Chapter 21: Endless night

Peter strolled along the cobbles, cigarette in one hand, pint of milk in the other. He wasn't the type to be wandering the streets at this early hour but, after a sleepless night up with baby Susie, Peter needed to get outside, stretch his legs, and get some fresh air.

A taxi drove past him, not a Streetcars taxi, more of a high-end town car firm. Peter continued to watch as the taxi pulled over in front of Victoria Court and Sam emerged from the back seat and stretched his legs.

Peter turned to walk away, but too late; Sam had seen him.

"Peter!"

Peter reluctantly turned around and fixed a look of mild surprise on his face.

"Hey Sam, you're back then?"

"Yeah, just got in this morning."

"Delayed were you?"

"No, everything went to plan actually." Sam looked at Peter curiously. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I'm surprised that's all. I would've thought you'd be on the first plane back."

Sam paid the taxi driver and moved his suitcases off the road before confronting Peter.

"Peter, mate, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Ah… You mean… You don't know?"

"Don't know what?"

"Oh, god, I'm sorry. Me and my big mouth."

"Peter. What's going on?"

"It's not my place to say."

"Please, Peter, if there's something I should know."

Peter shuffled nervously on the spot; he silently cursed Carla for putting him in this position, while wondering why she hadn't told her supposed boyfriend such huge news in the first place.

"Fair enough, you've got a right to know."

"What do you want for breakfast, sweetheart?" Carla looked across the kitchen island to where Jamie was sat on a barstool organising the pink backpack she always took with her to nursery.

"Umm, toast and, umm, peanut butter and banana," Jamie ordered her favourite breakfast with a grin.

Carla looked pointedly at Jamie.

"Please," Jamie added.

"Good girl. Juice or milk?"

"Juice! Please."

Carla smiled indulgently as she began to prepare her daughter's breakfast.

"Don't forget to pack your snack box," Carla nodded to the soft insulated bag she had left on the countertop earlier that morning.

"What's in it?" Jamie queried as she reached for the bag.

"Mandarin, raisins, cherry tomatoes and a yoghurt pot."

"What flavour yoghurt?"

"Strawberry. Is that okay with you?"

"Mummy, you know strawberry my favourite!"

Carla laughed.

The unmistakeable sound of a key sliding into a lock; Carla and Jamie both turned to watch as the door slowly opened to reveal Sam, laden with suitcases, standing in the doorway.

"Sam!" Jamie slid down from the bar stool and ran over to Sam, who picked her up and wrapped her up in a big bear hug.

"Hey, baby girl. I've missed you."

"Mummy's making peanut butter and banana toast for breakfast."

"Is she now?" Sam looked up at Carla as he placed Jamie back on the ground. "Sounds nice."

"Do you want some?"

"I'd prefer a proper welcome home."

Carla walked uneasily to Sam and gave him a quick kiss.

"Welcome home."

Sam watched, confused, as Carla returned to her breakfast prep.

"Is there something you forgot to tell me?"

Carla simply looked at Sam; she tried to make the look innocent and questioning, but failed miserably.

"I bumped into Peter as I was arriving. He told me everything."

"Oh, that was good of him," Carla was sarcastic as ever.

"This isn't his fault, he thought you would've told me. So would I for that matter."

"Let's not do this right now, okay? Not in front of you know who."

"You can't put it off forever, Carla."

"Listen, why don't you have a shower, freshen up. I'll drop Jamie off at nursery and then we can talk."

Sam stared at Carla; she could see the hurt in his eyes, the questions, the doubts. She looked away.

"Come on, miss, let's get you breakfast before you're late for nursery."

Carla returned to the busyness of preparing Jamie's breakfast, avoiding Sam's probing gaze at all costs.

"I guess I'll have a shower then."

Carla watched Sam walk away with a growing feeling of dread.

Carla stood on her own doorstep, afraid to open the door. She knew what was waiting for her inside and she was not ready to face it.

Ever since Aidan had died, Carla had made an extra effort to appear normal in front of Jamie, not that she really knew what normal was anymore. But as soon as she was alone, she fell almost immediately to pieces.

Now she was about to be alone with Sam and she was scared; of breaking down, of saying the wrong thing, of not saying what needed to be said.

Quickly, before she bottled it and ran away to nurse a glass of wine in the corner of The Bistro like she had on more than one occasion in the past few weeks, Carla unlocked and opened her front door and walked inside.

Immediately, she was confronted by Sam, sat at the dining table, waiting for her.

"You want a brew?"

Carla nodded.

Both Sam and Carla were seated at the dining table, each focusing way too much of their attention on the cup of tea they were cradling in their hands.

Sam was the first to break the silence.

"Carla, I'm so sorry about Aidan. I can't imagine what you're going through."

"Thanks. I'm coping."

"Good."

The couple sat in a very uncomfortable silence. Sam was waiting for Carla to explain herself; Carla was determined not to say anything at all. So it was up to Sam.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Umm… I didn't want to spoil your business trip."

"Come off it, Carla. We're meant to be in a relationship. We live together. We tell each other when major things happen in our lives. So don't give me this nonsense about business trips."

Carla's mouth tried to form words, but no sound came out.

"Well? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I, umm… I didn't want you here."

"Right," Sam struggled to process Carla's words. "You didn't want anyone? Or just me? Let me guess, you wanted someone in particular? Peter?"

"It's not like that."

"But you want it to be."

"Excuse me?" Carla was angry now. "Are you seriously accusing me of manipulating my own brother's suicide to try and catch a man?"

"Maybe. I don't know, Carla. I don't know what goes on in that head of yours anymore."

"Trust me, you don't wanna be in my head."

"That's the thing though, isn't it? I'm not in your head. Or your heart. I'm still in your business because business always comes first for you, doesn't it?"

"That's not true."

"Still in your bed, keeping you warm at night. Tell me, when we make love – no! There's obviously no love. When we fuck, do you think of him?"

"I think you should go," the first tears started to fall down Carla's cheeks.

"I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean it. I just, I don't understand where it all went wrong."

Sam reached out and tried to wipe the tears from Carla's cheek, but she pushed his hand away.

"I don't love you anymore. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Just like that?"

"No. I think it's been coming on for a while," Carla tried to explain, even though she didn't quite understand it herself. "It's no one's fault. It just, it happens sometimes. People fall out of love."

"I didn't."

"I'm sorry."

"You used to love me?"

"I did. Very much."

"Then you can love me again. Just give us another chance."

Carla shook her head. Now that she had said the words, she was determined to see it through.

"I'm sorry, Sam, it's over. We're over."

As Carla sat on her sofa in the dark later that night, she realised for the first time how truly alone she was. Her brother was gone, the rest of her family hated her, and now she'd thrown away a good man for what? A fantasy? A dream that could never become a reality; she wouldn't let it. She wasn't the same woman she had been in the past, the type of woman who would tear a family apart just to get the man she wanted.

Carla couldn't help it; here in the dark, on her own, she couldn't stop the tears from falling, from sobs taking over her body, shaking her small frame as she wept in the depths of her despair.

Then she felt it, something warm and furry in her lap. She opened her eyes; Jamie, dressed in her pyjamas, fresh from her bed, had placed Snowy the cat in her mum's lap.

"Cuddle him, mummy," Jamie instructed. "Snowy cuddles make me feel better when I'm sad."

But Carla didn't cuddle Snowy; she reached out and cuddled her daughter instead.

Now there were two of them, sitting side by side on the sofa, in the dark. Mother and daughter loving each other, helping each other through this endless night of grief and loss.

"Mummy?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Is Sam coming back?"

"No, baby, I'm sorry, he's not."

"Okay."

Carla pulled her daughter in for a hug.

"It's just you and me now, kid."

"And Snowy," Jamie corrected her mum.

Carla laughed. "Yeah, and Snowy."

Jamie wandered around the flat; she was hungry, she wanted breakfast. But her mum was still in bed. She dragged a chair from the dining table into the kitchen and set about making herself her favourite breakfast: peanut butter and banana on toast.

She took two slices of bread and slotted them into the toaster. While she waited for the bread to turn a crispy golden brown, she reached into the high cupboard and pulled out the jar of peanut butter. From the fruit bowl on the kitchen island she retrieved a banana and laid it out on a chopping board, ready to slice.

Finally, the toast was ready. She laid the slices out on a plate and, using a spoon, smeared great globules of peanut butter over the surface. Turning to the chopping board, she firstly peeled the banana and then pulled a knife from the knife block.

Carla hadn't slept that night; the truth was she had hardly slept since the day she had found Aidan. She simply lay there and stared at the ceiling or, turning her face to her pillow, sobbed until her head pounded with dehydration.

She knew she should get up, that Jamie would need her attention, but she couldn't face her daughter; she couldn't face anyone or anything.

Then it started; the screaming. It took Carla a few moments to comprehend that the screaming was real and not inside her head. Not only was the screaming real, it was coming from inside her flat, it was coming from her daughter.

In a flash, Carla was out of bed and running to the kitchen. She was horrified by the sight that confronted her; Jamie was stood on a chair in the middle of the kitchen, tears streaming down her face, and her hand held out in front of her, blood streaming from one of her fingers.

"Oh, baby!" Carla rushed to her daughter and frantically worked to stem the flow of blood. "It's okay, baby, you're gonna be okay."

Both mother and daughter were sobbing now, creating a grotesque combination of blood and tears. Even though Carla could now see that the cut on Jamie's finger was minor, she couldn't help but imagine what might have happened. And all because she was too preoccupied with her own worries to look after her daughter. What had become clear to Carla was that Jamie was in real danger if she remained under her care; something had to be done.

Carla opened the door to her flat and held it ajar.

"Hi, come in."

"You sounded upset on the phone," Peter walked past Carla and leaned against the kitchen island. "Has something happened?"

"I need a favour. And I need you to not ask any questions."

"Carla, what's going on?"

"I, umm…"

"Listen, whatever it is, you can tell me."

"I need you to take Jamie for a few days."

"Of course, she's always welcome at mine. Is everything okay here?"

"I'm just… not coping very well," Carla's voice wavered with the stress of being constantly on the verge of tears. "And I don't want her to see me like this."

"Where's Sam? Can he help?"

"Sam's gone. We split up."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it was for the best."

"Is he okay?"

"He'll be fine as soon as he realises he's better off without me."

"Hey, don't put yourself down. Any man would be lucky to be with you."

"That's not true and you know it. I mean, look at my track record. Paul, dead. Tony, dead. Frank, dead. You, didn't last a day of marriage before you'd moved on to someone else. And Nick? We didn't even make it through the reception."

"So you've had some bad luck with relationships. The fact is, you are an amazing mum. You don't need to send Jamie away."

"I do. I really do. Peter, I was so busy feeling sorry for myself this morning, that Jamie tried to fix herself breakfast."

"So?"

"With a sharp knife, Peter. She almost sliced her finger off."

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. She's seen a doctor and it's just a flesh wound."

"Thank god."

"The point is, Peter, it should never have happened. If I was in a fit state to look after her, it wouldn't have happened. I just need a few days. Please."

"Just a few days, yeah?"

"Yeah," Carla reached out and took Peter's hand in hers. "Thank you."

"Umm…" Jamie surveyed the extensive range of plastic beads in varying shades of pink, purple, orange and silver – all of her favourite colours – spread out on the table in the back room of the Rovers before pointing at one in particular. "That one."

Peter picked up the bead, hot pink and faceted, and presented it to Jamie. "This one?"

Jamie nodded. So Peter carefully threaded the bead onto a length of thin black string that already contained a multitude of beads threaded in no particular pattern or style, all under the watchful gaze of his daughter.

"How's that?"

Jamie picked up the string of beads and wrapped it around Peter's wrist before looking up at him eagerly.

"Do you like it, daddy?"

"Yes, sweetheart, I love it."

"I made it for you."

"For… me?"

Jamie nodded. "It's a present."

"Oh, darling, wow, thank you."

"It's not finished yet, silly."

Jamie took the beads off her dad's wrist and laid it down on the table before opening up her box of beads and pulling out a simple silver clasp.

"You have to tie these to the ends. Then you can take it on and off."

"You're very clever, you know that?"

"I know, daddy."

Peter laughed, kissed Jamie's forehead, and tweaked her nose, causing her to giggle uncontrollably.

Michelle approached the busy Rovers bar apprehensively. She hated asking the current owners for any kind of favour, but she was desperate. She was thankful that it was Eva who served her and not Leanne or Toyah.

"Yes, Michelle, what can I get you?"

"Some change if you can manage it?" Michelle held out a twenty-pound note to Eva. "Ones and twos if you've got them."

"Give us a minute." Eva took the money from Michelle's hand and made her way to the til.

"Toyah, we're short-staffed as it is," Leanne hissed to Toyah. The two sisters were standing what they thought was out of earshot of the bar patrons; Michelle couldn't help but eavesdrop. "Where is Peter, anyway?"

"He's out back, looking after Jamie."

"Jamie? I didn't know Peter had access today."

"He didn't. Until Carla begged him to take her off her hands for a few days."

"A few days? Why? What's wrong with her?"

"I'm not sure, just that Peter said she was in a right state. I dunno what she's playing at. I mean, as if we don't have enough on our plates, what with this place and a new baby. We don't need an extra kid to look after on top of all that."

"To be fair, Toyah," Leanne tried to reason with her sister. "Jamie is Peter's daughter as well."

"Yeah. With her."

"Here ya go, Michelle." Eva handed over to Michelle a small ziplock bag containing one and two pound coins.

"Thanks Eva."

Michelle tried to tune back into Leanne and Toyah's conversation, but they'd moved out of earshot. She reflected on what she'd heard; "Peter said she was in a right state."

"Carla!" Michelle banged on Carla's front door.

No answer.

"Carla!" Michelle banged some more but was met with yet more silence.

But Michelle wasn't prepared to give up; she retrieved Carla's spare flat key from her bag and let herself in.

Inside the flat was gloomy and the air stuffy; all the blinds and windows were closed.

"Can't you take a hint?" Carla's nasal drawl came out of the darkness.

"That's what best friends are for, innit."

Unfazed by Carla's hostility, Michelle strode to the windows, opening the blinds to let the light stream in and the windows for some fresh air before turning her attention to said best friend.

"Oh, Carla," Michelle sighed as she surveyed the wreckage. "What's going on?"

Michelle approached Carla where she half lay on the sofa, surrounded by empty wine bottles, crisp packets and an open laptop revealing a paused Netflix show.

"I've discovered the meaning of life."

"I'm being serious," Michelle sat down next to Carla and laid a comforting hand on her knee. "No offence babes, but when was the last time you had a shower?"

"You can leave if I'm so offensive to you. No one asked you in, you know!"

"I'm sorry. But this –" Michelle looked around at Carla's squalor, "- isn't you. I know you've had a big shock, with Aidan, and now Sam -"

"I wanted Sam to leave."

"Okay, Aidan then. And it's gonna be hard for a while, I'm not saying it won't. But you'll get through this. You're stronger than this."

"Am I?"

"Of course you are, darling. How many times have you been knocked down? Hey? And every time you come back stronger than ever. You're a fighter. Always have been."

"I'm tired of fighting, Chelle." Carla's voice cracked. "I'm so tired."

"Oh, darling," Michelle wrapped her arms around Carla's shoulder; Carla sank into Michelle and broke down sobbing.

"How are you feeling?" Michelle questioned a freshly showered Carla as she walked back into the living room in a fluffy white dressing gown.

"Honestly? The same, you know, in here." Carla tapped her abdomen. "But a little cleaner."

"Well, that's something, innit?"

"Yeah."

The two best friends exchanged warm smiles.

"I've made you some dinner," Michelle explained.

"Oh, Chelle, I'm not really hungry."

"You need to eat some proper food. No arguments."

"Yes, mum."

"And listen," Michelle walked up to Carla and gently brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. "You're not alone. Okay?"

Carla nodded, blinking back the tears that were ever present, ready to fall at the least provocation.

"I don't care what Johnny says, what you say, what anyone says. I will always be here for you. Always."

"Thanks, Chelle."

The two friends wrapped their arms around each other and held on tight.

"I really don't want to leave you like this."

"Go on, Chelle, I'll be fine. I promise. You've got a bistro to run."

"You call me, okay? Any time. Don't be a martyr."

Peter wrapped the soiled nappy in a nappy bag and placed it to the side ready to take to the bin. He then turned his attention back to Susie who was wriggling about on the changing mat, quite happy to be nappy free.

"Okay, Miss Barlow, let's get you sorted out."

Peter had wanted to be a hands-on dad after missing out on both Simon and Jamie's early years. So, in the short time that Susie had been with him and Toyah, he had become quite an expert in nappy changing. Peter cherished every moment he got to spend with Susie, even if it meant cleaning up some very messy situations.

The fact that his other daughter was at that very moment also sleeping under his roof made him, he believed, the happiest man on earth. Almost. He wasn't so overcome by fatherly love that he didn't recognise that other aspects of his life were far from perfect, but he'd decided to take his consolation where he could find it. And that was in his three children: Simon, Jamie and Susie.

Having settled Susie back in her cot, Peter tiptoed out of the nursery and was headed to the kitchen to make himself a brew when he heard whimpering coming from Jamie's bedroom.

He knocked softly on her bedroom door and gently pushed it open.

"Jamie?" Peter whispered in his most soothing gravelly voice.

The quiet sobbing paused momentarily.

"Daddy?"

Peter came fully into the room now and knelt by Jamie's bed.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"

Jamie shook her head.

"Do you feel sick?"

Jamie shook her head again.

"I want mummy."

"Oh, darling. You can see your mum tomorrow."

This only caused Jamie to begin sobbing again, even more violently than before, her tiny body shaking with emotion.

"I want my mummy. I wanna go home."

"Sshhh, it's okay, baby." Peter did his best to comfort his daughter, but she had worked herself into such a state that only her mum would do.

"I want mummy."

As Jamie began to wail with increasing volume, Peter pulled out his phone and placed a call.

"Peter?" Carla answered almost immediately. "Is something wrong? Is Jamie hurt? Is that her crying? Peter, what's going on?"

"If you give me a chance, please. Listen, it's nothing to worry about. She's just a little bit homesick and finding it hard to sleep."

"Did something happen to upset her?"

"No. She just… she misses her mum."

"Put me on speaker, will you?"

Peter put the phone on speaker and placed it on the bedside table.

"Jamie? Sweetheart, your mum's on the phone."

"Mummy?" Jamie was immediately alert and eager, her tears already a distant memory.

"Hey darling."

"Hi mummy."

"Have you had a nice day with daddy?"

"Yes."

"What did you two do together?"

"Umm, after breakfast, me, daddy and Simon went to the park. And then daddy helped me with my beads. And I made daddy a bracelet."

"Oh, I bet he loved that. I can't wait to see him wearing it."

Peter smirked in the background as he listened to Carla's subtle mocking.

"Then what did you do?"

"Me and daddy watched a movie and had pizza."

"Pizza? Gosh, you are getting spoiled. And then what? Bed?"

"Uh huh."

"Daddy tells me you're having trouble sleeping, baby."

"Yeah," Jamie started to get emotional again. "I wanna come home, mummy."

"You know I'm going to see you tomorrow, don't you?"

"Yes."

"And I'm gonna be thinking about you all the time until then. And you know what?"

"What?"

"If you think of me, then it's like we're not really apart. Because you'll be in my thoughts and I'll be in yours. Just like, no matter where you are, or what you're doing, you will always be in my heart. Okay?"

"Okay. Mummy?"

"Yes, baby."

"Can you read me a story?"

"Of course, darling. Any requests?"

"Umm… Pooh! The one with the party!"

"Okay, baby, let me find that one…here it is. You ready?"

"Yes."

"Is daddy ready?"

"Daddy's ready," Peter was looking forward to it.

"Alright then, here we go." Carla cleared her throat dramatically. "It was a beautiful autumn morning in the Hundred-Acre Wood – so beautiful, in fact, that it made Winnie the Pooh feel like celebrating. 'All I need is a pot of honey,' said Pooh –"

"Honey!" Jamie exclaimed. "I love honey."

"I know, baby. You know what else Pooh needed?"

"Umm… friends?"

"That's right… 'and friends to share it with…'"

Peter watched Jamie, completely engrossed with the story her mum was telling her, even though Peter was sure she would have heard this particular story more than once. Gradually, though, sleep determined to overtake Jamie. She fought hard against it, trying desperately to keep her eyes open, but it was no use.

Peter didn't tell Carla that Jamie was asleep. He didn't want her to stop the story, to stop talking in those animated yet soothing tones. He felt he could listen to her talk all night, the rest of his life even. He knew neither were a possibility, so he settled for listening until the end of the story.

"…Pooh gathered all their friends together again. 'Party time at last!' he announced. 'I love parties!' cried Roo. 'Are we celebrating finding Eeyore's tail?' 'Yes,' replied Pooh. 'That…and honey.' 'And friendship,' added Eeyore, remembering how very hard everyone had tried to help him that day. 'Friendship most of all.' The end."

Peter picked up the phone and switched off the speaker.

"Hey, thank you for that. She's fast asleep."

"Good, I was glad to help." An awkward silence. "Well then, I, umm… I better go."

"Yeah," Peter was reluctant to let Carla go; he desperately wanted her to stay on the line, but couldn't think of a believable pretext. "Thanks again for that."

"Any time."

"Okay…"

"Bye then."

"Bye."

After he'd hung up the phone, Peter sat by Jamie's bedside and watched her as she slept. She was so like her mother; the same hair, the same nose, an early hint of the same razor-sharp cheekbones.

He sighed at the thoughts these observations raised in his mind; the feelings in his heart. "Bury them deep, you old fool," was the only advice he could give himself.

Leaning over Jamie's bed, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead, and gently stroked her hair.

"Goodnight precious."

As he stood by the door, he gazed one last time at his sleeping daughter, the glow of the night light softly illuminating her features, before turning and walking out, back to his reality, leaving the dream behind.

Note: the Winnie the Pooh readings are from the book "Party in the Wood" by Lisa Ann Marsoli.