'Roy, hi.' She calls, smiling, watching him sweep up outside his café.

'Carla. How are you?'

'I'm okay.' She lies, not meeting his eye. Everyone knows she's not okay, or everyone that cares.

'Would you like a cup of tea?' It's getting dark and Peter had gone over to the cab office, so she was all on her own.

Well, she was with her baby, but that doesn't count.

'I'd love one, thank you Roy.' She goes inside, watching her surrogate dad tidy up, telling her just to sit down.

'How are you Carla?' He tries, looking at the woman. She's grateful she doesn't mention anything, the fact that she looks like death warmed up, she's tired and she's a mess. She wonders if it is all in her head, when she looks in the mirror, overly critical.

'Yeah, I'm okay.'

'And the baby?'

'She's okay, we registered her today.' Unlike most folk, Roy doesn't probe, just letting her take this conversation at her own speed. 'That was eventful.'

'How so?'

'I changed my mind at the last minute.'

'Am I right in thinking you were going to call her Beatrice?'

'Yes, in the end we kept with the name.'

'She looks like one.'

'Beatrice Hayley Valerie Barlow.' She smiles, as he looks at her stunned. She'd forgotten she'd not mentioned to him that she was throwing Hayley into the mix. 'Of course, Hayley had to be in there.'

'She'd have loved that.' He muses, looking at the baby in-between them.

'I don't know if I can do this.' She eventually tells him. 'All this being a mother.' She studies his face, not giving anything away. 'I don't know.'

'Well, I think you're doing a brilliantly job.'

'I'm not. I'm a rubbish mum.'

'I disagree.'

'Roy, I didn't know I was pregnant. At least last time, I know.'

'The two scenarios aren't comparable.'

'See Roy, they are. The first time I knew, I couldn't protect my baby, she died. Whatever the situation was, my baby died. This time I didn't know, but for some reason she came out healthy. But I'm going to ruin her, just like I ruin everything.'

'Carla, don't say that.'

'It's true. I can't leave her anywhere because I'm worried, she'll die, every time someone goes near her, I worry. I don't leave the flat, not unless I really have too, I've only been out a few times. I feel like I'm drowning.'

'Have you spoken to anyone?'

'Like who?'

'Peter for starters, Michelle. You know you can always speak to me. A doctor, Johnny?'

'Johnny? Are you on something?'

'I know.' She tries, 'I don't know, Roy. I already feel like a failure.' She whispers, 'I don't know anything anymore.'

'It's a big shock.' He tries, 'but you've got lots off support.'

'Then there's Peter.' She confesses, not daring to raise her head. 'I'm worried he'll stray.'

'Carla, he loves you. I wasn't his biggest fan, after what he did to you, but he does love you.'

'He loved me last time and that didn't make a difference.' She reminds him, 'because of him, I lost my baby.' Roy, a man who usually is able to impart words of wisdom is at a loss. Factually, Carla is correct. He did cheat and the stress of that caused a miscarriage. But there was so much water under the bridge.

'You just have to trust him.' He eventually tells her. 'Trust that it is the right decision.'

'But what if it's not?' She frets, 'what if I'm not good enough and I let my baby down.'

'Carla, you are, and you will continue to be a fantastic mother.'

'But I've hurt enough people in my time, Paul and Liam are dead because of me. Then there was Tony, Frank and the affair. Nick. Roy, I break everything I touch.'

'You have to trust yourself. If anything does happen with Peter, we'll all be here.' She knows he meant that comment to be find, but it felt like a stab to the heart because she wasn't sure she could trust him.

-CS-

'Do you want anything to eat?' He asks, leaning on the side of the bedroom, smiling at the sight before him. It's 10PM, Carla is feeding their baby, both half asleep. There is something so tender about this moment, he almost feels like he's intruding.

'Can I have a glass of water?' He nods, dashing off to get the glass, before coming back. 'Do you have to watch me?'

'No.' He tells her, skulking off, going to load the dishwasher. Usually she's not so tense, but since their fight a few days ago, there has been a fraught atmosphere in the house. He can tell the baby is picking up on it too, if that's possible. She eventually joins him, with the baby in her arms, trying to call a truce to the atmosphere. They both know, even if they did call one, it would last hours at best. They both knew she needed help.

To him, she seems to cry more, but Carla still won't allow him to comfort her. The phone call wit Michelle made her worse, if anything. She accused him of all sorts of things, before storming, back, off to their bedroom with the baby. He hadn't seen her for a couple of hours after that.

'You've got your appointment tomorrow.' He eventually tells her, daring to go back into the bedroom, knowing the fine line he is currently walking.

'I know.'

'Are you going to talk to the doctors about how you feel?'

'Why would I do that?' Her conversation with Roy hadn't put her in the best of moods either because it, unwittingly, took her back to 2014. And maybe that's why she feels so lousy.

'You clearly aren't coping.' He points out, as she much wanted to deny it, anyone could see she's not coping. 'You need help.'

'I don't need anything; you can sleep on the sofa tonight.'

'I might as well live on that sofa.' He mutters, under his breath, pissed off. He knows that she can't help it, but it does annoy him. He just wants things to go back to normal, with the baby slotted in. He didn't think that was too much to ask, except she disagreed.

'Care to share that thought?'

'I said, I might as well live on the sofa. Look, I know you don't like me telling you this, but you need help.'

'Peter, I said leave it.'

-CS-

'Right my little bumble bee.' He whispered, yawning from his crappy night's sleep. 'You have the doctors later, hmm. Don't worry, it's nothing serious, no it's not. It's just a check-up. You're going to be okay. I'd go with you, but mummy doesn't want me to come.'

'Peter, what time is it?' A voice moans, coming out. 'Where is my baby?' He can hear the panic laced into her voice, pulling a face at the baby he was currently changing.

'She's here, I'm just playing with her.'

'Hmm?'

'What times your appointment?'

'11:30.'

'Are you sure you don't want me to come.'

'Peter, I'm sure.' He can't help but feel a little hurt, a feeling that seemed to overcome him more and more.

'Why don't you shower or take a bath.'

'Are you saying I smell?'' There's no jest in her voice, clearly mistaking the nice gesture for a dig.

'No, I'm not. I'm trying to make life easier for you. I can keep her entertained and you can have a moment to yourself.'

'Thank you.' She whispers, tears pooling her eyes, suddenly feeling terrible. 'Sorry.' Her apology falls on deaf ears because he's preoccupied with the baby. 'I'm sorry.' She tries again, walking off.

-CS-

'Carla Connor?' The woman stands up, following the doctor into the examination room. 'Come through. How are you?'

'Yeah, I'm okay. How are you?'

'I'm fine, you're the one whose just had the baby. How are you feeling? I know how hard having a newborn is.'

'Tired.' She admits, 'I just worry about her.'

'Worry?'

'That's normal, right?' The doctor nods, motioning for her to sit down.

'It's normal to be overwhelmed, but we can talk about it.'

'Talk?'

'Hmm, being overwhelmed. It's okay.'

'Normal?'

'Yes, it's normal. A baby is a big change.'

'I know.' She mumbles, focusing on the picture behind her.

'How are you feeling?' She suddenly feels overcome with panic. 'Be honest.'

'I don't' know.' She admits, 'I'm worried all the time, I don't feel like I can't trust anyone.'

'No?' She shakes her head, her heart sinking, just knowing what the doctor is going to tell her.

'I know you think I'm mad, but I can't let her go anywhere. I worry that she will die, that if I leave her something bad will happen.'

'Do you ever have any thoughts about harming her?' She asks, writing something down as she shakes her head profusely.

'No, never. I'm just worried about her. I don't know, I had a miscarriage a few years back and I'm just so worried. I'm worried she'll die, if I leave her with anyone, or get hurt.'

'Have you told anyone this? Family to support you?' Her mind flicks back to her family, the only family she had here was Johnny and she wanted as little to-do with him as she possibly could, at the minute. Then there was the Barlow's, but they'd all been poisoned by Peter telling them she wasn't coping. She had Roy; he was practically her dad. Then there was Michelle, she may only be in Ireland, but she may have been in Australia. 'Carla?'

'Hm?'

'Do you have support?'

'It's a bit more complicated' she admits. 'I do, but my family. It's fractured.' She eventually tells her, unable to describe why she thinks she can't speak to anyone about this. 'My partner, I know he worried about me, but we lost a baby a few years ago. I think that impacts the way I am with Beatrice because of everything that happened, and I know he blames himself so I can't speak to him, for fear of what might happen to him.' She whispers, wondering why she's saying all this to the doctor. There's just something here that makes her talk. 'I miscarried because of the stress, my partner, he was having an affair, who was having an affair. I never wanted to be a mum, but then I did, and it killed me. I can't tell him this because he's a recovering alcoholic and I don't want him to relapse. I don't think I could cope if he started drinking again.'

'That must have been hard.' Carla gets a sympathetic glance, but she doesn't know the half of it. Of Tina.

'It was, and it hurts just thinking about her. But I worry that she's going to die, Beatrice I mean. I didn't know I was pregnant, so I've already failed her.'

'Carla, having a baby is enough of a trauma, but a cryptic pregnancy is even harder. You had no time to prepare. You need to give yourself more credit, you're doing a great job.'

'I don't feel like it.' She watches writing something down. 'I didn't get to-do anything normal parents get to-do, the scans, the antenatal classes. I feel cheated.'

'You are, but I'm going to refer you to speak to someone.'

'What. Why?' She panics, 'is it because I'm a bad mum.'

'Nothing like that, I just think you'd benefit from it. Talking to an outside party, you might find it useful.'

'I'm not depressed.' She insists.

'I don't think you are; I think you have anxiety.' She tells her, 'I'll refer you straight away, it might take a few weeks, but you need to be kinder to yourself.' She nods, as she can feel herself well up. 'And I'll book an appointment to see you again in a few weeks to see if you're feeling better.'

'Sorry, hormones.' The doctor smiles sympathetically. 'Um, I have a question.'

'Go on.'

'What are the chances of having another pregnancy like this.'

'I'm really sorry, but I don't know. There is very little research done on this, so I can't give you an answer. I'd advise you have use protection.'

'So, it could happen again?' The doctor bites her lip, unsure on what to tell the woman in front of her.

'I really don't know, I'm sorry.'

'Oh.' Carla breathes, tears cascading down her face.

'Here, have a tissue.' She nods, accepting it. 'Now, for the baby tests.' She watches as Carla picks up the baby. 'What's her name?'

'Beatrice, Beatrice Barlow.' She nods, logging onto the computer. 'Born on the 6/12/2020.'

'I'm going to perform a number of tests and are you breastfeeding her? Well talk about that and the next steps after these tests.'

-CS-

'How'd it go?'

'Yeah, she's fine. The doctor said she's doing really well.'

'Is she?' Carla nods, taking her coat off. 'Do you want some of this? I've just made it.'

'Thank you.'

'And you?' He queries, 'how are you feeling, love?'

'I spoke to the doctor about how I'm feeling.' He looks up, surprised.

'What did they say?'

'She's referring me to a therapist.' She admits, not meeting his eye. 'We talked about how I feel.'

'Do you want to talk about it?'

'I don't know, Peter. I just worry about her all the time; I worry she's going to die. I know it's irrational, that's why I don't let you in. I just worry, I haven't been able to enjoy it.'

'Oh, love. Why didn't you say anything?'

'It makes me sound mad; Peter I had a breakdown.'

'And you're recovering. It's a big step. You're doing great.'

'I don't feel like it. I love her but I'm worried she'll die.' He pulls her into a hug, as she starts crying. 'I'm a mess.'

'You aren't, after this therapy thing, you will feel better.'

'What if I get sectioned again?'

'You won't, you're getting help.'

'You don't know that.'

'I do love, I really do.' He promises, sitting down with her, as she picks at the food Peter made. 'I love you.'

'Love you too.'

'Peter?'

'Hmm?'

'I know I'm six weeks, but I don't feel like having sex.' She admits, 'I'm sorry.'

'We'll do it all at your speed. I can wait.' He promises, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

A/N thought's? So, she's spoken to the doctor, but what do you think is going to happen? There's still quite a way to go with this, with (hopefully) some unexpected twists and turns. Anyway, let me know what you think is going to happen.

Twitter: TalkItOutLike