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Climbing the stairs, Carla could feel every step in her bones. Her limbs were leaden, her bag dragging behind her like an anchor. The day had been long — too long — capped off with a meeting she hadn’t wanted to have. Kirk had nearly sent the wrong parcel to the wrong destination again, and while she’d only issued him a formal warning, the conversation hadn’t been pleasant. She liked her staff — loved them even — after so many years together, they were practically family. But more and more, it felt like babysitting. And today, she wasn’t exactly the most popular person when the factory doors finally shut.
Even her lunch break had betrayed her. After confiding in Lisa about how rough her morning had been, she’d raced home at the promise of some much-needed comfort. Lisa's voice in her ear had been warm, inviting. But as soon as Carla reached the door, her phone buzzed. A text. Betsy’s home. No chance to de-stress today. The letdown hit hard.
It had been so long since they’d been intimate. Hospital stays, kidney failure, dialysis, the transplant, the hostage situations — and then more hospital visits, more fear, more trauma. A brief breakup. Nightmares that lingered like shadows. In the past two months, they’d only spent one night together — the night Carla found Lisa crying on the couch, broken after an argument with her daughter. That night had been tender, desperate, healing. Their closeness in the morning had been unlike anything they’d known before.
Still needing to eat, Carla had entered the flat. Betsy’s snark was immediate, barbed. But worse were the passive-aggressive digs aimed at Lisa — digs Lisa absorbed without a word. Carla could barely tolerate it. Tracy wasn’t entirely wrong: Lisa was letting Betsy get away with far too much lately. Crashing the florist van just yesterday and showing zero remorse was a new low. After they’d left for physio, Carla had choked down a sandwich, tidied up, and headed back to work.
Now, back home again, she stood outside the door, keys in hand. She took a deep breath, forcing a smile onto her face, bracing herself for whatever came next.
The door opened. Inside, both blonde heads snapped around, expressions wide-eyed and guilty.
“Well, what’s all this then?” she asked, gaze sweeping over the room. “Is that my chocolate on the coffee table?”
She walked in, dropping her bag and coat on the barstool as Lisa scrambled to her feet, wrapper in hand.
“Oh! Hi, love. Didn’t realise it was that time already,” Lisa said, smiling too brightly. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She turned to toss the wrapper, but Carla’s hand caught her wrist, pulling her into a kiss. Just a flick of tongue — enough to taste the truth.
“Hmm. Tastes like chocolate to me.”
They pulled apart, breathless.
“Ugh, barf,” Betsy groaned from the couch, grabbing the remote. “If you’re gonna do that, take it somewhere else.”
The two women stepped back instinctively, Lisa blushing, Carla scowling. Without responding, Carla motioned toward the kitchen. “Come on,” she said quietly.
In the kitchen, Carla leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “What are you doing home already? Thought you were heading back after physio.”
Lisa sighed. “She was wiped out after the appointment. I took the afternoon off. We’ve just been curled up, watching movies. I’m thinking of taking some time off to look after her. She’s not doing well, and physio didn’t go great — no real progress.”
Carla stepped closer, wrapping a strand of blonde hair around her fingers. “Do you even have any leave left? Most of it was used up already, wasn’t it?”
“It’d be unpaid,” Lisa admitted. “But she needs me right now.”
Carla nodded slowly. “If that’s what you think is best, I’ll support you. But Lisa — she’s nearly seventeen. She can look after herself, at least for a few hours.”
“She can’t, Carla. She struggles to even put her shoes on.”
“She seemed fine stealing a van and crashing it yesterday.”
“I’m not doing this now,” Lisa snapped, pulling away.
“Sure,” Carla muttered. “I’m going for a shower.”
On her way to the bedroom, she caught Betsy smirking from the couch, eyes darting quickly back to the TV. Carla wasn’t fooled. She could see manipulation when it walked right up and smiled in her face. Something about the van crash still didn’t sit right. Betsy could barely use one arm — how had she managed to drive? Unless someone else was with her, or her injuries weren’t as severe as she claimed.
Lisa was falling for it, Carla knew. She couldn’t let that continue.
After a long, hot shower, Carla emerged refreshed, at least physically. The girls were still cuddled on the couch, engrossed in Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason. She left them be and headed for the kitchen.
She’d never been much of a cook — she and Ryan had mostly lived on takeout — but living with Lisa and Betsy had nudged her to try. She began chopping vegetables for a quick stir-fry, craving something simple.
“I don’t want stir-fry tonight,” Betsy’s voice rang out. “Mum, can we get Speed Dahl instead?”
“Carla’s already started, sweetheart,” Lisa said gently. “We can get that tomorrow.”
“I don’t want it! Come on, Mum, we’ve had such a good day…”
Carla paused, wooden spoon in hand, jaw clenched. She knew what was coming. She’d be cooking just for herself — again.
Lisa turned to her, eyes pleading. “Do you want Speed Dahl, Carla? We could have the stir-fry tomorrow…”
“No thanks,” Carla said coolly. “But you two go ahead. I’ve already started, and now I’ve got a craving. I’ll order it for you. I’ll even go pick it up.”
She needed the escape. She could already see Lisa retreating, bending to Betsy’s will — the way she had in those early, desperate days when Betsy wouldn’t even speak to her.
As she walked out the door, she thought of Ryan — how she’d sent him to Ireland to get away from everything. Michelle had been frantic, but unable to come. At least Ryan had a break. Carla could use one, too.
Thirty minutes later, she returned, stir-fry finished and bag of takeaway in hand. As she approached the door, she heard voices — hushed, tense.
“Betsy, I’ve told you — Carla adores you. She thinks of you as her own.”
“No she doesn’t, Mum! She barely looks at me, and when she does it’s just judgment about the crash. She only puts up with me because of you.”
“She cares, love. She’s giving you space to heal—”
“She doesn’t care. She’s back to normal — new kidney, good as new. She doesn’t get what I’m going through.”
“Betsy…” Lisa’s voice cracked.
“The reason I need to heal is because of her. If it weren’t for her brother, I wouldn’t have been shot! If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been shot — you shot me!”
Carla couldn’t take another word. She shoved the door open.
“That’s enough.”
Both blondes jumped, startled as she stormed in, setting the food down.
“Don’t you dare blame Lisa. She did what she had to do — to protect us.”
“You mean to protect you!”
“Carla…” Lisa tried, but Carla cut her off with a look.
“No, Lisa. She wants to play the blame game? Fine. Let’s really break it down.”
She turned to Betsy, eyes sharp. “We could blame Lisa for grabbing the gun off Rob. Or me, for believing Tracy and going to that house. Or Tracy, for letting Rob in. Maybe the guard who let him escape, or Bobby, for convincing him to donate a kidney.”
Carla stepped forward, voice steady. “But if we want to go all the way back, maybe we blame the robbery that caused my kidney failure — the one you helped set up.”
Betsy’s face drained of colour.
“You think we bounced back? You have no idea. You didn’t see Lisa’s bruises. You didn’t see the scar from my stitches. We hid all that from you — tried to stay strong so you didn’t have to carry it too.”
Carla softened, brushing a hand through her hair. “I know this has been hell. I know you’re scared. But you can’t take it out on us — especially not on your mum. We love you, Betsy. I’m not trying to replace Becky. But I do think of you as my own. And I won’t let you tear Lisa apart just because you’re hurting.”
She turned to Lisa now. “And you… You’ve got to stop letting her. You’re not a bad mother, Lisa. I’d have killed for one like you.”With that, she exhaled, voice quiet. “I’m going to my room to take an hour to myself, I’d appreciate it if you give me that.”
Carla walked away, closing the door behind her with a quiet click that seemed to echo through the flat.
Lisa stood frozen for a moment, staring at the door. Then she turned slowly toward Betsy—really looked at her. Not as her little girl who needed constant protecting, or the teenager throwing tantrums to mask her pain—but as a young woman. Flawed, hurting, scared, but old enough to know better. Old enough to start making different choices.
Her voice was gentle, but laced with a firmness Betsy hadn’t heard in a long time. “She’s right,” Lisa said. “We can’t keep going on like this. I love you, Bets, more than anything in this world. But Carla—she’s not the enemy. And she can’t keep being your punching bag just because I didn’t notice how much you were hurting.”
Betsy looked down at her lap, eyes shining, mouth trembling. She opened it once like she was going to speak but couldn’t find the words. Finally, she whispered, “I just want my mum back.”
Lisa’s breath caught. “I’m right here.”
“No, not this mum.” Betsy looked up now, eyes burning. “The one from before. Before Becky died. Before everything changed. Before the silence, before you left the room every time I walked in because you couldn’t bear to look at me. Before Carla. Before the job took over again. Before you… disappeared.”
Lisa’s heart squeezed. She tried to reach for her, but Betsy gently pulled away.
“When Mason died, you were gone again. I know you were working, trying to catch the people who did it. I know you had to protect Carla. But I needed you, Mum. I needed my mum. And then, after everything, after the hospital and Rob… when I got shot, suddenly you were there again. Fully. Holding me, helping me dress, watching movies with me like we used to. And I didn’t want that to stop.”
Tears spilled now, silent but relentless. Her hands moved to the sling, and she slowly unwrapped it, folding the fabric over itself with care, as if delaying what it meant to say.
“My arm’s been better for two weeks,” she said, voice breaking. “I’ve got full control back. I can grip, twist, lift—everything. I just… I didn’t want to lose you again.”
Lisa sat down hard on the couch, stunned. Her mind was racing—through memories of the last fortnight, all the times she’d fed her daughter, helped her up, cancelled plans to be close to her. All of it. The truth settled in her stomach like a lead weight. Betrayal. Guilt. But most of all, heartbreak.
She blinked through tears. “You… lied to me.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” Betsy whispered, shrinking under the weight of her mother’s gaze. “But I didn’t know how else to keep you.”
Lisa leaned forward, elbows on her knees, hands pressed together. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to fake it. That’s on me. I should’ve seen it—I should’ve talked to you properly, not just assumed you were coping. But that ends now.”
She looked up, her voice suddenly stronger. “No more pretending. No more guilt games. You want your mum? You’ve got her. But that also means you get the part of me that holds you accountable.”
Betsy gave a small nod, biting her lip.
“Did you drive the van yourself?” Lisa asked.
Betsy hesitated, thinking of Lauren, but only for a moment. “Yeah. I saw Tracy outside the florist, laughing with someone. And I just—snapped. I hate her, and I wanted her to hurt like we hurt.”
Lisa’s expression tightened. “Then you’ll take the consequences. I’ll call Tracy myself and we’ll find out the damage. You’re going to work it off, and you’re going to pay for every last flower, every scratch, every broken taillight.”
Betsy’s shoulders slumped, but she didn’t protest.
“And before anything else,” Lisa added, “you will apologize to Carla. She heard what you said. About her not liking you. That girl would throw herself in front of a bus for you, Betsy, and you nearly broke her heart.”
The younger girl wiped her cheeks. “I will. I promise.”
Later that night, Carla emerged from the bedroom, her eyes tired but no longer filled with that same fire from earlier. She paused in the entryway for a moment, then walked toward the lounge where Lisa stood waiting for her.
Without a word, Lisa stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her, holding her close.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered against Carla’s neck. “For not standing up for you sooner. For letting her twist things, for not seeing what she was doing. I let her hurt you and I hate that.”
Carla sighed, her arms slowly folding around Lisa. “I know. But I’m not mad at you.”
She leaned back to look into Lisa’s eyes. “I’m hurt by her. She thinks I don’t love her… but I do. God, I do. I lost a daughter once. She’d be eleven this year. And some days, when I look at Betsy—I see her. The daughter I never got to raise.”
Lisa’s eyes welled up instantly. “I didn’t know.”
“I never told you,” Carla said softly. “It was a lifetime ago and I was five months along. Her name would have been Hayley, after Roys wife, the only good mother I really had.”
Lisa kissed her cheek, hugging her again, tighter this time. “You would’ve been the most incredible mum.”
“Mums right”
They turned to see Betsy, standing in the hallway, her face streaked with tears, arm now out of the sling and hanging naturally by her side.
“I’m so lucky to have you, Carla,” she said quietly. “And so would she.”
Carla’s breath caught. She blinked away fresh tears and opened her arms without hesitation. Lisa did the same. Betsy crossed the room slowly, as if unsure whether she deserved the embrace, until both women pulled her in and held her tight. No words were needed in that moment. The silence was full—of forgiveness, grief, love, and the unspoken promise that things would be different now.
When they finally pulled apart, Carla kissed the top of Betsy’s head. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, love. But you do have to be honest. With your mum, and with me. We’re not the enemy.”
Betsy nodded, wiping her eyes. “I know. I think I just didn’t know how to say I needed help without messing everything up.”
“You just did,” Lisa whispered, her voice cracking with relief. “And we heard you.”The three of them settled onto the couch, still close, the air finally calm again. Carla reached for Betsy’s hand and held it for a moment, then turned to Lisa.
“Things are going to change around here. No more tiptoeing. No more pretending. We’ve all been through too much to fake our way forward.”
Lisa gave a soft nod. “I don’t want to fake it. I want us all to heal.”
“We will,” Carla said, with quiet certainty. “But healing doesn’t mean going back. It means learning to move forward. Together.”
They sat a little longer, letting the weight of the past few months hang between them—but this time, not as a burden. As a bond.
Eventually, Carla stood and stretched. “Now, if no one minds, I’m reheating my stir fry. And no one is stealing my chocolate again.”
Lisa smirked. “Noted.”
“I’ll even do the dishes,” Betsy offered, her voice soft but sincere.
Carla turned, raising an eyebrow. “We really are turning a corner.”
Betsy gave a small, sheepish grin. “One dish at a time.”
Later that night, after dinner had been eaten, dishes washed, and goodnights exchanged, Carla lay in bed with Lisa curled against her side. Fingers laced together, hearts slowly mending.
“You really meant it earlier, didn’t you?” Lisa asked softly. “About your daughter.”
Carla swallowed, then nodded. “I did. I don’t talk about her much. But sometimes… sometimes, when I look at Betsy, I see pieces of her. She’d have the same fire, same stubbornness but her kindness.”
Lisa kissed her shoulder. “Maybe she sent Betsy to you and you to us.”
“Maybe.” Carla let out a shaky breath. “All I know is, I’m not letting this family fall apart.”
“You’re not alone in that,” Lisa whispered.
They lay there in the dark, the room quiet except for the rhythmic sound of their breathing. In the next room, Betsy slept for the first time in weeks without faking the pain, without the sling. Maybe even without the guilt.
They still had a long road ahead. Apologies to give. Truths to unpack. Therapy, maybe. And definitely a few court appearances. But for the first time in a long time, they weren’t walking it alone.
Carla stared at the ceiling and smiled faintly.
They would be okay.
Eventually