Chapter 2: Confronting the past

"What?" Carla barked as she flung open the front door to her flat. "Oh, it's you."

"Yeah, it's me," Rob scowled, shutting the door behind him as he followed Carla inside. "Is that alright with you? I can go if you want me to go."

"Oh, stop fussing. You can stay."

"Gee, thanks."

"I'm sorry, Rob, I just…" Carla motioned towards the bassinette positioned in the middle of the living from which a high-pitched wailing was emanating.

"Is she alright?"

"How should I know?" Carla threw her hands up in despair, stalking to the bassinette and carefully lifting her crying daughter into her arms. "They don't come with a flaming manual, do they? I've fed her, I've changed her nappy, but she won't sleep, she cries when I hold her, she cries when I put her down. I don't know what else to do."

"Give her to me," Rob commanded, holding out his arms in anticipation.

"Oh, Rob, I don't think…"

"Give." Rob repeated his command, not waiting for Carla's blessing before prising his niece from his sister's grip and cradling the tiny body in his arms. "That's better, isn't it… You know you really ought to give the poor mite a name. We can't keep calling her 'baby' or 'her' or owt."

"I know, but none of the names I pick seem to suit her. How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"She's stopped crying. One minute with you and she's transformed, like a miracle, into the perfect baby. But with me…" she sighed deeply. "I don't think I'm cut out for this motherhood malarkey."

"See, that's half your problem," Rob said, bouncing the little girl gently. "She can feel your doubt, she can feel your stress. All she's doing is reacting to you."

"Wow, my brother the baby whisperer."

"I know, shocking right?" Rob laughed. "This is cute," he said, picking up a teddy bear from the kitchen counter that was crowded with flowers, toys, and cards; all gifts received from well-wishers. "Who gave it to you?"

"Umm…" Carla's gaze swept over the collection. "It came with those flowers," she said with furrowed brow, pointing at a luxurious bunch of soft pink peonies, before turning in confusion to a brilliant display of miniature sunflowers. "Or was it those? It don't matter anyway, all the cards have gotten mixed up, I've no idea who sent what."

"I've gotta go," Rob declared abruptly.

"Already? But you just got here."

"Sorry," he apologised rather casually, handing Carla back her daughter and kissing her absently on the cheek. "I just remembered something I need to take care of."

"Haven't you got a funny uncle," Carla whispered to her daughter after Rob's hasty exit, kissing her softly on her forehead. "Yes, you do."

The squeaks and dainty grunts that came from her baby, accompanied by tiny flailing arms and kicking legs, both delighted and terrified Carla.

"We can do this, can't we," Carla spoke softly, trying to convince herself more than anything. "Now, mummy's gonna take a nice deep breath, isn't she my darling girl. And mummy's gonna stay nice and calm. And you, little lady, you are gonna be calm just like mummy."

Rocking her baby gently in her arms, Carla turned her attention once more to the kitchen counter and the myriad of gifts that littered the smooth marble surface.

"Now," she said, picking up a colourful mobile and contemplating it thoughtfully. "Who do you think sent us this? Hmm?"

"Where have you been?" Tracy demanded as Rob strode into the kitchen of Number 1 Coronation Street. "I told you I wanted to go into town."

"I'm not stopping you," Rob dismissed her out of hand. "Have you seen my–"

"But you promised to take me," Tracy protested, her mouth twisted into the best pout she could manage.

"Here they are," he said, snatching up his car keys from the side table.

"Rob!"

"What?"

"Town!"

"Not today, Trace. There's something I need to do."

"Fine," Tracy capitulated completely, knowing from Rob's tone when she was beat. "How long will you be?"

"Don't expect me back before dark," he said, planting a quick peck on her lips in a hurried farewell. "Maybe not til tomorrow."

"In that case, I'm coming with you."

"Carla! Carla, wait!"

Simon jogged to catch up with Carla who, having heard him shout her name, had paused and was waiting for him, her hand positioned protectively on the handle of the baby's pram.

"You going somewhere?" he asked, anxious not to be a nuisance to her. "If you're in a hurry…"

"No, it's okay. I'm just taking miss here for a walk. I think she likes the vibrations of the pram rolling over the cobbles."

"She's getting real cute now," Simon said as he peeked into the pram to catch a glimpse of his little sister.

"What do you mean, getting cute?"

"You know what I mean, when they're born they're all squished and wrinkled and…"

"And…?"

"Weird looking?" Simon shrugged, hoping he hadn't caused offense.

"They do look a little alien-like, don't they?"

They both laughed before lapsing into a companionable silence while Simon hung over the pram, making faces at his sister, poking her gently with his finger, and trying his very best to amuse her.

"Does dad know?" Simon asked abruptly, looking up at Carla. "That she was born?"

"No," Carla shook her head. "I'm surprised you haven't mentioned it to him."

"How can I?" he shrugged his shoulders. "His phone's been disconnected."

"Disconnected?" Carla asked with concern. "When exactly was the last time you spoke to him? Si?"

"I haven't," Simon confessed. "Not a word since before he left back in May. He could by lying dead in a ditch for all I know."

Rob pulled the car into the parking lot in front of a block of flats and switched off the engine.

"Is this it?" Tracy asked, staring at the rundown flats, hardly the height of cutting-edge architecture even in their prime, with distaste. "It's a bit of a come down, this place."

"You make your bed, Trace, you gotta lie in it. Come on."

Getting out of the car with a mixture of anger and trepidation, they both prepared themselves for what they knew was coming. Rob in particular steeled himself, ready for, and almost willing into reality, a long overdue fight.

"Which one is it?"

"Seventeen," Rob read off a scrap of paper in his hand. "Upstairs."

They climbed the stairs in silence and walked along the entirety of the balcony that stretched along the external façade of the block, passing as they went the identical front doors, depressing in their uniformity, until they reached the door marked '17'.

Rap rap rap

Rob knocked sharply on the door.

"What if they're not home?" Tracy asked as if the thought had only just occurred to her.

"Then we wait."

"How long for?"

"As long as it takes."

But the muffled sound of footsteps approaching the door from inside the flat assured them that their patience would not be tested, not today.

The smile on the face of the young woman who opened the door quickly faded when she caught sight of her visitors.

"No," Tina shook her head and immediately pushed the door closed. But Rob moved too quickly for her and, wedging his foot into the almost-closed door, forced it open again and, caring nothing for civilities, stepped inside the flat, uninvited and most definitely unwanted.

"I think it's about time you and me had a little chat."

"And when we get upstairs," Carla chattered away to her daughter as she pushed the pram towards the Victoria Court entrance. She felt a little silly talking in public like this, but she knew her baby was soothed by the sound of her voice. "Then you can have a little nap and mummy can have some mummy time. What do you say, hmm?"

Stopping in her tracks, Carla straightened her back and peered into the long shadows beyond the entrance, their darkness in contrast with the sunlight that glowed brightly in the golden hour.

"Hello," Carla called out to the shadows. "Is someone there?"

Carla unconsciously held her breath as she waited for a stranger to appear, but when that stranger stepped out into the light and revealed himself to be the complete opposite of a stranger, Carla audibly gasped. For, without warning and for the first time in months, Carla found herself face-to-face with her estranged husband.