Week 28: For better or worse – Part I

"David!" Kylie stood at the bottom of the staircase of Number 8 Coronation Street and yelled up to her husband. "I'm ready to go!"

All around her was silence as she waited, impatiently chewing on her lower lip and tapping her foot. "Hurry up, David," she muttered, glancing across at the clock opposite and then, as she heard footsteps, up the staircase. "Oh, it's you."

"You heading over to Carla's now?" Nick asked.

"No, I'm off to Roy's for a bacon butty. Of course I'm going to Carla's."

"Alright," Nick raised his eyebrows, bemused by Kylie's acerbic tone. "Just trying to be friendly."

"I don't care if you're friendly to me or not, all I care about is how you treat Carla."

"When have I ever mistreated Carla?" Nick asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Have I done something to offend you?"

Kylie glanced at Nick hesitantly, cursing herself for not hiding her feelings better while frantically trying to find an escape route.

"Kylie?" Nick pressed her.

"Forget about it," she tried to shrug it off, quite ineffectually as it turned out. "It's nothing."

"No," Nick refused to let it go, determined to get to the bottom of Kylie's harsh words. "Tell me, what is your problem with me?"

"Fine," Kylie rolled her eyes and, looking him squarely in the eye, cryptically revealed, "I know."

"Know what?"

"About you and Leanne."

"Oh, right," Nick stammered, his mind racing with all the possible consequences of Kylie's admission. "What are you, umm… are you, umm…"

"Am I gonna tell Carla?"

"Well, are you?"

"I don't wanna hurt her like that."

"Neither do I."

"Then why did you do it?" Kylie cried. "Why did you cheat on her?"

"Shhh!"

"Don't you dare shush me!" Kylie snarled. "Well?"

"It was a mistake. A stupid mistake. I love Carla, okay. You have to believe me, Kylie, I love Carla and I want to marry her."

"I really hope you're being sincere."

"I am."

"You off then?" David asked as he came bounding down the stairs.

"Yep," Kylie plastered on a smile and gave her husband a quick peck on the lips.

"You right to get there?"

"Cab's gonna be here in a minute–" Beep beep! "Right on cue."

"I'll see you at the wedding, then." David farewelled his wife before sauntering into the kitchen. "You fancy a fry-up, Nick?"

"Yeah, whatever," Nick brushed off his brother, instead following Kylie to the front door. "Kylie, wait!"

"I have to go."

"Just, please, tell me–" Nick's voice faltered as Kylie disappeared with a bang of the door.

Peter leaned his head against the garden wall of his father's house and watched the smoke rings float up into the air and then dissipate into nothingness. He raised his cigarette to his lips, sucking the smoke in through the filter, into his lungs and then out again, formed his mouth into a perfect 'o', and then watched as he sent another batch of smoke rings into the atmosphere.

These repetitive actions of blowing smoke rings was soothing to him, almost hypnotic, a release for his nerves, a benign focus for his mind on a day when he needed every distraction possible. For today was the day; Carla was marrying him. He wondered what her life would be like from now on, married to a man who'd already cheated on her. How could she hope to have a happy life under those circumstances?

Leaving the cigarette to dangle precariously from the corner of his mouth, Peter pulled out his mobile phone. Now what? He held the phone in his hand, unsure of what to do next. Needing to be doing something, to be taking some sort of action, he opened his messages, created a new message and began typing.

Hey he typed. Hey what? Hey, your fiancé who you're meant to be marrying today is a cheating scumbag? He backspaced to an empty screen and started again.

Good morning. His second attempt was even worse than his first, with the important words refusing to come to his mind. And so, once again, he reverted back to an empty screen.

"Peter!" Ken called out from the back door. "Simon's suit, where did you put it? It's not in his wardrobe."

"Oh, right," Peter racked his brain as he tried to remember where he'd stashed the dry cleaning he'd picked up the day before. "I'll come in, sort him out."

"Don't be too long," Ken warned him. "There's already a queue forming for the bathroom."

As his father retreated back inside the house, Peter focused his attention back on that empty screen. Under pressure now, he quickly typed a new message and pressed send before he could second-guess himself.

"It's me!" Kylie's voice crackled through Carla's intercom.

"Come up," Carla said, pressing the main door release button and unlatching her front door.

Beep beep

Carla hurried to the kitchen counter and picked up her phone, opening the newly received text message and reading it.

"Is that from Nick?" Kylie asked as she walked in the door, her arms full of garment bags and boxes.

"No. Why do say that?"

"I dunno," Kylie shrugged, dumping her stuff down onto the sofa. "That smile on your face, I thought…"

"It was Peter," Carla revealed. "Just wishing me luck for the day."

"Aww, isn't he a sweetie?"

"Yeah," Carla agreed with a little smile. "He is."

"So," Kylie prompted her. "What needs doing?"

"Ugh," Carla rolled her eyes. "I love my dress and all, but it's impossible to get into it with this little guy in the way," she patted her bump fondly. "I can't quite reach."

"Right, then, let's get you dressed."

"Dad! Dad!" Simon called, running into the kitchen, his waistcoat flapping in his wake and his bow tie hanging limply around his neck. "Help me!"

"Oh, Si," Peter shook his head. "Look at you. Come here."

Simon stood obediently still as his dad tucked in his shirt for him and buttoned up his waistcoat.

"What about this, dad?" Simon held out the bow tie.

"Ahh…" Peter took the piece of fabric from his son's hand and stared at it, flummoxed. "It's fine, I can figure this out."

Peter crouched in front of Simon and, wrapping the tie around his neck, proceeded to tie it into a bow, or at least he tried. Unsuccessfully.

"Dad?"

"Mmm…?"

"You don't know what you're doing, do ya?"

"Umm…" Peter raised his eyes to look into Simons and grinned. "No idea."

"Grandad!" Simon yelled.

"Hey, mate! No need to call grandad, we can work this out."

"Yeah, right," Simon rolled his eyes and shouted again, "Grandad!"

"Did I hear a– well, look what we've got here," Ken said as he entered the room. "Don't you look smart."

"Me dad don't know how to tie this," he said, holding the bow tie in the air. "He's useless."

"I'm sure he's not."

"It's meant to be a bow," Simon explained matter-of-fact.

"A bow you say," Ken said with a smile, taking the tie from Simon and, standing behind him, draped it around his neck. "Luckily for you, I've been around long enough to know how these little beauties work. Now, what you have to do is take this end here, see?"

Peter smiled as he watched his father teach his son something so simple as how to tie a bow tie, unable to keep his mind from wandering, thinking about how it should have been for him and Simon on a day like today. They should've been at home, with Leanne, getting ready together as a family. And then, not for the first time, Peter wondered if it was cruel for him to separate Simon from Leanne like this. Would his son be better off if they were to go back home?

"How're you feeling?" Kylie asked, turning to Carla as they sat in the back seat of the vintage Rolls Royce, en route to the Bistro where both the ceremony and reception were taking place. "Nervous?"

"Umm…" Carla hesitated while she mused on her condition. "Not nervous, I mean I've done this all before, more than once. Excited, definitely. I think mainly because this time is different to those other times. Nick's different, you know?"

"He's a man," Kylie shrugged. "None of 'ems perfect."

"Ha! True, but… he's a good man. And I know he'll make a good husband and a good father."

"I'm sure."

"I mean, he's honest and he's reliable for a start. Sure, life with Nick might not be that exciting and unpredictable wild ride like it was with Paul and Tony, but then Nick's not gonna turn out to be a serial cheater or a psychopathic murderer either."

"I guess that's some consolation."

"It probably sounds boring to you, but the older I get, the more I value those steady, predictable and yes, boring qualities. More so since I got pregnant. I've got this one to think about now, don't I? It's not just about me anymore."

"No, I can see that."

"Ooh, here we go," Carla announced excitedly, grabbing hold of Kylie's hand as the car turned onto Coronation Street and rumbled down the cobbles. "How do I look? Is my makeup okay?"

"You look stunning," Kylie assured her. "And you know it."

"Thanks," Carla smiled absently as the car rolled to a stop, her whole focus now on the man that was waiting for her inside the building that was looming large in front of them. "Shall we?"

Kylie hurried out of the car and around to Carla's side to help her out safely, to keep her dress in pristine condition and off the dirty cobbles. But, as Carla took her first tentative steps towards the Bistro, Kylie instinctively reached out and grabbed hold of her arm.

"Carla, wait!"

"What is it?" Carla asked, turning around to face Kylie, a questioning look on her face.

"Umm…" Kylie's heart began to beat fast, suddenly terrified at the knowledge of what she was about to do. "I need to talk to you… before you…"

"Can't it wait? I've got a rather important date, you know, getting married."

"I'm sorry, it really can't wait. Can we…?" she motioned towards Number 8 and ushered a confused Carla towards the front door and then inside to the peace and quiet within, the remaining residents having already made their way to the Bistro.

"What's going on, Kylie?"

"Oh, god," Kylie gasped. Now that she was on the verge of revealing all, she was scared to speak.

"Kylie, what–"

"I know I should've said something as soon as I found out," Kylie began to ramble, afraid to stop now that she had finally begun. "But you were so happy. I didn't want to upset you. I didn't know what to do for the best."

"Kylie, you're starting to freak me out. Can you please just say whatever it is you've got to say, because I'm getting married in… less than five minutes."

"Okay," Kylie said, taking a deep breath and letting it out with a long sigh. "I'm sorry, I don't want to do this to you–"

"Spit it out, Kylie!"

"It's about Nick. Nick and Leanne."

"Isn't this lovely," Deirdre gushed as she gazed at the decorations that bedecked the Bistro dining room. The tables had been removed and the chairs had been laid out in rows facing an altar. The entire room had been simply adorned with draped white chiffon and bunches of cascading white peonies off set with rich green foliage.

"Yes," Ken agreed. "Very nice. What do you think, Peter?" But Peter's attention was diverted elsewhere. "Peter?"

"Sorry, dad, what?"

"The flowers? Aren't they nice?"

"Yeah, very nice. Listen, do you wanna grab a seat, I need to take care of summat."

"But, Peter–"

Peter ignored his father's pleas and hurried towards the Bistro office. He had only caught a brief glimpse, but he was certain, it was her. And whatever she was up to, he was not going to put up with it, not today of all days.

And so, without bothering to knock or wait for an invitation, Peter opened the office door and stepped inside.

"Well, well, well," he said, looking with disgust from Nick to Leanne who were standing way too close together for his liking, an expression of guilt on each of their faces. "What do we have here?"

"It's not what it looks like," Nick immediately proclaimed his innocence, and stepped away from Leanne, his hands in the air.

"That's what they all say," Peter sneered.

"Peter–" Leanne began.

"You shut up!" Peter dismissed her out of hand, his focus remaining entirely on Nick. "You are meant to be getting married."

"I am getting married."

"Then why are you in here cosying up to her?"

"I didn't invite her in here," Nick declared in his own defence. "I don't want her here. I want to go out there and get married. In fact, that's exactly what I'm going to do right now. If you can't control your wife, take her home."

"She's not my wife."

"Whatever. Just keep her away from me."

Without so much as a glance in Leanne's direction, Nick stalked out of the office, leaving the estranged husband and wife alone together for the first time in weeks.

"Have you got no shame?" Peter didn't hesitate to launch his attack. "The man's about to get married."

"Maybe he is," Leanne shrugged. "Maybe he isn't."

"What's that supposed to mean? You better not be planning nothing."

"Let's just say, I don't think the bride will want to go through with the ceremony when she finds out what her beloved has been up to."

"You wouldn't dare."

"I would. And I will. Unless…"

"Oh god, what are you plotting?"

"No plotting or scheming. I swear. I'm just letting you know that there is one thing that is guaranteed to keep my mouth shut. For good."

"What is it?" Peter asked, his eyes narrow with suspicion.

"You forgive me. Completely. We wipe the slate clean and we start again."

"You want us to…?"

"Get back together," Leanne nodded in confirmation with no hint of shame. "That's exactly what I want. I want you and Si to move back into the flat, for us to be a family again."

"You're insane! There's no way–"

"We were good together, Peter. More than good, we were amazing. And I know I've messed things up. More than once. I know I was in the wrong. I hold my hands up. But, if you forgive me, I will never ever let you down again."

"You've got some brass neck, you do."

"I've got no choice, it's the only way I can save my family."

"Our family is gone!" he cried. "You destroyed it."

"Think about Si," she pleaded with him. "He needs me. I need him. And I miss him. I miss both of you."

"He misses you too," Peter said, unable to deny the truth.

"What about you?" Leanne asked hopefully. "Do you miss me?"

"Of course I miss you," he replied in earnest. "You were everything to me."

"I can be again."

Taking what she knew was her only chance, Leanne leaned in close to Peter; reaching out her hand, she caressed his cheek softly and then, pressing her lips to his lips, she kissed him.

"When did you find out?" Carla asked, her head spinning with what Kylie had just told her.

"At the hen's night."

"Right. That's why you and her were holed up in the bogs for so long, was it? Gossiping about my fiancé's extra-curricular activities?"

"I was telling her to keep her gob shut."

"So… why are you telling me this now?"

"The way you were talking in the car, you know, how Nick was so reliable and honest. I realised then that you needed to know all the facts before you married him."

"But why leave it to the last minute?"

"I thought I was doing the right thing," Kylie explained. "I thought I was protecting your family."

"For future reference, lying to someone is not doing the right thing."

"What are you gonna do now?"

"You dump this on me minutes before I walk down the aisle and you expect me to know what to do?"

"I'm sorry."

"What am I gonna do, Kylie?"

"I don't know," Kylie shrugged, grasping for any kind of comfort she could give to Carla. "Talk to Nick?"

"And get lied to again? He's obviously been lying to me for weeks, months even. Are you sure about this? You couldn't have misunderstood? Maybe, I dunno, maybe Leanne was lying?"

"I asked David about it and he says it's true."

"David knows?"

"Yeah."

Carla stood thoughtful for a moment, her mind racing, that gut-wrenching feeling in the pit of her stomach growing stronger by the second. And then, having made up her mind, she made her move, striding towards the front door and flinging it open.

"Carla!" Kylie cried, running after her. "Where are you going?"

"Where do you think? I'm going to the Bistro."

"And then what?"

"I'm getting married, aren't I?"

"No." Peter shook his head, pulling away from Leanne. "No, no."

"Peter, I love you," Leanne murmured, pulling Peter's face back towards her own, kissing him again, but Peter evaded her, turning his face to the side.

"I can't, I'm sorry, no," his protests were meaningless to her as she placed her hands firmly, one on either side of his face. "Stop it, Lea."

"I can't… stop…" she pressed on, planting little kisses on his cheek and along his jawline. "I need… to make you… understand. You and me… we're meant to be… together. Stop fighting it, Peter."

"No!" he snapped, grabbing her wrists and pulling her hands away from his face. "We are done, Lea. We're done. You have to accept it."

"No," she shook her head. "Never."

"Once you betrayed me, that was hard enough to forgive. Do you have any idea how much that hurt me?"

"I do, I do, and you know how sorry I was."

"You weren't sorry, not really. Because, if you were, you wouldn't have done it again."

"But, Carla–"

"Carla! Carla! Carla!" Peter threw up his hands in despair. "You're obsessed with Carla."

"Me? You're the one who's obsessed with her. If you had really loved me and forgiven me like you said you had, you would have left her alone."

"There's nothing going on–" he cried, his frustration levels peaking. "Oh my god, I can't believe we're still having this argument. She's getting married…" he glanced at his clock on the wall… "…right now! But still you won't let the past go!"

"She's getting married."

"That's what I just said."

"Nah, that's not right," Leanne shook her head, speaking almost to herself now, as she lapsed into her own private phantasy. "She gets her happy ending while I get…"

"Leanne."

"I gave you a chance to save her," she rambled on.

"No, Lea–"

"But you were too damn selfish."

She stood up abruptly and, imitating Peter's action, looked at the clock.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked, wary of her unpredictability.

"I'm gonna tell her," she looked him directly in the eye, her own flashing almost maniacally. "Right now. I'm gonna tell her everything."

"No."

Peter grabbed hold of Leanne's arms, blocking her exit from the room. But Leanne, seemingly possessed by her new mission, fought back against him, twisting her arms and her body as she tried to free herself. They grappled in near silence, the only sound a few short grunts as they wrestled for dominion over the other. It was Leanne who won the day. She wrested herself free from Peter and immediately struck out, slapping him hard across his cheek, before storming out of the office.

"Lea!" he called after her as he jogged to catch up with her. "Don't you dare–
Oh!"

He stopped in his tracks when he saw the front door of the Bistro open and Carla stride into the foyer, Kylie bringing up the rear.

"Carla, I–" Leanne tried to engage Carla, but the bride pushed her aside.

Peter meanwhile was struck senseless as he gazed on Carla in all of her finery. She was dressed in a simple white dress, draped and folded across the front in a loose v-neck, the straps set wide on her shoulders before plunging low in the back, showing off her back that was, even at this stage in her pregnancy, smooth and toned. The unadorned fabric fitted her curves snugly before falling to the floor in a fanback style skirt with a short and simple train. Her hair was styled in soft waves with one side pulled back and fastened with a delicate seed pearl and crystal clip.

She truly was beautiful, he thought. Magnificent. But there was something about her in this moment that was more than mere beauty; she was beautiful, yes, but she was also dangerous. He dared not approach her for fear he would be burned up in the fire that was now raging within her.

As Carla stood, poised at the entrance to the dining room, Leanne once again made her move. But Kylie stepped in and manhandled her away, pushing her up against the wall and hissing, "You're too late. She knows everything."

"No," Peter shook his head in disbelief.

"You're lying," Leanne refused to believe it.

"Believe what you want," Kylie sneered before grabbing onto the front of Leanne's dress and shoving her in Peter's direction. "If you can't control her," she commanded him. "Take her outside."

With Peter holding Leanne back, Kylie tentatively approached Carla. "Babe," she whispered softly. "What are you gonna do?"

"I promised Nick I'd meet him at the end of that aisle."

"You're not going through with it?"

"I'm ready," Carla declared with great stoicism.

"What's she doing?" Peter asked as Kylie took her place behind Carla.

"Looks like she's marrying him."

At Carla's signal, the doors to the dining room opened and music began to play. She stepped into the room and paused at the top of the aisle until all eyes were on her; this was her moment. And then the man at the other end of the aisle turned around and, with a broad smile on his face, locked eyes with her.

Carla returned his smile with her lips only; her eyes burned and, as they focused with unremitting intensity on Nick's, caused his gaze to falter.

And then she began to walk, one foot in front of the other, she walked down the aisle to meet her fate, for better or worse.