I can't believe that he did this.
He came all this way and that he brought her with him.
How did he know?
How did he know that this tiny little photograph, that this tiny little memory of what could have been... How did he know that would be something that I desperately needed to bring me back to life?
I wipe the tears from my eyes and softly stroke the photo.
I'm still in awe of what's happening tonight. I still can't believe that he is here.
Not only did Peter come all the way from Portsmouth just to see me, but he brought back something that I thought I'd lost forever.
Something so precious and irreplaceable that I'm scared that even holding it for to long is going to hurt it somehow.
Bringing me that photo is the best thing that man has ever done and I can't let him walk away from me now, can I?
I can't let him and I won't.
"Peter…" I call and saying his name out loud also makes me feel a wave of relief, that same wave of relief that I felt when I saw him in the pub earlier.
Well after the first wave of initial shock had worn off, of course.
He turns around and waits for me to say something more…
"How…" I say but I have to stop talking a moment because I get chocked up again. I sniff as he comes back towards me.
"How what?" he says and he stops right in front of me.
This is the closest he's ever been to me since before he left and there's probably a million reasons as to why I should just tell him to back away from me and go home but right now I can't think of any of them.
"How did you know I needed this?" I eventually ask.
"Michelle told me…" Peter says and then I nod because of course she told him.
I mean it's not as if he's some sort of physic mind reader, although as he stands in front of me and watches me, I feel as if he knows every single thought that goes through my incredibly messed up mind.
"She told me that you lost your picture in the fire and that you were really devastated, So I just had to make sure you got this one because... well because you deserve it a hell of a lot more than I do." Peter said as I look back down at it again.
To anyone else this picture means nothing, it's just a bunch of wavy lines but to me this picture represents so much more, it represents a missed chance, the loss of a beautiful future, the passing of my baby.
No, not my baby… Our Baby.
"Thank you Peter." I say and I swallow back more of the tears that are trying so damn hard to escape. I put the photo back in it's little white envelope and I close it very carefully "Thank you so much." I say again.
He nods at me and smiles his oh so gorgeous smile before going to turn around again.
He's going to leave me again and I panic.
I know I panic because my mouth starts moving and my voice leaves my throat before I can even stop it from doing so.
"Don't go!" I actually shout it like a madwoman and he quickly turns back around with a rather surprised look on his face.
I probably look like a right state.
Between my smudged eye make up, wild hair and the fact that I'm shouting at him, I must look like a right nutter.
I take a deep breath and try to maintain some sort of dignity because I not only do I look flippin crazy but I'm acting a hell of a lot drunker than I actually am.
I know he didn't believe me but I truly did only have two glasses of wine. I had the two glasses and then Michelle came back in and caught me. She took the bottle from me and I walked out of the pub there and then.
I went and sat in my car because I've no where else to go and I started thinking about what it would be like to have Peter back in my life.
I started to think about what would happen if I just admitted the truth to him, if I told him how much I still love him and how much that I wish we could just runaway together and never come back.
I thought about what he would do when he found out that I still can't get the image of him and Tina out of my head and how that, and that reason alone is the only reason why I cannot go there with him.
I could probably learn to trust him again, In fact I know I could, but the idea of him kissing that stupid barmaid on our wedding night actually makes me sick to my stomach.
I think that's the worst part of it all, the fact that on our actual wedding day, the one day that we declared our love for each other, the day when he promised to love me above everyone else, he still went and kissed her.
He kissed her whilst I was off upstairs, being a right drunken mess in our hotel room.
I've never told anyone this but I do actually blame myself for Peter's affair.
I mean obviously he didn't have to do what he did, but I actually feel like if maybe I'd done things differently... Maybe things wouldn't have gone the way they went.
It's bloody ridiculous and I know that if anyone heard me thinking like this, they would tell me that it's not my fault but when I really think about it...
I know that it partly is my fault.
Say I hadn't of got drunk at me own wedding.
Say that I had remained sober and stayed down stairs with everyone until me and Peter were both ready to leave the wedding together.
Well he wouldn't have been able to kiss her that night for a start and then maybe it wouldn't have gone so far.
Maybe if I had given him the wedding night he deserved that maybe he wouldn't have gone looking for it somewhere else.
I'm not completely stupid though… I know that the affair went deeper than Peter just wanting to get his leg over.
It was all to do with his stupid ego.
It all started when he lost the bookies, getting a job at factory and working with me, was more like working for me and that bruised his ego.
I proposed to him and then I wanted all the expensive things and the posh hotel. I paid for most of our wedding and that bruised his ego even more.
It didn't help that Rob was there to make jokes left right and centre, to push Peter to his limit every time that they saw each other and to make him feel inadequate.
I know that Peter didn't feel like he was good enough to be with me, so what else was he going to do when a beautiful young girl like Tina started sniffing around?
It's no excuse though, he's still a cheating bastard and I can't give him another chance even though I desperately wish that I could.
He's almost like a different person to me now and yet...
When I look into those big brown eyes of his, it's as if I'm okay… it's as if I'm home.
That's the reason I started my car and tried to make a run for it.
I wanted to get away before he managed to completely take over my soul again but I know that it's far too late for that now.
He's here, he is looking at me and even though I know that this is not good for me, that eventually, in the the long run, he'll leave me or cheat on me, I say
"Do ya wanna come in for a brew?" Peter, again looks surprised but he nods anyway. Then he obviously remembers what I told him about Roy and says
"But… what would Roy say?"
I have to admit to him that I kind of over exaggerated Roy's words and that whilst Roy would not like to see Peter anywhere near his café, he never said anything about not being responsible for his actions if he does.
I made that bit up. I don't know why, I guess I just wanted it to look as if I had someone else other than Michelle fighting my corner and I also thought that it would keep Peter away from the place, not that Roy Cropper is even the slightest bit threatening.
"He won't mind…" I start "In fact he's not even in."
"Well in that case, I'll come in." Peter says. I nod stupidly and get my keys out of my pocket.
I open the door to the Café and Peter nods me in first. I walk through the door and he follows.
I switch on a few off the lights in café and linger awkwardly for a moment whilst Peter sits down on one of the chairs at a table and says
"Put the kettle on then."
I know what he's doing.
He's trying to make this whole thing seem like it's all casual and like we are two mates just having a brew, instead of us being two ex lovers who have a hell of a lot of history.
I make him a coffee and I don't even need to ask Peter how he likes it because of course I remember.
I remember everything about him.
The way he likes his coffee, the way he likes his eggs in the morning, the way that he always liked to have his toast, just a little on the burnt side and that he will only have real butter on it because he hates margarine.
It's not just food and drink things that I remember though...
I remember crazy things, like the setting he always used to use in our shower, the exact number he would always have the television volume at and that he'd always spray his aftershave on his neck twice and on his clothes once.
I bring his Coffee and mine, over to the table where he is sat and I put his drink down in front of him before putting my own one down next to the scan photo. I look at it again and Peter does too.
"That were the one you threw at me…" Peter says, picking up his cup of coffee and raising it to his mouth. I ignore how jealous I am of that damn cup and how it's getting to touch his lips and I pick up my own cup just to distract myself. "Y'know that night when I came home drunk after I'd missed the scan… you threw it at me and I sat there sobbing away at it for ages."
"I remember…" I say "I remember just how long you sat there on the floor, I remember how I was sitting in that bedroom of ours, trying my hardest to ignore the sound of your cries and I remember how I'd eventually got up because I just couldn't take it anymore and when I'd left our bedroom to find you, you were still there, in your coat, sobbing into that photo of our baby girl…"
It makes sense now. The drinking. The falling off the wagon. The way he was acting that day and all those days afterwards and maybe even the ones before it.
He was feeling guilty for having the affair and the drink was the only thing that he thought could ease the guilt.
Peter is staring at me now. He's not looking down at the photo and even though I'm looking down at it too, I can tell he's totally fixated on me and when I look up at him, I know that he is about to apologise for the affair, I've heard it all before and I really don't want to be reminded of it anymore than I already am, so instead I start talking something else.
"How was Simon?"
"Simon?" Peter says as if he's forgotten about Simon all together.
"Yeah… Simon your son?" I say and Peter chuckles.
"Yeah I know who he is... it's just that wasn't what I was expecting you to say that's all" He says. "Simon is… well Simon, he's stubborn and sarcastic and"
"A chip of the old block." I say
"Pretty much." Peter laughs.
He has no idea.
He has no idea that apart from Michelle and Roy, Simon was the only one around ere who wasn't awful to me.
He didn't say any nasty things about me, behind my back or to my face.
He never gave me a dirty look whenever I'd walk past him, in fact he'd always give me a teeny tiny smile, one that was sympathetic yet also friendly.
Simon didn't seem like he blamed me for the fire, even though he was so close to Kal.
At first I wondered why Simon wasn't angry with me but then one day I realised, that deep down that kid is just like his father.
Stubborn? Yes.
Sarcastic? Hell yes, but also sweet, sensitive, sympathetic and so bloody cute that it hurts.
Even now after the night I've had and after everything Peter has done to me, I'm still completely smitten with the guy.
"Leanne said he's been really hard work lately…" Peter says but he's not smiling now, he's feeling guilty for not being here, I know it. "She said he's really rude to her and that he doesn't do a thing that he's told. I think it's because of everything he's been through and it sounds like he's finding it really hard to cope with it all."
"It sounds like he needs a good kick up the arse." I say a little too honestly and then I let my face soften "It also sounds like he needs his Dad around a bit more." I say and I meant it as a nice comment but Peter gets defensive this time.
"Well the whole reason I left ere was so that I actually survived long enough for the kid to still ave a Dad."
"Oh don't be so dramatic…" I scoff as I take another sip of coffee.
I'm enjoying this, I'm enjoying talking about other people's problems rather than me own for once.
"I'm not being dramatic… I'm being serious. When I was in hospital the doctors told me that one more drink could kill me and after I got out of prison and you knocked me back, all I could think about was drinking." Peter says with his eyes staring right into my soul.
I wish he wouldn't look at me like that.
It intimidates the hell out of me because that intent look does some very strange things to me, it has me wanting to knock everything off the table that is criminally in between us and shove my tongue down his throat.
I know that I said I'd never give him another chance but if that man leant over this table and kissed me right here and right now... I'd love it.
In fact I'd let him do what ever he wanted.
Yes I am really that fickle.
It's a good thing that we are here in the café and not somewhere else to be honest.
Peter doesn't realise the thoughts I am having, thank god, he just continues with what he was saying before hand. I try my hardest to concentrate on his words and ignore the sudden urge I have to ravish him.
It would probably make it easier if we didn't talk though.
It would be a hell of a lot less painful at least.
I don't want to talk about me.
It's too hard to admit the fact that I am slowly loosing all control on my life.
It's too hard to admit that I need him more than I've ever needed anyone and that my life has never been the same since he left.
It's too hard to talk about the fact that I practically a murderer.
It's so much easier to pretend otherwise.
When I finally go back to listening to Peter, I hear him say,
"After we spoke that day, I actually went a bought a bottle of vodka and I was so close to drinking it that it scared me, it scared me because I didn't want Simon to live a life without me, that's why I left."
"But he's still living without you Peter, yeah there might be a phone call ere n there but he barley ever sees you." I say
"Yeah well I couldn't stay ere could I? I couldn't see you every day."
"Oh so it's my fault then?" I say pettily.
"No, I just mean that every time that I saw you, I would be reminded of what I did to you, what I did to us and there was no way I could live with that." Says Peter and goes to drink some more coffee.
"I hadn't realised that was why you left…" I begin because I truly hadn't.
I thought Peter was just being Peter, leaving because that's what he always does when stuff goes wrong.
"Peter whilst it's great that you seem to be doing so well in Portsmouth… maybe you should have at least tried to live with what you did, you should probably have stayed a bit longer…" I say and this makes Peter slam his cup down onto the table.
"I can't win can I? I mean if I had of stayed and drunk me self stupid, everyone would have been on at me and the fact that I left seems to get everyone on me case as well." He says and I can tell that I've really touched a nerve.
I should probably shut up.
I should probably just sit and sip my coffee but I don't, I look at him and I say,
"You realise that you ave no one to blame for the way that you get treated but yourself, right?"
"Yes, and I don't need you to tell me that Carla, okay? Whenever I think about everything I've done it makes me feel like absolute crap." Peter says rigidly.
"Good." I say and I smirk at him wickedly.
"What's funny?" Peter snaps and I just shrug at him which winds him up even more.
I friggin love this, he's getting so angry and whilst it inappropriately sends an inflamed chill up my spine, it also distracts him from the main reason he came back in the first place.
If I keep this up I can avoid talking about me all together.
Unfortunately for me Peter is way too smart for my kind of thinking, he knows me far too well for my plan to actually work right?
Peter eventually smirks back at me but it's laced with desire, instead of the anger I was expecting.
"Why are we sat ere talking about me?" he asks. I just shrug again and pick up my coffee cup.
"I dunno…" I say taking a sip of coffee.
"In fact why are we talking at all?" Peter says but even his tone of voice is different now, it's deep, full of passion and then he suddenly gets up off the chair.
I clumsily get up off mine too.
I pretend that I'm not sure what he's going to do, but I know that look.
I've seen it before and the mere sight of it, gives me the most incredible rush.
His eyes are full of lust, longing and love and I now don't care that we are in the local café.
I don't care where we are.
I swallow as Peter slowly makes his way towards me.
He stops in front of me and I cannot control my breathing.
One second it's slow and the next I'm fighting for breath.
I haven't felt this way in so long, in fact I haven't felt anything other than pain and misery for weeks now.
It got to the point where I almost started to feel numb, like I would never feel anything else ever again but now...
Now it's as if I've suddenly been electrocuted with life and it's all because of Peter.
I stumble backwards a little but it's not because I don't want Peter near me, it's just to give me an extra second to prepare my self for what's about to happen.
We've been here before, we've been in situations like this plenty of times and yet somehow it feels just as new and exciting as it did the first time around.
There is no way that I'm going to let this sensation pass me by.
As I said before, there's a million reasons as to why I should tell Peter to get away from me but as one of his hands rests just under my ear, as his thumb strokes my cheek and as all my senses fly out the window, I still cannot think of a single reason why I shouldn't let this man make me feel alive again.
He moves again, he moves so close, that now all that's not touching is our faces and our lips.
He tenderly strokes my cheek again and I feel my eyes close, as if they have a mind of their own.
I don't realise that Peter kisses me until it actually happens.
It's a rough kiss, a rushed kiss, a kiss full of so much hunger that we both moan into each others mouths and it's the sort of kiss that I know will end up in the both of us finding somewhere, anywhere that will allow us to close whatever space in between us there is left.
I let his tongue slide into my mouth and I also let him push me up against the table behind me. I sit on it and my legs are lifted up by their own accord.
My hands are all over the place, They go up to his hair and then I start tugging at his clothes as he continues to kiss me.
I know this is a bad idea, I know that there are a thousands things that we need to talk about but right now I just want to feel Peter and that is it.
I wanna pretend as if this time, is our first time and that nothing else ever happened between us. I want this to blow my mind and I want him to make me feel like how I used to feel.
I wanna be the old me again, I want to be needed, craved, desired and loved.
Even if it's just for one more night.
There's suddenly the sound of a door closing, the rest of the lights come on and I know that when I look around Peter, who has stopped kissing me now, by the way and who is now looking like a naughty school boy who has been caught with his trousers around his ankles, I know that I'm going to see a very disappointed face looking back at me.
Roy is home.