Thank you so much for your lovely reviews, they mean a lot to me!
I apologise if this is a bit jumpy, but I want the next chapter to be a bit deeper and more intense so I needed this to be a a bit of a filler. I hope it's still okay!
Happy New Year! :)
"Make my wish come truuuuue!" came the loud, choral shrieking from the pub, making Carla half-cringe and half-smile as she sauntered into the bar from the backroom. She glanced around at the tinsel-topped, Santa-hatted partygoers spread out around the Rovers. The factory girls had huddled in the middle with their families slotting in between them; Norris, Rita and Mary were sat in a booth to the side, with Mary joining in the festivities at the top of her voice and Norris decked in his own Santa hat, looking like he'd rather be six feet under; and, most importantly to Carla, Johnny was propped up at the bar with a pint in front of him, Jenny cheerfully serving despite her sobriety. "All I want for Christmas is youuuuuuu!"
"Flamin' hell, I thought someone was being murdered in here," Carla joked, screwing her nose up as she settled beside Johnny, who gave her a warm smile.
"There's still time yet if Mary doesn't pipe down soon. How you feeling, love?" Johnny asked her, his voice laden with concern. He subconsciously motioned to Carla's flat stomach, causing her to flinch and glance around as though she expected to see somebody watching them.
"Better now I've had a lie down. Don't fuss though," Carla insisted, "I don't want to look suspicious."
"Carla, love!" Jenny sung, flitting over to her and producing a pink sparkly Santa hat, which was thrust onto Carla's head before she could protest, "Merry Christmas! What are you having, large glass of red?"
"No, ta, just an orange juice for me. I'm feeling a bit queasy. I thought I'd drop the 'bah, humbug' act for five minutes and show my face, I'll be going back upstairs in a bit."
"Oh, are you, love?" Instantly concerned and like an overbearing mother, Jenny placed the back of her hand against Carla's forehead. "You do feel a bit warm. Probably doesn't help you wearing a massive jumper like that, mind." Self-consciously, Carla tugged on the hem of the oversized grey jumper that she was wearing.
"Yeah, well, I've been pigging out lately, I reckon I've gained half a stone the last few weeks and I don't want to shatter the illusion, do I?" she responded quickly, shooting Johnny a sideways glance. As Jenny moved away to make Carla's drink, Johnny edged closer to her.
"You won't be showing for ages yet," he hissed quietly, "Stop worrying."
"You know what gossips that lot are," Carla mumbled in reply, running her eyes across everybody in the pub, nodding in particular to her work colleagues, "They'll start whispering as soon as they notice my whatsits are getting bigger." Both she and Johnny jumped as the doors of the Rovers flung open, smacking against the wall. In stumbled a very intoxicated Peter Barlow, his eyes glazed over, a layer of sweat glistening on his yellowing skin.
"Jenny!" he roared, "Jenny! Fetch me a whiskey. Make it a double." As he staggered towards the bar, he was quickly joined on either side by Daniel and Ken, who had followed him into the pub.
"Peter, come on, let's go next door," Daniel pleaded. Peter brushed him off, shrugging him off of his arm.
"No, I don't want to go next door, I want a drink," he slurred, "Dev is shut. S'Christmas. I need a drink in 'ere."
"You need to come home and sober up," Ken tried to reason with him, but he was met by a scoff and a look of disdain.
"Don't you try'n tell me what I need. You don't know anything." Peter looked around the pub, suddenly aware that all eyes were on him. "None of you do." Carla went to step around her father and move in Peter's direction, but Johnny gently caught hold of her upper arm.
"Not your problem anymore," he reminded her, somewhat sternly. Carla sighed and brushed his hand away.
"He'll always be my problem." Cautiously, she approached Peter, who was still mumbling to Jenny about what he wanted to drink. Jenny, as expected, was firmly standing her ground. "Hey…" Carla spoke softly, forcing a small, kind smile. Peter jolted when he saw her, and the anger and frustration in his expression seemed to fall away. "Why don't you listen to your dad, 'ey? He knows what's best."
"No, I know what's best," Peter insisted, though on seeing Carla, his tone became forlorn rather than annoyed. "I need… To have a drink. It's Christmas."
"Why don't I take you home, 'ey?" Carla murmured, slotting herself between Peter and the bar and placing her hands on his arms, looking deep into his eyes, "Come on, baby." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see both Daniel and Ken watching them helplessly with baited breath. She could practically feel Johnny's eyes boring into the back of her, ready to jump in in case things got out of hand.
"Carla…" Peter whispered, his eyes, red with the effects of alcohol, falling to Carla's plump lips and back up to meet hers, "I'm a mess."
"No, you're not, darling."
"The love of my life…" he trailed off. As if a realization suddenly smacked him in the face, his expression grew angry, furious, his eyes narrowing. "Well, you were. Until you screwed my nephew." Livid, he pushed Carla away from him unexpectedly, causing her to stumble backwards into the bar.
"Right, that's it!" Johnny thundered, appearing at Carla's side and grabbing Peter by the collar of his leather jacket. He dragged the drunken man over to the doors of the pub and wrenched them open. Despite desperate pleas from Ken not hurt his son, he pushed Peter outside, causing him to stagger on his feet for a moment before falling and landing on his side in the thin layer of snow that had formed on the cobbles. "And you stay out. And stay away from Carla an' all!" Peter groaned, and Daniel and Ken quickly flocked to his side to try and help him up, Johnny allowing the doors to swing shut on them as he stormed back into the pub, the revelers so silent that you could hear the faintest creak of the floorboards. He walked straight over to Carla, his face etched with worry. "You alright, love?"
"I'm fine," Carla hissed in embarrassment, her hands automatically resting protectively on her stomach.
"What the hell are you doing, Johnny?" Jenny demanded, frowning, "You know he's ill!"
"I don't care, she's–" Johnny suddenly hesitated as Carla shot him deathly glare, "She's my daughter."
"I said I'm fine!" Carla snapped, her eyes still narrowed at Johnny, "I'm going for a lie down." Her emotions were all over the place – a mixture of hurt, anger and humiliation rolled into one – and she was annoyed to feel tears building in her eyes as she turned and quickly fled from the bar and into the backroom, suddenly conscious that every set of eyes in the pub were solely focused on her, the one who had destroyed Peter Barlow.
Carla stared down into the street below, partially hidden behind her slatted bedroom blinds. The snow that had started to fall earlier in the day had settled on the ground, a white blanket disguising the cobbles and making the street appear picturesque despite the crisp evening chill in the air. She bit her lip as she watched Peter, bleary-eyed and disheveled, stagger down a curb and into the road, waving his arms around and yelling about something that she couldn't hear through the double-glazing, poor Daniel doing his best to stay by his brother's side without getting himself injured. All she wanted to do, despite what had happened earlier in the day, was to go down to him and help him, save him, support him like he had her when she'd been the one to break down. But she knew, deep down, that no amount of whiskey-fuelled haze would make Peter forget how much she'd hurt him, and that would only make the situation worse. She hadn't heard Johnny as he'd walked up behind her, and she stiffened as she felt him wrap his arm around her, though relaxed when she realised who it was.
"This isn't your fault, you know," he assured her, following her line of vision and sighing as he observed the scene in front of him. Carla shook her head.
"I pushed him over the edge."
"He's been teetering on that edge since before you met him," Johnny reminded her, "He's an alcoholic. If it wasn't you, he'd find something else to be angry at."
"I know what he is," Carla retorted, "And when I married him, I promised to be there for him, in sickness and in health. I know a lot has happened since then, but the principle still stands, and making him sick isn't what you do to someone you love." Unable to watch anymore, she tore her eyes away from the scene and closed the blinds. "I need to get some sleep. I'm meant to be having a Boxing Day booze session on FaceTime with Michelle tomorrow – not sure how I'm going to explain that one away."
Carla leant back against the arm of the sofa and stretched out her long legs, balancing her iPad on her thighs as she waited for her call to connect. She grinned widely as the cheerful face of her lifelong best friend popped up on the screen, some reindeer antlers firmly planted on top of her head.
"Merry Christmas, gorgeous!" Michelle sung, tipping her glass of red wine to the camera and taking a swig.
"Merry Christmas, chick. I would have called yesterday but I assumed you'd be plastered."
"What can I say? I'm Irish, it's in my DNA."
"Plus I were worried you'd rope your mum into it as well, and my Christmas was bad enough as it was," Carla chuckled, lifting her glass of orange juice to her lips and taking a quick sip that she thought had been discreet. Unfortunately, Michelle was too observant. She frowned.
"I thought this was a Boxing Day booze-up?"
"It's 10am."
"You're Carla Connor."
"I am trying to be a responsible adult. You should try it, might suit you," Carla teased, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.
"Hmm…" Michelle narrowed her eyes. "You're lying. You've never been able to lie, especially to me. You look like you're seventeen again and telling my mum you spent the night in my room rather that Paul's. You get this vacant expression when you lie, like you're trying not to give the game away."
"I do not."
"You do. Look at me." Reluctantly, Carla lifted her eyes, unable to stop herself from smiling as she made eye contact with her best friend, wanting to tell share her news so badly that she had to bite her lip to prevent it from spilling out. Michelle's eyes widened. "Oh my God. You're not knocked up, are you?" Carla's smile turned into a grin, and she looked away from the screen again. "Carla! You're pregnant?! That's amazing, congratulations!"
"Michelle, keep your voice down!" Carla hissed, hastily hitting the volume button on her tablet to lower the sound right down. "Jenny doesn't know. I only found out yesterday."
"Have you told Peter?"
"What do you think?" Michelle hesitated, suddenly frowning again.
"It is Peter's, isn't it?"
"If I'm five weeks, it's Adam's. Six weeks and it's Peter's. It's like being back down the flamin' casino again, red or black…" Carla mumbled sheepishly.
"Carla, I know your decision-making skills have been questionable lately, but please tell me you and Adam used something."
"Funnily enough, it wasn't exactly pre-planned."
"Carla! For God sake, I could flippin' murder you sometimes." Michelle groaned, taking a very long glug of her wine. "And Peter?"
"Me and Peter were on holiday the first half of November. Barely kept our hands off each other the whole time we were away. And I looked up those DNA tests you can do before the baby's born, but they're a fat load of pointless if the potential fathers are related because they're not accurate enough."
"I can't believe there are people on this planet other than you that have that problem."
"This isn't funny."
"And I'm not laughing," Michelle assured her, giving Carla a small, encouraging smile, "I know it's not what you want to hear, but you need to talk to Peter, darling. And then you need to talk to Adam." Carla sighed.
"I know. I just… I want to enjoy this for a little bit longer before the world comes crashing down around me."
"Look, I know it doesn't sound it, but I am really pleased for you. You've gone a messy way about it, but you deserve the chance to be a mum." At her words, Carla sucked in a sharp breath, telling Michelle suddenly making the news seem a bit more real. A mum. I'm going to be a mum.