I'm really sorry about the delay between updates but I was at Glastonbury and then working nights.
9.
"Carla."
"Carla."
"Carla."
Michelle's calls echoed around the flat as she knocked loudly on the door. "Carla I'm going to count to 10 and then I'm letting myself in."
"1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. Car I'm coming in," Michelle announced as she turned the key in the lock.
Walking into the flat she nearly tripped over a pile of black bags, her eyes scanning the small living area before she found the object of her concern, curled up on the floor.
"Oh God. Carla," Michelle gasped, kneeling down next to her, relieved to see her chest rise and fall in a rhythmic motion, running her hand through the sleeping woman's hair she was relieved to find no signs of a fever.
"Car," Michelle whispered into her ear.
Carla's eyes slowly fluttered open. "Hmm."
"We need to get you up off of the floor," Michelle said, helping Carla to her feet. "What were you doing on the floor?" she asked as she helped her sit down.
Wiping the sleep from her eyes Carla looked down at her hands. "Peter was here, we argued and … I guess I must have fallen asleep when he left."
"You need to stop letting him get to you like this," Michelle told her, concerned about the effects of recent events on her health.
"Easier said than done," Carla mumbled, pushing herself into a standing position as she made her way over to the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil.
Michelle watched Carla carefully, her concern growing as she realised how utterly exhausted and defeated her friend looked. Her feet dragging across the floor as if she didn't even have the energy to lift them off the ground and her hands shaking with the exertion it took to simply lift the kettle.
"I know," Michelle agreed.
Walking over to the small kitchen area she leaned on the counter. "Need a hand?"
"A can make a brew," Carla insisted, dropping tea bags into the mugs.
"What did Peter want?" Michelle asked, walking around and taking the milk out of the fridge.
Carla sighed. "He thinks I killed Tina."
"He actually said that?" Michelle asked, unable to hide the surprise from her voice.
Pouring water into the mugs Carla shrugged. "He didn't have to."
"What exactly did he say?" Michelle questioned, wanting to know what had happened to cause Carla such an obvious physical setback.
"He wanted me to know how he'd been to the police station and tried to confess," Carla explained.
Michelle frowned. "He confessed to murdering Tina?"
"He tried," Carla breathed, handing Michelle her tea before picking hers up and walking back over to the couch. "But he didn't have all the facts right so they laughed him out of the station."
"What on earth compelled him to do such a stupid thing?" Michelle asked, her voice high-pitched with frustration.
Carla put the mug down. "Because he think I killed her, and in his twisted little brain he had the not-so-bright idea that confessing would put me in the clear and that I would fall to my knees and forgive him."
"Oh Carla," Michelle sighed, her heart breaking for everything her friend was going through.
"He really thinks I did it," Carla whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears.
Michelle sat down, wrapping her arm around the distraught woman. "You can't let what Peter thinks get to you."
"Don't you see … if my own husband … a man who knows me better than anyone else thinks I'm capable of murder how am I supposed to convince a jury of 12 strangers that I didn't do it," Carla worried, playing nervously with the frayed edge of a blanket.
"It's not going to come to that," Michelle tried to reassure her friend.
Carla closed her eyes. "You don't know that," and she was right, Michelle didn't know that but for Carla's sake she had to remain positive that justice would prevail, after all the courts had already let the factory boss down once surely lightening wouldn't strike twice.
"Car-"
"I need to get dressed," Carla announced, cutting her friend off. "The factory isn't going to run itself."
Michelle's eyes widened in alarm. "You can't seriously be thinking of going into work?"
"Why not?" Carla replied.
"Car, you're 22 weeks pregnant and you've just got out of hospital, not to mention the fact you spent God knows how long sleeping on the floor," Michelle pointed out. "You need to rest, eat, sleep in your own bed."
Carla shook her head. "No. What I need is to get on with my life because if I don't get out of this flat then I'm going to drive myself mad."
"Then come over the road with me," Michelle offered.
"Michelle I understand what you're trying to do but I don't need a babysitter, what I need is to try and carry on as normal because this … sitting here worrying about all the what ifs isn't doing me any good," Carla argued.
Michelle nodded. "Ok. I'll come with you."
"You have a pub to run," Carla reminded her.
"Liz and Steve are more than capable of managing," Michelle shrugged. "Besides I need to fill you in on all the new orders Rob and I acquired whilst you were in hospital."
Smiling tiredly Carla knew there was no point in arguing with Michelle once she had set her mind to something. "Ok," she relented. "You win."
"I always do," Michelle joked as she watched Carla head to the bedroom to get dressed.
In a bid to occupy herself Michelle walked over to the black bags, curiosity getting the better of her as she opened one, lifting up the first thing she found she was hardly surprised to find that it was one of Peter's shirts. Putting it back she sighed, while she hated Peter for what he had done to Carla there was still a part of her that hoped at some point down the line they might eventually start to repair what had been broken between them.
Despite everything he had put Carla few there was no denying that when things were good between them they were really, really good he awakened a side of her that Michelle hadn't even realised was there. The Carla that she knew before Peter would never have considered having children, have allowed herself to believe that she could be someone's mother but he had given her that, he had given her the strength she needed to believe in herself.
Which also meant he was the only one that had enough power to destroy that belief, that his doubts of Carla's innocence would be more detrimental than any accusations the local gossips might make, or any charges the police could ever bring against her.
"Damn you Peter Barlow," Michelle ranted, kicking the bag.
"What has that bag ever done to you?" Carla asked, stepping out of her bedroom.
Michelle shook her head. "Nothing. I was just projecting."
"Well if you've finished projecting we have a factory to run," Carla reminded her, sounding stronger than she actually felt.
"I'm done," Michelle smiled, throwing her hands up in the air.
Carla nodded. "Good."
"Have you eaten?" Michelle asked as Carla locked the door to the flat.
Frowning Carla tried to remember when the last time she had a proper meal was, she'd had popcorn with Simon before the police had arrested her but after that she couldn't actually remember if she had eaten anything.
Michelle could almost read Carla's train of thought as she watched the other woman put her keys back in her bag. "You can't remember can you?"
"No," Carla sheepishly admitted, her insecurities getting the better of her as she panicked about how much she was already failing her daughter and she hadn't even been born yet.
Michelle took her friend by the hand. "First we eat. Then we work."
"Yes Boss," Carla mock saluted.
Walking into Roy's café Carla stayed close to Michelle, trying to ignore the way everyone's eyes turned towards her, walking over to the corner table she sat down, letting Michelle order then both some food as she took out her phone, opening up her e-mails she tried to concentrate on anything other than the whispers that filtered around her.
"You alright?" Michelle asked, sensing Carla's unease.
Carla shrugged. "No. But I guess I better get used to it."
"Want me to get Anna to make it to go?" Michelle suggested, not wanting Carla to have to sit through any more gossip than she had to.
Carla shook her head. "No. I have every right to be here. Innocent until proven guilty right?"
"Right," Michelle agreed, pleased with how Carla seemed to be trying to rise above it all and not hide away, because she had more than enough excuses to lock herself away from the world.
The rest of the breakfast seemed to pass uneventfully as Carla finished all of her breakfast, even ordering a few extra pastries as well as the usual order.
"You know you are only eating for 2," Michelle joked.
"Oi," Carla sung, gently nudging her friend.
"Only kidding," Michelle said. "It's good to see you've got an appetite back."
Carla nodded. "It's not just me to consider anymore, everything I do from now on is going to effect her life as well as mine."
"Mrs Barlow? Carla Barlow?" a tall, balding man asked as he practically jumped up from the step and headed towards her.
Stopping Carla eyed the man suspiciously. "Who wants to know?"
"You look so much like her," the man exclaimed.
"I'm sorry-"
"Sharon. You're Sharon Donovan's little girl, right?" he elaborated.
Carla felt like she had been punched in the stomach. "I … er … who are you?"
"My name is Henry, Henry Miller … I think … I think you're my daughter," Henry stammered barely able to get the words out now he was face to face with her.
"You're joking right?" Carla guffawed, not knowing what else to say.
Henry shook his head. "I've been looking for you for a very long time."
"Well I've been here for a very long time," Carla retorted, her heart beating wildly in her chest.
"I've been living abroad, Sharon she sent me a letter just before she died but I didn't get it until last year when I moved back," Henry explained.
Carla looked to Michelle, her face a mixture of disbelief, shock and hope. "Is he for real?"
"I know as much as you," Michelle shrugged.
"Can we talk?" Henry asked.
Carla shook her head. "I have nothing to say to you."
"Please," Henry pleaded. "I didn't know. I had no idea. If I had known I would have-"
"You're about 40 years too late mate," Carla stated, cutting him off. "That's if you are who you say you are."
Henry took a tentative step towards her. "Please just 5 minutes?"
"Why now?" Carla wondered out loud, a million unanswered questions running through her head.
"The letter, since the day I received it I've been looking for you but I had no leads, no idea where you were living so I hired an investigator and it took him all of a week to track you down. I've been trying to work up the courage to … Please, can we talk?" Henry pleaded.
Carla once again shook her head. "I have nothing to say to you."
Reaching into his pocket Henry pulled out a business card, his green eyes wide and pleading and so like her own as he handed it to her. "I know this must be a lot to take in but please, when you've had time to digest it all call, anytime day or night."
Her hands were shaking as Carla took the card from him. "I have to go."
"I just want the chance to get to know you," Henry called out after her as he watched her walking into the factory he hoped with everything he had that it wouldn't be the first and last time he ever got to see her.
Walking into the office Carla flicked the card between her fingers. "Did that really just happen?" she asked Michelle, barely able to believe what had just occurred.
"Yeah," Michelle sighed. "It really happened."
"39 years Chelle," Carla whispered. "39 years without a word, a name or even a picture to know him by and now … he's here … Henry … God this is all just-"
"Surreal," Michelle finished for her.
Carla looked up at her best friend. "Messed up. I'm barely keeping my head above water as it is without a long-lost father climbing out of the woodwork. What do you think he wants? I mean the business is barely making a return so I don't have any money he can have."
"He didn't look short of money to me," Michelle pointed out. "Did you see the car? The suit? The watch?"
Carla shook her head tiredly. "No."
"Maybe he does just want to get to know you," Michelle suggested.
"She said he never wanted to be a father, that he ran a mile the minute he found out she was pregnant … why now Chelle? I mean of all the times he could choose to enter my life … why now?" Carla wondered, her thoughts running a mile a minute.
Michelle sat down opposite her. "There's only person that can answer that."
"And I just sent him away," Carla breathed, beginning to regret her decision.
Picking up the card Michelle held it in front of her friend. "You could ask him to come back?"
"And say what?" Carla shrugged tiredly.
"Everything you just said to me," Michelle suggested.
Carla looked at the card. "I don't know Chelle … Everything is such a mess; Peter, Tina, the baby … I don't know if I have anything left to give anyone else."
"What if he really does just want to be a father? It might be nice to have someone else in your corner, someone you can lean on," Michelle pointed out. "Because God knows Sharon never gave you that."
"He walked out on me," Carla whispered.
Michelle watched as her friend ran her hand tiredly through her hair. "Did he? I mean you only have her word for that."
"It's been almost 4 decades Chelle, she's been dead years now so he had plenty of opportunities to come looking," Carla argued.
"What if he really didn't know?" Michelle suggested.
Carla looked up, her eyes fixing firmly on the business card. "I don't know Chelle."
"If you don't ask you'll always wonder, at least this way you know you've tried," Michelle told her, wishing there was something she could do to take Carla's pain away.
With a shaking hand Carla took the card. "You really think it's the right thing to do?"
"I think if you don't you'll always wonder, any the last thing you need is more what ifs," Michelle sighed.
Nodding Carla slowly dialled the number, her hand resting on her stomach as the tiny girl inside her began an early morning gymnastics routine. "Hello … Mr Miller? It's Carla, Carla Co … Carla Barlow … I was wondering if you were free to meet for coffee?"