Four weeks later...
How was it possible that a whole month had passed by? She was almost certain that was an error, but no, here she was, six weeks pregnant and the only one aware of the secret she was carrying. Even he didn't know. That, she was grateful for. Her own mind couldn't decide what to do, and it was the worst possible time for this to happen. It was all too soon. Too soon since the last time she'd been in this predicament.
What a mess.
She yanked the abortion pamphlet out of her handbag and furiously sipped her coffee - praying that would be the miracle cure to wake her up. It wasn't. She'd spent all hours of the night tossing and turning. Could she really go through with an abortion? Was she really that woman? She knew deep down she couldn't. But what was the alternative, realistically?
She slumped, head in her hands on the sofa and sobbed. Why did things always go disastrously wrong when they seemed to be looking up?
Was it worthwhile considering an abortion anyway? Would he even want a child? How could she be certain this was the ideal situation for the both of them?
She felt so alone. Ironically. Here she was, surrounded by oodles of people who loved and cared about her, but as she contemplated her future and that of her unborn child, she felt the world had shrunk.
Leanne was baffled by Nick's odd behaviour. It had been brought to her attention about two weeks ago, but now it had really started to grate. Why was he always so shifty around her? He was iffy about her going anywhere near his phone, and he was particularly odd about her going anywhere near his bank statements when they arrived in the post. Hey, she wasn't a fool, she had gone through affairs herself in the past, and she'd been the victim of them too. She knew he loved her, but she had started to wonder if Nick had grown bored of her, or if he had found a younger model, to trade her in for. It all seemed so odd though. Just a few weeks earlier he'd been bleating on about how perfect they were as both a couple, and a family with Simon. Was it just her? Were little insecurities going to seriously dictate her relationship with Nick? She knew full well he wasn't like Peter. Why would she panic?
She sat in the living room of 8 Victoria Court, and traced her fingers around the edge of the bumble bee Emma Bridgewater mugs that Stella had bought her and Nick as a wedding present years ago. The tea didn't taste right, she sighed. It wasn't sweet enough to fight off the headache that plagued her. It hadn't helped she had allowed such crazy thoughts to permeate her mind, and alter her view of her partner. Surely, surely he wasn't capable of cheating on her? Surely that wasn't why he was acting so suspiciously? Perhaps he had a surprise holiday planned, or had spent money on something he didn't want her to know about? Yes, like hotels for bumping uglies with other women. Or worse, Carla. Yep, that's right, he's having an affair.
'Morning gorgeous,' Nick smiled as he walked out of their bedroom, eyeing his partner at the dining table, nursing her tea. 'Everything alright? You got up early this morning.'
Leanne didn't lift her gaze from her tea. It had actually reached that lukewarm stage where you gag as you drink it. Janice always told her not to faff with her food when she was a child. It seemed she hadn't grown out of the habit. 'Yeah, I, er, wasn't feeling too good.'
Nick poured himself a coffee and gestured to her mug. She nodded, he took note, and poured two coffees. 'Why? What's wrong? Shall I try and get you an appointment at the Medical Centre?'
She shook her head. 'I'll be fine. I just...I don't know, I just feel a bit iffy today. It could be my hormones I guess, what with things going back to normal after the miscarriage. It takes a while for normal service to resume.'
He placed hers in front of her, and sat opposite her with a bowl of porridge. 'Normal service to resume? You're not under maintenance like a lift.'
She sighed. 'That wasn't what I meant. It takes time...time for things to resume. Normal things - periods, wanting to have sex again. Those sorts of things.'
He stopped eating his breakfast and the elephant in the room seemed even bigger. 'Well I know we haven't, you know, since the miscarriage, but I didn't think the fact we hadn't was a major issue. It has only been eight weeks since it happened.'
'I don't know. Just ignore me then.' Leanne replied, rolling her eyes. 'Not like you're not ignoring me at the moment anyway,' she muttered, hoping he wouldn't hear.
'What?' Nick asked, as Simon emerged from his bedroom.
'Do you two have to talk so loudly in a morning?' He groaned, rubbing his eyes and heading for the bathroom. Simon had stayed twice in the last four weeks, in what the counsellor assured them, and Peter, was a gradual step towards rebuilding their relationship. It had seemed to be working, and his performance at school had drastically improved.
'Oi you - don't be cheeky,' Leanne snapped. Simon trudged on to the bathroom. Nick looked back at Leanne, indicating for her to continue where their conversation was interrupted.
'As I was saying, it's no great secret you and I haven't exactly gone near each other since I lost the baby.'
Nick paused. 'That's not entirely fair though Lea, I mean you were attacked by Callum three weeks after that, and then...'
'Then what, Nick?! I don't mean you needed to jump on me, I've just felt like the intimacy in our relationship has... well it's like it's disappeared. You're acting so odd at the moment too, and I'm starting to feel like...'
'Like what?' Nick looked fairly angry by this point. Nobody had exactly laid it out in black and white for them. What was the rush to resume intimacy, anyway? He recognised Leanne needed time for her body, and mind, to heal, so why was she so annoyed?
'You're acting like Peter did after I had a miscarriage and he was sleeping with Carla.' She got up from the table at that point, and headed to the bedroom to finish getting dressed. Nick remained at the table, glum.
'Blimey - you've got a right face on ya,' Simon retorted, expecting banter with his step-father.
'Not now, Simon!' Nick snapped through gritted teeth. 'I'm not in the mood - nor is your Mum.'
Nick washed his bowl and mug, grabbing his coat on the way out of the door. He didn't want her to find out what he was doing behind her back, but it seemed he hadn't been the most skilful in covering his tracks. Surely that in itself was evidence he wasn't up to no good? Leanne knew him well enough to recognise that he was acting odd, so surely that was clear cut evidence that he wasn't a cheat?
Her little dig about him behaving like Peter - what was that all about? Things had been challenging since they'd lost their baby, but to compare him to Peter was cruel.
He practically stomped his way down the stairs of Victoria Court and ensured the door to the apartment block slammed shut behind him.
'Y'alright?' Carla asked, slightly stunned by Nick's frustration.
He rolled his eyes. 'Fine. Are you here to cause trouble?'
'Now now, don't take your manapause out on me,' Carla retorted, her tone both jokey and irked.
Nick sighed. It wasn't Carla's fault, after all. 'Sorry, it's not your fault. I'm just having a crappy day. Crappy month. Scrap that, it's been a crap year.'
She understood and sighed with him. There was enough on her overflowing plate to feed a small army. Block it out, block it out, she thought, snapping away from her stare. 'I feel you on that one matey. D'ya want to grab a coffee and have a chat about it?' Nick hesitated, she was sure he was concerned about her intentions. 'Platonic coffee, Nick. Cappuccino isn't a euphemism for sex.'
His eyes bulged. 'I didn't think that was what you meant. I mean, I didn't until you said it.'
Now it was Carla that rolled her eyes. 'I'm serious, we are mates - aren't we? I want to put all that drama behind me. I'm moving on with my life - growing up, shall we say. I can even be in the same room as Leanne without wanting to club her. I assume it's reciprocated an all.'
He smiled - she was a good friend, after all, and he had been supported by Carla in the months prior to him and Leanne leaning on each other. It was never a good idea to lose friends unnecessarily, especially when he and Carla had remained platonic - all but for a rather passionate kiss on the Street months ago.
'Actually - that would be great. Perhaps you'd understand, what with everything you've been through?'
Carla nodded in agreement, even if she was oblivious to the issues plaguing Nick. 'Sure... I'm always here to listen. But first, I urgently need some coffee.'
'Bistro?'
'Hmm - It'll make me a traitor to Roy's, but as it's you I'll make an allowance. I can't exactly baulk at the offer of a fancy coffee.'
'We throw in an amaretti with our coffees too - even Roy can't top that!'
Carla laughed. 'Roy can't top that! Nor can he crack open a bottle of Merlot for me at 10am. I like your thinking Nicky!'
'God, not you as well.' He winced. 'Leanne has been doing my head in calling me that for weeks.
The Newton & Ridley delivery arrived earlier than expected at the Rovers, and Michelle had nipped into town to do some shopping, leaving Eva in charge of loading the cellar with the stock. She'd gestured kindly and made idle chitchat with the delivery men, but in all honesty, her head was somewhere else entirely. How had Jason managed to conceal it from her for so long? Why didn't he confess that he'd been sleeping with Alya up until he was put in a coma? Was it because it was going to carry on, once he was well enough? That actually made her feel sick. As if she hadn't felt sick enough of late. Eva just couldn't grasp why so much shit had landed at her door, all at once. Everyone else's problems were shared - Nick and Leanne had gone through their own share of problems, but that was as a couple. Everything Eva had endured was either alone, or left alone. Perhaps it was an omen, she thought, watching the men lug barrel after barrel down the narrow stairway to the cellar. Perhaps she was destined to a lifetime alone - spinsterhood - or worse, a life as a nun. Christ. Is this what my life has come to? Eva asked herself.
It seemed not. Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her floral milkmaid dress. She half expected it to be O2 sending her a message to tell her she'd used 80% of her data allowance, or her bank to warn her of suspicious spending (which was all her, of course). Wrong. It was Aidan.
Hey gorgeous, I was wondering if you were free tonight? I've booked us a table somewhere (I'm giving you no hints, either), and I thought afterwards we could head back to mine? That is, only if you're still interested. I might have lost you to Jason. x
No hints? How will I know what to wear? You really are a tease Aidan. Don't worry, I'll get you back. And yes, it all sounds perfect. x
She slipped her phone back into her pocket, the smile reaching her eyes as she sipped her tea and tightened the nozzles on the pumps. Perhaps it was time to hold off on spinsterhood. Aidan was the best thing in a long time to come along.
'Here we are, one cappuccino,' Nick smiled, placing the hot drink down in front of Carla in the deserted Bistro.
She removed her leather jacket and smiled back, taking in the smell of hot coffee. An unpleasant sensation climbed from her stomach to her throat. Swallow it down, she thought - frustrated. Now isn't the time for being ill. 'Thanks - it's still not up to Merlot standards, but it's a start.'
Carla hesitated, trying to gauge Nick's expression. 'So, come on,' She began, taking a small sip of the coffee. 'What's got you so glum?'
He threw his hands in the air. 'Pfft, what hasn't? I help my ex-wife and protect her from her abusive step-son, sleep with her, get her pregnant and almost lose both her and our baby, we get back together again, all is perfect, all is well.'
'But,' Carla interjected, leaning nearer.
'Then it fell apart. She lost the baby, she was attacked, my family kept being targeted by Callum, and now she says we've no intimacy in our relationship anymore. I mean, no intimacy? She said it herself: she didn't expect me to jump her!'
'Now I wish you really had poured me a large glass.'
Nick hung his head low. 'Sorry. This isn't your mess. I just thought - well, I thought you might be able to offer me a better understanding of Leanne at the minute. You know, because-'
'Because I lost a baby?' Carla interrupted, cocking an eyebrow.
He grimaced. 'I didn't want to be as blunt as that, but I thought you'd get it. You know, you could give me an understanding of how she feels - what she's thinking.'
Carla fidgeted with her cup and saucer, refusing to show the true emotions in her eyes. This wasn't exactly an easy subject to discuss, especially at the moment.
'She's confused, Nick. That's the first thing I'll say. Confused, because you two became everything she's ever wanted in the space of a few weeks: together again, living together, expecting a baby, and becoming well - a normal family. She'll be confused, because all that has been pinched from under her. Having the rug pulled from under you is the best way to describe losing a baby, and you need to consider what she's gone through mentally, and physically. The baby is a part of you, a part of your body, the thing that brings you warmth from the inside and radiates on the outside. It's the feelings of protection - going above and beyond to ensure that no matter what goes on around you, that little bundle of joy is safe and kept out of harm's reach. And, when you lose that baby, you feel responsibility - guilt - anger, at yourself for failing to keep her safe. For failing her as a mother. For letting her down. For being your own mother.'
'I'm sorry,' Nick offered. He knew Carla's admission came from a deeply painful place. A box that she preferred to keep tightly shut under lock and key.
'You think the baby will fix everything, will be the cement to bind you together. The baby is the thing that gets you through, that keeps you going. It's frightening, knowing someone will need you and need so much care from you. But it's the excitement, the anticipation, the unknown. It's muddled. What goes through your head after a miscarriage is hazy and blurred. You start to wonder whether it had ever really been true to begin with - whether you'd gone through some fictitious pregnancy, and if you were even cut out for it from the beginning. Perhaps it's your body, you tell yourself. The damage you've done over the years have provided an inhospitable environment for a baby. Perhaps it's you entirely. What if you're the unlovable one? The clinical one?'
'Do you think Leanne feels like this?' Nick looked deeply worried, given an insight into the feelings of another woman who'd lost a child too.
Carla nodded solemnly. 'She'll have felt all this and more Nick. She'll have questioned whether you're better off without her - if the issue is her, and if you'd have more luck having a family with someone else. Is it me? She'll think. Was he just with me for the baby? Yes, he must have been. He's gone, she's gone, and I'm all alone with the thoughts in my head. I'm all alone with a figment of what was. I think, Nick, you need to address the issues head on. There's no point skirting round with Leanne and dodging the uncomfortable conversations. You have to ask her how she feels. She needs to know what you're feeling. And you have to go through all of that grief together, not in the arms of someone else, or by going behind each other's backs. This was your baby, that you two shared. Now you have to share what comes with losing him or her, as a couple.'
'She mentioned, well, she had some jibes about us and intimacy - she compared me to Peter, saying I've been cold and secretive around her.'
Carla took a deep breath - that reminder of Peter's behaviour during their marriage wasn't something she wanted to become familiar with again. She attempted to block the images of him and Tina from her mind, but they lingered, haunting her thoughts.
'Intimacy? What like-'
'I didn't think she meant that kind of intimacy, as such. I think she was hinting at me being affectionate with her - not being cold towards her, or feeling I can't go near her without her crumbling. I just didn't know what to do for the best. I don't want her thinking that the miscarriage didn't affect me, because it has. I'm scared, I'm grieving, and frankly Carla, I don't know where we go from here.'
She took another long breath, and put her hands to her head as if she were thinking deeply. 'I think,' Carla began. 'That you two can't live without each other. That you've both spent what, twenty years nearly, apart and together? You two need to stick together through this. It always comes back to you two. Doesn't that tell you something, Nick? That despite the things you've put each other through, and the ways you've hurt each other, that you've come back together? You need her as much as she needs you. This is hard. You won't get it right, and neither will she, but that's something you've got to talk about - together. She's bound to feel confused and angry right now, and you are too, but it's important that you don't let this beat you both. There's so much value in talking. Talk about the baby, talk about how you feel to her - she'll understand it from your perspective more. You're going to have to start talking and letting the other into your thoughts. Show her you love her and she'll let you in and show you how much she loves you.'
Nick had listened intently and with careful attention for a good while, mulling over every word Carla said. 'For someone so bad at relationships, you're brilliant at advice and counselling.'
'Why thank you,' Carla smirked. 'You don't come out of the shitshows I've been in without some wise words and crappy platitudes.'
Kylie was deeply concerned about Sarah, and she had been for almost a month. Some may have said it was depression or anxiety - or even a mixture of the two, but either way, it was evident to all that Sarah wasn't coping. The difficulty was that only David and Kylie knew the real reason why. They'd managed to be discreet with hiding Callum's corpse - a rather feeble and desperate act - burying him under the manhole in the annex that Gail was sleeping in. Kylie herself couldn't mull it over too much, as the thought of her ex's rotting corpse beneath them made her choke on her own vomit. They had no provisions, no plans, and no means to escape the situation if they were caught out for his murder. Or, more simply, if Kylie was found to have murdered Callum.
David hadn't exactly taken it easy, either. He'd gone the other way to Sarah, desperately trying to prove his place as Max's father, and pretending to be so blissfully happy that his own family wouldn't find it suspicious or ask too many questions. The facade was falling fast though. She'd heard his muffled screams, and the jolts of nightmares keeping him awake for the last few weeks - all of which involved Callum's name and the memories of that fateful night, or the tragedy that could have occurred if Kylie hadn't got to Callum before he attacked Sarah. David was all too aware of the suspicions his only family had, and their concerns for Callum's whereabouts. Nick had religiously refused to Leanne out after dark on her own, and ensured he was always with her when she closed up the Bistro. They'd changed the locks on their flat and kept themselves to themselves; frightened that Callum would rear his ugly head again.
It was for that reason, and many others, Kylie felt somewhat relieved that she'd killed her ex. That wasn't to suggest she lacked guilt, regret or fear, but she did breathe easier in her own home knowing that they'd be free from his reign of terror for good. Did she wish she hadn't bludgeoned his skull with the wrench? Perhaps. But sometimes life required you to make horrible decisions, and that was arguably how Kylie justified what she did. It was brutal and callous, but it was for the greater good of her children, her marriage, and her family. It did, however, haunt her in ways she hadn't anticipated. Max's face would change when he frowned - resembling his father in a manner that chilled her to the core. Gemma would roam the Street, badgering Kylie and David for answers about his movements and why he had so readily accepted their money and fled. Questions. Over and over. Max would ask why his Dad hadn't been in touch, and why they'd been left alone - at last. Gail would ask why Sarah was holed up in her room all day, and why she could hardly compose a sentence. Nick asked with concern why Callum had suddenly disappeared, without a trace, and worried at the lengths David and Kylie must have gone to in removing him from their lives. He and Leanne suspected it was hefty loans. Nobody imagined it was murder.
Kylie looked at her two beautiful children, innocent and so naive to the crimes of their parents, and felt the violent urge again. The murderous, I don't care what lengths I must go to so that you'll be protected, urge. The maternal instinct. It was that same rage that had led her to smash Callum's skull in and scream at Sarah to 'man up' and stop sniffling as they shoved his body into the Max's duvet set. There was no way she'd leave her kids and face prison for his murder - she wouldn't allow him the satisfaction - even if he was dead. They'd find a way to appear normal and unaffected. They'd sort Sarah out and move on from the horrors of the previous month. They'd be able to walk free from Callum for the rest of their lives - forever.
Carla had, for the most part, done a decent job at hiding herself away from the factory and Aidan. She'd purposely planned her work around his meetings elsewhere, or his time away from the office, presumably for meetings with his fancy woman. The fancy woman, Carla was certain, was Eva. She wasn't exactly Sherlock Holmes, but Aidan and discreet didn't fit in the same sentence. Honestly, if Jason hadn't spotted the two of them yet, he was bound to see it soon enough.
The factory staff had relented somewhat, and loosened the noose around her neck - allowing her the breathing space to right her wrongs and delete the accounts on the gambling sites. It was one step to freedom and normality; but there were several obstacles along the way. Her mind was encouraging her to reach for the black jack again, purely as a coping mechanism for what was going on around her. The things going on inside her mind. It really hadn't helped that Aidan's mismanagement of his father's money had brought Johnny back into Carla's life. That man was responsible for a lot of her thoughts, and for the person she had become.
Johnny hadn't faded into the background either. He'd stomped his way around Underworld and taken over part of the office too, ensuring that Carla really wasn't entitled to her own space, nor her own mind. He made her shudder, and it was largely for that reason that she ventured away from Underworld where possible. That's not to say that she didn't work, but she timed it so that her late afternoons and evenings were spent in the factory - alone - safe from Johnny.
Peter couldn't understand what was going on with her. She was distant at times, blowing cold and dampening his attempts to slowly but surely rebuild what they'd lost seventeen months earlier. None of it made sense. One minute she was craving his touch, the next she was cold and rigid beneath him, her body trembling through fear, her eyes haunted. He was certain it was him, and that it was going to take even longer to regain her trust and affection, but it made no sense. Her drinking was erratic. Some days she'd refuse it entirely, sipping the soft stuff instead - claiming her body was a temple, and that she was preserving the ruins. Other days were a blur, consumed by drinking from noon til midnight, with no let up.
He didn't want to ask the question, for fear of the answer, and her walking away from him once more.
She didn't want to tell him the truth, and let him in on the two secrets weighing heavily on her life.
Carla was certain he'd look at her differently. She was silenced by her fears of what may happen to her if she spoke, and if Peter were to lash out at Johnny for his actions. She knew Peter would be baying for blood, and the thought of something sinister happening to him chilled her to the core. It was better this way, keeping quiet. It was better for all involved.
'It's the clever thing to do, isn't it petal? We wouldn't want anyone finding out your dirty little secret, would we Carla?'
Johnny's voice echoed through the corners of her mind and made her retch. His epithets, labelling her 'petal,' when in reality, the world would brandish him a criminal, a man fit for prison. How was he even allowed to breathe the same air as her? Who could she tell, realistically? Peter? That was obviously a no. Kate? Aidan? Would they honestly want to have their father tarnished right before their own eyes? Who would even believe her? Could she honestly tell Michelle? Michelle was part of Johnny's family, and she couldn't destroy the Connors like that. She felt alone. Shut inside her own body, her own mind.
But with her other secret weighing heavily, she knew she had no option but to remain mute.
If her happiness had collapsed around her before Johnny arrived, her newfound bliss with Peter was bound to dissolve in no time.
It was her duty to protect him, her and their future.
Hello again!
I'd like to apologise that this story was abandoned - I've no clue where those three years have gone!
I know this chapter is a bit rusty, but it's been so long that I've worked on this story that I figured a gradual introduction to it was a wise move. If the interest is still there with this then I will definitely update as the plans are in place to enable this to continue on!
I've lots lined up for Nick, Leanne, Simon, Carla, Peter, the Platts, Eva, Aidan and Jason, so do keep reading!
I also thought I'd rule out those who aren't included in the 'Who's the Mummy?' mystery, and the current list of those who could be expecting the baby are:
Eva
Sarah
Carla
It'll be great to hear your thoughts, predictions and suggestions for what's to come next in this story!
Also, if you enjoy this story, please check out my new one 'Sweet Little Lies,' as it includes many of these characters!
I hope everyone is well and coping during the pandemic - and keeping safe!
