So I got carried away again and wrote a bit much! Lots of Michelle in this one though.
Thanks again for your reviews!
7th July 1991
Carla was spread out on her stomach across Michelle's single bed, flicking through the most recent issue of 'Just Seventeen' magazine. Her legs were bent behind her, her feet resting against the headboard. Beside her, Michelle sat upright, leaning back against the wall with a copy of 'Smash Hits' propped open across her thighs. She was pretending to be focusing on the words in front of her, but her mind was elsewhere. The soulful voice of Bryan Adams filled the quiet, but Michelle couldn't even concentrate on the music; everything around her was a blur.
"I don't know how you think that bloke from The Human League isn't fit," Carla said, pointing at the page she'd flipped onto which had an interview with the band splashed across it, "I know he's a bit eccentric, but there's just something about that hair."
"Yeah, I suppose…" Hearing the wistfulness in her friend's voice, Carla rolled onto her side and rested her head in the crook of her arm, peering up at her.
"I think that Gary fella who works in the chippie's fit an' all, what do you reckon, 'Chelle?" Carla asked sarcastically, watching the younger girl's response carefully.
"I guess so, yeah," Michelle mumbled, absentmindedly toying with the strings of the oversized grey hoodie that she was wearing over her leggings. Carla frowned.
"Right, what's wrong with you?" she probed, bringing herself up to sit cross-legged in the middle of the bed, directly facing Michelle.
"Sorry, I've got a lot on my mind…" Michelle replied with a sigh, fidgeting nervously under Carla's intense gaze.
"I can see that. Spill." Michelle bit her lip. As the chords of 'Everything I Do' started to fade out, she rose to her feet and made her way over to the tape player to change the tape over, keen of the distraction, though when she turned back around again she found that Carla was still watching her expectantly, one finely-plucked eyebrow raised.
"Fine…" Michelle raised her hands in defeat. As she returned to sit back on the bed, she fixed Carla with an equally intense stare. "But I need you to keep this a secret, Car. I mean it. You can't tell anyone, not even Liam… Especially not Liam."
"Me and Liam hardly see each other these days. 'Chelle, you're worrying me now," Carla replied, her faced etched with concern as Michelle took a deep breath, preparing herself to finally say the unspoken words out loud.
"I'm pregnant." Carla's mouth dropped open.
"You're what?"
"You heard."
"No way!" she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand in surprise. "Michelle, that's mad!"
"Keep your voice down, will you?" Michelle hissed, glancing nervously over at her bedroom door, which she realised was slightly ajar. Quickly, she jumped up and shut it tightly.
"So your mum doesn't know?"
"Nobody knows yet, except Dean."
"It is Dean's, then?" she asked as Michelle sat down once again, crossing her own legs to mirror Carla's.
"Well, yeah, who else's is it gonna be?" Michelle pointed out, somewhat offended by Carla's insinuation.
"I just… Didn't know you and him had done it, that's all."
"We've been together ages, ten months and two weeks now."
"Yeah, I know, but…" Carla hesitated, not wanting to make her friend feel judged but also having a slightly firmer grasp of reality than her, which she attributed to years bringing up her younger brother instead of playing childhood games, "You're only fifteen."
"Alright, Mum," Michelle mumbled, shuffling backwards away from Carla and leaning back against the wall, folding her arms across her chest in a petulant manner, "I don't need a lecture from you, I'll get enough of that from her. She's gonna kill me. And Paul's gonna kill Dean, and Liam will probably help him hide the body, and my dad won't know what to do with himself."
"When are you gonna tell them?"
"Tonight. We're having a family dinner because our Paul's moving into his flat tomorrow so it's the last night with five of us. Thought I'd spring the big surprise on them all at once so they can all grieve together. I'm glad I told you, actually, 'cause I was wondering if you'd come to dinner for moral support?" she asked hopefully, presuming that her mother would be less likely to create a fuss in front of a visitor. Carla gave her a small, apprehensive smile.
"Yeah, course. I'll need to nip home and sort Robbie out something first mind…" Carla trailed off, thinking carefully about the right way to phrase her next question. "Have you thought about what you're going to do?"
"Oh, there's no option. I'm only a couple of months gone, but there's no way anyone's talking me into getting rid of this baby." As Carla opened her mouth to speak, Michelle quickly cut her off by raising her hand. "It won't work, Car. I know you're more sensible than me-"
"I definitely wouldn't say that. Practical, maybe."
"I love this baby already. I've loved it from the minute I found out. And I love Dean, and me and him, we can work this out. I'm not stupid, there've been enough babies in the family for me to see it's not easy, but we want to be a family together." Michelle smiled to herself, bringing her hands to cup over the large pocket of her hoodie, filling with an inner warmth as she thought of what was growing inside. Carla crawled across the bed and filled the space next to her, tilting her head to the side to rest it against Michelle's in a mark of support. "The three of us…"
At the sharp knock at the front door, Michelle dashed across the living room to answer it before any of her family could get to it first. She widened her eyes in surprise, finding herself greeted by two people waiting on the doorstep instead of the one that she expected; Carla, shooting her a forced grin, whilst her brother stood slightly behind her with his head down and his hands shoved into his pockets.
"Hiya," Carla sung with a false cheeriness, "I'm sorry, I got home to find my mum shooting up at the kitchen table with the bloke who lives in the stairwell and I didn't want to leave our kid around that."
"Oh, no, it's fine, we're feeding the five thousand tonight anyway, apparently," Michelle replied, her tone laced with dismay as she led Carla and her brother through to the living room, flashing Carla a matching tight-lipped smile, "Johnny and the cavalry are here for the evening as well, Mum invited them." Surprised, Carla glanced past her friend to see Johnny fighting his 20-month-old daughter Kate into a highchair with Louise sat beside her at the dinner table. Aidan, meanwhile, was sat on one of the kitchen worktops, kicking his legs back and forth cheerfully and rambling about his new teacher at school to Liam. Carla had scarcely seen the family in the last year, as she'd been busy with her last few months at school and Johnny and Louise struggled to find a spare minute since having their second child, but their friendly faces filled her with a kind of warmth, of the few happy memories of her difficult childhood.
"Hello, Carla, love," Louise called across the room, waving a hand, "Hi, Robbie."
"It's Rob," Rob grunted, barely lifting his head but still managing to force a half-smile for the woman who had been so kind to him in his younger years. Carla rolled her eyes.
"Ignore him, Lou, he's been in a right foul mood lately. Make yourself useful for once, Robert, go and play with Aidan before Liam sticks his own head in the oven." When she was sure that her brother was, however reluctantly, out of earshot, Carla turned back to Michelle and drastically lowered her voice. "Does this mean you're not going to…?"
"Oh, no, the more here the merrier, just means I get to disappoint more of my family in one hit rather than spreading it out," Michelle rambled nervously, "You're just in time, Mum's dishing up. I've put you in between me and Liam, Rob'll just have to squeeze in wherever."
"We'll all have to toss a coin, the loser can have the moody prick." Carla gave Michelle's arm a reassuring squeeze to show her support, before darting over to Liam's side at the dinner table. She hadn't seen her formerly close friend in months, as he'd often been out with his new work colleagues when she visited the family home. Tucking her dark hair behind her ear, she smiled down at him. Liam's eyes lit up, and he automatically shifted his position in his seat to get a proper look at her.
"Hey, stranger…" Carla greeted him, slipping into the seat beside him, "How's the job going?"
"Oh, you know, work's work, money's money…" Liam hesitated, narrowing his eyes slightly before asking his next question, "How's your worse half?"
"Luke is great, thank you," Carla replied pointedly, emphasizing her boyfriend's name, "No need for you to go getting all protective." Liam scoffed, but quickly dropped his scornful expression, the left corner of his lips twitching into a half-smile.
"I've missed you," he admitted, quietly. Carla felt as though she was melting into her seat, her heart aching within her chest, and she was about to say something equally sweet back when she noticed a pair of eyes watching them from Liam's other side. Looking past him, she caught the gaze of Paul, Michelle's good-looking, more mature older brother. She'd not spent much time around Paul; he'd been at university for most of the years she'd been in Michelle's life, and when he was home he spent most of his hours slaving away at the markets to save up to by his own property, which he'd finally managed to do. She was surprised at how attractive she found him. He shared many physical qualities with Liam – the same jet black hair, the same mischievous green eyes – but Paul had a wise, grown-up quality about him as opposed to Liam's youthful, boyish good looks.
"Hiya, Paul," she said, somewhat nervously, "It's been a while." Paul nodded in agreement.
"It has indeed. I almost didn't recognize you; you've grown up a lot." Carla opened her mouth to reply, however, was interrupted as Barry placed a plate filled to the brim with a roast dinner and all the trimmings down on the placemat in front of her. She couldn't remember a time she'd seen so much food in one place. She and Rob had grown up on toast and leftover scraps for dinner.
"Wow. This looks incredible, Barry, thank you," she said, her voice laced with genuine gratitude. The family – as well as the two strays that they so often took in – began to tuck hungrily into their food, with the exception of Kate, who was determined to toss most of her smaller portion into the center of the table, and Michelle, who was anxiously pushing her vegetables around in the swimming pool of gravy she'd created.
"Michelle, what is the matter with you?" Helen snapped, her words clipped, "Are you trying to turn your food into soup? Are you ill?" Drawing in a deep breath, Michelle placed her cutlery down beside her plate and angled her body towards her parents, forcing herself to look her mother dead in the eye and not crumble under her intense stare.
"No, I'm not ill… But there is something that I want to tell you. All of you," she began, looking from her mother to her father, but quickly returning to the former as she didn't think she could bear to witness the disappointment in his face. Carla reached out to her under the table, feeling for her hand and clasping it in her own once she found it, giving it an encouraging squeeze. Michelle breathed in again, trying to steady the churning in her stomach before she spoke.
"Spit it out," Helen said quickly, her eyes darting between her dinner guests, all of whom were watching her daughter with curiosity. "No one'll thank you for dinner getting cold because of your dramatics."
"I'm pregnant." An instant hush descended on the dinner table; even the children were silent for a moment, albeit in Kate's case because she had a mouth full of broccoli. Nobody wanted to be the first to speak, to congratulate the teenager – were congratulations even in order in the case of an underage, accidental pregnancy? Michelle held her mother's gaze for as long as she could muster, however, as Helen's eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to speak, she quickly looked down at her plate instead, preparing herself for the lecture that she was about to receive. What she was not prepared for were the words that fell from her mother's mouth.
"This is all your fault." Carla looked from her friend to the older woman sat towards the end of the table, and was surprised to see her glaring back at her rather than at her daughter. "Before she met you, my daughter had promise in life; she was clever, she had ambition, she played with dolls in her free time, not teenage boys. But you've dragged her into a world of sex and drugs and drinking, and that may be the kind of life that your knacker of a mother planned out for you two, but that's not what I intend for my children."
"Mum…" Carla barely registered Paul's voice interrupting his mother's monologue, "It's nothing to do with her." Carla stared down at the tablecloth in front of her. She was never one to not know what to say, but she'd also never been so publicly degraded in front of a table full of people she cared about. She felt her knees weaken and her hands trembling in her lap, but she couldn't pinpoint why, whether out of anger, shock or shame.
"It's everything to do with her!" Helen sneered, her eyes still trained on Carla, "Michelle wouldn't have looked twice at a boy like that Dean if she hadn't been leading her astray and whispering encouragements to her. I've heard them! Her mother might be happy for her to be a slapper and sleep around the estate, but how dare she drag my daughter down with her-"
"Helen, that's enough!" Johnny's raised voice jolted Carla out of her trance-like state and she scraped her chair backwards, pushing herself away from the table.
"Robbie, we're going," she told her brother, who had crawled under the table and was at her side in a matter of seconds.
"Didn't want any of your poncy mint sauce anyway," Rob mumbled, ignoring the pang of hunger he felt in the pit of his stomach as he and Carla turned their backs on the party and scurried across the living room. Liam and Michelle glanced at each other before both went to stand, however, they were forced back into their seats with a deathly stare from Helen.
"If either of you even thinks about moving, you may as well see if there's space in their drug den, as you won't be living under my roof any longer." Without hesitation, Johnny jumped to his feet, but Louise quickly put her hand on his arm and gave him a pleading look.
"Johnny, stay here. There's bigger issues going on," she begged him, nodding her head in Michelle's direction, "This is your family. Those two don't need you to come to their rescue every time."
"Well, someone's got to look out for them," Johnny retorted, shaking off his wife's grip. The wounded look in her eyes pained him for a split second, but on hearing the slamming of the front door, he was reminded of his other responsibilities. "Certain people round here are quick enough to judge those kids without thinking to what they've gone through in their little lives." Without looking back at his wife, or his children, or the rest of his family, Johnny followed Carla and Rob out of the house and took the front steps leading to the garden path two at a time to catch up with them. They were already halfway across the road by the time Johnny let the front gate swing shut behind him. "Carla, wait!"
"Go back to your family, Johnny," Carla responded without missing a step or looking back, "Your kind are too good for scallies like us."
"You know I don't think that. Carla, please." Reluctantly, she came to a stop and turned to face him, Rob also stopping a few steps ahead of her. Johnny felt his heart clench when he noticed that her eyes were red and watery. She quickly rubbed underneath them, clearly not wanting to show how much Helen's comments had got under her skin.
"I've always known she didn't like me," Carla mused, thinking to the numerous cynical comments Helen had shot in her direction in the past that she'd let bounce off of her, "I used to find it quite funny, me and 'Chelle liked winding her up about it. But for her to sit there and slag us off like we're something she brought in off her shoe, it's too far.
"She doesn't mean it. She's looking for someone to blame so that she doesn't have to blame herself."
"Then blame Michelle! I love her to bits, but she didn't need me to teach her any tricks!"
"Carla, Helen is a deflector, she will do whatever she can to avoid thinking that her kids are anything other than perfect," Johnny sighed, despairingly, "So she picked you to be the root cause because you were the easy target."
"I'll show her who's an easy target when I put a brick through her window," growled Rob, though he was silenced by a swift glare from his sister.
"Not helping," she snapped, before turning back to Johnny, "Look, Johnny, I appreciate your concern, but we don't need you. What's your obsession with trying to fix us? You're not our dad!" Carla may as well have drawn a knife from her pocket and stabbed it straight into Johnny's chest; for a moment, he wanted to prove her wrong, to shout back the truth and make the last sixteen years of him trying to protect her make sense, but he said nothing, knowing the damage it'd cause.
"Maybe not," he replied, "But he's not here to fight your corner, and someone needs to." Carla shook her head. She drew her shoulders back, wanting to prove to the world that the Donovan children didn't need saving.
"We can fight for ourselves," she assured him, "We've been doing it since we were little. No need to change that now." She turned her back on him and continued in the direction of the Brightwell Estate, resting her hand affectionately on Rob's shoulder as she passed him and guiding him to turn and follow her.
"Where are you going?" Johnny called after them. Carla did not look back. Instead, she continued to look straight ahead of her, towards the 'drug den' that they were forced to call 'home'.
"Back to the gutter, where we belong." She didn't listen to hear if he called after her again. She didn't need him. She didn't need anyone.