Chapter 1: comeback
Chapter Text
The beginning of June was strange for the first time in her life. The start of summer had always been associated with trips, holidays in every possible warm place on earth she could dream of. It had always been the beginning of the happiest period in her marriage. Always, until the 6th of June last year.
A year ago, her life changed completely. First, she found out about the betrayal. Then there was a huge argument after which they never got to talk again. She stood by the grave. An aura of mystery and drama surrounded her almost like the smoke from the cigarette she was just finishing.
Dressed in a delicate black jacket with large buttons, a slightly boxy cut – something between classic elegance and urban chic. Underneath, an equally dark mini dress with a deep neckline barely reaching past her buttocks. Hands clad in black leather gloves, a dramatic, almost theatrical detail. A classic handbag loosely slung over her free shoulder. Long boots reaching above the knees with a high 20cm heel completed the outfit. The entire styling was a conscious manifestation of mourning... and control. Her raven, black hair was smoothly combed back, tied in a low ponytail, nothing accidental, every strand tamed. A minimalist hairstyle, but emphasizing the severity of the situation. Her face was expressive – strong eyebrows, full lips, eyes seemingly bored. Her facial expression balanced between irritation and indifference. The cigarette butt landed at the foot of the tombstone. She stubbed it out with her foot and looked up.
♱
Paul
Connor
14.3.1969 / 6.6.2007
YOU LEFT US IN UNBEARABLE
SORROW AND GRIEF
"So many lies, even after death," she snorted, and a crooked smile appeared on her face. "Goodbye, forever," she turned and walked away. Her heels clicked in a steady rhythm. Upon reaching the car, Carla took out her phone from her handbag. She quickly wrote a message:
"Tomorrow. 8 PM. Rovers."
She tossed the device back into her bag and drove out of the cemetery parking lot. She glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror: "You're going home, Connor," she thought, then casually dismissed it. She returned to her dingy apartment in the centre of Dublin. She packed all the essentials. Opening her laptop, she went to the Ryanair website. The cheapest option that offered her a return to the harsh, cobbled streets of Weatherfield. She bought a ticket. It was a return home. A one-way ticket. A new start in the place where her life had ended over a year ago. She would break the spell of that place, regain her strength, the factory, and what she had called her life a year ago.
Her life for the past year had resembled more of a ruin than what Carla Connor was known for. The apartment in a wonderful mess, the last of her money squandered in casinos, and cigarettes as her best friend. After Paul's death, she was devastated, of course, she was. They had been married for 8 years and had known each other almost their entire lives. To say that she didn't mourn him would be a lie, but grief and sadness were quickly replaced by anger, regret, and something she couldn't name. After the funeral, she never returned. She stayed in Ireland, feeling strangely drawn to this place. It was here that the person she considered her soulmate was buried. She had to be with him, it was her duty as his wife. It was here that she began her "new life."
She fell into addictions, used sex as an escape from everyday life, lost herself in a spiral of mistakes. She had been planning how to return for some time. She wanted to do it in grand style, as befitting Carla Connor, but no spectacular idea came to mind. How could she return stylishly when she was barely making ends meet? She didn't want to take everything she had here with her… quite the opposite. The past year of her life reminded her more of her teenage years than what she considered "her own." She packed only the essentials, mainly clothes and a few mementos. She wanted to leave behind everything that reminded her of Ireland, to close this chapter and cut herself off from it all with a thick line. She packed only a carry-on bag. She sat on the windowsill in the living room, lit a cigarette, and looked out the window at the Dublin skyline. "Last night, huh?" she laughed, clearly pleased with what tomorrow would bring.
Lisa lay stretched out on the sofa in the living room. Dressed in a white tank top and black joggers, her hair messily tied in a loose high bun. Her glasses rested low on her nose. In her left hand, she held a book that she wasn't particularly focusing on. She was reading it, of course, but the words didn't form sentences, and the sentences didn't form a plot. She was just skimming it, occasionally absorbing bits of information. In her right hand, she held a glass of wine, which she sipped from time to time as if absentmindedly. Her vacation had just begun, and she already wanted it to end. Her thoughts began to wander and make plans for a quick trip out of town when suddenly...
"MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM!" a shout from the bathroom snapped her out of all the musings her mind had led her into.
"Betsy, you're in the next room, don't yell, I can hear you perfectly," her response sounded harsher than intended, unfortunately.
"Yeah, yeah… I need 30 quid!" came the voice from behind the wall.
"First of all, it would be nice if you came to your mother when asking for money instead of shouting from the bathroom!" she shouted back just as her younger copy appeared in the doorway to the living room. "And secondly, what the hell do you need 30 quid for?"
"Language, mother..." Bets rolled her eyes. "Really, having to raise my own mother, horror..."
"Ha... ha... answer the question, missy," Lisa adjusted her glasses on her nose and put the book down on the table.
"I'm going to a party at Sabrina's," Betsy announced as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Oh, of course, you can leave the house, great that you're asking."
"Don't be dramatic, I'm 17, not 5."
"Exactly, you're 17, you could start managing your money wisely, Bets."
"Again, why the drama? It's only 30 quid."
"Mhmm, and what do you need the 30 pounds for?" The detective's right eyebrow arched up. Betsy immediately picked up on the change in the character of the person sitting before her. This was no longer DS mother Lisa, now she had to deal with DS Swain.
"Oh, chill up, I'll buy a kilo of drugs, 3 liters of vodka, and hire a prostitute with it," she threw at her mother with a smile and a wink, but was met only with a hostile look from across the room. "Come on, I need money for some snacks and beer," she looked pleadingly.
"The wallet is on the kitchen table, turn on your location, I want to know where you are," a methodical, sharp, quick response.
"I love you! Thank you!" Betsy skipped happily towards the kitchen.
"Love you too, have fun and be back before 2!" Lisa blew her daughter a kiss through the door and waved cheerfully as she saw her offspring leave the house through the kitchen door.
The silence that followed Betsy's departure from the house was blissful. She took a sip of the hitherto forgotten wine. Her thoughts began to circle. Lately, she felt much calmer and safer in her own surroundings. She had started working on her long-neglected traumas with Floyd in his therapy office. Their beginning was... well... difficult. But now? Now she seemed to be blossoming. Slowly sprouting new flowers. She stopped defending herself against everyone and everything in every possible way. She began to build friendly relationships, to anchor herself in life. She stopped putting herself in unnecessary danger. She noticed the development of her relationship with Betsy, which had never been better than now. She smiled at the thought of how much had changed for the better in such a short time. She optimistically looked forward to further changes. She grabbed her phone and sent a message to her new friend
"Hey you, the teenager left me alone at home. Honestly? I feel like getting out of here myself. Will you join me at Rovers? Lxx"
She put the phone down on the table. She went to the bedroom and decided to change. Today, she decided to have some fun herself. She put on a plain white bra and over it only a mesh top that left little to the imagination. She pulled out her favorite high-waisted jeans. She loved the deep pockets because she hated carrying extra bags or backpacks, and these pants gave her everything she needed today. They accentuated her waist, optically elongated her figure, and provided plenty of pocket space. She approached the mirror and automatically let her hair down. She grabbed a brush and meticulously combed through the strands, styling them. She went downstairs and headed straight for her phone to see if there were any notifications waiting for her.
"Lisa Swain offering to go out? I'd be mad to refuse. I'll be there in 20 minutes. Sxx"
Lisa smiled involuntarily. She put the phone in the back pocket of her pants. She headed to Betsy's bathroom and stole some of her hairspray to keep her hairstyle in place as long as possible. She didn't want to overdo the makeup, so she applied only mascara and a bit of concealer to hide the bags under her eyes. She assessed her appearance as satisfactory and headed towards the kitchen. From the counter, she grabbed a set of keys, took out her bank card and ID, which she placed in the front pocket of her jeans. She made sure all electrical appliances were turned off, did the same with the gas, and when she knew everything was okay, she went to the hallway. She put on her standard high-wedge shoes and headed straight to Rovers.
"I'll be there soon, what can I order for you?"
"Oh Lise, don't pretend you don't know, lol"
"Just checking!"
A quick exchange of messages with Shona made her relatively short trip to Rovers more pleasant. "Who do my eyes see?!" The shock in the young woman's voice behind the bar was very noticeable.
"Hi Chelle! Two large reds!" Lisa smiled kindly. Chelle was definitely younger than her, but they got along… well when they met.
"Oh wow, the detective out of the house and demoralizing Shona, eh?" A mischievous smile appeared on the brunette's face.
"How did you..."
"Stop it, Swain, Shona is the only person you don't strike with lightning when you look at her, it's not hard to guess!" More and more often, the girl behind the bar wondered if Swain wasn't getting closer to Shona more than she should. She was younger, definitely, but Lisa was a beautiful mature woman. Openly lesbian something that couldn't be said about her companion for the evening.
"Okay, sarge , stop it, or you'll take my job," Lisa threw with her characteristic sharp joke towards the barmaid.
"You'd love to experience working with me by your side, Swainy ," a wink. Smooth, very smooth. She took the order and headed to one of the booths in Rovers. Shortly after, the doors of Rovers opened, and Shona appeared in the doorway. The 30-year-old woman headed straight to the table where her companion for the day was sitting, completely ignoring what was happening around her.
And a lot was happening because right behind her in the doors of Rovers appeared a figure who hadn't been there for a year.
Chapter Text
Seconds after Carla stepped through the Rovers’ threshold, the air inside shifted dramatically. Everyone sensed that not-so-subtle difference. Every single one of them turned away. Well… almost everyone. Swain focused on the woman who’d slid onto the seat opposite her, completely ignoring everyone else for miles around.
“Carla?” Michelle couldn’t have been more shocked. She had no idea that her best friend and until recently, her brother’s wife - was coming home, to them .
“If memory serves me right, it is,” the woman said. “That was the name I was given at birth.” Confidence radiated off her, probably more than it should have.
“What are you doing here?” The barmaid was still picking her jaw up off the floor. This completely unexpected reunion had caused some sort of glitch in her system.
“And are you going to play twenty questions, or are you actually going to come over here and give your best mate a hug?” came the typical Carla Connor sarcasm in her voice - until she added softly, “ Come here ,” in the most tender, gentle tone she’d used in ages. It was the voice people had missed all this time.
Chelle hurried around the bar and threw her arms around Carla. The hug was strong, like coming home. It was familiar, safe, warm and full of promise.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered into the older brunette’s ear.
“Oh, relax, it’s not just you, you know! Everybody here missed me,” Carla said with the precision, detachment, and sarcasm she was known for. It was her way of building walls so no one could break her again, so no one could make her cry again.
“You know no one’s missed you as much as I have, Carla,” Michelle said, her friend’s tears wet on her shoulder.
“Come off it, Michelle, don’t get all sentimental. I'm back, there’s no point in crying,” Carla replied with a gentle smile as she wiped away Michelle’s tears. “Now get on with your work and pour me a glass of red!”
“Oh, really? You got nothing else to say? A whole year of radio silence and now you just demand wine?” Michelle said, a brow raised comically.
“Chelle, I’ve got a meeting. We’ll have a proper chat later - and definitely not here,” Carla said, looking around and catching a few pairs of eyes fixed on her. “The walls have ears, love, and this is definitely not something for all those damned people.”
“A meeting? Has Carla Connor got her mojo back, then?” Michelle asked, her trademark eyebrow raising to accompany the question.
“ Definitely not today ,” Carla announced, heading toward the last empty booth in the room. Of course, it was the one right next to the table where Lisa was sitting with Shona, sipping her wine.
Lisa had no idea what was causing the stir in the pub. She didn’t know Carla, had no reason to - she’d moved here a few months after Carla had relocated to Dublin. Shona, however, had a few memories of her. She’d met Carla two months before Paul’s death, thanks to Leanne. They’d planned to become co-owners of a new bistro on the street. In the end, Carla found out about Leanne’s alleged affair with Paul, and he was killed in a car crash; from those grand business plans only dreams remained.
Carla slid gracefully into her seat and began to toy with her glass, turning it between her fingers and staring into the scarlet liquid. She had no desire to look at anyone else she already felt watched enough. She decided simply to wait.
Lisa had been carrying on relaxed, casual conversation with the brunette opposite her. Shona was objectively a beautiful woman. Lisa wasn’t stupid she could admit that. In a way Shona reminded her of Becky. She was of a similar height, with similar facial features, a dark brunette - just much younger. And definitely not interested in women. So all Lisa expected from her was friendship. She didn’t want to be anybody’s guinea pig, especially not for testing out the sexuality of a younger Weatherfield resident. Lately she found herself blaming herself for her wife’s death less and less; grief was overwhelming her less often. Becky was a beautiful, bright memory. “Memory” was the key word. She had to pull herself together for Betsy’s sake, and above all, for her own. That didn’t change the fact that romances were off the table for the coming months. She didn’t want to get involved in anything new, especially nothing with no future. She took another sip of wine.
“Lisa?” Shona’s piercing gaze shot right into her brain.
“Oh, sorry. I was miles away,” Lisa replied, shaking herself out of her own mind’s depths.
“Really? I didn’t notice at all!” Shona laughed, her full smile lighting up her face. Perfectly straight teeth flashed at Lisa. She mentally scolded herself at how quickly the alcohol was coursing through her veins. It wasn’t her first rodeo with Shona, but she always acted like a silly teenager whenever her friend smiled at her. Pull yourself together, Swain, she thought, trying to cut herself off from those idiotic, intrusive thoughts.
They started talking about what a dreadful day Shona had had and why Lisa had decided to come to the Rovers for a drink, she was rarely the one to suggest going out, let alone drinking outside the house. She thought she couldn’t afford to make herself a public laughingstock, and besides, she couldn’t always control herself after a few drinks.
“I started my holiday leave,” Lisa blurted out in the middle of one of Shona’s sentences, and Shona nearly choked on her drink.
“Excuse me?” Shona said, her eyebrows shooting up so high Lisa had never seen the like.
“You heard perfectly well what I said… compulsory, but still,” Lisa said with a grin, tilting her glass.
“Wow, now I get where that desperate ‘ Go out with me to the Rovers ’ stuff was coming from. I thought you were trying to pick me up!” Shona teased, watching Lisa’s reaction carefully at the half-joke.
“Oi, stop that!” Lisa grinned and leaned over the table, giving Shona a look that said ‘you lean in too’. “That woman,” Lisa whispered, pointing at Carla, who was deftly sliding her phone into the side pocket of her jacket. “Who is she?”
Shona looked at her from under one brow. “That’s Carla Connor,” she explained, astonished that Lisa didn’t know.
“ Connor? ” Lisa’s shock hit her in the chest. “As in Michelle Connor?” She smiled crookedly, though it looked more like uncertainty than conviction.
“She was Paul’s wife, Michelle’s brother,” Shona explained. “He died in a car accident a year ago. Apparently she’s back on the street after a year to get her life back on track. I don’t really know what she’s planning.” She shrugged and straightened her shoulders.
“ Interesting ,” the blonde detective managed, her voice low. It was all she could say before the Rovers’ door opened again. A man walked in who she felt she knew. He looked uncannily like someone she’d seen before - middle-aged, broad shoulders with a touch of grey creeping at the crown of his head, and that distinctive tattoo on the side of his neck. Of course, she wasn’t surprised THAT bloke had come over to the table where THAT woman was sitting. Despite the wine in her veins, Lisa switched into detective mode - why was she doing that? She had no idea what exactly about Carla intrigued her so much. There was something magnetic about her. She didn’t know whether it was the detective in DS Swain, or Lisa herself, but something was stirred for sure.
Carla straightened up on her stool, scanning the interior of the small pub, when she spotted the man approaching her like a predator stalking its prey. She felt a pang in her stomach, her hands broke into a cold sweat, and a shiver ran down her spine the moment their eyes met. The man sat down on the stool opposite Carla.
“Good you finally made it,” he rasped. “We’ve got a little problem that you might help us sort out.”
Carla put on a sweetly stern expression. “I know what I said last time…” she replied calmly. “...but right now I can’t do it. I haven’t got the factory back yet, I’m not even sure I ever will.” Her tone betrayed no fear, only a cool mockery. It was risky. Lisa tried to glean as much as she could from their conversation; she knew she shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but her sixth detective sense was blaring alarms about trouble ahead, so she’d rather have some extra knowledge she could use somehow.
“Okay, that’s enough of this gloomy atmosphere,” Shona suddenly said, interrupting Lisa’s detective work on a Saturday night at the Rovers after two glasses of wine. “Let’s do something…”
Lisa raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. “What do you say we hit a club? Some music, a bit of dancing, and most importantly, some colourful cocktails - what do you reckon?”
Lisa squinted her eyes uncertainly. “A club? Hmm…” she shivered. “I don’t know, Shona… maybe…”
“ Lise , don’t make me beg. You’re doing everything you can to avoid this. I’m not taking you to the guillotine or anything. It’s just a bit of dancing, some Madonna songs, and maybe a few drinks you’ll regret tomorrow. We’ll get some fresh air. Even detectives need a break sometimes,” Shona said. The last sentence was a hint to Swain that her friend knew full well that Lisa had started retreating into work, over-analysing the situation in the Rovers.
Lisa finally sighed and nodded. “Alright, let’s go. One drink won’t kill me.”
One drink.
A second.
A third.
Right before midnight the two women were gyrating on a dance floor full of people much younger than them. The thumping bass pounded in their ears, and laser lights painted swirling patterns on the walls. The crowd of young people was jumping, dancing, shouting - and Lisa still felt a bit like an intruder . For a moment, she moved unsteadily back and forth, watching Shona and then the rest of the club. After a bit, she managed to slip into the rhythm. In her wildest dreams she and Shona would have been dancing almost exclusively with each other, but that would’ve been too easy. Shona twirled among tattooed lads and rock-chick types, loudly urging, “One more song!” and “Surprise me!”
After a few tracks and far more dances than in the last ten years of her life, Lisa finally needed a breather at the bar. She ordered another drink. This time she treated herself to a sweet mint mojito and watched the crowd around her, letting the music and laughter slowly calm her. Suddenly her gaze fell on a familiar figure. Of course it did.
Carla Connor was sitting at the bar with her black hair down, wearing a tiny black crop-top and unbelievable trousers that hugged every inch of her body. Neon lights swept past her, and in her hand a pink strawberry margarita gleamed. Lisa felt her heart beat faster. She couldn’t take her eyes off her. Carla didn’t seem to notice Lisa at all, irritatingly focused on the barmaid in front of her. Carla was smiling softly, her gaze a bit like a predator about to pounce. Something inside the blonde snapped. She grabbed her own glass and made her way over.
Lisa smiled unconsciously and sat on the stool next to Carla. Her hands were still trembling slightly around her drink. “I’ve stopped regretting coming here,” she blurted out, half-joking, half serious. Seriously, Lisa? That’s your pickup line? Christ, I should stop drinking.
Carla furrowed her brow a little and playfully twirled the straw in her drink. Flirtatiously. “I think I’m starting to regret it,” Carla replied calmly. A defense, a jab, an attack - typical. She was like a character from a noir film, quiet and self-assured - what a surprise .
“Rude,” Lisa said with a bitter smile, not letting Carla see if the words stung. “You’re here with a drink in your hand and you don’t look upset at all,” Lisa observed, still sizing her up.
“Does a woman have to be miserable to drink?” Carla asked quietly, each word coming out clearly.
“Clearly not,” Lisa agreed. “Who knows what tomorrow will bring. Better to have fun now, yeah?”
The two sat in silence for a moment, letting the music wash over them. The silence that fell between them wasn’t heavy, embarrassing, or awkward -it was just comfortable. Women sat side by side, watching each other, studying, analyzing. Lisa noticed Carla kept casting her predatory eyes more often at the barmaid than at her. No one around them noticed - they were all wrapped up in their own fun.
Finally Lisa looked around again, trying to imprint the whole scene in her memory. Shona sat quietly nearby, watching from the side, not wanting to intrude. Suddenly an even deeper quiet fell: as the barmaid poured Carla’s drink, she muttered something under her breath that Lisa couldn’t make out. It was meant only for Carla’s ears.
Carla lifted her gaze from her margarita and looked at the barmaid with a full smile, revealing her perfect snow-white teeth. “Exactly,” she replied softly, her tone gentle and warm again.
“You know, sometimes you have to take it with a bit of humour, or you’ll go mad,” the barmaid finished her thought. Lisa’s curiosity was burning - she desperately wanted to know what exactly that referred to. Seeing Carla begin to relax toward the barmaid, Lisa felt a twinge of irritation. She wanted to be the one taking part in this.
Before she could think it through, the words slipped out of her mouth. Looking directly at the young Mrs. Connor, she said, “You might be right.” Lisa conceded to the barmaid, not taking her eyes off Carla. “Maybe it’s about time we took a break from all these things,” she offered, immediately surprised at how she had burst into their conversation and how boldly she claimed the right to decide who Carla would spend her time with from now on.
Carla blinked and met Lisa’s eyes from under her long lashes. “You think it’s that simple?” she asked, amusement dancing in her eye with a hint of irritation at the end of her sentence. The two girls stared at each other. Lisa felt the force of Carla’s gaze piercing right through her. Her throat tightened and she couldn’t answer that question. Neither expected any more words; in the air hung a silence filled with questions.
Both Lisa and Carla knew one thing only: this was just the beginning of something new. Hard days were coming when each of them would have to make tough decisions.
“ You comin’? ” Carla called, grabbing the leather jacket lying on the chair next to her. Lisa froze. She wanted to know what that question meant, but against her better judgment, she didn’t ask. The two girls got up from the bar. To the changing beat of the music, they left the club, the echo of what had just begun only about to play out in the background of their story
Notes:
What is Carla planning? Will the girls stay together, or will they split up straight after leaving the club?
Chapter Text
The morning sun had crept into the room far too quickly, in her opinion. The light interrupted her sleep, shining straight into her eyes. The woman sat bolt upright in bed, wanting somehow to block the sunlight from the room. How? She hadn’t thought that far yet. It was an impulse. Get up, draw the curtains, go back to sleep. But the moment she put her feet on the floor she felt them refuse to obey. She slid back onto the bed with a heavy head. She groaned as it dawned on her what state she was in, why she was in it, and whose fault it was.
Arranging herself into the most optimal position she could manage - comfortable, but such that the light wouldn’t irritate her more than it already did - she began to rub her temples with her fingers. As time passed, fragments of yesterday started to trickle into her mind. Memories, pieces of information, images, conversations. All jumbled and unclear for now. Congratulations, Swain, old and foolish.
In her flat, Carla was just stepping out of the shower. Freshened up and ready to face whatever questions the day would throw at her, she’d promised Chelle that today she would get all her answers. Of course, the previous night had left her keen to learn the answers to the questions that had been circling her mind about the factory and what Matthew had told her. She put cream on her face and, wringing her hair with a towel, went into the bedroom.
“Oh, you’re not asleep any more,” she murmured, realising this might not be the easiest morning of her life. After a quick glance at the person on the bed, she dropped her gaze and focused on her hair. Standing in front of the mirror, she wondered how to ask him politely to leave.
Usually she was the one who ended up at someone else’s place and the one who decided when to leave, retreating to the unblemished sanctuary of her flat in Dublin. Men she brought home were rare. She didn’t want her surroundings ruined by the memory of a drunken mistake. The exceptions were men she’d seen more than once - those who, oddly enough, were interesting people, otherworldly Adonises, or simply men who knew how to satisfy her.
In the past year there had been four in her flat. As for the mistakes that had taken her home, she couldn’t even count them. But here she didn’t feel tied to the place. She knew the flat she was in was only temporary. She could afford a little thoughtlessness and madness. She knew she’d been stuck in a spiral for nearly a year. She knew she was only destroying herself. She’d chased herself so far into the corner of her brain that she’d stopped paying attention to what the man in her room was doing.
The blond had dressed and made the bed. Nice gesture . He looked very sheepish. His face was slightly flushed - probably from embarrassment. Carla didn’t know anything about him. She couldn’t remember his name, though she was sure she’d been told it. She hadn’t asked his age - it felt utterly irrelevant. She didn’t know where he lived, because she’d brought him here straightaway. Looking at the young man now, she returned to contemplating how to tell him, gently, that his time was up and he should go.
Her musings were blissfully interrupted by a quiet, nervous voice. “Ugh… er… I - I think… I’d better go.” He looked at Carla, came up behind her, put his hands on her waist and clumsily tried to turn her towards him.
“Oh, if you’re expecting a farewell kiss or anything like that, you’ve miscalculated. I’m assuming you remember the way to the door.” She looked into the mirror, giving him the coldest stare she could. The boy said nothing more, nodded quietly in surrender, and left the room.
A moment later Carla heard the front door click shut. At the same instant she let out a long breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. Now all she had to do was get through the meeting with Michelle and start putting her life back together. After all, that was why she was here.
Not much had changed on Coronation Street. Lisa had managed a cold shower and made coffee. She sat at the counter with her head in her hands, clearly hungover. She thought things couldn’t get any worse until she heard a key turn in the lock and suddenly realised she hadn’t even checked whether Betsy was home. It couldn’t be anyone else. A moment later her daughter stood before her in yesterday’s clothes, albeit looking decidedly better than she did.
A simultaneous “ oh ” escaped both women’s lips. Had Lisa not been in such a state, she probably would have launched into a stern (dramatic) lecture about coming home so late, but she felt it would be a touch hypocritical and she simply didn’t have the energy or the inclination.
Betsy merely looked at her mother and, unusually conciliatory, said, “Morning. I’m going to catch up on sleep, don’t wake me.” Then she meekly headed upstairs. Lisa was surprised that Bets had let it drop - that never happened.
She took a sip of coffee and made it for the sofa. On the table beside her lay the phone she’d left there the previous day. She made herself comfortable and decided to check it. To her horror she saw eleven notifications. That was unlike her and certainly a harbinger of trouble. She swallowed, though her mouth felt dry, and unlocked the phone.
The first notifications were from Shona. She opened the messages and, to her alarm, discovered she didn’t remember that, there could be other mistakes from the night. She definitely needed to comb through her phone.
Shona [2:19]
Swain, are you spending more time with HER than with me? I’m jealous.
Shona [2:41]
[attachment]
Shona [2:43]
I saw you leaving with Carla. Have a good night, detective — I’ll let you know when I’m back.
Shona [3:21]
Detective Sergeant Swain! Shona Ramsey is reporting she’s home. Over and out!
Shona [3:22]
Oh, get in touch when you wake up!
Shona [10:02]
Morning, coffee at Roy’s? I’m barely alive. Hope your night was better than mine! Sxx
She read the string of messages one after another, consciously choosing to ignore the attachment and not download it. Whatever it was, she knew she wouldn’t like it. She checked the time. The phone read 12:45. Morning coffee was definitely off the table.
Questions began to swirl in her head. Had she left the club with Carla? Has something happened between them? Had Shona seen something or was she just speculating? Panic clawed at her as she tried to recall everything that had happened since she went to the bar for one last drink. She assumed she’d drunk it and Shona had driven her home… apparently not. Before the thoughts could carry her away she exited the conversation with Shona. Her detective instincts demanded she check every thread dated from yesterday. She noted she’d messaged Chelle and Betsy.
Lisa [1:47]
Chelle, get your sexy arse down here! The party’s brilliant but it’s missing your big mouth.
Lisa [1:59]
This is an order from the detective.
To the second message she’d attached a pin with a location. Had Chelle come? Had she been partying with them at the club? She wasn’t sure. Michelle hadn’t replied last night or this morning, so Lisa assumed she’d been asleep and had simply ignored the messages.
Apart from - in some twisted way - letting her know she was sexy, she hadn’t done anything embarrassing. Embarrassing? Woman, you’re almost fifty and you’re writing messages like that to your straight girlfriends while drunk, pull yourself together.
She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and took another sip of coffee. Before she tackled any messages she might have sent to her daughter while under the influence, she allowed herself a moment and went back to Shona’s conversation. She quickly typed a reply to the last message.
Hey you, sorry for the late reply. I’m a living corpse. Too late for morning coffee and, to be honest, I’m still recovering. Can we meet at 2pm in the café if that works? I need to sort myself out. Lxx
Having put the phone and coffee down on the counter, she went to the kitchen for electrolytes, aspirin and a handful of vitamins. If she was leaving the house she’d need them. Normally she’d skip them, letting the physical pain mirror how she felt mentally after her performance last night. Her stomach hurt enough that she decided it’d be better not to force food down and risk being sick. Returning to the sofa, stretching her legs and holding her breath, she opened the conversation with Betsy.
Bets [1:20]
Hi Mum, I’m staying at Sabrina’s, is that ok?
Bets [2:09]
Don’t say I didn’t warn you when you’re raging in the morning that I’m not home.
Bets [9:12]
Good morning Detective Sergeant Mother! I’m coming back from Sabrina’s, I’ll pop into Roy’s for coffee and something for breakfast. Any special orders? Lxx
She breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t sent anything compromising to her daughter. Truth be told, she’d ignored her all night - enough cause to blame herself for every sin under the sun and don the crown of worst mother of the year. She’d talk to her when the teenager woke up and she’d find out what had happened to her last night. She exited that conversation and saw messages from two numbers she didn’t have saved.
0161 847 2673 [2:57]
She is not who you think. Be careful.
Who the hell had sent that? More importantly, who were they talking about? What did she need to be careful of? Too many questions, no answers. A little more tense with worry than with foolishness, she opened the final message.
+353 01 735 0485 [3:29]
I have to admit — you are annoyingly interesting. Play those cards well ;).
A number from another country. She had no doubt who it belonged to. She didn’t know anyone else who might have an international number. She involuntarily smiled at the phone. She saved the number as “Carla Connor”. She didn’t reply, she didn’t know what to say when she didn’t even know what the other woman meant. In the meantime Shona agreed to have coffee at lunch with Lisa. She finished her coffee and went upstairs for another shower, a change of clothes and some make-up.
Carla, immaculate as ever, slipped out of the flat on Victoria Street 12, avoiding an encounter with her increasingly irritating flatmate. Within minutes she had her hand on the café door handle and saw Chelle sitting at the last table by the entrance to Roy and Hayley’s flat. Only when she noticed the shock and disbelief on the faces of her self-styled parents did she realise they had no idea she’d returned. Bloody hell - that doesn’t reflect well on her, does it?
“Tell me I’m not seeing things,” Roy mouthed, nodding towards Carla - though the question was for his wife.
“Carla Connor, come here and hug us right now, or you’ll have a lot of explaining to do!” Hayley’s tone brooked no argument.
“As if I haven’t heard that before,” she winked at Chelle and, as she embraced her “parents”, she felt - finally - that she was home.
Notes:
Hi everyone!
The next chapter will be mostly about Carla. We’ll learn a bit more about her life so far. And of course, we’ll have even more questions – the answers to which we’ll only discover much later ;)Love you all!
Chapter 4: a police detective?
Summary:
What did Carla get herself into a year ago? Next one: the boss returns to Underworld, and Lisa gets an interesting case.
Chapter Text
After a while the café was closed and all the customers were politely shown out by Hayley. Roy made the girl a coffee and some warm toast. The four of them - much to Carla’s dismay - sat at the same table. She knew a proper grilling was about to begin. She just waited, guessing which of the people closest to her would start the questioning. She didn’t intend to say much herself - not that she didn’t want to. She simply didn’t have all that much interesting to say. Her gaze flicked between the faces around the table.
Finally Roy broke the silence. “Where have you been?” he said, staring at her as if he could read every tiny clue from her body language.
“Oh, Royston, you know exactly where I’ve been - Dublin. I never left. First there was the funeral, then a deafening silence. My year was mostly spent at his grave, at pub counters and at the fruit machines. To be honest? At first that silence cut right through me, then came the anger, and in the end, as is so typically Carla Connor, stupid decisions. I can’t sum it all up nicely or tell it properly.”
Everyone - including the speaker herself - were surprised that Carla hadn’t put on the usual “sarcasm above all” mask. It was still there, but she was offering up information she wouldn’t have said if she didn’t trust them, if she didn’t know she could - and above all, if she didn’t want to.
Hearing Carla mention bars and fruit machines made Chelle go weak at the knees. She knew that the dark-haired woman, unfortunately, had tendencies to addiction. They’d always promised each other that if one of them ever felt like she was drowning she’d ring the other, they’d talk it through, they’d find a way. Now Chelle felt she’d let her down. “Why didn’t you call? We promised each other…?” It was a simple question, but Carla could sense the sadness and the anger beneath her friend’s layer of “concern”.
“I was scared… I was scared I’d fall to pieces. I couldn’t allow myself anything other than punishment. I couldn’t face coming back here, facing all of it. Seeing you after all that. Seeing Liam, knowing that the older version of him is buried ten metres under Irish earth and not falling apart in a second. I didn’t want to do anything stupid, and believe it or not - Leanne still can’t be safe in a room if we’re going to be alone in it.” As she spoke, Carla didn’t look at any of them. She focused on her fingers, playing with them, twisting the ring on her finger.
No one replied, and she simply began to speak, feeling she needed to get it out.
“A part of me died with him. A part of me never left. I didn’t know how to live without him. He gave me everything I had. He pulled me out of my home, gave me a place I could call mine. He let me become part of his family as if you lot had always been mine. After the funeral I kept asking myself why he did it? How long had he been cheating on me? Why did he do it? Did he really not sleep with Lee? I blamed myself for how our last conversation went.”
She took a sip of coffee and lifted her eyes to Hayley.
“I told him then that I wanted to leave him, that I’d file for divorce, that I hated him and that he’d destroyed me more than anyone before… More than my mother… I threw things, I hit him… I am the reason he was in the state he was when he got behind the wheel.”
Both women’s eyes misted. Carla, sensing she was about to cry, glanced at Chelle, hoping she’d be steadier than the emotional, beautiful soul sitting opposite her. She was mistaken - Chelle was worse off. Tears ran down her cheeks despite a visibly clenched jaw.
Paranoia crept in and Carla began to fear that Chelle hated her; she quickly added, “I loved him… I said those things because I felt hurt, betrayed… He was the one I wanted, the one I needed…” Her voice began to break, her eyes dropped to the table again, and the air grew heavier.
“Hey, hey, Carla.” A warm hand rested on her own - Chelle’s.
“Look at me… please?” Her voice was gentle, soft. The initial panic of the older ‘sister’ began to ease and her gaze wandered over Carla’s face. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault that he got in the car after taking Lee earlier and caused the crash. He was my brother, of course I love him - but he was at fault. He hurt you. He did something cruel to you and there’s nothing to contest there. I will never treat you worse or differently. You are my family and nothing will change that, not even your big mouth and talent for causing chaos.” The last remark made both women snuffle and smile at each other.
Carla said nothing: she only nodded in a gesture of understanding and acceptance. Roy handed the two women tissues, seeing their state.
Before any other question could be asked, Hayley spoke. “Love, you deserve to know.” With that dramatic preamble she had Carla’s full attention. “Liam has gone away.” Oh. It hit her then that she’d missed such a big thing in her family.
She’d once never imagined a scenario where any Connor would leave and she wouldn’t be there to see them off. Now? Well, her life was the complete opposite of how it should be.
“Maria found out about his affairs and gave him an ultimatum. I argued with her that she should leave him alone, but it turns out she’s pregnant and she wants to give him the chance to be the father their child deserves. They moved to Cyprus a few months ago. I know you were close, and it seems that information didn’t get to you, so I just wanted to let you know.”
“Oh, that’s… good, I suppose. I wish them luck, I hope they do well together.” After that she didn’t know what else to say. She missed the people she’d left every single day; she dreamed of regaining her family’s trust and everything she’d squandered. Missing them didn’t necessarily mean she knew how to fix things. And with Liam out of Weatherfield it seemed even harder. He was a piece of the puzzle she could no longer fix.
Well, at least until their paths crossed again.
“Do you need help? You know you can always live with us? This will always be your home, Carla.” Roy spoke after a moment in that matter-of-fact yet very tender voice. She loved that he was seldom emotional, and even when he was, it felt safe and unobtrusive. It kept her steady.
“I appreciate the offer… really, but I don’t want you rescuing me. I want to get back to things that make sense. In the meantime I just want you to be there while I pick myself up. It won’t be easy, I know that. Tomorrow I’m going to Underworld - whether I like it or not it’s still my factory. I’ll see what’s usable and I’ll start doing what I need to do. All those years trying to make the factory do some good - maybe it can finally start, eh?” Just as she started to slip behind a veil of sarcasm, the café door was shoved - it didn’t open, but someone was clearly trying to get in.
A moment after a failed attempt to open the door, the person outside began to tap a rhythm that the married couple knew all too well. Shona always tapped like that when the café was empty - the difference being that she used to tap the counter, not the door.
Carla turned, annoyed, toward the door to see who was persistently tapping the rhythm and begging to be let in. “Open the café, I’ll pop in later and you can ask me whatever you like, I’ll answer everything - but for now…” she nodded her chin towards the entrance, “let that person in, they’re about to raid this place. Thirsty animals, honestly.” She smiled at her companions. “Chelle - you still got a bit of time before your shift at the Rovers?”
“Yesss, we’ve got things to talk about, you’re not getting out of it!” The two women rose from the table, hugged the owners and headed for the exit. Carla pulled her sunglasses over eyes that were still a little puffy from crying, not wanting to attract attention from the guests waiting outside.
She didn’t expect to see the woman she’d brushed off outside the club last night. She’d been sure she’d never see her again. For the first time she felt that odd flutter - she couldn’t define it exactly.
Lisa, head down to keep the glare from the sun out of her eyes, was laughing at Shona and her persistence at the doors of Roy’s, standing close behind her friend. The moment she heard the key in the lock she looked up and saw the woman. Memories flooded Lisa’s mind in an instant - memories that had until now been pushed away.
The flirtation - now it seemed pathetic, clumsy, inept. She definitely had spoken to this woman at the bar. Like through a fog she recalled that hoarse, over-confident voice and the glint in Carla’s eye when she asked if she’d go out with her. What on earth had she been expecting? What was she imagining? God, woman. When the club doors shut behind them, Carla had pulled Lisa by the hand to the taxi rank, but just before they reached it she steered her into a side alley. She leaned against the wall and drew Lisa impossibly close. The memory of that contact sent cold shivers down the blonde’s spine. Snatches of conversation spun in Lisa’s head - out of context, incomplete, but certainly real.
“Listen, I had a great time with that barmaid. You come in and act like we’ve known each other longer than ten minutes.” The first memory of her voice was cool; more fragments followed quickly.
“I’ll bet you were undressing me with your eyes, weren’t you?” She couldn’t tell if she’d imagined that detail, but she had a feeling that line had been whispered straight into her ear. Lisa clearly remembered Carla pressing her hip against hers, placing her palms flat on either side of Carla’s face, being closer than she had been to anyone since Bex.
“They say men are the pushy ones, but you’re very direct too. You didn’t say much and you were already here, huh?” Carla’s lips, whispering in her ear, brushed the soft skin of her earlobe and the side of her neck.
At that point she decided she’d had enough. She couldn’t handle it now. She shook herself, smiled at Chelle and Carla and slipped into the café behind Shona without a word.
“Bloody hell…” the words escaped Carla faster than she could think. Chelle sensed the strange atmosphere between them and decided to ask about it later. She quickened her step and before Carla realised, her friend had opened the Rovers’ doors for her.
“Liz, bring us a bottle of Malbec and two glasses out the back, please. Ta!” The simple command flew from the younger Connor without missing a beat. The two women sat on the sofa. Carla watched her, deciding to let her speak, to ask if she wanted to hurt her in any way, because she suspected she might even want to murder her.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” An unexpected but not entirely surprising anger throbbed beneath Chelle’s surface.
“What exactly are you asking about? Because it seems to me I’m doing a lot?” In Carla’s dynamics, defence became attack and attack defence, and then everything shifted. Unfortunately for her, Michelle rarely let herself be carried off by the emotions her friend tried to provoke in her.
“Hmmm, let’s think… You come back here after a year of silence and immediately you’re cozying up to some tart at the Rovers - really, did you forget why you were in Dublin so long? Missing trouble so you could dive straight back into the lion’s mouth? Another thing - did you forget that news here spreads faster than Roy’s breakfasts and I know you’re living with Rob. Seriously, Carla? And don’t give me that bollocks about mourning and a year of celibacy - you wouldn’t debase yourself for someone who was cheating on you, I know you too well.” Her words were sharp, direct, accurate. “And I saw that quiet war of looks between you and Lisa.” The moment came when Carla had to speak.
“What war of looks? What the hell are you on about?”
“Glasses won’t hide what was hanging in the air. That woman is fourteen years older than you, she’s got her life together, an almost-grown-up daughter, a proper job. How the hell did you let anything happen between you and a police detective?”
“A police detective?”
“Oh for God’s sake, yes Carla - Lisa is a copper. If you’d paid even a little attention to who you’re shagging, you might know more. Did you even learn her name or did you not care?”
“Begyourpardon? Hold your horses, Chelle. I didn’t sleep with her, YES - I flirted. YES - I left the club with her. And MAYBE I pushed things a bit too far, but NOTHING happened. I sent her on her way at the door, I know - not the nicest move, but I did nothing. At dawn I went for a walk and ran into some bloke, and you can fill in the rest.”
“Seriously, and that’s the first thing you choose to excuse yourself with? Didn’t it occur to you that I was bloody worried about you for the last year? That plenty of dodgy types were sniffing around since Paul’s death asking after you? That handing the factory to Rob might not have been the smartest move?” She twisted the bottle cap, poured herself a generous glass and drank it in one gulp.
“I know you were worried, Chelle, that’s exactly why I didn’t contact you. Everything quietened down, so I came back. The factory is mine, I didn’t hand it over - I just let him run it. I’ll sort it all out, I promise.” Carla’s voice began to crumble; she no longer had the strength to hide from Chelle.
“The whole thing was dirty, awful - I know that, Paul knew that too. Our marriage had been going wrong for a long time. He wouldn’t allow it, and I was stubborn, I wanted to make money faster so I could open a factory next to Underworld, but I ended up with this - I promise. I won’t do anything from now on that might even come close to the suspicious, and certainly nothing illegal. I’ve seen sense.”
“I bloody well hope so, because if you even come close to your old ways again, it’s over between us. And I mean it.” The serious look and weight of the promise pressed down on Carla’s chest. She knew she wasn’t joking.
At Roy’s the girls sat in their usual spot, right by the window. Lisa had an obsession - or perhaps a professional kink - for observation. She had to keep everything under constant surveillance. Literally EVERYTHING.
“Shona…” elbows on the table, head resting on her hands, Lisa’s posture clearly suggested something resembling a breakdown or sorrow. “I think I let myself get carried away last night.”
“You let yourself get carried away? Oh my God, that’s a crime!” The brunette took a light, joking tone to loosen the tension she sensed in her friend.
“If I’d caught that on duty it would have at least ended in disciplinary action,” her eyes met Shona’s for a second.
“Detective Sergeant Swain, are you trying to tell me you banged the man-eater in an alley behind the club?” Man-eater? She filed that away in her head for later.
“Shhhhh! Not everyone needs to know!” Her modesty now seemed greater than ever and a crimson blush spread across her face and neck.
“YOU DID IT?!”
“NO!”
“YOU DID!” Shona’s laugh filled the room and seemed to give her more pleasure than it should.
“Shona, I don’t remember much, but believe me I’d remember if I’d slept with anyone, alright?”
“Calm down, ever-rational and moral woman, I’m winding you up. What happened that you suddenly fell into Connor’s clutches, eh?” She bit the inside of her cheek, clearly intrigued - though still very shocked by what she’d heard.
“I don’t want to talk about it, it’s embarrassing.” She groaned again, burying her head in her hands.
“Don’t be so prim, Swainy, I’m an adult, I’ll have you know.”
“I don’t know, it’s never happened to me before…” Silence told her to continue, “…probably the drinks…”
“Yeah, sure.” Shona’s quiet but exceptionally pointed comment echoed in Lisa’s head.
“She just… has something about her… I really can’t put my finger on it.”
“Watch yourself around her. She may have been involved with Paul, but there were always rumours about her wild affairs. Nothing was ever proven, but she never denied anything, and her meet-ups with clients here are practically local legend.” In Shona’s voice there was only warm, friendly concern.
Lisa’s embarrassment and reserve kept her from replying. In silence she took a sip of coffee and bit into a bacon roll. She definitely needed to calm the whirl of thoughts in her head, and she knew inwardly this was only the beginning of the mess she’d stumbled into.
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