Chapter 8: Back in business

Carla methodically sorted through the various plates, bowls, cups, glasses, cutlery, and the like, that was scattered over the kitchen counter of her and Jamie's new Victoria Court flat. Carla hadn't initially relished the thought of living in the building again, not after the last time, but she couldn't deny the flat was perfect for her and her daughter's needs.

Carla suddenly gripped the edge of the counter top as a wave of nausea swept over her. She wished it was the nerves of moving back to the street that was making her feel so ill, but, as much as she hated the thought for herself, she knew the move was the best thing for Jamie.

She looked up at Jamie, who was running around the flat, highly excitable about her new home, and talking animatedly to her mum, to herself, even to Snowy the cat who was stretched out luxuriantly in front of the fire.

Normally a sight that would warm her heart, Carla hadn't the patience for it today.

"Jamie! Give it a rest will you!"

Jamie stopped in her tracks and stared at her mum, her eyes widened in shock and began to fill with tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks at any moment.

Carla rushed over to Jamie and wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter.

"Baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout. I've got a banging headache. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm so sorry."

Carla pulled away from Jamie, rested her hands on the girl's shoulders, and looked her in the eye.

"Do you forgive me?"

Jamie nodded. Carla smiled and stroked Jamie's cheek gently.

The security buzzer sounded.

Before Carla could react, Jamie ran to the intercom and answered it.

"Hello?"

A wide smile spread instantaneously over Jamie's face.

"Okay, come in."

Jamie pressed the security door release button.

"Who is it?"

"It's daddy."

"Oh, right."

Carla walked to the front door and unlatched it.

Moments later, there was a soft knock at the door before it swung open to reveal Peter laden with housewarming gifts: a huge bunch of flowers for Carla and a string of mini Chinese lantern lights in shades of pinks and white for Jamie's bedroom.

"Thank you, daddy."

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

"Can we hang them up now?"

Jamie looked around at her mum.

"If your dad's got time," Carla caught Peter's eye. "What? I ain't doing it."

"Of course I do," Peter tousled Jamie's hair affectionately.

Jamie happily carried the lanterns towards her bedroom while Peter hung back to talk to Carla.

"Hey, are you okay? You don't look too good."

"She's got a banging headache," Jamie piped up before she exited the room.

"You try unpacking in this mess with a four-year-old tearing around the flat non-stop."

"And that's all, is it?"

"Yes. You better get in there, she doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Peter laughed. He was about to walk away from Carla when he turned to look at her, a deadly serious expression on his face.

"Hey, I, umm, I don't really understand why you decided to move back here, but, umm… thank you. I am so grateful for this chance to be a real dad to Jamie."

Peter reached out and took Carla's hand in his.

"Really, it means everything to me."

Carla didn't trust herself to speak, so she just smiled and nodded.

"Daddy!"

Peter dropped Carla's hand and turned around; his precocious and impatient daughter was waiting for him. Peter turned back to Carla for a moment.

"She really is just like her mother."

Peter walked towards where Jamie was waiting for him.

"She's perfect."

Carla grinned to herself and moved back towards the kitchen counter when the buzzer rang again.

"I know you're busy, but I brought wine."

Aidan had sauntered into the flat, a bottle of wine in one hand and his laptop in the other.

"Oh, Aidan, I'm not sure if I'm up for shop talk tonight."

Aidan laughed.

"As if you don't live for business, sis. Come on, you know you want to."

"Fine."

Jamie stood in the middle of her bedroom and directed Peter where to hang her new lanterns. She'd decided on stringing them across the wall above her bed, but was being very precise about the exact position. Peter patiently held the lanterns aloft, moving them an inch this way, or an inch that way, depending on the command of his daughter. Far from being annoyed or frustrated, Peter was simply loving spending time with Jamie. He'd missed out on so much in her short life that he now treasured every moment he got to spend with her.

"There."

"Here?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Daddy!" Jamie wasn't messing about.

Peter chuckled to himself on hearing his daughter's tone; she really was her mother's daughter. Peter's laughter turned to a heavy sigh.

Loving the daughter that reminded him so much of the mother brought back all those old familiar feelings; dangerous feelings. He couldn't allow himself to dwell on them; it wasn't fair on Toyah, or the baby they were expecting.

Peter finished hanging the string of lanterns and tried to pull off the tag.

"Where do you keep your scissors, sweetheart?"

Peter turned to look at Jamie; Jamie shrugged.

"Back in a minute."

Peter walked out of Jamie's bedroom, but paused at the entrance to the living area, surprised to see Aidan and Carla deep in conversation.

"Aidan, you know we can't take all the machinists back on, not with this new business model. If they want a job, they'll have to reapply."

"That's gonna go down well, they already all hate me for the factory shutting down in the first place."

"Trust me, they'll get over it when you wave a steady pay check in their face."

"And the ones that miss out?"

"We're not a charity, Aidan, we're gonna need the best and if they can't cut it –"

"What do you mean, you're not rehiring all the machinists? People are relying on coming back to those jobs."

Carla and Aidan turned to look at Peter, who was now striding towards them.

"Peter, this really isn't any of your business."

"Maybe not. But I am part of the community, a community that relies on the jobs the factory provides. Jobs that you want to, by the sound of it, take away forever?"

Carla and Aidan exchanged a look; Aidan raised his eyebrow and leant back in his chair. He was happy for Carla to deal with this.

"Listen, Peter, you can't be so naïve to think that a pure manufacturing operation based in England can compete with the likes of China or Bangladesh or countless other countries that pay their workers a pittance. It's just not realistic."

"So, what? You're just giving up on that market completely? Without a fight?"

"No. The market's giving up on us. If we reopen Underworld using that same dated business model, we'll be bankrupt in one, two years max. Then everyone will be out of work again and we'll be back to square one. But without the funds to start up again."

"Okay. What's the new business model then?"

Carla glanced at Aidan; he shrugged, this was up to Carla.

"We stop making knickers for other people. We relaunch Underworld as a fashion house in its own right. We bring in a big-name designer, proper schmick marketing and branding. We're talking couture here, Peter, a real luxury brand. You know, we wanna take our collections to the runways of fashion week, get the celebs wearing our stuff, glossy photo shoots in Vogue. The whole shebang."

Carla looked at Peter; she could tell he was listening with an open mind.

"So, we'll be producing less stock, but of a much higher quality. It's all about lifestyle aspirations. We're not gonna need the same number of machinists. And the ones we do take back on, well, we're only gonna take the best. Like I said, we're not a charity."

"There'll be different types of jobs though," Aidan piped up. "It's true, we're gonna lose a lot of the more manual type jobs, but we're gonna be hiring some new highly skilled staff, you know, designers, IT, marketing, social media. It's gonna be better for the whole community in the long run."

Peter mulled over what he'd just heard. Aidan and Carla watched him anxiously; they weren't ready for their plans to be made public. Not yet.

"I guess you know what you're doing."

Carla and Aidan gave each other the briefest look of relief.

"I actually just came out here for a pair of scissors."

"Second drawer down," Carla directed Peter towards the kitchen drawers.

After Peter had headed back to Jamie's room, scissors in hand, Aidan turned to Carla, a worried look on his face.

"Can we trust him?"

"Peter's sound. Don't worry about him."

"I hope you're right. We need to be the ones that control how this gets out. I mean, we're gonna need to do a lot of damage limitation as it is, but if Peter's gonna blab –"

"Aidan. Stop stressing. He won't say anything."

Aidan sighed; he knew he needed to manage his anxiety levels better, but sometimes they got the better of him.

"Are you gonna crack open the wine then? Or are you waiting til I go so you can neck it all yourself?"

Carla looked dubiously at the bottle of wine, wondering if there was any way she could get out of drinking any.

"You know me too well, little brother. I guess I can spare a glass for you. A small one, mind you."

Carla retrieved a pair of wine glasses from the cupboard and poured them each a glass.

Later that evening, the bottle and glasses stood empty on the table. Aidan sat in silence, engrossed in the spreadsheet displayed on his laptop screen.

In Jamie's bedroom, Carla sat by the bed, watching her daughter sleep. A comforting glow emanated from the night light on the bedside table, gently illuminating Jamie's cheek as her head rested on her pillow, her little hands pressed together underneath her face. Curled up at the foot of the bed was Snowy, guardian to his little mistress as she slept.

Carla leant over her the bed and kissed Jamie gently on the forehead. She patted Snowy before padding out of the room, turning to look one last time at Jamie, her heart almost bursting with both love and another bittersweet feeling she couldn't quite put her finger on. Loss? Perhaps.

Carla paused at the entrance to the living area; Aidan was as yet oblivious to her presence. She gripped the door frame, petrified for a moment that she would fall to the floor without the support.

Aidan glanced up at Carla.

"How is she?"

Carla took a deep breath, rallied herself, and walked towards Aidan.

"Fast asleep. Perfect."

"What? Perfect because she's fast asleep?"

"Ha ha, very funny."

Aidan picked up his empty wine glass and waved it in the air.

"I can't believe I have to hint for you of all people to crack open another bottle."

Carla took the glass off Aidan and walked to the kitchen.

Aidan remained focused on his laptop. Until he heard the sound of smashing glass and something heavy crashing to the floor. He whipped his head around to see his sister lying unconscious on her kitchen floor, surrounded by shattered glass.

"Carla!"

Aidan jumped up from his seat and rushed to where Carla lay unconscious. He knelt down and stroked her forehead.

"Carla?"

No response.

"Oh god. Oh god, Carla, please wake up."

He picked up one of her hands and rubbed it between his; he was clueless, he had no idea what to do for the best.

An idea, remembered perhaps from a movie, entered his head, and he acted on it immediately. Dousing a tea towel in cold water, he gently patted Carla's forehead with it. He had no clue what the point of this was, but he had to do something. Miracle of miracles, it seemed to work; Carla groaned. She slowly opened her eyes and looked up at Aidan, groggy and disorientated.

"What happened?"

"You, umm, you fainted."

"Help me."

Carla held out a hand to Aidan. He took it in his and helped her to a sitting position.

"Careful, there's broken glass everywhere."

"Not my designer wine glasses," Carla tried to make a joke.

Aidan supported Carla as she gingerly rose to her feet and helped her over to the sofa.

"Here you go."

Aidan had brought Carla a glass of water. She took it from him gratefully.

"Ta."

Aidan sat down in the armchair opposite Carla.

"So, what was all that about?"

"You know me, workaholic, mother, no time for myself, too much wine, not enough food." Carla knew she was rambling, but she had no intention of telling Aidan the truth.

"I don't believe you."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"No. I'm calling you scared. I saw it in your eyes when you came to. And I wanna know why."

"Aidan, I've just moved from one side of the country to the other with a four-year-old and a cat. I'm exhausted. That's all."

Aidan leant back in the armchair.

"I better get comfortable then."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm not leaving until you tell me the truth."

"Fine."

Carla leant back, relaxing into the sofa. Aidan had no idea how stubborn she could be.

Carla and Aidan sat in silence, engaged in a battle of wills.

"You're so annoying."

"I know. It runs in the family."

Silence once more.

Carla began to waver. Why was she being so stubborn? She'd kept this bottled up inside for months now, why not tell someone? Why not share the load? She wanted to. She really did. But she had grown so self-reliant, so scared of being a burden, that she didn't know how to let her guard down anymore.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

"Carla," Aidan had seen it.

It took all of Carla's strength to lift her head and look at Aidan. It was now or never.

"I've got kidney disease."

Now that the first reveal was out of the way, Carla felt more confident.

"Actually, it's kidney failure."

Aidan struggled to understand the implications of what Carla was saying.

"Kidney failure? What does that mean exactly? Do you, umm, do you need, umm…"

"A transplant? Yes. I'm on the waiting list."

"But that could take years, right?"

"Yeah. That's why I start dialysis next week."

Aidan didn't know what to say. All he could do was go to his sister and hold her. His gesture opened the floodgates for both of them; soon tears were streaming down both of their faces at the thought of what the future held for Carla.

"I'm so sorry."

Carla sobbed into Aidan's chest; the relief of finally unburdening herself was almost cathartic for her. All of her anxiety, however, seemed to transfer to Aidan. He took on the burden; the worry.

"I'm gonna go."

"What?"

"I'm gonna go to the hospital first thing in the morning. I'm gonna get tested. See if I'm a match."

"Aidan, no, that's not why I told you. I never wanted to beg for a kidney."

"I know that, of course I know that. But I want to do this for you. Please let me do this for you."

Carla nodded tearfully. Even if Aidan wasn't a match, she was so grateful that he cared enough to offer.

"Thank you."