Author's note: So here it is, the day we've been building up to, Carla and Peter's wedding! But will it all go to plan?

Chapter 24 - Wedding Day (Part 1)

Carla,

I'm writing to you from a little Tea Room in Kyoto. Rana was right, it's beautiful here. You'd love it. Perhaps one day you'll come out and join me and I can show you the sights. If this letter arrives on time then you'll be reading this on your wedding day. I'm sorry I can't be there in person, but know I'm with you in spirit. It's funny, isn't it? Here I am halfway around the world on this crazy adventure, and back home you're about to embark on an exciting new adventure of your own. Here's to wishing you and Peter all the happiness in the world. You deserve it, sis. So have fun, take lots of photos, and remember, I love you.

Kate X

"Aw, that's dead sweet," said Maria, peering over Carla's shoulder at the letter. "I'm so jealous she's out there seeing the world. The greatest landmark I've ever seen is the Trafford centre. I bet she's having the time of her life. Still, she'll be gutted she's missing today though. Michelle will too."

A lot of special people would be missing from today's celebrations; Aidan, Hayley, Deirdre, Daniel… Rob.

Carla wiped the tears from her eyes as she folded away the letter. "Yeah well, they've both got their own lives to live."

Maria wrapped another piece of Carla's hair around the curling tongs. "All of us Connor women are flying the nest," she continued sadly. "You better not leave otherwise it'll just be me on my lonesome."

"And Jenny," Carla reminded her. "Don't forget about Jenny."

Maria gave a playful roll of her eyes in the mirror. "Oh, how could I ever forget about her?"

They both laughed. "Well, you don't need to worry, I'm not going anywhere," said Carla. "I've run away from Weatherfield too many times and I've always come back. It's time I accepted it's my home."

"Good. Because us Connor's need to stick together."

"Except I won't be a Connor anymore, will I? Not after today. I'll be a Barlow again."

"Carla Barlow." Maria didn't like the way it rolled off her tongue. "Not quite as catchy as Carla Connor, is it?"

"No, it's not," admitted Carla. "I could do the modern thing and insist on keeping my first name."

"Or you could double barrel it? Carla Connor Barlow."

"Blimey, that's a mouthful! I think I'll just stick to Barlow."

"Probably wise." They laughed again then Maria called over her shoulder, "Liam, come out here and show us your outfit!"

Moments later the boy appeared from his bedroom dressed in an oversized grey suit. He looked so grown up, the spitting image of his father, and it filled Carla with pride. "Wowee! Don't you look handsome!"

She noticed his tie was a little lopsided and beckoned him over. "Here, let me sort that for you. They're fiddly things, aren't they?" She straightened it out and dusted off his shoulders. "There, that's better. I tell you what, Liam, you better watch yourself on that dancefloor tonight, the girls will be throwing themselves at you!"

He pulled a face of disgust, still at that age where boys and girls pretended to hate each other, and the women laughed. Then Maria pointed down at his feet. "Where are your shoes?"

"In my room."

"They're no good in there, are they? Go put them on."

"Yes, mum."

He hurried back to his bedroom to retrieve them and Maria focused back on the task at hand. She added the finishing touches to Carla's hair before cementing it in place with enough hairspray to burn a hole in the ozone layer. Then, taking Carla by the hand, she led her over to the long mirror so she could see herself in full.

Carla posed from side to side, hands running over the soft satin material, her expression unreadable, whilst Maria stood behind her, nervously biting her thumb. "So… what do you think? Do you like it?"

"I like the hair," Carla said, pulling at a curl. Her face faded as her eyes fell to her dress. "It's just the dress…"

"What about the dress?"

"The colour of it…"

It was a black strapless gown. She'd loved it when she'd tried it on in the store. She'd wanted something that broke away from tradition, and black had always been her colour. But now, seeing it on again, she was beginning to regret her decision.

"I look like I'm going to a funeral," she said. "The girls are going to be chanting Morticia when I walk down the aisle in this thing!"

"They call you that anyway," laughed Maria.

Carla couldn't argue with that.

She sighed. "I just thought it would be pretentious if I wore wear white, you know? I mean, I'm hardly the virtuous bride, am I?"

Maria chuckled. "Who is these days?"

Sensing Carla's nerves, Maria reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Listen to me, you look absolutely incredible. Peter's not going to know what's hit him. It's going to be an amazing day. So just enjoy it, yeah?"

Carla relaxed her shoulders and allowed herself to truly smile for the first time that morning. "Yeah, you're right."

There was a knock at the door and Maria rushed to answer it. Jenny barely managed to fit through the doorway with the ridiculously over the top hat she was wearing.

When she saw Carla standing there, she clasped a hand over her mouth as tears sprung to her eyes. "Oh love, look at you! Your dad's going to be a blubbering mess when he sees you!"

"Glass of bubbly, Jenny?" Maria asked as she made her way to the fridge.

Jenny rubbed her hands together with excitement. "Ooh yes please, I never say no to a glass bubbly!"

Maria poured two glasses, then paused at the third. She looked at the bride. "Are you sure I can't tempt you?"

"No, I better not," said Carla. "Alcohol doesn't mix well with my meds."

"How long's it been since you last had a drink?"

Carla's eyes lifted to the ceiling as she tried to cast her mind back. "Gosh, it's been that long I can't even remember."

"Oh come on," whined Jenny. "One cheeky little glass isn't going to do you any harm! It's your wedding day! Every bride needs a bit of Dutch courage on her wedding day!"

Carla's gaze shifted between the two women before rolling her eyes ."You two are terrible! Fine, but just the one glass. I don't want to make a fool of myself like last time."

Maria cackled at the memory of Carla's drunken tumble on the dancefloor. "That fall was comedy gold! If I'd had my camera, I could've made a mint off You've Been Framed!"

She brought the drinks over and Jenny raised hers in a toast. "Here's to not falling over!"

"To not falling over!" Carla and Maria cheered, and they clinked their glasses together.

Once they'd downed the champagne, Maria left to check on Liam and Carla headed back over to the mirror to look at herself one more time.

Jenny appeared beside her and Carla noticed she was holding a small velvet box in her hand. "The reason I came over is because I wanted to give you this…"

She handed the box to Carla and encouraged her to look inside.

Carla lifted open the lid and her eyes fell upon a silver heart-shaped pendant encrusted with a sparkling sapphire.

She held it up to the light to admire it. "Jenny, it's beautiful."

"It was my mother's," Jenny told her. "And before that it was her mother's, and so on. It's been passed down the generations and I always thought that one day I'd give it to my daughter on her wedding day, but I ended up having a little boy…" Jenny's voice became choked with emotion, like it always did whenever she spoke of the son she so tragically lost. "Anyway, I got to thinking that you and Kate are the closest things I have to daughters, so in the spirit of something blue and borrowed, I thought you might like to wear it." Jenny's nerves got the better of her and she started to ramble. "Obviously I'd understand if you didn't want to, it's not to everyone's taste, I wouldn't be offended or owt—"

"Jenny, it would be an honour."

She swept her hair to the side and Jenny fastened the pendant around her neck. Jenny laid a hand upon her shoulder as they admired it in the mirror. "There," Jenny said, her voice bursting with pride. "Now you're ready."

At number one, the men raised their glasses when Peter entered the room, looking smart and clean-shaven with slicked-back hair and a polished silver suit with an orchid in its buttonhole.

"Here he is!" said Steve. "The condemned man!"

"How are you feeling, son?" Ken asked.

Peter smiled. "I'm feeling good, dad. I'm feeling really good."

"And so you should be," said Adam, walking up to him. "You're marrying a woman who's way out of your league!" He shoved a glass of bubbly in Peter's hand. "Get that down you!" At Peter's disapproving look, Adam laughed, "Chill out, it's non-alcoholic! I've got you covered!"

Peter thanked him then joined Simon. The teenager was looking handsome with his new haircut and fitted suit. Peter wrapped an arm around him. "How's my best man doing?"

"I'm buzzing!" Simon proudly patted his breast pocket. "And don't worry, the rings are safe."

Peter ruffled his hair. "Good lad!"

He then circled the room to his father who was holding Bertie. Bertie was dressed in an adorable grey suit and Peter couldn't wait to see Carla's face when she saw him in it. He pinched Bertie's chubby cheek. "You sure scrub up well, don't you little fella?"

"It was somewhat of a challenge getting him to wear it," Ken admitted.

"I can imagine," Peter laughed. His smile faded when he noticed his father had become tearful. "Dad, what's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Ken shook his head. "No, nothing's wrong, quite the opposite in fact. Peter, I know I don't say this often enough but I'm incredibly proud of you… of the man you've become. You nursed Carla back to health, you've been there for your brother at his lowest ebb, and you've taken care of Bertie as if he was your own..." Ken laid a hand on Peter's shoulder. "I'm very proud of you, Son. And I just know you're going to make a brilliant husband."

Peter had spent most of his life feeling like a failure, a disappointment. So to finally have his father's approval, to hear him say that he was proud, meant more to Peter than he could say. He felt the sudden urge to cry as he patted his father lovingly on the back. "Thanks dad."

There was a knock at the door and Johnny entered the house wearing a blue suit and garish pink tie. He caught the others sniggering at it. "Jenny picked it," he said, blushing slightly. "It goes with her outfit."

"No need to be embarrassed buddy. Wearing pink's a sign of manliness," said Steve.

"Whatever," said Johnny. "Anyway, I just thought I'd stop by and see how you all were doing."

"As you can see, everything's under control," said Adam. "Oh, and before you say anything, that's a non-alcoholic beverage in Peter's hand. Wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea."

"Pleased to hear it." Johnny approached his soon-to-be son-in-law and offered up his hand. "Good luck today, son. My Carla's a lucky girl."

"No mate, I'm the lucky one."

They shook hands.

Johnny smiled. "Just don't mess it up this time, eh?"

"No chance."

"Right then," Johnny said, rubbing his hands together. "Me and Jenny are about to set off. There's space in the car if anyone wants a ride."

"Thanks for the offer but Claudia's taking me," said Ken. There was a beep of a car horn and Ken handed Bertie over to Adam. "In fact that'll be her now. I better go, she doesn't like to be kept waiting!"

"I'll ride with you," Steve said to Johnny. "Saves me driving."

Johnny looked around the room. "Anyone else?"

"I'm riding with my dad," said Simon. "Isn't that right, dad?"

"Too right."

Johnny nodded to Bertie. "What about the little one?"

"He's coming with me and Sarah," said Adam. "We'll put him in Harry's old travel seat."

Johnny nodded. "So that's everyone sorted then." He and Steve began to head out. "We'll see you there. Don't be late!"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Peter called after him.

But as time ticked on and there was still no sign of the car that was meant to be taking Peter and Simon to the venue, late was exactly what they were going to be.

Peter paced up and down the carpet, stopping every few minutes to look up at the clock. Simon was sat in his grandfather's armchair playing on his phone.

"Si, why don't you grab a lift with your mum and Nick?"

"No, I want to ride with you."

"But the car's running late," Peter said. "Go on, go with your mum, it saves us all being late, doesn't it? Go on, son. I'll meet you there."

Simon pushed himself off the armchair. "Alright, if you're sure."

Once he'd gone, only Peter, Adam and Bertie remained in the house.

Peter checked his phone as he went back to pacing. "Where the hell's this flamin' car got to? It should've been here fifteen minutes ago."

"Call him again," said Adam.

Peter did but just like before, it went to voicemail. He resisted the urge to throw his phone at the wall. "Terrific! I'm going to be late for my own wedding at this rate! Carla's going to kill me."

"Relax, we've still got plenty of time. Sarah will be here in a minute. You can always ride with us."

"Then tell her to get a bloody wriggle on!"

Sarah ignored the phone ringing in her pocket as she left the Platts house. She knew it would only be Adam checking to see where she was. It had been a nightmare getting ready this morning. She'd left it too late to buy an outfit and found herself with nothing to wear. She ended up pinching an outfit from Bethany's wardrobe. That was the good thing about having a daughter so close in age, they could fit into each other's clothes. However, the floral jumpsuit was a little summery for the cold winter months.

As Sarah fished through her clutch bag for her car keys, a high pitched shrill pierced her ears. The noise startled her and she dropped the set of keys to the ground.

The noise was coming from the bistro. Something had triggered the alarm.

Sarah looked at the restaurant tucked beneath the viaduct and saw its double doors flapping in the breeze.

A bad feeling grew in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't explain it exactly, but she sensed something was wrong. She knew she should get in the car. She was running late as it was, but the urge to investigate was too strong.

The Bistro was all set up for the wedding reception. Golden string lights hung from the ceiling and the tables had been pushed to the back of the room to make space for a dance floor. The tables had been joined together in a rectangular formation. Each table with a floral centrepiece, except for the bride and groom's table, which had an impressive three-tiered wedding cake towering in the middle of it.

Sarah realised she'd gotten side-tracked and looked around for a sign that anyone was there. The lights in the kitchen were off, as were the lights in the office. The place looked deserted. But someone had to have triggered the alarm.

"Hello?" she shouted over the screeching racket. "Anyone here? Hello?"

She listened out for a reply when suddenly something cold and metal pressed against the back of her head.

Before she could scream, a hand came over her mouth. The hairs on her neck stood on end as a familiar voice whispered into her ear, "Don't make a sound."

Back at number one, Adam and Peter were waiting for Sarah to arrive when an alert came through on Peter's phone. He closed his eyes in irritation. Just when he thought his day couldn't possibly get any worse…

"Oh no…"

"What now?" asked Adam.

"The alarm's going off at the bistro."

"I thought I could hear something," said Adam.

Peter sighed. "I better go shut it off."

"What, now? But Sarah's going to be here any minute."

"I won't be long!" Peter said, and hurried out the door.

He arrived outside the bistro to an unsettling sight. The place should have been closed and yet the main doors were flapping open and shut in the breeze.

Burglars perhaps?

But he saw no sign of forced entry.

Whoever was inside had a key.

Perhaps the chef had come in early to make a start on the food? He was forever forgetting the code for the alarm.

Relaxing a little, Peter headed inside.

Stepping through the double doors, he froze suddenly.

Over at the bar, with a gun to her head, was Sarah. And stood behind her, staring at Peter with dark, vengeful eyes, was Gary.

Peter thought about making a run for it but Gary was one step ahead of him. "Don't even think about it." He dug the barrel of the gun deeper into Sarah's temple, eliciting a pained whimper. "You try anything and I'll pull the trigger. Don't think I'm bluffing!"

Peter remained very still. "Alright, okay," he said, holding up his hands, showing he wasn't a threat.

Gary waved the gun to the keypad on the wall. "The alarm," he hissed. "Turn it off."

Peter went over to the keypad and with trembling fingers punched in the four-digit code.

The alarm silenced.

"Good." Gary smiled. "Now come and take a seat."

With reluctance in each step, Peter walked over to the bar and sat down on a barstool. Sarah was shoved onto the barstool next to him. Gary towered over them and stuck his hand. "First things first, give me your phones. Can't have you making any sneaky calls for help now, can I?"

They handed them over without putting up a fight and Gary pocketed them with a sly smile. "Much obliged."

"What's all this about, Gary?" Peter asked, trying to remain calm. "What are you doing here? What do you want?"

"What do I want? Now there's a good question…" Gary's eyes wandered around the bistro, to the lavish decorations. "It's funny how life's works, isn't it? Take me for example. I lost everything; my family, my reputation, my freedom…Whereas you, you hit the Jackpot! You've got yourself a shiny new business, you're about to marry the woman of your dreams…" Gary shook his head. "It doesn't seem fair somehow."

"What do you want?" Peter asked more instantly this time.

Gary ignored the question, distracted by the wedding cake. "Wow, that looks delicious!" He walked up to it and scooped off a dollop of icing. He licked it off his finger. "Man, that's good! What is that, buttercream? I love buttercream!"

Peter wasn't in the mood for games. "Gary, talk to me. What's going on? Why are you here?"

Gary started edging towards him. "Why am I here?" He said it as though it was the most obvious question in the world, then burst out laughing. "Because it's your wedding day, silly! I'm here to do some celebrating!"

He headed behind the bar and started rummaging through the liquor on the back shelf. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and three glasses and set them down on the counter in front of Peter and Sarah. He filled each glass to the top so that whiskey was pouring over the sides. "Cheers everybody!"

He raised his glass and knocked back the whiskey, relishing its bitter taste. He looked at Sarah and Peter to do the same.

Sarah was shaking so much that she ended up spilling most of hers down her chin. However Peter's glass remained untouched. Gary stared at him. "Something wrong?

Peter looked up from the glass, shaking his head. "You know I can't drink that."

"No such things as can't, only won't."

"If I drink again, I could die."

"I know." Gary smiled wickedly. "So bottom's up."

But still, Peter refused. Gary grew impatient and lifted the glass to Peter's nose and began swirling it about, taunting him. "Go on, take a whiff! Smells good, right? That's proper good stuff, you know!"

The fumes wafted up Peter's nostrils and awakened cravings he'd fought hard to suppress.

He wanted to snatch the glass out of Gary's hand and pour it down his throat right then and there, but he held strong. He refused to give in.

He raised his brow in a bemused fashion. "Is this your plan? Get me to drink myself to death?"

"Part of it, yeah. So drink up."

Peter pushed the glass away. "No."

Gary gestured to the gun in his hand. "A friendly word of advice… you don't say no to a man with a gun."

"You can point that thing at me all you want, I'm still not drinking it."

A tense stare-off ensued between the two men. It was Gary who finally backed down. "Fine, have it your way," he said. Then he leaned forward and whispered in Peter's ear, "But you should know, if you don't drink every last drop of what's in that glass then me and my gun will pay a visit to the blushing bride. How'd you like that?"

Gary's threat got the desired reaction as Peter tensed with rage. "You leave her alone!"

"Sure thing," said Gary and nodded to the glass. "You know what to do."

With Carla's life on the line, Peter didn't have a choice. The whiskey burned as it went down his throat and undid all those hard-earned months of sobriety. He slammed the empty glass down on the counter. "There. Happy now?"

Gary poured more whiskey into the glass. "Drink."

"I just did!"

"Now do it again."

Whatever sick game Gary was playing, Peter knew he had to play along for Carla's sake. He counted himself down from five before knocking it back and wincing at the bitter taste.

Gary refilled the glass a third time. "Drink."

Peter looked at him pleadingly. His insides burned. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why?" The question enraged Gary. "You're asking me why?! I lost everything because of you! I begged you time and time again to leave me alone, to stop hounding me, but did you listen? No! You and Nick hunted me down until there was nowhere left to run. You destroyed my life. Now it's payback time. So drink up."

He pushed the glass towards Peter.

Peter picked it up and, closing his eyes, counted himself down before tipping it back, his face contorting as he forced himself to swallow every last drop.

When he opened his eyes he caught Gary texting on his phone. "Oi, what are you doing?"

Gary tapped his nose and slipped the confiscated mobile back into his pocket. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

There was a beep of a car horn and Maria turned away from the window with a squeal of excitement. "The car's here! Are you ready to get married?"

Carla composed herself with a deep breath and felt the butterflies settle in her stomach. She nodded confidently. "Let's do this."

As Maria left to get Liam, Carla's phone pinged with a text.

Maria returned to find Carla grinning at her phone and knew immediately who the text was from. "What does Peter want?"

"He wants me to come to the bistro. Says he's got a surprise for me."

Maria frowned. "What kind of surprise?"

"Well if I knew that it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?" The butterflies were back in full swing as Carla's mind raced with what romantic surprise Peter had in store for her. "I'm going round there!"

"But you can't, the car's here!"

"I'll be back before you know it!"

Maria caught her arm before she could go running out the door. "Hang on, you can't go out there looking like that! What if people see you?"

Carla laughed. "Relax! This is my fifth time in one of these things. Who cares if people see?"

"Alright," Maria relented, letting her go. "Just be quick!"

Carla hoisted up her dress and sprinted out the door. Little did she know she was headed into danger…

Author's note: This story started out as being focused on the factory roof collapse and Gary's downfall so it only seemed right that Gary should return for the big finale to give things a sense of coming full circle. If you're enjoying this story, please show your support by leaving a review - I love hearing your feedback and predictions. Thanks for reading!