Chapter Text
By the time Lisa got home, Carla had managed to convince herself of at least seventeen different catastrophic outcomes. In at least three of them, Lisa and Betsy left her to ride off into the sunset with Becky.
In one particularly nightmarish scenario, Becky somehow moved back into the house and Carla ended up living alone in a one-bedroom flat above a vape shop.
Objectively, she knew she was being ridiculous. She knew that Lisa loved her and was devoted to her - she had spent months showing her exactly how much. But logic had never stood much chance once Carla's insecurities got their claws in and now those old wounds felt wide open again.
The ones that whispered she was never quite enough. Never the person people chose first. No, she was the daughter who disappointed, the wife who got cheated on, the friend who got left behind.
Those voices had been quiet for a long time but now they were screaming as she paced the length of the small kitchen. By the time the front door finally opened she was halfway through imagining Becky and Lisa renewing their vows in a mountaintop ceremony in Hawai’i.
"Carla?" Lisa called.
Her voice sounded cheerful - excited, even. Carla’s stomach twisted again with anxiety.
"I've been dying to see the room all finished! Did you have fun indulging your inner Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen?" She teased from the hallway where she hung her coat.
Carla’s pacing halted and she stood frozen to the spot in the middle of the kitchen.
A moment later Lisa appeared in the living room and the smile vanished from her face instantly as she took in the pale, slightly trembling figure of her girlfriend. She quickly crossed the room to her.
"Carla? What’s happened? What’s wrong?"
Before Carla could answer, Lisa was already reaching for her and strong arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tight. Carla melted into the warm embrace and clung on as if for dear life.
"What's happened?" Lisa asked again urgently. She pulled back enough to look at her properly. "Are you alright?"
Carla nodded mutely.
"Is Betsy alright?" Lisa’s panic was evident.
"She's fine," Carla reassured quickly.
The relief that flashed across Lisa's face was immediate but the concern quickly returned.
"Then what's wrong, darling?"
Carla tried to swallow past the enormous lump that felt wedged in her throat.
"Come and sit down."
Lisa didn't argue as Carla took her hand and pulled her towards the sofa. The sitting room suddenly felt far too small and quiet.
Lisa sat beside her, waiting for her girlfriend to say something.
"You're scaring me now."
Carla looked down at their joined hands and took a deep breath.
"Someone called to the house today." She began nervously.
"Who?" Lisa frowned.
"Becky." Carla's mouth felt dry as she choked out the name.
It was as if everything stopped. Lisa didn't react immediately, for a long time she simply stared at Carla, as though the words themselves didn't make sense.
"What??" She was utterly dumbfounded.
Carla repeated the entire story from the ringing of the doorbell to finding the stranger standing on the street outside, suitcase beside her. She recalled her own astonishment on learning who it was and the harsh words that followed when Becky had asked about Betsy.
By the time she'd finished, the room had fallen completely silent. Lisa hadn't interrupted once, had barely even moved. She just sat there staring ahead, pale and expressionless.
Carla reached for her hand. "Lisa?" she called gently.
For another moment Lisa did nothing then, so abruptly Carla jumped in surprise, she stood without a word and walked into the kitchen. Carla was quick to follow her.
"Lisa?" She tried again but got no response.
Lisa opened a cupboard and took out a glass. Moving to the sink, she wordlessly turned on the tap. Carla could see her hands were shaking violently, the tremor running through her entire body. She went to lift the glass to her lips and time seemed to slow as it slipped from her shaking hand, struck the edge of the sink and shattered.
"Lisa!" Carla called in alarm as fragments of glass exploded across the tiled floor.
"Shit," Lisa muttered, instinctively bending down and reaching for the largest chunk of glass.
"Don’t!" Carla winced but it was too late. There was a sharp intake of breath as an alarming amount of bright red blood spilled across the tiles.
"Oh Lise." Carla was moving before she'd even finished speaking. She caught her gently by the shoulders. "Don't touch anything else."
Lisa looked down blankly at the blood dripping from her hand, seemingly uncomprehending. Carla guided her carefully towards a kitchen chair where she sat obediently, still silent, staring into space.
Carla grabbed the nearest clean tea towel and wrapped it firmly around the wound.
"Hold it up, love," she instructed calmly.
There was no response.
"Lisa, love, please," she pleaded and finally, almost mechanically, Lisa lifted her hand. The tea towel was already turning crimson.
"Good." Carla squeezed her shoulder. "Stay there."
The next few minutes passed in a blur. Carla tackled the glass first, every shard carefully swept up. She then took care of the puddles of water and blood. Only once the floor was safe did she kneel in front of Lisa and gently unwrap the tea towel.
Her stomach dropped as she took in the jagged cut running across the heel of Lisa's palm - it was deep and still bleeding steadily. It would definitely need stitches.
Carla wrapped it again immediately, tighter this time. When she looked up, Lisa was still sitting exactly where she'd left her - pale and motionless, her eyes fixed on nothing. The sight frightened her more than the blood had.
"Love," she tried.
Nothing.
Carla reached up and brushed a hand gently through her hair, then leaned forward and kissed her forehead softly.
The reaction was immediate. Like something breaking, Lisa's face crumpled. One second she was silent, the next tears were spilling down her cheeks.
"Oh, sweetheart." Carla was on her feet instantly as Lisa made a strangled sound and grabbed hold of her. Carla wrapped both arms around her and pulled her close.
"I've got you," she murmured.
Lisa buried her face against her shoulder. Her whole body was shaking, as if the years of hurt and anger were currents of electricity, zipping through her body.
Carla held her tighter. There was nothing clever she could say, no perfect words or easy solution. She simply stayed where she was with one arm around Lisa's shoulders and her other hand stroking gently through her hair.
Holding her together while she fell apart.
_________________________
By the time they got home it was nearly ten o'clock.
The trip to A&E had unfolded in that strange, detached way medical emergencies often did.
One minute there was blood everywhere and panic in the kitchen, the next they were sitting beneath harsh fluorescent lighting while a nurse practitioner poked carefully around Lisa's hand.
Lisa was still so numb she'd barely reacted, not even when he irrigated the wound thoroughly enough to make Carla wince from across the room.
After determining there was no obvious tendon or nerve damage, he'd wrapped it neatly and sent her for an X-ray to make sure no stray fragments of glass remained embedded in the cut.
After that they were forced to play the waiting game until, three hours later - practically express service by NHS standards - Lisa had finally been called through for suturing.
Eight stitches and a fresh dressing later they were free to leave, with spare dressings and strict instructions to keep the wound clean and dry.
Now, standing in the darkened kitchen, Carla felt utterly exhausted.
The house was silent around them as she flicked the kettle on. Only then did it occur to her that neither of them had eaten.
The thought of food made her stomach turn though - she had absolutely no appetite whatsoever and suspected Lisa felt much the same. Still - she dropped four slices of bread into the toaster and busied herself taking out plates and mugs.
Over her shoulder she could see Lisa sitting on the sofa, still in her coat, her bandaged hand resting awkwardly in her lap. The glow from her phone illuminated her face as she scrolled through something.
A moment later she made a small strangled noise.
"What is it?" Carla asked.
Lisa turned the screen towards her in response. It was a WhatsApp from Betsy. She’d sent a picture of some sort of night market stall, with brightly coloured scarves hanging in neat rows beneath strings of fairy lights.
The message underneath read:
Mother! D'ya reckon Carla would wear this or is the colour a bit too much? 🤔
Carla's chest tightened.
Betsy was still blissfully wandering around Paris completely unaware that her world had just imploded.
Lisa dropped her head back against the sofa.
"What am I going to tell her?" she sighed, defeated.
The question hung heavily in the silence between them until eventually the toaster popped.
Carla busied herself with buttering the slices and pouring the tea. She carried everything to the coffee table.
"You don't have to tell her tonight."
"No?" Lisa looked unconvinced.
"She's having a nice time - let her finish enjoying her trip."
Lisa stared down at her phone.
"She's going to lose her mind."
Carla couldn't exactly argue with that, given that Becky’s departure had led to Betsy ending up in prison. She dreaded to think what her sudden reappearance would do to the girl.
"I just don't understand." Lisa sighed, leaning back into the cushions. "Why now?"
And there it was - the question that had been circling both their heads for hours.
Carla remained silent, letting Lisa speak, as if saying things out loud would somehow make sense of everything.
"Three years, Carla." Lisa shook her head. "She never wrote apart from returning the divorce papers. Never once called…"
Carla took a careful sip of tea but ignored the toast, stomach still in knots. She lifted Lisa’s mug to pass to her.
"So why now?" she wondered aloud again, accepting the mug carefully with her good hand.
"What does she want?"
"Maybe she's back for work?" Carla suggested.
Lisa snorted.
"No chance - she left them in the lurch nearly as badly as she left us."
"Maybe she's joined a cult." Carla tried to inject a bit of levity into proceedings and was rewarded with a twitch of a smile in return.
Lisa rubbed tiredly at her eyes.
"Maybe she's dying."
"That sounds awful!" Carla looked at her, slightly aghast.
"A bit." Lisa shrugged, nonplussed. "But it's the sort of dramatic thing she'd do."
There was no humour in her voice, just pure exhaustion.
"She always had to be the centre of everything."
Carla thought back to the woman on the doorstep - the arrogance of her, the complete lack of shame.
She hadn't struck her as somebody carrying remorse or regret or bad news. If anything, Becky had looked irritated, as though everyone else had inconvenienced her.
"Whatever she's here for," Carla said quietly, "we'll deal with it. Together."
Lisa laughed once, a small, humourless sound.
"You say that like all we're facing is an overdue leccie bill."
"I've survived prison." Carla leaned gently against her shoulder. "You've survived raising Betsy." That earned the tiniest flicker of a smile. "So between us we're basically invincible."
"I'm scared for her." The smile vanished almost immediately. "She’s worked so hard to get past it all - what if this drags everything back up again?" Lisa swallowed.
Carla reached across and threaded their fingers together carefully around the bandages.
"Then we'll help her through it," she promised.
Lisa's shoulders sagged as the fight seemed to drain out of her all at once.
For a long time neither of them spoke. Outside, rain tapped softly against the windows.
Eventually Carla rested her head against Lisa's shoulder and this time, after a few seconds, Lisa rested hers on top of Carla's. Neither of them had any answers yet but for tonight, at least, they still had each other.
The rest could wait for just a little while longer.