this. All of it. Her. The case. I can fix this - we’re close.”

“You don’t fix people, Swain. You sit with them while they’re broken.”

Lisa didn’t reply.

⸻

Back inside, Betsy folded the last of the samples and placed the biscuit wrapper neatly in the bin.

Maybe today wasn’t better. But it wasn’t worse. And for now, that had to be enough.

Chapter 16

Betsy day at her desk, head down, writing about the days events. It was routine now. Go to school. Come home put on a brave face and journal. She picked up her pen and started writing…

Today I ate half a cheese toastie. My brain screamed the entire time. Told me I was weak. That I’d ruined everything. So I tried to get rid of it. But I couldn’t. I knelt there for twenty minutes with my fingers down my throat, eyes watering, and nothing came up. Not even guilt. Just… failure. I can’t even be good at being messed up. I know Mason wouldn’t want this. But he also said I was strong once. And I believed him.

Idiot.

⸻

Earlier that day the bathroom floor was cold. Betsy sat on the tiles, back pressed against the tub, face clammy. Her throat ached and her hands shook — not from hunger, but frustration. Shame.

She was wasting away and still felt like she took up too much space.

⸻

Across town, Lisa paced up and down in the cafe, scrolling through her work phone. New message. No sender ID. Just five words:

“Back off before Betsy’s next.”

She stared at the screen for a full minute.

The timing was too perfect. After the warehouse stakeout. After they arrested the runner. After the interview with the teen who’d named Matty Radcliffe without blinking. Lisa didn’t rattle easy — but this was getting personal. Kit would need to know. And Costello.

But first, she had to look like nothing was wrong. As she walked back to the table where Carla sat oblivious. Carla stirred her coffee slowly. “I’m really sorry babe. But works called, kit needs me to come in early. I’ll try and get home for tea” Lisa quickly kissed Carla’s forehead and quickly left.

“Lisa. You…..” it was too late she’d already gone and Carla was left, alone in a busy cafe.

Sally entered the cafe and looked around. Sally Metcalfe had raised daughters. Girls who’d struggled. Girls who’d hidden things. Maybe… just maybe she may be able to help.

“Morning Mrs Connor, don’t want to intrude but are you OK” Sally asked. Sally sat down with that politician’s smile, but it softened when Carla got to the point.

“It’s Betsy,” Carla said. “She’s hurting. Not just sad. I mean properly lost. And Lisa… Lisa’s pretending it’s not happening.”

Sally nodded. “That sounds about right.”

“I’m trying to help. But I’m not her mum.”

“No, but sometimes kids need someone who’s not their mum,” Sally said, more gently than usual. “Rosie wouldn’t speak to me for six months when she was in LA having a breakdown. She told a barista in her favourite coffee shop before she told me. And Sophie was always really private. Looking back I think she always struggled more than I realised.”

Carla gave a dry laugh. “A barista- sounds like Rosie! what did you do?”

“I cried into a microwave meal and then I forgave her.”

Carla smiled properly this time. “I just don’t want her to end up like me. Someone who self destructs you know”

“Carla… she’s already like you. That’s probably why she trusts you.”

They sat in companionable silence. Carla grateful for Sallys words. Seeking conform from an unlikely source.

⸻

That night, Lisa rechecked her locks. Twice. Told herself it was just a scare tactic. Just noise. But her hand hovered over the banister before she went to bed.

And next door, Betsy sat in the dark, hoodie zipped up to her chin, throat raw, body buzzing with emptiness.

There’s nothing quite like the feeling of failure at 3am. Except maybe the sound of your stomach eating itself while the world sleeps.

Chapter 17: This is not a Drill

Summary:

Betsy reaches breaking point

The garage was supposed to be the jackpot.

Lisa crouched behind a wall of stacked tyres, radio crackling softly in her ear as Kit crept toward the shuttered unit. They’d been tipped off by an anonymous call. Radcliffe was moving product, tonight. Heavy-duty gear. This could be the night they get him.

Only… the place was empty. Fresh tyre tracks smeared the gravel. A warm takeaway box lay discarded on the floor, steam still curling out. But no van.

“Someone tipped him off,” Lisa muttered, furious. “He’s ahead of us. Again.”

Kit kicked a spanner across the floor. “I’m telling you, there’s a leak. He’s can’t just be lucky”

“Weve just got to be cleverer.” Lisa said. “Come on, we’re wasting our time here”

⸻

Two hours earlier.

The classroom was too warm. Too loud. Too sharp around the edges. Betsy blinked hard, her pen slipping between her fingers. The room swam slightly, like someone had messed with the contrast. Her stomach felt hollow, she couldn’t remember the last time she ate anything.

“Betsy?” her tutor said, frowning. “Are you okay?”

Betsy opened her mouth to say fine. The room felt like it was moving in on her. No words came out. Instead, she collapsed.

⸻

Asha crouched beside her, fingers gently pressing against her wrist. “Betsy, it’s me Asha, can you hear me.”

Betsy’s face was pale, her breathing shallow. One shoe had come off in the fall. Her hoodie was soaked with sweat. She looked weightless. And not in a good way.

The other paramedic muttered something about dehydration, low blood sugar. Asha looked down at her and saw something she recognised — not just exhaustion, but emptiness.

“Hey,” she whispered as they lifted Betsy onto the stretcher. “You don’t have to tell me anything. But I think you should talk to someone.” Betsy didn’t speak. Didn’t nod. But she didn’t look away, either.

⸻

Soon after they arrived at the hospital.

Still groggy, Betsy stirred as the nurse adjusted her IV. Asha hovered by the door. “They’re calling your mum,” she said softly. “But I asked them to call someone else, too. Just in case.”

Betsy frowned. “Who?”

⸻

Enter Carla.

She arrived twenty minutes later, no makeup, coat half on, eyes fierce. The minute she saw Betsy, the sharpness melted. She pulled a chair beside the bed and just sat. Said nothing. Didn’t fuss. Just was there.

“I’m such an idiot,” Betsy croaked eventually.

“No, you’re not,” Carla said. “You’re grieving. That’s not the same thing.”

They sat in silence, hospital sounds whirring around them — beeps, footsteps, distant murmurs.

“I didn’t mean to scare anyone.” Betsy said quietly.

“You scared the hell out of me kiddo,” Carla said honestly.

A pause, Carla looks down at her phone.

“I’ve no idea where you mum is, Shall I go
Out and call her again”

Betsy looked down at her hands. Then slowly shook her head “please, I want my mum”
⸻

Lisa’s voice trembled when she answered.

“Carla, I’ve been on a shout? What…..I’m on my way.”

Carla spoke gently. “She’s alright. Bit wobbly. We’ll see you shortly.”

There was a silence. A raw, fragile pause where you could hear everything Lisa wasn’t saying.

Then: “Put her on.”

Betsy took the phone.

“Hi,” she whispered.

Lisa exhaled shakily. “I’m sorry Bets - I’m coming now.”

⸻

That evening, Lisa sat beside her daughter’s hospital bed, eyes red. She didn’t speak for a long time.

Then: “I thought I was doing the right thing. Chasing the bad guys. I wanted to fix something in my control while you’ve been hurting but I’ve got it all wrong haven’t I?.”

Betsy looked at her, weak but clearer than she’d been in weeks. “I want you to still catch them. I hate what they’ve done. I know work need you. Just….don’t lose me in the process, cause I need you to”

Lisa nodded, voice breaking. “Oh Betsy, I won’t - I promise I won’t.”