Ok so this was originally going to be a oneshot, but due to sheer length, it's now become a 2-parter. If at any point I've written the words "eye contract", blame The Apprentice, which I was watching at the time, and read that as eye CONTACT.
Potentially Lovely, Perpetually Human.
She stirred almost aggressively, tugging the majority of the duvet across to her side of the bed, before the guilt kicked in and she threw it back over with a single swipe of her right arm. She was half hanging off the bed now, clinging to her top pillow as though it would save her from falling and not merely tumble down with her.
Noting her stirring, Peter turned to his girlfriend and croaked in that way first-word-of-the-morning way. "What the hell?"
"Sorry" Carla replied quickly, without turning round or making any real movement for that matter.
Still exhausted after another night of scattered sleep, Peter merely rolled back over, tucking his feet behind him and one hand under the pillows.
No one spoke for almost a minute, before Carla, reading the time on the flashing LED alarm to be 5:11, sighed and climbed out of bed, without uttering another word.
"Carla?" Peter sighed, sitting up although clearly resenting the action. "It's 5am love, go back to sleep 'ey?" His voice was tinged with a faint utterance of resentment that bellowed in Carla's ear and made her heart sink ever so slightly at the realization that this is what he thought of her now.
"And dream that again? No thanks".
"Dream what?" He asked, although she could tell it was more habit and not compassion that drove his question.
"That I was pregnant".
The lack of emotion in her voice, combined with the speed at which she threw her dressing gown on and left the room momentarily struck him dumb.
"Oh." He responded to the empty room.
She sat perched on the kitchen counter, absent-mindedly circling the top of her mug with her thumb as she clutched it, her eyes scanning the collection of photos on the wall. Childhood snapshots: a grinning young child stood almost naked in what looked like a caravan park; family photos; smiling relatives in a warm embrace. After Leanne had come to collect her belongings and taken her share of the photos down, he'd asked her if she wanted to add anything to fill the gaps. She hadn't had the heart to tell him she didn't have anything suitable, so she'd made a joke and deflected the question, hoping he'd forget about it. And he had- the gaps seemed to have been compensated for by a reshuffling instead.
He watched her from behind the wall separating the kitchen from the bedrooms, unsure of whether or not to approach her. He watched as her eyes travelled up and down the collection of photos. He saw the brief flicker of a smile at some of the older ones, but he knew there she was more going round her head than how awful his hair had been when Simon was four.
As she slid of the work surface, he took his chance to reveal himself, strolling casually into the room as though he'd just left the bedroom. She turned quickly when she heard his footsteps, looking suddenly awkward. He was glad he hadn't interrupted her before.
"Hey love, are you alright?"
She put her mug down on the table and pulled out the chair nearest the bathroom to sit on. "I didn't mean to wake you" she answered, sounding genuinely guilty.
"Oh it's fine, I was pretty much ready to get up anyway." he lied, knowing full well this was another attempt at the deflection she was so keen on. "So, tell me about this dream then". He tried to sound casual, but knew he was probably failing.
"Oh, it's nothing, just silly really. One of those weird, trippy dreams that seem real at the time, y'know? Probably put too much cheese in that pasta last night or something!" She was already on her feet again. "Anyway, since I'm up I might as well get ready. I could do with a bit of quiet before the mob arrive to get some paperwork done, anyway".
He grabbed her arm just slightly, still hyperaware of grabbing or pushing her in any way. "Carla…"
"What? I told you, it was nothing!"
"If it was nothing then why not just tell me?"
She sighed, outwardly looking annoyed, but he knew her well enough to realise this was fear, not anger. "Because, Peter, I told you. I need to get on with some work before the girls arrive."
"It's half past five, now please, love, sit down".
For a moment she merely stood there, shaking her head slightly at herself, before she seemed to give in and sit back down. She ran her tongue over her teeth as though working out how to phrase something, before eventually opening her mouth to speak. "Alright look, it wasn't the dream, ok? Well it was, but…"
"But what?"
She pulled her hands up to her face to illustrate her frustration, her tone slightly stressed. Peter couldn't help but be reminded of that night when she'd first admitted to how she felt about him. The night he'd stupidly turned her down and set of the chain of events that had led to the most terrifying night of her life.
"Argh, it's so stupid!" She uttered through gritted teeth. When he didn't respond, she slammed both hands down on the table in defeat. "In this dream, right… Well all women dream of being pregnant at some point, I mean it must be the first entry in the dream book."
"Right… But…?"
"Well it just… It was more my reaction to it, y'know?"
"Your reaction?"
She sighed, edging slightly back in her chair. "No, I… I don't mean it like that."
"Like what?"
"Like… the thought of having a baby with you terrified me because, well…."
"I wasn't thinking that." He paused. "I saw you looking at the photos" he gestured his head towards the photos on the kitchen wall.
She smiled. "It's what they're there for, in't it?"
He could practically see her slipping straight back into denial, the barriers shooting up again. "Carla… When I asked you to put a few of your photos up, you shrugged it off. Why?"
She looked awkward for a second, taking a long swig from her mug before answering. "Well, you don't want a load of photos of people you've never even met clogging up your walls, do you?"
"Why not? It's your home too, now".
She smiled coyly, still slightly uncomfortable at the idea of calling this flat her home. "Well, technically but…"
"But what?" he moved his chair closer to hers, leaning towards her in an attempt to comfort her. "Carla come on, just be honest with me. I deserve that at least, surely?"
"Honest about what? Look, I'm not a photo person, Ok? Is that a crime?" She edged away from him a little, turning her face to the window to avoid the eye contact she knew would betray her anxiety.
"I think…" he continued, placing his hand over hers. "That the reason you didn't want any photos up is the same as why you never mention your family, why you immediately go quiet the second childhood comes up in a conversation."
"Oh, really?" she scoffed, turning to face him again. "Go on then, enlighten me, Dr Barlow. What's that?"
"Because you don't want to remember. Because you're ashamed, because… it's somehow too painful".
She swallowed hard against the lump forming in her throat, trying to ignore the burning sensation of tears beginning to form. "I wasn't some molested child, y'know. They never locked me in a cupboard for days on end y'know, or set me alight or whatever else your vivid imagination is coming up with".
"Ok." His tone softened, he was getting somewhere at least. "So what did happen?"
Carla pretended to be confused. "What?"
Peter shifted slightly in his chair, turning his body so he now faced his girlfriend face on. Squeezing her hands more tightly now, he spoke softly and slowly, as though talking to a traumatised child. Which, he suspected, he very well might be. "Remember that night, after the incident with Mr Packham at the school gates?"
Carla rolled her eyes, leaning backwards and pulling her hands free; instantly defensive. "Oh, here we go!"
"No…" He took her hands back, maintaining eye contact whilst trying not to remain calm. "When I spoke to you about it, you said something that stuck in my mind. You said you'd been treated like a ragdoll all your life, do you remember?"
She was noticeably uncomfortable now, her eyes darting around the room, her bottom lip trembling slightly. She sniffed and turned to face him again. "I just meant, y'know with Frank and… and with Tony, y'know he…"
"I don't think that is what you meant, love".
"Peter, I…" She physically squirmed, looking desperately for a distraction but failing to find one. "I don't know what you mean."
"Listen," he reasoned, seeing the near frantic state the woman he loved was now in. "You don't have to tell me, and I'm not gonna force you to do or say anything that you don't want to. But I think, deep down, you want to be honest with me. I think it's all festered inside you and now you have to let that out".
Carla smiled to herself: He knew her too well, yet he still knew nothing.
Taking in a deep breath through her nose, she nodded.