'Now she's gone' Carla whispered, a tear rolling down her check.
She had never felt a maternal bone in her body, not for babies anyway.
She had gone through her marriage with Paul content. When Helen had nattered on about adding a baby to their family, Carla had laughed, given Paul and knowing look and told Helen where to stick it.
Having grown up living off cigarette smoke and the odd packet of crisps, Carla had lost any desire to mother her own children. Instead, she'd set her sights on a career, living the high life. No longer would she be seen in hand me downs and trainers years too small.
Gone where the dirty rags she'd been wearing since she was born. In their place came designer handbags, designer jackets, even designer underwear.
She'd relished this freedom, a world away from her upbringing.
When Paul had died there'd been Tony, Liam, Trevor, Frank and now Peter.
Children had never entered her mind. The idea had been pushed on her by Frank, in a bid to control her, take over her life. And he succeeded, just not in the way she'd envisaged. Ripping her dignity away from her.
And then there they were. Those two lines. Out of the blue. And they had totally changed her life.
Initially, fear had taken over and years of the resolve that children were not meant to be a part of her life had made her certain she would have a termination. The idea that Peter would desperate want this bundle of joy, along with his drinking and many other issues - a baby would prove one too many. She loved her life, although not perfect, she and Peter had fought against the odds, her business was thriving, and her body was great, a baby would mess all of that up.
But the reality of having to swallow that pill, the pill that would end it all got the better of her. She'd never get this chance again, she'd make sure of it. And as the moment came, she couldn't do it. She couldn't swallow. Rushing out of the clinic she felt reality hit her and she'd burst into tears, finding comfort in the arms of Michelle.
Then she'd told Peter, and the decision to go ahead, to continue with the pregnancy had been made. Once that decision was made, it had been easy. Easy to love their unborn child. The gentle swell of her stomach no longer made her wretch. She pictured their child, half him, half her. She warmed to the idea of holding her newborn in her arms.
Seeing her baby on screen, their little features, their limbs moving made it real. She could now feel their minute movements, gentle flutters, a real life inside her.
Even when Peter had broken the news of his ghastly affair, in all the chaos and devastation, there was one small light, her baby. Not his, hers. 'Every night, every morning, come on you're doing great, little bit bigger, bit stronger'. She'd willed her baby on, knowing that in just 5 months time, regardless of anything else, she'd be meeting the little person that was the reason she was still going.
And then the pain had returned. The pain that had frightened her the week before. But this time it was so much stronger. She much more angrier. And she just knew. She could feel the bleeding, the crippling contractions in her stomach. She prayed, every fibre of her being prayed that her baby would be okay.
'I'm sorry, there's nothing more we can do'.
That was it. She heard the shrill cries of newborns around her. But her room was empty. Silent. They'd scanned her when she came in, desperately searching for a heartbeat. But there was nothing. They'd comforted her, and told her that her baby was indeed, a little girl. A baby girl. A daughter.
Then they'd given her the medication she needed and within hours she'd passed what remained of the future she'd learned to accept. A few weeks later, and she would have had to have delivered her baby. But now, she was left with nothing. No baby, no husband, no future.
She was gone.