Trigger warning: suicide/mental health

Chapter 20: Cast away

Carla stood silently on the front steps of Underworld, the factory key in her hand. But she couldn't quite bring herself to unlock the door.

She and Aidan were meant to have done this together that day… that day her world came tumbling down.

She took a deep breath and slid the key into the lock, twisted it and pushed the door open. She forced herself to step inside the dark factory; it was the least she could do to honour him and everything they'd been working towards as a team.

Pushing Susie in her pram, Peter happened to see Carla's anguished entry into Underworld. He looked ahead to the Rovers where he knew Toyah was waiting for him, no doubt highly anxious as she always seemed to be whenever Susie was out of her sight. Then he looked down at Susie herself; she was awake, but quite content being pushed along by her daddy.

He knew what he had to do, what he wanted to do.

Carla didn't turn on the factory lights; it would be like turning a spotlight on her pain, forcing her to deal with it, to process it. She wasn't ready for that; she didn't think she would ever be.

Instead she wandered around the factory floor, mentally creating a plan in her mind of where each machine would have gone, who would be sat at which machine, the layout of the lunch room where the machinists would gossip their tea breaks away.

And then there was the office, that glass cube from where she and Aidan would have run their empire. A backstreet factory might have seemed insignificant to some, but to her it had been the centre of her existence for over a decade. When the people in her life had let her down, there had always been her factory; her anchor; her consolation.

Her desk would be facing the door of course; even though they were meant to be equal partners, Carla couldn't help but take that little bit more control whenever she had the opportunity. She didn't even know she was doing it most of the time, it had been so ingrained into her character. She had always thought Aidan understood this about her and simply laughed it off. But what if it had affected him more than he let on? What if this was one of the reasons –"

"Hey."

Carla spun around, shocked to see Peter with Susie in her pram just outside the office door.

"Peter. What are you doing here?"

"I, umm, I saw you come in and, I dunno, I didn't want you to be in here on your own."

"Oh," Carla walked up to Peter and looked down into the pram. She smiled when she saw Susie waving her arms about and making cute bubbling noises. "Can I…?"

"Sure."

Carla reached into the pram and picked Susie up; she rested the baby against her shoulder and gently rocked her from side to side, delighting in the feel of Susie's warm delicate skin against her cheek.

Peter watched Carla and tried to imagine what she had been like when Jamie was a newborn; what sort of mother she had been. He saw what she was like now; loving, proud, firm when she needed to be. And Jamie adored her mum, that was obvious.

But seeing her around a newborn was a completely different experience; seeing how she nurtured a creature that was utterly helpless and dependent on the adults around it. He realised he never gave her enough credit during their marriage; back then he believed that she wasn't naturally maternal, that she would be a hands-off mother, that she would struggle to show a baby love. He was wrong. So wrong.

"How you doing? Sorry, that was a stupid question."

"Don't be silly, there's no right or wrong questions."

"What about answers?"

"Oh, well… Time, it goes on and I find I'm still standing. I haven't fallen apart. I think that's as much as I can hope for right now."

"And Johnny?"

"He wants answers. And he's not stopping until he gets them. I don't know what he'll do when he realises that we might never get answers, that we might never make sense of what happened."

"Aidan didn't leave any clues, a note or anything to say why he… you know?"

Carla couldn't answer. Aidan hadn't left an explanatory note, that was true. But Carla couldn't pretend she didn't know something of what her brother was feeling; of his desperation, his despair.

She thought back to the time she'd found him standing on the edge of the hotel roof in London. Should she have told someone? Should she have tried harder to help him?

"Something must have happened after he left the pub," Johnny turned to Carla. "Did he say anything on the way back to yours?"

"I…" Carla struggled to find the words. How could she tell Johnny the truth?

"Someone must have said something to him after he left you."

Johnny paced the floor of his and Jenny's flat as he tried desperately to fit the pieces of his son's last night together.

"Love, you need to stop torturing yourself." Jenny tried to comfort Johnny but he shook her off.

"We should look at CCTV. The kebab shop, Roys, who else? Maybe he ran into someone. They must've said something to him. Someone's seen something. They know something."

"What's the point?" Kate piped up from her spot in the corner of the room. "It's not gonna bring him back, is it? It's a waste of time."

"We need to know why, Kate." Johnny glared at his daughter. "We need answers."

Johnny stopped his pacing and gripped the back of a bar stool; he dropped his head, his face a twisted outer representation of his inner anguish.

"If we'd only known. We could've helped him. Why didn't he say anything?"

Carla knew that this was the time; she had to speak, she couldn't let Johnny torture himself any longer.

"He did."

Carla spoke so softly that Johnny didn't hear her at first.

"Johnny. Aidan did say something. To me."

It took a moment for Carla's words to sink into Johnny's confused mind. When they finally did, he turned slowly to look at his daughter.

"You knew?" Johnny spoke in terrifyingly low and calm tones.

"Yes."

"Tell me everything."

Carla hung her head; she couldn't bring herself to speak. She just shook her head, her breath drawn in with great gasps of air.

"Carla!"

Carla nodded; it was time. She raised her head and looked at her father, ready to confess.

Johnny was speechless after Carla's confession. He tried to make sense of what she had said, but none of it made any sense at all. The only conclusion he could come to was that, if Carla had told him, he would've been able to help his son. His son would still be alive. If not for Carla. It was Carla's fault that Aidan was dead. Carla.

"You," Johnny stared at this daughter of his, a stranger to him most of his life; how he wished it had stayed that way. "You knew and you said nothing."

"He made me promise."

"He wasn't in his right mind. You should have told me."

"What would you have done differently?"

"I would've got him help. Professional help."

"He had help but it didn't work. And if I'd told you, he would never have forgiven me. And then he'd have no one to talk to."

"What difference would that've made? You were useless. He may as well have told no one for all the good you did."

"That's not fair."

"You know what's not fair? My son, my beautiful kind-hearted boy, is dead. And you could've saved him."

"I tried. Please believe me, I tried to help him."

"Get out."

"Johnny, please."

"Get out! And don't you ever come back here."

"Johnny, you don't mean that," Jenny tried to fight Carla's corner.

"Don't you start. You hated Aidan."

"I didn't –"

"And now you're taking her side over mine?"

"Love, this isn't about taking sides."

"It is," Johnny suddenly became deathly calm. "It's her or me. Make your decision, because there's no turning back."

"Dad," Kate pleaded. "Don't do this."

"No one has to decide," Carla put on her jacket and picked up her bag. "No one has to pick sides. I'll go. If that makes things easier for you."

Carla walked towards the door.

"Don't come to the funeral," Johnny spat at her. "You're not welcome."

"Peter, it's time."

Peter followed Toyah out the front door of the Rovers and stood on the footpath alongside Toyah, Leanne and Eva, who had just returned from America. There they waited, standing solemnly shoulder to shoulder. He glanced down the street; many other Coronation Street residents were doing the same, paying their respects as one of their own was laid to rest.

The unmistakeable silhouette of a hearse was the first vehicle to inch around the corner, followed by a short cortege of sleek black town cars. The previous evening, word had spread that Johnny wanted only family at the funeral. Peter had tried to ring Carla to find out what was going on, but she never answered his calls.

To his right, Peter could hear Eva begin to sob as the hearse drove past, Aidan's coffin clearly visible, but he paid no attention, he knew Leanne and Toyah would take care of her. His attention was focused on the cars that followed behind. He peered in through the windows as they drove slowly past. In the first was Johnny, Jenny and Kate; then came Robert and Michelle with Jamie huddled close to her Aunty Chelle; finally, Maria, Ryan and Ali.

That was it; the extent of the funeral procession. But no Carla.

As the procession turned and disappeared from view, the residents all, one by one, returned inside their homes or businesses.

"You coming in, Peter?"

Peter turned to Toyah and stared at her blankly.

"Umm…"

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I, ah, I gotta go."

"Now?"

"Look, I won't be long. I need to, umm, I'll, umm, see you later."

Before Toyah had a chance to protest, Peter had turned and hurried away from the Rovers.

"Peter!" Toyah called after him, to no avail; Peter was gone.

Carla sat alone in her flat. Jamie had gone to the funeral, and even the cat seemed to have deserted her. All she had left for company was the bottle of wine she was planning on drinking.

She wasted no time in pouring the wine. She picked up the glass, held it to her lips and slowly drained the glass. As she drank, her eye caught the time on the wall clock: almost 11am. They would be arriving by now. She poured herself another glass.

When her security buzzer sounded, she ignored it; the only people she wanted to see would at that moment be at Aidan's funeral. But the caller kept buzzing.

"Go away!" Carla yelled at the unseen caller, even though they would never hear her.

And then, the buzzing stopped, the caller gave up.

"Finally."

Carla reached down for another drink when there was a knock at the door.

"Carla!" Peter's muffled voice through the door.

Carla remained silent, hoping Peter would eventually give up and leave.

"Carla! Let me in. I know you're not at the funeral."

Carla sighed; all she wanted was to be on her own.

Or did she?

"Carla, I'm not leaving until you let me in."

Carla flung the door open and met Peter with a combative look.

"What?"

Peter immediately clocked the wine glass in Carla's hand and, walking past her into the flat, the now half-empty wine bottle on the coffee table.

Peter picked up the bottle and turned to confront Carla.

"Is this a good idea?"

"Do not lecture me, okay. Not today."

"Why aren't you at the funeral?"

Carla didn't answer.

"Carla?"

"Johnny didn't want me there."

"What? Why?"

"Because he blames me."

"For what?"

"Aidan's death."

"But that's crazy! I don't.. I mean, why?"

"I knew, Peter. About Aidan. That he was depressed, that he was seeing a therapist. You remember when me and Aidan went to London that time?"

"Yeah, of course."

"One night I found him on the roof of the hotel. I thought he was gonna jump."

"What?"

"I talked him down and he promised to get help and, you know, we'd talk about how he was doing every now and then. I thought he was doing okay. I didn't know he was thinking… I didn't know, Peter. I didn't know."

Carla began to cry inconsolably; mourning not only the loss of her brother, but of her family as well.

"That's it, let it out."

Peter moved towards Carla, his arms outstretched, ready to hold her. She didn't resist; she walked into his embrace and dropped her head to his shoulder, as his hand reached up and stroked her hair.

"It's not your fault, Carla."

"Johnny thinks it is."

"He's grieving and he doesn't understand why, I mean, you don't, do you? And he's just lashing out trying to find someone, anyone to blame."

"What if he's right? Hey? What if I could've done more?"

"Darling, listen to me. This was Aidan's decision. His. Not yours."

Carla felt so calm in Peter's embrace; calmer than she'd felt in… she couldn't even remember. She instinctively turned her face inwards and nuzzled into his neck. Peter kissed her softly on the top of her head, one hand still gently stroking her hair, the other wrapped around her waist, holding her close to him.

"Let's get out of here, love."

Carla looked up at Peter, confused.

"Where?"

"There's somewhere you need to go."

"I'm not sure about this, Peter. They don't want me here."

"It's okay," Peter gently stroked Carla's back, comforting and reassuring her. "They've all gone now."

Carla looked at Peter, tears welling in her eyes once more.

"I don't know if I can do this."

"You need to say goodbye."

Carla knew Peter was right, but she felt unprepared; she had reconciled in her mind that she wasn't going to Aidan's funeral but now here she was, about to be confronted by his freshly dug grave.

"I'll be with you every step of the way."

"Thank you. Really, I couldn't do this without you."

Peter held out his hand to Carla; she slipped her hand into his and held on tight.

"I'm here for you, Carla. I always will be. Never forget that."