Chapter 1: The family Connor

Carla expertly turned the wheel of her hire car first this way and then that as she sped along the narrow and winding roads of the Irish countryside, delighting in the feel of the cool air whipping at her face through the windows that she had wound all the way down specifically for this experience.

Despite the multitude of blind corners, with the ancient stone walls and hedgerows pressing in on either side, Carla was not afraid. She felt alive, confident in her abilities, almost euphoric with the heady rush that came with the speed and the danger.

And then an unbidden and unwelcome thought came racing into her brain. Was this how Paul had felt those last few moments before the crash that had ended his life? Had he felt this invincible? This in control?

Carla shook her head violently; why had she started thinking about Paul? She rarely thought about him these days; that period of her life seemed to her an age ago, as if someone else had lived it. Even thoughts of Liam rarely disturbed her anymore. If it wasn't for Michelle, her link with the Connors, well that branch anyway, would be a distant memory.

She might now be a Connor by blood, but she didn't feel it. Johnny didn't feel like her dad; the waster who ran out on her when she was a kid still held that place in her thoughts, in her memories. Johnny was… He was simply Johnny. She didn't think that would ever change, not now. She didn't really belong in his family. She didn't fit. Not like Kate did, or like Aidan had. They didn't have that shared history, those ties that bind.

Carla wondered exactly where she did fit these days. But she wasn't sure. With Roy? Sure, she felt safe with Roy, valued with Roy, but she couldn't rely on him too much, he had his own life to live. With Peter and the Barlows? With Michelle? Time would tell.

Before she knew it, her sat nav was informing her in a cool robotic voice that her destination was fast approaching. Her destination: Barry and Helen Connor. Her former in-laws. Not her biggest fans. Suddenly she wished she was miles away, back in Weatherfield, meeting Peter in the Rovers after his shift at Street Cars, in the familiar cosiness of her everyday life.

Despite her misgivings, she eased her foot off the accelerator pedal as the Connor driveway came into view. She turned into the gravel approach, flanked by a neatly manicured expanse of grass and bordered with well-ordered and pruned garden beds. After parking next to the modestly-proportioned square set house and switching off the ignition, Carla rested her head against the head-rest and glanced at the house, with the plumes of smoke coming from the chimney, and the homely lights glowing in the windows, and imagined Helen staring out of one of those windows at her, the former daughter-in-law that she hated.

Carla fixed a smile on her face as she waited for the door to open. She prayed that it would be Michelle that greeted her but, typical of her luck she bemoaned to herself, it was Helen.

"Oh, Carla," Helen Connor greeted her with disinterest. "It's you. Come in."

"How is he then?" Carla began as she edged past Helen and into the heart of the house. "The patient? Oh, Barry, there you are."

Carla smiled warmly at the elderly man laying almost completely flat in the plush leather reclining armchair in the corner of the living room.

"Hello, Carla," Barry returned Carla's smile weakly. "Come and give the old man a kiss then."

Carla gladly approached Barry and, leaning over him, kissed his cheek with genuine affection.

"Thanks for coming," Barry said as he reached out and gave Carla's hand a friendly squeeze.

"How are you feeling then?" Carla enquired as she sunk down into the sofa opposite.

"I'm out of bed, that's something. Although…" he added in a cheeky whisper, glancing conspiratorially from Carla to that spot on the far wall where they could hear Helen banging about in the kitchen beyond. "Sometimes I think I'm better off sticking to my sickbed. It's much more peaceful."

"You still got the devil in you, I see." Carla observed with her trademark dirty giggle. "Can I get you anything?"

"I don't suppose you got a bottle of Jameson's stashed in your bag?"

"Ha! Nice try. I can get you a brew?"

"Yeah, go on."

"You know, I can get my own husband a cup of tea," Helen chastised Carla, looking askance at her visitor's attempts to make herself useful.

"I don't mind," Carla was determined to be cheerful as she opened the cup cupboard and took out the closest mug to hand.

"He likes this one," Helen informed Carla as she retrieved a different mug from the cupboard.

"Oh, okay," Carla stammered as she put her chosen mug back in the cupboard.

"Look Carla," Helen suggested, keen to get her kitchen to herself once more. "Why don't you sit down with Barry. Relax."

"If you're sure you don't need a hand with anything?"

"I'm sure," Helen smiled placidly at Carla, the sheer force of her will pushing Carla out of her kitchen.

"Where is Michelle anyway?" Carla stood her ground a little bit longer. "And Robert?"

"Michelle has gone for a walk."

"A walk?"

"A walk."

"And Robert?"

"In the garden," Helen nodded towards the external kitchen door.

Carla made a beeline to said door, already desperate to escape Helen's company. But she was soon to discover that she was even less welcome in the garden. Carla scanned the back yard and quickly spotted Robert pacing the grassed area at the far end of the garden, where waist-high hedges separated the Connors' land from the County Kildare countryside, his mobile phone pressed to his ear.

As Carla approached him, she noticed that his face was twisted into an expression of… What was it? Frustration? Anger? He wasn't happy, that was for sure. And the tone of his voice that, at this distance, she only heard snatches of, backed up her negative impression.

When Robert turned and caught sight of Carla, he was momentarily speechless. Carla raised her hand in greeting and smiled at him, but Robert wasn't in the mood; he turned abruptly away from her and headed towards the wrought iron gate that led through a gap in the hedge to the fields beyond.

Carla stood staring after Robert's retreating frame, confused by his reaction to her presence, feeling suddenly alone and unwanted here, so far from home. But, with little choice left to her, she turned and walked sombrely back inside the house.

"Where did Michelle say she was going?" Carla stood at the door to the living room as Helen placed Barry's mug of tea on the small table next to his recliner.

"She didn't tell me," Helen answered with an air of someone aggrieved. "A right secretive madam she was," she added before retreating back into the kitchen.

Carla stood awkwardly, wondering what she should do when she spotted Barry motioning her over with a strange jerk of his head and a twinkle in his eye.

"You alright, Barry?" Carla joked as she approached his chair. "You look like you're about to have a seizure or summat."

"Michelle," Barry whispered to her. "She told me she was going to the place she used to go with her brothers."

"Oh!" Understanding suddenly dawned on Carla. "When they wanted to get away from the family." Carla caught the fleeting expression of confusion on Barry's face. "Sorry, I didn't mean…"

"It's okay, we all need to get away sometimes," Barry reassured her. "You do know where she means, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. Thanks Barry." Carla quickly grabbed her jacket before turning back to Barry with a grin. "Cover for me, yeah?"

After a quick stroll down the public road that ran alongside the Connor property and over an ancient stone bridge, Carla scrambled down the steep embankment to the riverbank below. With only her memory as a guide, Carla followed the course of the river as it snaked its way through the countryside, the lush green landscape to her right and the gently flowing water to her left.

She carefully stepped over the exposed roots of the trees that straddled the divide between land and water, their trunks leaning out and over the river, their branches reaching down beneath the surface as if pausing to take a long refreshing drink after a hard day's work.

The Connor siblings had been following this route ever since their parents had made the move from Manchester to the old country. They had always stuck close by each other; their own little gang that needed no outside stimulus.

Even after Carla had married Paul, she had never been invited to this secret hideaway; it was for Connors only; blood Connors. It was only when she had followed them one day that she had grudgingly been allowed to join them.

Carla continued her walk along the riverbank until she came across a small dell, a secluded hollow flanked by trees that led away from the river. It was here that she left the water behind and followed the floor of the hollow up a gentle slope where, with the landscape sunken into the earth, out of sight, the silence was dampened with an almost otherworldly peacefulness.

Even so, Carla was always happy to emerge from the hollow into the open air once again and catch the first glimpses of her final destination. There she would pause and look towards the horizon where, stark against the sky above flat plains beyond, was the ruins of a medieval stone tower house.

Carla stepped through the main archway leading into the old tower house, the only complete arch remaining in the structure. The stone walls on either side of the arch were covered in moss and lichen and a myriad of plants growing in the crumbling crevices of this ancient stronghold.

Inside the ruins, more vegetation had taken over; vines trailed over fallen logs and stones, small bushes sheltered against walls, and even trees flourished within the protection of the tower house.

Carla had to watch her step as she picked her way through the detritus of the ancient ruin into the heart of the old house where she knew a wild crab apple tree grew and, at this time of year, would be coming towards the end of its fruit bearing season.

Stopping in her tracks at the sight of the tree, its branches still heavily laden with fruit, Carla admired its wild beauty. She had never known anything like this growing up on the Brightwell Estate; their only links to nature as kids had been the nearby quarry where they had engaged in underage drinking and reckless, sometimes downright dangerous, pranks and dares.

The smile that the crab apple tree had brought to her face widened even more when a small movement beyond caught her attention. Michelle. She stepped to the side a little to get a better view. But the sight that met her gaze was wholly unexpected. No, more than that; it was shocking.

Silently, she moved forwards, anxious to understand what was happening, hoping that her eyes were deceiving her. But she soon realised that this hope was futile; she hadn't been mistaken.

"What the hell's going on?"

As if one body and one mind, Michelle Connor and her ex-fiancé Ciaran McCarthy simultaneously leapt away from each other, away from the embrace they had been locked in, and turned to stare, wide-eyed and guilty, at Carla.

"Well?"

Author: thelocalknickermerchant