TW / Descriptions of the effects of substance abuse in section 5.

Chapter 9: Turning Plans into Actions

"Good morning, my beautiful partner!" Vicky chimed in a sing-song voice, bending down to press a kiss against Michelle's cheek. Her eyes caught the screen of her laptop as she pulled away, a spreadsheet open across it. She narrowed her eyes, glancing at Michelle.

"Good afternoon..." Michelle teased, shooting a pointed look at the white clock on the wall; it's rose gold hands showing that it was now ten past twelve.

"What are you doing down here on bank holiday Sunday?" Vicky quizzed, perching herself on the edge of the desk.

"I wanted to make sure I was on top of things before we open on Tuesday." Michelle explained, as she tapped the phone number of a local band into her spreadsheet.

She'd spent the morning ringing up her old contacts to see if they were willing to work with her again. It had been mostly successful, save for one venue that had closed down the previous year. It hadn't been a wasted conversation, though. The owner had put her in contact with three more hotels that catered for events; all of which had agreed to work with her. She had gathered contact details and price lists, ordering each of them into a separate spread sheet, so that she had plenty of options to share with potential new clients: venues, flowers, music, caterers. Things were going well. She was feeling positive.

"Can I get you anything? Coffee? Some lunch?" Vicky asked; the tip of her finger tracing the rim of Michelle's empty mug that was resting beside her on the rose gold coaster that matched the rest of the accessories in the room; including the desk organiser she'd gifted her for Christmas. It sat pride of place on one corner of the desk, already filled by new pens and post it notes, as well as holding the office diary and reams of washi tape; though what Michelle needed those for Vicky didn't know.

If Michelle was one thing, it was organised. Everything in the office was neat and had a specific place. The coaster prevented any spillages onto the white wood of the desk, and it sat an inch away from the laptop she was using to collect data and client information. The shelving unit against the back wall was constructed from the same material, and held Michelle's portfolio folders, each one filled with photos and price lists from her previous work. They were separated by small house plants; an orchid here, a miniature rosebush there.

"I'm okay thanks, babe." Michelle hummed; her eyes still trained on the screen. "Hey, why don't you head into town and see if you can pick anything up in the sales?" She suggested.

"Well, maybe I wanted to spend time with you…" Vicky pouted, causing Michelle to release a soft laugh.

"I'm gonna be stuck in here all day, Vick. But I tell you what, why don't I knock us up a shepherd's pie for dinner tonight?" Michelle allowed her hand to rest on Vicky's knee as she flashed her an apologetic smile.

"I think I might just stay here and keep you company…" Vicky grinned. She hopped down from the desk and strutted across the room, collapsing onto the plush white couch on the other side and scooping up a bridal magazine from the tidy stack on the glass-topped coffee table. She flicked through the glossy pages, allowing her eyes to trail across the spread of lace garments showcased on each one.

Michelle rolled her eyes, letting out a light laugh.

"Okay, but you need to be quiet. I've got phone calls to make…" She warned, plucking the handheld phone from its holder and dialling the number on her computer screen. Vicky bit her lip as she pressed the receiver against her ear.

"Hello, is that Hannah?" Michelle spoke breezily into the phone. "Hi, yes. It's Michelle Connor from Michelle's Events Planning. I'm just calling in regards to an email I've received about your wedding…"

Vicky listened curiously as Michelle made conversation with the prospective client; laughing in all the right places and assuring her that they'd give her the perfect day. She smiled as she watched her flick her hair out of the way, balancing the receiver between her shoulder and ear as she tapped hastily onto the keyboard of her laptop.

"Alright, so that's 3pm on the fourth of January. Okay, perfect! See you then! Bye!" Michelle put down the phone with a smug grin on her face, reaching out to pull the office diary from its place at the back of the organiser. She turned the aqua blue leather-bound cover, adorned with the numbers "2021" in silver print, and allowed the pages to fall to the right date before neatly filling in the details. She planted a full stop at the end, clicking the end of her pen and flashing Vicky a beaming grin.

"First client sorted!" She said excitedly, turning back to the laptop and pulling up her emails once more. There were around fifty that were still unread, most of which seemed to be enquiries from potential clients. Her stomach fluttered as she scrolled, the anticipation of finally getting up and running after months of planning starting to sink in.

"Well, you've got all the sales patter, haven't you?" Vicky noted, as she closed the magazine in her lap and leant backwards against the sofa cushions. "Its quite sexy, you know…"

A smug smile tugged at the corner of Michelle's lips, but she kept her eyes trailed on the screen.

"Only quite?" She tested. Vicky rolled her eyes.

"Okay, very sexy."

She was pulled away from her thoughts by the feeling of her phone vibrating in her back pocket. With a sigh, she pulled it out, using her thumbprint to unlock it. With a grimace, she pulled up her messaging app, disgruntled to see a new message from Gary Windass.

Ready to go. Ring me ASAP.

Vicky read the message once, letting out a sigh as she glanced back at Michelle. She was focused intently on the screen, the crease in her brow that formed whenever she was deeply concentrating present.

"Erm, you know what, Chelle, I think I might head into town…" She said, decidedly; neatly restacking the magazine and rising to her feet. Michelle glanced up, flashing her a genuine smile.

"Okay babe. Shoot me a text when you're on the way back. I'll make sure dinner is on."

Vicky returned her smile, crossing the room and leaning over the desk to plant a kiss against her lips.

"Will do." She grinned, before heading to the door. "I love you."

"Love you." Michelle called, as Vicky closed the office door behind her.

She crossed through the reception area, zipping up her hoodie before pushing open the door. Once outside in the brisk December air, she pulled out her mobile and dialled Gary's number.

After two rings, he picked up.

"Vicky. I need you to listen carefully because I'm not going to say any of this again." Gary's voice was somewhat muffled through the speaker.

"Right, okay…" Vicky replied, rolling her eyes at the drama of it all.

"He's at the Chariot Square Hotel. He'll likely be in the bar area on the ground floor. He likes to do his work there. Oversee his empire." Vicky could hear the scoff in his voice.

"Listen Gary. As much as I'm up for this, what am I supposed to say to him?" Vicky sighed, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the front door keys to the flat. Her fingers fumbled as she slotted them into the lock, as the winter wind whipped around her.

"Well, I don't know, do I? Just flirt with him or something. Tell him you've split up with Michelle and you're on the rebound. I hardly think he's the sort of guy that's going to have his pride dented by that."

Vicky felt her stomach flip slightly as the reality of the task set in. She knew Michelle would kill her if she found out. She turned the keys in the lock and pushed through the door, lowering her voice as she began to climb the stairs.

"And how will I know when I've got all the information I need? I haven't got long you know, Gary. Michelle thinks I'm going to the shops. She's putting a shepherd's pie on for tea-"

"Vicky, just get in there and do it. Put on a nice frock and get him drunk. I'll text you if I find anything in the Bistro, but until then, keep going until he's spilled it all."

Before she could respond, he'd hung up the phone. She slammed the flat door behind her with a frustrated grunt before heading into the bedroom.

She had no idea how she was going to pull this off.


Michelle knelt on the plush, cream rug on the floor of her office, a collection of photos surrounding her and an open folder in her lap. She was trying to put together her last portfolio, but she couldn't decide which photos to add. Whatever she tried felt wrong and mismatched; the theme and feel of the day not translating well through the pages. She sighed, sitting up again to take in the photos as a whole.

The photographer she'd hired for this particular event had been a last-minute replacement, thanks to the illness of her usual choice. Whilst they weren't terrible, the photos were nowhere near as artistic as her other events. This particular wedding had been one of her best; the venue was picturesque and the bride looked stunning, so much so that Michelle had had one of her photos blown up onto a canvas to hang as one of two behind her desk. She was proud of her work for that client; she'd helped her choose the dress, the flowers, the stylists. She'd organised everything to the smallest detail. She let out a frustrated sigh as she tried again to piece the photos together, to create an image that somewhat reflected the work she'd put in.

She glanced up to the canvas hanging on the wall. The bouquet was at the centre; yellow and white roses paired with daisies and other leaves clutched between the bride's hands; nails neatly painted in a French manicure and a white gold band glittering on one finger. She held the flowers against her dress; white satin that hugged her figure, as she looked down at them, a shy smile across her face. It was a photo Michelle had taken herself that day as she'd met them at the reception venue. She let out a huff, glancing around at the scattered pictures on the ground and wishing that she'd taken more.

The sound of footsteps scuffing through the room next door caught her attention and she glanced up as someone tapped lightly against the door.

"Come in…" She called out, curiously. The door opened and a head of dark brown hair bobbed around the edge. Michelle offered a smile. "Oh, hi Amy, love."

The teen opened the door fully, stepping into the room and glancing around, curiously.

"Woah…" She let out, much to Michelle's amusement.

"Bit of an upgrade from the pub, isn't it?" She dared to ask.

"Oh, deffo." Amy nodded. "It's well cool." Her eyes searched the room some more, falling on the canvases Michelle had been studying moments before. She could tell Amy was focused on the furthest one. It was taken from behind the bride, her brown curls pinned with white pearls billowing to the side, caught in the breeze, as she looked back over her shoulder. Her bouquet of red roses was held against her chest; the sheer white material intertwined with lace clinging tightly to her upper back. "Is that-"

"Your mum, yeah." Michelle nodded, casting her a wry smile.

"She looks beautiful…" Amy breathed, wandering behind the desk to get a closer look. Michelle shot a glance at the portrait, noting how her face was glowing with excitement and love.

"She does, yeah." Michelle agreed. "But don't tell her I said that, hey? She'll never let me live that down."

"So, is this like… Advertising, or something?" Amy asked, turning back to Michelle with her arms crossed.

"I suppose so, yeah…"

"Well, what are you gonna tell people then? When they ask how her wedding went?"

Michelle allowed a cheeky smile to spread across her lips, one that mimicked the one Amy was wearing.

"I'll just have to lie." She grinned. "Hey, remember when you made me run after that carriage to pick up your flowers?"

Amy let out a laugh.

"Yeah! It was well funny watching you run back. Your face was all red and you looked knackered."

"Ey! Well, thanks for letting me know at the time. Good job we didn't get as far of the photos, weren't it?"

"What are you doing?" Amy questioned, gesturing to mess of pictures on the floor. Michelle sighed.

"I'm trying to put together a portfolio, but nothing is really working for me right now…" She hummed, her eyes scanning the photos once more. She felt Amy settle down beside her and glanced in her direction.

"Yeah, those photos aren't great, are they?" Amy bit her lip as Michelle let out a whine. "Well, this one's alright, if you ignore the fact that someone's finger is in the bottom corner…"

"It's a disaster."

"Nah, I reckon you could do something with this. Look, if you take this one…" Amy reached across, taking hold of a picture of the reception venue; white chairs wrapped with yellow chiffon surrounding circular tables. "And lay it over the corner of this one…" She took the photo with half a finger in one corner, the rest of the photo showing the grounds of the building; evening sun reflecting off the lake. "Then put the price list beside it here…" She laid the piece of paper in the space next to the photos before picking up a photo of the bride having her make up applied and laying it in the centre of the opposite page. "Then you can write something about how great it was above and below here." She sat back on her heels, a smug look on her face.

Michelle studied the pages carefully, analysing the layout and quality of the photos.

"You know what, Amy. I think you've done it." She nodded, offering a grateful smile. She gently placed the open book on the floor, careful not to jolt it and knock the photos out of place, before slinging an arm over Amy's shoulders and pulling her into her side. "What are you doing here anyway?" She asked.

From the moment Amy had stepped into the office, Michelle could sense something wasn't quite right. Having been her stepmother for a significant period of her life, Michelle was sure she knew her quite well, and certainly still cared for her a great deal.

"Shouldn't you be with the family?" She added, a concerned frown on her face. Amy let out a sigh.

"I've had a row with my mum…" She admitted, her head dropping. "I didn't know where else to go…"

"Oh sweetheart…" Michelle wrapped her other arm around her, pulling her in for a proper hug and resting her chin against the top of her head. She could feel her blouse dampening beneath Amy's cheek and rocked her gently from side to side.

"She said I was ungrateful and selfish." Amy sniffed. "I only said the shoes she'd got me for Christmas were the wrong size. She just went off on one. It's not my fault my feet have grown. I just asked for the receipt so I could change them for a bigger pair but she wouldn't listen. She just kept going on about how I'm lazy and I let everyone else do everything for me, and I rely on everyone else to pay for me and give me things and that when she was my age, she had a job and responsibilities and all stuff like that."

"Hey, I'm sure she didn't mean it, love. She's probably just under a lot of pressure at the moment…"

"Yeah, well so am I." Amy mumbled, letting out another sniff. She lifted her head from Michelle's shoulder, giving her a wide-eyed look. "Can I come and stay with you?"

Michelle sighed. As much as she wouldn't mind having Amy for a night or two, she knew Tracy and Steve wouldn't be so keen. She couldn't help but remember the time Ryan had left her to live with Sally after they'd fallen out. How sick she'd felt with worry the entire time, snapping at everyone and being unable to concentrate. It had been the worst few days of her life, and knowing things had been left on bad terms had made it even worse.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Amy. I think your mum and dad would want you staying with them, especially after everything that's happened this year." She offered her a small, understanding smile.

"Mum hates me."

"No, she doesn't. She's just lashing out." Michelle sighed. "I tell you what, why don't you go home and tell her you've got yourself a job."

"What?" Amy's brow creased in confusion.

"Well, you've just proved to me that you're a problem solver. You're creative. And I know you're not shy…" She gave her a prod in the ribs, a smile stretched across her face. "Me and Vicky are gonna need some help running this place. What do you reckon? A few shifts over the next couple of weeks to see how you get on? I can teach you how to use the appointments system and answer the phones…"

"Like a PA?" Amy asked, excitedly. Michelle laughed, her head shaking, swinging her hair from side to side.

"More of a receptionist. But hey, you could always work your way up the ranks. Be my office manager?" She gave her a nudge.

"Are you being serious?" Amy beamed, sitting up straighter.

"Of course I am! You can work weekends for us, work it around sixth form." Michelle smiled, pulling herself to her feet and straightening her blouse.

"Omg. That's amazing!"

"You have to promise me one thing though, missy." Michelle raised an eyebrow as Amy gave her a questioning look. "School comes first. If it gets too much and you need time off for revision or exams or whatever, then you have to let me know, okay?"

"I promise!" Amy stated, nodding as though to emphasise her point. "Are you sure Vicky won't mind though? You know, what with-"

Michelle let out a laugh.

"Yes, Vicky will be fine. And if she's not, I will work on her." She assured her, placing a hand on her back and steering her gently towards the door. "Now I think you need to head back and sort things out with your mum. I'll pop round later in the week to let you know about start dates and all the other boring details."

Amy looked towards Michelle, pausing for a moment before wrapping her arms around her. Michelle let out a laugh at the girl's sudden displays of affection.

"Thanks Chelle." She said, genuinely. Michelle smiled.

"You're welcome, sweetheart. Now go and give your mum one of these hugs!"


It was clear that the hotel was upmarket, judging solely by the twin bottles of Sanctuary Spa hand wash and lotion that stood side by side behind each sink basin. Vicky stood before the mirror, taking deep breaths as she tried to gather her thoughts.

The black, woven material of the dress she'd chosen clung tightly around her torso, before falling loosely around her thighs. It fitted closely around her shoulders, giving way to long, sheer sleeves that split at her elbows, flowing beside her arms and creating the illusion of a cape. The neckline was plunging and the diamond necklace she had been gifted by Michelle hung pride of place at the centre of her sternum. Her hair was curled; one side pinned back behind her ear, showing off the sparkling white gold and crystal drop earrings she had in.

It felt odd dressing up like this for anyone other than Michelle. No, more than that. It felt wrong. She took another shaky breath, blowing the air out through her gloss coated lips. He'd hurt Michelle. That was why she was here. That was why she was doing this. It was what she had to remind herself over and over, in order to put one foot in front of the other and strut out of the bathrooms and into the bar.

Her stiletto heels clicked against the tiled floor; the sound echoing through the almost empty room. She could see him already; the thinning hair on the back of his head and the suit jacket that bulged against his frame as he sat hunched over his paperwork.

With an air of false confidence, she diverted her path directly towards him, approaching the bar to his left. She leant her elbows on the freshly wiped surface, jutting her chest out as she waved the bartender over.

"A glass of red wine, please." She asked, politely; the tiniest hint of a tremor in her voice. She cleared her throat as the barman turned his back, seeking out the drink she'd requested.

She kept her eyes focused forwards as she waited, her fingers subconsciously fiddling with the expensive jewel hanging from the dainty white gold chain around her neck. He had yet to say a word, but she knew he was watching her. She could feel the way his eyes raked up and down her figure; taking in the bare skin of her legs, the cut of her dress, the plunging neckline. She didn't want to think about what he would be imagining, already feeling queasy at the thought of having to spend anymore time in his vicinity.

"That's six ninety-nine, please." The barman placed the glass before her on the bar. As she reached into her clutch bag, she noticed Ray's hand lift, finally turning to look at him as he shook his head.

"This one's on the house." He grinned. It appeared as though he was baring his teeth; like an animal waiting to strike its prey. The barman nodded, offering Vicky a smile and a bow of the head before retreating to the other end of the bar, a cloth in his hand.

"What's that for?" She quirked an eyebrow, taking a drawn-out sip of the merlot in her glass.

"Well, from what I can see, you're drinking alone in the middle of the afternoon. It would be a shame to have to pay for that pleasure…" He sat up straighter, folding his arms and smacking his lips together, pulling the corners of his mouth into a grim. Vicky narrowed her eyes.

"Well, aren't you observant?" She pointed out, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she took another sip. Ray let out a laugh; a deep chuckle that didn't contain so much as a trace of humour.

"Which is it, then?" He asked, eyes trailing over her body for a second time. "Has the missus got bored of you already? Found herself another sugar daddy to keep her in the manner to which she'd become accustomed?"

Vicky felt herself tense as he laughed at himself, shaking his head as the smile stretched across his face.

"Or was it you that kicked her into touch? She's a right handful, that one. I can tell you that from experience."

"Something like that, yeah…" She replied quietly, her eyes focused on the liquid swirling in the glass. She couldn't bear to look at his smug little face. He was loving every second of the fantasy he had devised. The sooner she could get him talking, the better. She couldn't stand to be around him much longer; but each second that she spent beside him reminded her why she was there. If she played her cards right, he'd be out of their lives for good. She cleared her throat, lifting her eyes from the glass and peering at him beneath her false lashes.

"You know, I wasn't intending on spending my afternoon drinking alone…" She practically whispered. She was certain she had seen his eyes light up as she addressed him.

"Jack!" He called out to the barman; his eyes still trained on the woman before him. "Grab us the bottle, will you?"


"Hi babe, it's only me. Just wanted to let you know I'm putting the dinner on now so it will be ready for when you get back. Just give me a call and let me know when that will be. Love you, bye…" Michelle spoke breezily into the phone as she pulled a tin of tomatoes from the cupboard. She hung up the voicemail, glimpsing at the time displayed on her phone before she put it into her pocket. 17:43.

It was bank holiday Sunday, so she knew the shops would be closed by now. However, it wasn't unlike Vicky to change her plans at the last minute; going out for a drink with an old friend she'd bumped into in one of the stores, or stopping by the pub she used to work in for a quick pint and a catch up.

Michelle's stomach was growling and she was sure it wouldn't be long until Tyler emerged from his room demanding to know what was on the menu for the evening. She pulled the pie dish from the cupboard below her, placed it on the counter and began assembling the ingredients.

"Tyler, can you come and lay the table please?" She called out as she slid the dish into the oven. Closing the door firmly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone once more, frowning at the blank screen. There were no missed calls; no texts confirming she was on her way home.

"You alright, Chelle?" Tyler quizzed as he brushed past her, pulling open the cutlery drawer

"Have you heard from your mum at all?" She asked, curiously, pulling an open bottle of wine from the rack and draining the last of the liquid into a glass.

Tyler furrowed his brow, considering the question as he headed towards the table. "Not since she left this afternoon." He confirmed. "Why, has she not text?"

Michelle shook her head in response, her lips set in a thin line.

"Oh well, she'll have run into Kate O'Brien or someone. Those two can chat for hours. Should I lay a place for her?" He gestured to the dinner table, waiting for her response before laying out the third placemat.

"Yeah, she probably has. She'd have let us know if she wasn't going to make it for dinner." Michelle decided, taking the wine glass and settling down on the sofa. It wasn't long before Tyler had joined her, a can of fizzy in his hand.

There was a comfortable silence between them as they sat, each lost in their own thoughts. Tyler was the first to break it.

"She used to do this a lot, you know." He said quietly, flicking the metal tab of the can until it snapped in his grip.

"What?"

"Just go off without telling anyone. A three-day bender here, a last-minute weekend getaway with a bloke she'd just met there."

Michelle let out a sigh, reaching out to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"She's been so much better since you've been around." Tyler admitted quietly. Michelle smiled shyly. "You make her so much happier. It's like she's a different person. I haven't seen her like this in… Well, ever."

"Tyler… No one makes your mum happier than you and Sonny." Michelle replied, sincerely. Tyler let out a laugh.

"Yeah, I know. But you must know that you come pretty close. You've really changed things, Michelle. I don't know what she'd do without you."

Michelle shook her head, brushing off the compliment as a blush rose through her cheeks.

"And I don't know what I'd do without her."


This wasn't what she'd planned.

She hadn't wanted to get too drunk; wanted to keep her wits about her. But the way she had to squint her eyes to get the face before her into focus proved she hadn't managed it.

She scanned the table before her for the clues of where it all went wrong. One glass: empty. Two bottles: empty. They had been shared between them both and it took her longer than usual to work out that that meant she'd had a single bottle of red wine. She'd drunk far more than that in the past and had still been practically sober.

So why was the room spinning? Why was her head so fuzzy that she couldn't remember finishing the last glass? She reached out for the table, gripping onto the edge for some kind of support, as she searched the surface for her phone.

"What's the matter, Vicky?" Ray's voice seemed distant and it took her several moments to process the question.

"Where have I put my phone? I need to call a cab… It's getting late…" It took more focus than she'd anticipated to get the words out in a way that made them understandable, and even then they were slurred and drawn out, as though her tongue didn't want to obey the signals her brain was trying to send.

"It's okay, I'll call us one. I need to be heading back too." He seemed calm and collected, almost completely unaffected by the state of her.

"No, it's fine," She tried to argue, standing up on wobbly heels, "I can get my own…"

She tried to take a step, but the floor was swaying. She lost her footing, stumbling straight into Ray's arms. He gripped her biceps firmly as her knees buckled beneath her; head lolling like a ragdoll. He let out a cold laugh.

"I'm not sure you can." He chuckled. "I'd much prefer it if I could see you home safely. You never know who might be out there wanting to take advantage."

His words passed Vicky's ears in a jumble of sounds, his tight grip the only thing keeping her from collapsing to the ground. She was powerless to stop him as he led her out of the bar.


"I'm going to kill her…" Michelle growled as she paced the living room; mobile still clutched in her hand after leaving her sixth voicemail.

"I'm telling you; she'll have passed out on someone's couch. It's what she does…" Tyler yawned from the sofa, his eyes drooping as he tried to focus on the television screen and the late-night movie playing out on it.

"You can go to bed if you want, Tyler." Michelle sighed, taking in the sight of him. He shook his head, standing up and heading towards the kitchen.

"No, it's fine. I can tell you're worried." He bent down and turned the dial on the oven, shutting off the heat that, until that moment, had been keeping Vicky's dinner warm. Michelle watched his movements, the last of her hope that she'd return home that evening fading with the dimming light inside. "It's only half ten, I've had later nights." He laughed.

"I just want to know where she is. I wouldn't even be bothered if she's still at the pub, or drinking with a mate. It's the not knowing that's killing me."

"Hey, I have Kate on Friend Connect!" Tyler suddenly realised, snapping his fingers. "I'll send her a message, see if she's seen her."

Michelle sunk down onto the cushions of the sofa and swallowed, nodding her head tiredly. "I just want to know that she's safe…" She whispered.

She couldn't fight the nauseous feeling that had settled in the pit of her stomach. She knew she was probably overreacting, but she'd shared enough tales of bad experiences with her girlfriend to assume that she'd at least call to stop her worrying. She allowed her head to fall into her hands as she let out a shaky breath.

"I've sent Kate a message." Tyler informed her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder from behind the couch. "I promise, she'll be fine."