"I take it that's a no then?" Peter's voice was dripping with sarcasm as he stared down at his wife, her powerful aura filling the office with her mere presence.
"Hmmm?" Carla murmured, not bothering to look up from her laptop screen on which was displayed the factory's previous quarter's sales figures.
"Lunch. I'm taking you to lunch. You weren't listening, were you?" He sighed in exasperation, feeling every bit the victim he imagined himself to be.
"I could say the same about you," she shot back without missing a beat.
"What do you mean?" he cried.
"I told you this morning how busy I am, that I wouldn't have time for a break today."
"You should make time."
"Peter!"
"Fine, have it your way." He was dangerously close to a full-blown bout of Peter Barlow-esque sulking. But instead, he resisted the urge to say something he knew without a doubt he would instantly regret and turned to leave.
"Hey!" She called out to him, determined that they would not part on bad terms.
"What?"
"Come here."
"I thought you were busy?" He stubbornly refused to back down, even though his feet betrayed him by walking straight to her, always her.
"Mmm hmm…" she nodded. "Too busy for lunch. But–" with a cheeky smile and flashing eyes, she added: "I think I can squeeze in a little appetiser. Now… come!" Acting immediately on her order, she grabbed the lapels of his coat and pulled his face down to hers, "here!"
She kissed him, full and passionately on the lips, and then, as quickly as she had drawn him in, she pushed him away.
"Away with you now," she shooed him off. "Go and eat your lunch and leave me in peace."
"Yes, ma'am." His good humour now fully restored, he grazed her cheek softly with his lips and whispered in her ear, "Love you" before tearing himself away.
"Love you, too." She smiled as she watched him saunter to the office door. "Oh, and Peter?"
"Yes, love?"
"Make it a light lunch, yeah?"
"I don't…" Peter shrugged in confusion.
"Save room for dessert…" she purred suggestively, "for tonight. You know, since we've got the flat to ourselves…"
With Carla's promise lightening his footsteps, Peter left his wife's office with a grin on his face and a mental note to pop into the florist on his way home. She, the moment he was gone, knuckled down and refocused her full energies on her work.
"Mrs Barlow?"
"What!?"
Her patience wearing thin, Carla glared up at the newcomer who had made himself comfortable and was now leaning casually against the frame of her office door.
"Ooh," Sean cooed light-heartedly. "What's got you in a mood? Don't tell me, you and Mr Barlow been rowing? I thought he was taking you to lunch?"
"What do you want Sean?"
"Wellllllll…"
"This better be about work."
"The thing is…"
"Sean." Her voice was low, but her tone held an implicit warning that Sean should have known not to test.
"I was in the pub just now–"
"Get out!"
"But, Mrs Barlow…"
"Out!"
"Carla…"
"Now!"
"Humph!" Knowing not to push his luck further, Sean flung his head back and, spinning around dramatically, flounced to his table on the production floor.
"Tell the rest of the girls!" Carla called out after his departing figure: "The next person to interrupt me is fired! Do you hear me?!"
The silence that answered her was all the confirmation she needed.
"Finally," she muttered to herself as the office once again fell into what she hoped would be a productive silence. But she had barely found the spot on the spreadsheet she had left off when a timid knock on the door pushed her over the edge of her patience.
"Whoever it is, you're fired. Go get your stuff and–"
But her latest visitor was not, as she had so hastily concluded, one of her staff, but a young girl of thirteen who stood, staring at her wide-eyed with a face Carla hadn't seen in reality for years at this point, but whose every feature was indelibly ingrained into her mind's eye.
"Liv? Olivia? What are you doing here? Is your mum–" Carla glanced past the girl to the hallway beyond, expecting to see her best friend Suzy there, a broad smile on her face, gleeful at having succeeded in surprising her long-time friend.
"Mum's not with me," the girl confessed in a voice heavy with an American twang. "I came by myself."
"By yourself?" Carla stared at her incredulously. "But how? Aren't you too young to fly on your own?"
"I dunno," Olivia shrugged non-committedly, mumbling her words as her guilty conscience kicked in. "I'm good at forging mum's signature, ya know?"
"Yeah, every kid is. Mind you, in my day we'd use it to sign school sick notes, not fly half way across the world."
"I'm sorry." Olivia's lips began to tremble as she second-guessed her impulsive intercontinental mad dash.
"Oh, baby," Carla softened at the sight. "Come here."
"What?"
"Come here and give us a cuddle," Carla directed her warmly, "give us a proper hello."
Olivia eagerly rushed into Carla's waiting arms, desperately needing the comfort the embrace brought her.
"I'm not gonna lie, darlin', this is a huge shock you being here," Carla said as she stroked Olivia's hair gently, "but I am happy to see you."
"You are?"
"Of course I am," she assured the young girl; "We're old friends you and me, I'll always be happy to see you. Now–" Carla hunched down a little so that she was face-to-face with Olivia. "Why don't you sit down and tell me what this is all about. Actually, I better call your mum first, let her know you're safe."
"No!" Olivia cried fearfully.
"She'll be worried about you, Liv."
"I don't care!" Liv was adamant. "I don't want her knowing I'm here."
"But why? Did you two have a falling out? Did you argue?"
"No."
"Then what is it?" But Carla's question was met with silence. "Liv," Carla held Olivia's hand softly in hers and reached out her other hand, running it lightly across her cheek. "You're obviously in some kind of trouble to have come all this way from LA by yourself. I wish you'd tell me what's going on with you, with your mum. I want to help you."
"She…" Olivia desperately wanted to tell Carla, but the words refused to form themselves in her mouth.
"Yes?"
"She… Mum… Suzy…" Olivia nodded to herself, happy with this final option. "Suzy… she's not my mum."
Carla stared at Olivia in disbelief. Not because of what she had said; no, Carla had known that truth for many years. But it was a truth that Carla had hoped would stay buried forever; a truth that was now on the verge of being laid bare. And the day she'd hoped would never come, the day that she had worked, both her and Suzy, for years to avoid had finally arrived. Now that it was here, she was not prepared. She had no clue what to say to this girl who was stood in front of her, pleading with her for the truth, speaking to her with those pale eyes that were at once so familiar yet still curiously the eyes of a stranger.
But the truth terrified Carla. The truth made her want to run away, just like that night in early 2009 when Tony Gordon had confessed to her that he had murdered her love; killed a man for nothing more than jealousy, for the need to win at whatever cost. She had run away that night, all the way to LA and her best friend. But today she fought that almost overpowering instinct to run away. Because she knew at the very least that she owed this girl an explanation. An explanation and an apology.