'Aye Carla, come look at this.'

'What?' She sighs, closing her eyes. 'What did you say?'

'Come and look at Bee.'

'What's she doing?'

'She's smiling.'

'Can babies smile at this age?'

'She is.' He grins, 'yes you are, yes you are.'

'Do you need to-do that voice?'

'What voice?'

'That one.' She just sighs, finishing the cup of tea she's making. 'God, I miss coffee.'

'It's best for her.'

'Yes, you've told me that. Every time I mention it, you can't just let me rant. Every time you say something like that, you're accusing me of being a bad mum.' His heart sinks as he realises the good morning, she woke up with this morning was gone. He'd been home half an hour and that was the fourth time she'd snapped at him. He was sick of hearing his own voice apologising for something trivial that he had done, there was only so many times he could apologies without saying something back.

'Sorry.' He shrugs nonchalantly, focusing on the body in front of him. 'Do you want to play with her?'

'No.' She snaps, he rolls his eyes, 'I've had her all day. All day. On my own.'

'Why don't you bring her to see someone? I'm sure Bertie would want to play.' He knows that the idea will be shot down, but he has to try. She won't get her into a nursery to go back to work and he has to work. 'Aye, I was Fizz today. Apparently, Bea and Hope share a birthday, how cool is that?'

'Bertie mingles with other children.' She tells him.

'Other children?'

'Hmm. They could be dirty; she could catch something. It's height of germ season Peter, don't suggest stupid things.'

'Seriously?'

'Yes. Does it look like I'm joking Peter?' He rolls his eyes behind her back, not making the comment to the baby that he so desperately wants to make.

'Well what are you going to-do when she's bigger.'

'She'll have a better immune system.'

'Not if she stays inside all day. Carla, you need to go out. For your own sanity. I know you go out to speak to Jane, but you need to go out more.' He pauses, realising he'd said something wrong. 'You know I didn't mean it like that.' He watches her storm off, his heart sinking. 'What am I going to-do, my little bumble bee? Hmm. I can't do right from doing wrong.' The girl lets out a little laugh, making the man beam. 'Carla did-'

'I'm not interested in your apologies.' She hits back, turning on the TV that they had in their room, sometimes the sound of the TV helped her sleep, so they'd brought a small one to put in the room. 'Just go away.'

'I'm taking her to my dad's, you need to calm down. I'll be back later.'

'What time?'

'Oh, Carla, I don't know. A few hours, you do whatever you need to-do to put you in a better mood.' She doesn't deny that she's in one, which is a win for team Peter. 'She's been fed, I'll be back before bedtime.' She doesn't make a sound, as he packs everything up. He's pleased he's finally let him help, but he worried that he wasn't enough. He worried that him, a recovering alcoholic, adulterer with one parenting fail with his elder child, wasn't good enough. She had Carla, but he never knew what she was going to say next and that worried him, to a degree.

He knew she loved her baby, but she just couldn't seem to express it. It was, almost, like her fears of becoming her mum was becoming a reality. However, he didn't believe it stemmed from a place of selfishness, he thought she just didn't understand it. She didn't know what to-do and it scared her. He'd try to tell her that it is fine, being a parent is a learning curve, but she wouldn't listen. She wouldn't listen to him, shutting him down every time he suggested something.

'Now, don't you look smashing, bumble bee.' He grins at the baby, who just stares at him, as he pulls a face. 'Yes, yes, you are. You're my little princess. Maybe your big brother will be at grandad Ken's, hmm. We could phone him; you haven't seen him in a few days.' He tells her, as they leave the flat.

Peter doesn't see his partner behind him, watching from a distance as he manages to leave the flat, no mean feat, talking to the baby. She wonders how he does it, making her happy. She'd lied when she told him she couldn't hear, she had. It was just another reminder that she failed as a mum; the baby preferred her partner than her. The one who, granted unwittingly, carried her for nine months, gave birth to her and had fed her for the last ten weeks, was second best to her dad.

Even that comment made her snort, everything about that was wrong. She couldn't even use her name, referring to her as the baby, or even worse, it. She just couldn't, like a mental block. Peter called her bumble bee; she couldn't even bring herself to say that. Even she knew that wasn't normal. Jane told her she was doing okay, she needed to give herself credit, but she couldn't. She was a failure, but she was a failure who was finally trusting her partner. Or she was trusting him with the baby, the rest was to be determined. In all fairness, he hadn't pushed her for sex, which was a good thing, but didn't help the niggling feeling at the back of her mind that was beginning to eat away at her.

She had to take him at face value when he told her he wasn't having an affair. That didn't stop the crippling fear that he would leave her, leave her with a baby she never wanted. Or worse, he's take the baby she never thought she wanted. That would be worse.

She wondered why she was struggling; it was more of a deep-rooted fear of losing her daughter. She knew this, but it still worried her. She ruined everything in her way, everything she so much as breathed on was ruined. Her first baby, her little girl, she ruined her. It was her fault she miscarried, she couldn't stop working and that's why she lost the baby. Because she was too selfish.

Leanne had dubbed her the black window, a long time ago, and she was right. She was the black widow. A highly venomous animal, who have the capacity to kill you. They rarely do, but they have the ability too.

She was like that, granted she thought it was because she had to be like that, to survive. But that didn't help her as a mother. She needed more than just survive. She had a baby whom she had to love. And she did love her, but that love was tainted by worry and fear and that wasn't fair. More than anything, Beatrice depended on her, a responsibility so crippling it scared her. Every time she thought about it, she wanted to be sick. Her factory, that had been a responsibility, a big responsibility, she was used to having to be responsible. This, this, was so different and it was killing her, gently smothering her until she couldn't breathe anymore.

Even after seeing Jane, it wasn't helping. She'd had a few sessions, but she wasn't sure of it was working. Carla hated going, it made her feel weak, but she knew she had to-do something to help that. She had to think of why she was like this, all the skeletons in her closet. That's how she found herself on the website, typing a message to god knows who, wondering what can of worms she was going to unearth.

-CS-

'Peter, how lovely to see you.'

'You do know this isn't a creche?' A voice calls, joining the pairs dad in the hallway, 'we've already got Bertie here. We don't need another small thing.'

'Then one more won't matter, anyway, who doesn't love babies? Don't lie, you love her. The baby, not Carla.' She just rolls her eyes, letting the pair in. 'How are you Tracy?'

'Your son is here.'

'Si?'

'Hey dad.' Peter follows the voice to the living room. 'I didn't know you were coming over.'

'Carla needed some space.'

'How is she?' Ken asks tactfully, it was an unspoken family secret that they all knew how much she was struggling. They all knew she was seeing someone, but that was the un-secret secret.

'You know, she's fine.' All the adults in the room are able to read the undertones from that comment. 'She's still not sleeping.'

'Beatrice keeping her awake?' Ken asks, watching his son stroke the baby's back.

'Beatrice? Are you having a laugh? She's the most chilled out baby going.'

'What?' Tracy asks, stunned. 'Chill? A child of yours and Carla Connors chill? Are you sure it's not some baby swap?'

'She behaves herself; she doesn't cry unless she's hungry and she's started smiling, haven't you bumble bee? Hmm. She seems to quite like meeting people, it doesn't upset her. For now, at least.'

'I don't believe it.'

'She is, look you take her, and she won't cry.'

'She knows me.' Daniel points out, as Peter rolls his eyes. 'Amy you try.'

'Don't drop her.'

'I do have a little brother' the teenager points out, getting the baby from her uncle's arms. 'Ph, yes, you are so tiny.'

'Babba.'

'That's right Bertie, baby.' Daniel explains, from his position on the floor, as his niece takes a seat near him. 'No, I don't believe it. Have you drugged her?'

'Have I drugged her?'

'Yes.'

'Of course, I haven't, don't even make that joke near Carla, don't even think about it. She thinks I do all sorts to her, not a clue why. When she was really tiny, she had this huge kick off about letting me dress her.'

'Now, I know I don't like her-'

'I do, she brought me those trainers.'

'Anyway' she continues, ignoring her daughter's outburst, 'I feel kind of sorry for her.'

'Hey, I'm living this. It's me that's on the firing line. I thought after she started speaking to the therapist, she'd feel better, but she's remained unchanged. Except she trusts me with Beatrice a little more.'

'She just seems a bit protective' Simon tries to be diplomatic, but they all know what he means. 'I think she just worries, anyway, how'd you get her out.'

'I walked out and told her she needed to calm down, she's been with Beatrice all day, it's not good for her.'

'She's welcome to come to mine, see Bertie.'

'Ah, see, I suggested that, but Bertie socialises with other kids.'

'And?'

'They will have germs.'

'Germs?'

'She thinks a common cold will kill her.'

'It might.'

'Very good, Daniel.' His brother hits back, rolling his eyes.

'She needs these sort of colds so that she can build up her immune system.' Ken tells him, glancing sympathetically at his son.

'I've told her this dad; she won't have it. I just don't know what to-do. She won't listen to me; I've tried to get her to go to the doctors again. I'm just worried and she's still she's not talking to Johnny.'

''Did you find out why?'

'Something to-do with her growing up. I don't blame her; the guy only admitted the truth when he was forced to because he was being blackmailed. That must have been horrible, so I suppose the baby opens old wounds.'

'What's Johnny said?'

'After their fight? Well you can't call it a fight, can you? More of asking why she was so distant.'

'Yeah.'

'He's basically left it alone; she will come around. I know Carla and she does care for him, for Kate. I don't know, she doesn't go on much about her childhood so it's hard to read. I thought I knew so much about her, but all this, she keeps that in the dark. It's something I'll never know.'

'I don't know what to say Peter.' Daniel muses, looking back down at the child on his lap, playing with some blocks. 'Maybe it's just sleep deprivation.'

'I worry it's more, but I don't think it's depression. The doctor didn't seem to think so.'

'No?'

'It's more anxiety based. I don't know.' He sighs, 'maybe she could speak to Gemma?'

'Gemma? Really.'

'I don't know, Trace. I just want her to stop hurting, and I want her to start interacting with Beatrice. Or, rather, I want her to enjoy her time with her. They're only little once. It's really hard because I don't want her to hurt, she's had enough pain in her life.'

'She will.' Ken tries to reassure her, 'she looks after her all day, maybe she just does need the break. Keep with the therapy, they prescribe these things for a reason.'

'She has no confidence; I think that's part of it.'

'She looked after me, when I was a kid. She wasn't the worst.'

'Praise indeed. No, she struggles. She always tells me how crap she was with you and then she goes on about the miscarriage, failing the baby or something.'

'She wasn't crap, I was just kicking out at her, because of mum. I didn't mean it, not really.'

'Whether you did, or didn't, she's taken it to heart. I don't mean that in anyway, other than stating the obvious. She's just struggling with it all. She's got no belief that she's good.'

'I can tell her that she wasn't a bad step-mum?'

'That won't help because she'll get upset, we were talking about it.'

'We're all family, even this lot won't say anything. Even Tracy.'

'Oi, cheeky.'

'I don't know, I don't know the remedy to this. I can't make her accept help, nor mend her relationship with Johnny.'

'No, but we can visit her, can't we Bertie? It will give her someone to talk to, that is an adult.'

'That's at your own risk. If she says anything, that is on your head, not mine.'

'She can't be that bad.'

'Wait and see.'

-CS-

He gets home and she's asleep, curled up on the sofa. He looks between the baby lying in the pram and the woman on the sofa, more or less identical. He doesn't have the heart to wake her, but he also knows that Beatrice needs feeding and Carla hates it when she misses a feed. He didn't really understand but apparently it made her boobs uncomfortable.

'Car.' He whispers, as she opens her eyes. 'Carla.'

'Oh, you're home.' She yawns, stretching her arms out. 'What time is it?'

'8.'

'How long was I asleep?'

'Not a clue, sorry.'

'Do I need to feed her?'

'Fraid so, I'll put her to bed.' She nods, going over to find the baby. Peter can't put his finger on it, she just suddenly seemed more relaxed. Maybe it's because she's had a few hours to herself, that must have helped. Maybe she just needed the few hours to herself.

'How was Ken?' She asks, as he goes into the bedroom, 'sorry, come in.' He knew that she was still self-conscious, so he tried to give her space. Some days, most days, she was fine, but when she wasn't, she exploded.

'Yeah, Ken was fine.' He tells her, sitting at the opposite end of the bed. 'They loved seeing her. I told them you were tired.' She hums in response closing her eyes. They both know it was a lie, but she doesn't question it. He's telling her that to be kind, when she knows he was bitching about her. Anyway, she couldn't start an argument, because she had no proof and he'd just deny it.

'Do you want anything? I'm going to make myself something to eat.'

'Water, please?'

'Coming right up' he promises, watching as she looked down to her exposed breast, at the little person taking over, so innocent. So vulnerable.

'Peter.'

'Yeah.'

'I'm sorry.' He nods, walking out as she gets her phone, noticing she has one new message, as her heart starts to thump.

A/N thoughts? Who do you think Carla has messaged?

Twiter: TalkItOutLike :)