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It’s a quiet morning in February, the grey skies and drizzle of rain over Weatherfield doing nothing to infringe on Carla and Lisa’s good moods, curled up together under a blanket and scrolling through potential honeymoon destinations.
It’s been a month filled with wedding planning, finally free after months of stress caused by a certain resurrected dead wife and criminal conspiracies that had plagued them for months, before culminating in a kidnapping and a dramatic standoff that saw Lisa push Carla out of the way of a knife, taking the stabbing herself instead.
It had been touch and go in the ambulance but she’d pulled through, thanks mostly to Asha’s quick thinking and pure luck that the paramedic had been right there when it all went down. Becky’s in jail, awaiting her trial and a guilty verdict is pretty much inevitable. Since the divorce papers came through, Lisa hasn’t paid her a second thought (any lingering feelings she may have had after their almost two decades of marriage were well and truly dead and buried in the wake of Betsy’s kidnap and her attempted murder of Carla).
“Hey, are you okay?” Carla frets, noticing Lisa’s wince when she leans forward to pick up her tea.
“I’m fine, love. Honest. Just still a bit sore, that’s all. Nothing to be concerned about,” Lisa soothes and Carla’s hand skims down her side gently, coming to rest on her thigh.
“I’ll always be concerned about you.” And then Carla glances at Lisa’s phone, shaking her head quickly. “No. Not Italy. I went there with him,” she says quietly and Lisa closes the tab immediately.
“Italy’s overrated anyway,” she states. “What about an island getaway somewhere? Sun, beaches a private villa just for us?”
“And you in a little bikini?” Carla smirks. “I know you love your practical swimming costumes but I mean one of those skimpy bikinis that’s designed for looking at, not for swimming in.”
“For you? Yeah, go on then. I’ll even let you choose it,” Lisa agrees and Carla raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at her.
“Let’s not pretend you’re doing me a favour letting you choose it. We both know you just don’t want to go shopping.”
“I’m simply accepting your expertise in the matter, darling,” she counters.
Carla hums, considering. “Maybe I’ll look into the possibility of Underworld branching out into swimwear. Because the bikini I’m imagining for you… well, I’m not sure it exists.”
They’re looking at a luxury villa, significantly out of their already quite generous budget when Betsy flops down beside Carla on the sofa, mindful as always of Lisa’s injury, still healing, on her left hand side.
“Oh I would love to go on holiday, yes please. That would look so good on my Insta,” she interjects.
“It’s for our honeymoon, Bets. You sure you want to join us?” Carla teases. “I mean, you complain at me and your mum at the best of times. You know what people do on honeymoon, right?”
The teenager blushes, shaking her head. “Never mind,” she replies quickly. “I’ll stay here with Ryan. But I think the Connor-Swains deserve a holiday, don’t you? I don’t remember the last time we even went on holiday.”
“That disastrous trip to Portugal, the summer before you started Year 10,” Lisa reminds her and Betsy nods, recalling the holiday. It’d had been an attempt by Lisa to make the two of them reconnect, and it had failed entirely. They’d started arguing before they even got to the airport and then they’d barely spoken in the five days they spent there.
“Where would you like to go? I make no promises, mind you, but no reason we can’t consider something,” Carla says, exchanging a glance with Lisa.
There’s a pleased look in her eyes, one that tells Carla just how much she likes the idea of a family holiday.
Betsy goes quiet for a moment, contemplating her options. Carla assumes that she’s debating just how much she can get away with.
“Paris,” the girl suggests quietly.
“You sure?” Lisa checks, the moment suddenly heavier with thoughts of Becky again.
Betsy nods. “She made her choices. I don’t see why it should stop me getting to visit a city I’ve always wanted to go to anyway.”
“I like Paris,” Carla says. “Never been to Disney though. Would you want to do that?”
“I want to do everything,” Betsy declares and Carla grins. Betsy has been downcast for a while, unsurprising after what they’ve been through recently and it makes her glad to see a bit of the old Betsy return.
“I haven’t been to Paris since I was in my early twenties. Went there with a couple of mates,” Lisa adds. “I think you’re right, Betsy. A Connor-Swain holiday is just what we need.”
She taps Carla’s thigh, gaining her attention. “Get researching, missus,” she orders and Carla pulls up the website of a fancy hotel, the sort of place that Lisa used to check out just for fun before she’d choose somewhere more affordable.
Her eyebrows raise at the price, despite the fact that she knows they can afford it. She and Carla both earn a good wage and she understands why Carla prefers to choose the finer things so Lisa bites her tongue, pretending that her instincts wouldn’t lead her to a more reasonably priced hotel instead of one quite so lavish.
“When do we want to go?” Carla questions. “Down to you Lise, since I’ve got an in with Betsy’s boss so I’m pretty sure me and her can take holiday whenever we fancy it. You’re the complicated one.”
***
“Bonsoir mesdames,” the waiter greets them in rapid French. “À l’intérieur ou en terrasse?”
Carla sees panic flash in Betsy’s eyes and she reaches out a hand, stopping her before she can respond in English. “Bonsoir. En terrasse, merci. On va prendre une bouteille de vin rouge, peut-être un Cabernet Sauvignon?” she responds in what she knows is a more than passable French accent.
The brunette had deliberately kept quiet about this particular skill and she smiles smugly when Lisa’s eyes dart to her, impressed.
“Très bien, madame. Vous parlez bien le français. Vous êtes ici en vacances avec… votre sœur?” he guesses and Carla has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Her sister. As if she and Lisa somehow look related.
“Non, ma femme et notre fille,” she replies, briefly wondering what the French is for step-daughter before deciding it doesn't matter all that much. Nobody besides her will even be aware of the lie.
“Une très belle famille,” he compliments. “Installez-vous, je vous apporte le vin.”
“Merci bien.”
Carla pulls out a chair for Lisa, then sits down just beside her and opposite Betsy at the traditional French restaurant. The streets are starting to buzz to life in the early evening as people finish work and meet friends for drinks at restaurants dotted around the square that they’d stumbled upon near their hotel.
“I didn’t know you spoke French,” Lisa comments.
“I don’t, not really. Just a bit, conversationally. Enough to order in a restaurant,” Carla admits. “I did a bit of work over here a while back and picked it up then.”
“Very impressive, future wife of mine.”
“Merci, mon amour,” Carla answers, winking at Lisa smoothly.
“You’re both awful,” Betsy tells them seriously. “Please can you not spend the whole entire holiday flirting? Please. This is meant to be a treat for all of us.”
“We’ll try,” Lisa replies, amused.
***
Betsy gasps aloud, her eyes wide as she takes in the sight in front of her when they get out of the taxi. Carla’s kept it a surprise for her, and it’s clearly paid off.
At the top of the wide avenue, stands the Arc de Triomphe, an imposing structure that never fails to impress Carla but it’s not why they’re there for and it’s not what Betsy is paying attention to.
No, she’s looking around at the myriad of designer shops that surround them on the Champs-Elysées in absolute awe of the boulevard that she recognises from films and TV. Lisa too has realised where Carla has brought them and she’s thoroughly unimpressed, in direct contrast to her daughter.
“You’ve brought us shopping?” her fiancée grouches and Carla laughs, pulling her close to kiss her.
“Yes. Well, I’m taking Betsy shopping at least. You can hang out in one of the cafés and wait for us instead if you want. I brought your book,” Carla suggests, laughing as she pulls it out of her handbag and offers it to Lisa.
“I actually wouldn’t mind a bit of time to myself. Let her spend at least some of her own money, please. You know, that money you pay her for working at the factory?”
“Let Carla spoil me if she wants to!” Betsy protests, kissing Lisa on the cheek and then linking her arm through Carla’s. “Let’s go, stepmother dearest.”
“Let’s go, stepdaughter dearest.”
They stroll together, arms linked while they dip in and out of shops, pointing out items that they like and giggling at things they don’t like.
Betsy is thrilled when she spots the Jellycat sign at the Galeries Lafayette, dragging Carla inside enthusiastically and she purchases one in the shape of a croissant, declaring it an essential souvenir from what she describes as the ‘City of Croissants’, ignoring Carla when she reminds her that it’s the City of Lights or the City of Love.
Then Carla drags them both into the Dior store, treating herself to her favourite perfume and Betsy splurges in the large Sephora, spending what Carla knows is most of her paycheque on makeup.
They’re browsing in a jewellery store, laughing together at some of the more outrageous prices when Carla gets distracted by a pair of earrings that remind her of Lisa, elegant and beautiful yet still understated.
“Bets, what do you think of these? For your mam?” she asks, then glances to the side only to realise that Betsy is no longer there.
She looks up in a panic, relaxing when she spots Betsy at the other side of the shop and she quickly makes her way to the teen, nudging her shoulder with her own.
“Thought I lost you. What have you found?”
“Hmm? Nothing,” Betsy lies quickly, folding almost immediately when Carla clearly doesn’t believe her.
“Nothing important, anyway. Just a necklace, but it’s too way expensive for me to afford.”
Carla looks at the display they’re stood by and although nothing in the shop is cheap, these ones are significantly more reasonable than most.
“Which one, Bets?”
“That one,” Betsy points and Carla nods.
“It is pretty,” she agrees, then catches the eye of one the sales assistants. “We’d like to take a closer look at that necklace, please,” she requests and he pulls it out, placing it on the glass in front of them.
“It would look lovely with the dress you’re wearing for the wedding,” Carla points out and Betsy hums nonchalantly.
“I thought that too,” the teen admits. “The neckline needs a necklace. But not this one. I saw a nice one in town a few weeks ago which would be good too.”
“I’m guessing this other necklace is just nice? And not disappear in the middle of a shop to stare at it nice?”
Betsy doesn’t answer, which in itself is enough of an answer for Carla.
“We’ll take it, thank you,” she tells the assistant. “And there’s some earrings I’d like to take a closer look at too. Betsy, tell me if you think your mum would like them.”
*
“You didn’t have to buy me it,” Betsy finds her voice again, outside the shop.
Carla passes her the small bag with the jewellery boxed up safely inside it. “I know. But I wanted to. And I can afford it, Bets. The factory is pretty successful, as you well know. And part of the reason the factory is so successful is down to its workforce which you’re a part of,” she reasons. “Just say thanks, sweetheart. It’s not a big deal.
“Thank you,” Betsy says sincerely, fidgeting with the box. “Will you put it on for me?”
Betsy gathers her hair in her hand, moving it out the way so that Carla can fasten the necklace around her neck.
“There. Beautiful. Shall we go back and find your mam again? I dunno about you, but I’m all shopped out,” Carla suggests and Betsy nods, then throws her arms around Carla.
The older woman is surprised for a second and then she hugs Betsy back.
“I love you, you know? You’re a really good stepmum. And I don’t mean because of the necklace. I mean, you’ve planned this whole holiday because I wanted to visit. You’ve brought me shopping because I like it even though mum doesn’t. And when I remember how awful I’ve been to you, how I tried to push mum back to Becky… I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, sweetheart. It’s all alright. Everything with Becky, it was an absolutely mad situation for us all. I don’t blame you, not for any of it. I love you too, Betsy. Since before I even loved your mum, by the way.”
***
The Eiffel Tower is packed with people and Carla can’t say she’s enjoying it much, but it’s a quintessential part of the Paris experience that she doesn’t want Betsy and Lisa to miss out on.
At least, she’s not enjoying it until she spots a sign on the floor that makes her smile to herself and she stops where she is, waiting for Lisa to notice.
It doesn’t take long - Lisa pretty quickly realises that Carla is no longer at her side and turns around in confusion, brows furrowing when she spots Carla who makes no effort to rejoin them. Instead, Carla crooks a finger and mouths come here at her fiancée who follows the instruction without any hesitation.
“Any reason you just stopped like that?” Lisa questions and Carla nods.
“Look down.”
Lisa does, then looks at Carla fondly. “You romantic idiot,” she accuses, slipping her arms around Carla’s waist and leaving no space between them as they kiss deeply, not bothered at all by the crowds that surround them.
The world narrows to just Carla the moment their lips meet and nothing matters besides from her fiancée and the deep desire she feels to always be close to Carla like this.
(As well as a serious appreciation for the fact that they’re in their own room in the hotel that night and they haven’t yet moved to their hotel at Disney, where their suite in the Disneyland Hotel will be shared with Betsy.)
“I love you, Lisa. I can’t wait for you to be my wife.”
“I love you too.”
And then they kiss again, because what else would you do while stood on the place to kiss sign on the Eiffel Tower?
The view of Paris is nothing compared to the softness of Lisa’s lips on her own and the scent of the perfume that Carla bought for her on Valentine’s Day.
It takes Betsy clearing her throat loudly to get them to pull apart.
***
“Aren’t we going to the Louvre today? Why are you walking us right past the Pyramid?”
“I said we were going to a museum, you assumed I meant the Louvre. These are the Tuileries Gardens. Nice, huh?” Carla responds, strolling hand-in-hand with Lisa and letting Betsy go ahead.
They pass a kiosk selling ice cream and Lisa drags Carla towards it, stumbling through an order in an attempt at speaking French so poor that the man looks confused, then switches to English.
She passes Carla a cone, then glances around for Betsy.
Carla spots her first. She’s sitting on a reclining chair on the opposite side of the large pond, chatting enthusiastically with a boy around her own age.
“Not sure she’s bothered about an ice cream, actually,” Carla says, pointing her out to Lisa whose face flickers with emotion. “Let her have her fun.”
“I’m not that bad,” she defends, then sighs in acceptance at Carla’s look. “Okay, you take her the ice cream. You’re less likely to embarrass her than I am.”
Carla takes the second ice cream and walks over. She catches Betsy’s eye, pretending not to notice the light blush on her cheeks. Instead, she just passes the treat along with the comment from your mam and then glances at the boy Betsy is talking to.
“Hiya. How old are you?”
“Eighteen,” he responds in a strong French accent.
Carla just nods. “Half an hour, Bets. We have pre-booked tickets,” she reminds her.
“Yeah yeah, I know.” Then Betsy turns her attention back to the young man clearly waiting for her attention. “Are your parents annoying too?” she asks him, deliberately loud enough for Carla to overhear.
“She’s a brat, your daughter,” Carla jokes when she slips into the seat beside Lisa and resting her head against her fiancée’s shoulder. “And she’s over there charming a French eighteen year old.”
Lisa laughs, pulling Carla even closer with an arm around her shoulder. “Well, at least her being distracted means she won’t complain when I start kissing you.”
“Good plan, Mrs Connor-Swain. Excellent plan.”
*
“Darlingest stepdaughter, time to go. Say goodbye,” Carla calls over from a short distance away and watching as the teen boy leans in to kiss Betsy on the cheek, lingering just a little bit too long.
Betsy is still blushing when she gets to them. “Oooooooooh! What’s our new son-in-law’s name, then?” Carla teases, making kissing noises into the air and Betsy shoves her slightly.
“Grow up, Carla.”
Not that it does anything to stop Carla from her teasing, continuing all the way as they join a short queue. It’s significantly quieter than the crowds had been at the Louvre, which they’re all grateful for, and it’s only minutes before someone is scanning their tickets and allowing them to enter the museum.
“So, this is the Musée de l’Orangerie. My favourite museum in Paris,” Carla says, leading Betsy and Lisa confidently through to the main collection. “And this is why. Monet’s Water Lilies. Look, I’m not about to pretend that I know anything about art, because I don’t. But I love this, I think it’s so relaxing. The colours, the sheer size of it all. It’s incredible."
“It is beautiful,” Lisa agrees. “We could get a print framed for home. Put it up somewhere in the conservatory, maybe.”
“Ooh, a little piece of the Orangerie in our own Orangery? I like it.”
*
“Muuuuum,” Betsy whines. “Can I go out tonight? You know, not with you and Carla?”
“It wouldn’t be with a certain French boy you keep texting, would it?” Lisa asks knowingly. “Oh, go on sweetheart. You’re old enough to decide for yourself. Do me a favour, don’t mention this to Carla. If you’re going out, so will we.”
“Deal.”
*
“I’ll be up in a minute, I just want to check something at the front desk.”
“Okay, but don’t be long darling. I’m going in the shower and I expect you to join me,” Carla says quietly and Lisa nods.
“I won’t be long. Especially with that incentive.”
*
Carla flops onto the bed, absolutely boneless and still damp from the shower.
“You’ve killed me,” she accuses. “How does it get better every time?”
“I dunno, but I can’t wait to spend my entire life figuring that out with you. Imagine how good it’ll be in a few years time.”
“You know what I’m excited for? Our wedding night.”
“Well, you and your five weddings. That’s not surprising,” Lisa teases, twirling Carla’s hair between her fingers.
“I’ll have you know that most of them had very unsuccessful wedding nights, actually,” Carla jokes. “I mean, Peter ended up in hospital last time. Nick and I, well, we broke up almost as soon as we were married. Didn't even leave the venue before we'd broken up. You know all of this anyway.”
“What I know is that our wedding night - our wedding - is going to knock everything else out of the water. I can’t wait to be your wife.”
“My wife. Mrs Connor-Swain," Carla sighs dreamily.
“Mrs Connor-Swain,” Lisa echoes, then kisses Carla softly before she stands up, pulling down some clothes from where she’d hung them up when they arrived.
“We’d best get dressed. We’ve got dinner reservations.”
“Do we? I thought it was just a casual night, finding somewhere local.”
“It was,” Lisa replies. “But Betsy’s going out with that lad from earlier so we’re taking advantage of getting an evening here just for us. I asked the reception to recommend somewhere for a romantic meal and I made a reservation for us.”
Carla looks at her, clearly surprised and Lisa can’t help but be a bit smug at being able to surprise her.
It had been her fiancée who’d planned most of this holiday, Lisa’s input mainly relegated to booking the flights and paying her share but mostly, Carla had taken over making the plans and Lisa had let her.
“Oh, I do love you.”
“I know. Love you too. Now get up and get dressed,” she orders, jumping slightly when Carla slaps her arse as she gets up from the bed. “Cheeky!”
*
They get ready together, passing each other their makeup and jewellery and other bits and pieces like a well oiled machine.
A knock at the door disturbs them and Lisa barely has time to stand up before they hear Betsy calling them through the door. “Yoo hoo, big summer blowout! Just me!”
She barges her way into the room when Lisa opens the door, presenting them both with a glass of wine. “From the bar downstairs. I thought you’d enjoy it while you get ready for your little date night.”
And then she kisses Carla twice, once on each cheek as though they’re actually French. “You look nice,” she says, suspiciously kind.
Carla only realises why when Betsy reaches around her, grabbing Carla’s perfume from the dressing table and spritzing herself with it before she flounces out of the room again. “Thank you! Enjoy your wine, see you in the morning!”
Carla and Lisa barely make eye contact with one another before they start laughing at her antics.
“That poor boy has no idea what he’s let himself in for, does he?”
“Not a chance. Anyway, cheers to a free glass of wine.”
“Cheers.”
*
The restaurant isn’t far from their hotel and they walk together, hand in hand, down the grand boulevard and turning onto a cobbled side street.
“Well, this feels like home in the worst way. I wouldn’t have worn heels if I’d realised,” Carla gripes lightheartedly but it’s a short-lived complaint as they arrive at the restaurant moments after.
It’s a small place, clearly family and most of the tables are already busy with people; mostly other couples, thanks to the romantic vibe. It’s special without it feeling overbearing. There’s candles on each of the tables and Lisa and Carla are seated at a table in the corner, cozy and intimate.
They peruse the menu and Lisa feels Carla’s eyes on her and she knows that Carla has already decided and almost definitely wants them to split something.
She pretends not to feel Carla’s eyes on her for a moment, then puts her menu down between them.
“That pork dish sounds really good,” Lisa comments casually, holding back her amusement at the way Carla’s face falls briefly. “What are you going to get?”
“I’m debating between the pasta or the salmon.”
Lisa just hums nonchalantly. “Both good choices. Shall we share a bottle of red?”
“Yeah, okay,” Carla agrees, pouting.
“And we’ll get both the salmon and the pasta and share that too?”
Carla tosses a napkin at her. “Oh you’re so annoying. You’re not funny, you know? You could have just said that in the first place.”
“I’m hilarious,” the blonde disagrees. “And you love me.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“You’re about a month early, saying that. I love you too,” Lisa replies earnestly and they hold hands over the table. “You’re the love of my life. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.”
“I know,” Carla answers quietly. Since their split and their reunion, Lisa’s made sure that she’s told Carla that every single day, in her words and in her actions. “And I feel exactly the same about you.”
“When I think about how I nearly lost you for good… How I nearly let Becky ruin everything, what my own inaction, my own blindness to reality could have lead to,” Lisa starts but Carla just shakes her head, squeezing Lisa’s hand in her own.
“Lisa, stop it. We’ve been through all of this, we don’t need to rehash it again. Becky returning, that was an impossible situation for us all but we got through it. We’re okay. We’re better than okay. We’re in Paris. We’re about to get married,” Carla tells her, then kisses the back of Lisa’s hand. “And I’ve got you a present. Close your eyes.”
Lisa softens as Carla speaks, then does as instructed, closing her eyes and reclaiming her hand from Carla’s grasp so she can hold it out, upturned, awaiting this present.
Carla opens up her small handbag, placing the jewellery box in Lisa’s hands. “Okay, you can open your eyes again.”
She does, opening the box eagerly and letting out a slight gasp. “Carla, these are stunning. Thank you.”
Immediately, she removes the earrings she was wearing, switching them out for the new ones Carla has bought her. “Betsy helped me choose them when we were shopping. I knew you’d be beautiful wearing them,” she explains, reaching across the table to tuck Lisa’s hair behind her ear so she can see them properly. She lets her hand linger there. “I was right.”
Lisa blushes, then holds the box up to Carla. “Would you mind keeping this in your bag for now? I don’t have anywhere to put it.”
Carla laughs, taking the box and slipping it back into her handbag. “What if I want to be the one that doesn’t have to carry a bag, huh? Instead of having to carry all of my stuff and yours.”
“Well I’ll bring my bag tomorrow and you’ll last all of two minutes before you get stressed about not having your things. Anyway, funnily enough, I have a gift for you as well tonight.” Lisa drops her voice, speaking barely louder than a whisper as she adds, “but you can’t open it here. It’s for when we get back to our room.”
Carla’s eyes darken. “We should order soon,” she says, raspy.
And Lisa decides to tease her just a little bit more. “One of your designs, by the way. I nicked it from Underworld when I visited you for lunch one day.”
Carla swallows, unable to stop picturing Lisa in one of her designs. It’s rare for her to design nowadays, but on occasion, her old passion calls out to her when she has a spark of inspiration and she reaches for a pencil. Usually, it ends nowhere but from time to time, she’ll draw something that’s good. Something that she can produce and sell.
Recently, they’ve been more on the risqué side of her business. Without fail, her inspiration for the past year (or even longer, if she lets herself really think about it) has always been Lisa.
And she’s mentioned it to her fiancée before, but Lisa usually goes for practical rather than sexy or even pretty in her underwear choices and Carla is just as attracted to Lisa in her functional and plain sports bra as she is on the days that the sports bras get switched out for something a little more… decorative.
But Lisa has never worn one of Carla’s designs before and the idea has her shifting in her seat, her arousal spiking.
When she switches her attention back to her immediate surroundings, as opposed to imagining her fiancée in lingerie, she realises that Lisa is giving their order to the waitress and she finishes it off with a mispronounced “merci beaucoup,” and Carla doesn’t pretend to hide her smirk, giggling when the waitress leaves.
“You’re so good at so many things, Lise. Speaking French isn’t one of them. I mean, who can’t say ‘merci’ properly?” she teases.
“Me. I totally failed my French GCSE.”
“Ha! I passed German. We can’t all be geniuses. At least you’re pretty.”
“You got two GCSEs and the fact that the second was food tech really shows they mean nothing. I’ve never met anyone as bad at cooking, my love,” Lisa retorts.
“Rude! And untrue. Betsy loves my scrambled eggs.”
“You do make good scrambled eggs, I’ll give you that. It’d be great if you didn’t set the smoke alarm off every time you try to use the grill though.”
“Fire safety. I’m just testing the alarm to make sure it still works.”
The pair of them laugh and Lisa rolls her eyes affectionately. “Oh, is that the reason? Suppose I should say thank you then.”
“Exactly.”
“We should do this every week,” Lisa says. “Maybe not this exactly, but something. A meal out or a trip into town or even another art class. Someone at work was going on about axe throwing the other day,” she laughs. “Okay, probably not axe throwing. But something for just us.”
“Date night,” Carla surmises, grinning. “You’re full of excellent ideas, wife-to-be.”
***
“Close your eyes. Both of you!” Betsy says insistently a fews days later, not relenting until both Carla and Lisa follow her instructions despite all the hustle and bustle as people rush past them, on their way to rides or to meet characters or whatever it is that people do at Disneyland.
“I know where she gets her bossiness from,” Carla comments under her breath and Lisa snorts.
“Yeah, you.”
“Both of you shush. I bought you a present,” Betsy orders, and then Carla winces as she feels something being placed on her head and pulling slightly on her hair and she groans.
“Not those silly ears?”
“Shush! Mum doesn’t have hers on yet! Keep your eyes and your gobs shut.”
“Lise, I think we’re being held hostage by your daughter. I don’t consent to this.”
“Oh you are so dramatic, wicked stepmother. Right, you can both open your eyes now,” Betsy finally allows and Carla does so, then finds herself torn between laughing and crying.
The Minnie ears that Betsy has bought them - she can only assume that her own match Lisa’s - are white with a satin bow dotted with fake pearls and a short veil that hangs down over Lisa’s hair.
It’s so cheesy and ridiculous and yet Carla finds herself entirely charmed by it and she and Lisa smile softly at one another, seemingly reaching out in sync to hold each other’s hand.
“You have to keep them on at least until we’ve taken photos at the castle,” Betsy states seriously, marching them down the picturesque Main Street until she stops, glaring at a family taking photos in a particular spot in front of the castle until they leave.
Then she demonstrates a surprising amount of strength as she manhandles both Carla and Lisa into position in front of the castle, ordering them to smile before she starts taking photos on her new phone, the one she’d bought herself before the holiday because it had a better camera than her old one.
“Ugh, mum, smile! Carla, can you get mum to stop being awkward please?” Betsy calls across to them and Carla laughs softly because Lisa is many things, but a natural in front of the camera, she is not.
“Okay, but you’re not going to like it kiddo,” she warns, then tilts Lisa’s face towards her and immediately, Lisa takes the hint and leans in to kiss her. They keep it chaste, not that it stops Betsy from complaining at them anyway.
“You are in your fifties! You are practically old aged pensioners, I don’t know why you feel like you have to snog everywhere,” the teenager groans and it prompts giggles from the couple as they pull away from the kiss.
Carla keeps one arm around Lisa’s shoulder and they lean into each other as Betsy takes more photos.
“Okay, now face away from me. I want to get a shot with the veils and then I’m done!”
They look towards the castle together, waiting until Betsy finally announces that she’s finished and then Carla kisses Lisa’s cheek. “Stay here,” she murmurs, then gestures for Betsy to give her the phone.
“Swap places with me, I’ll get some pictures of you and your mam,” she says and she snaps a few photos until someone taps her on the shoulder and she turns to see a cast member with a professional camera.
“Would you like me to take photos of the three of you?” he offers and Carla is about to reject the offer when Betsy shouts over an enthusiastic yes and offers a thumbs up so Carla nods her acceptance and goes to stand with the two of them, Betsy positioning herself between her mum and Carla and the three of them grin at the camera, the exact image of a happy family.
When they’re done, he offers them a small card with a QR code on it, informing them that they can access the photos in the app or in any of the stores and Carla thanks him, slipping it into her purse carefully.
(She spends yet another mini fortune in the shop and so long debating between some of the photos that the cast member prints both, offering it to Carla with the explanation that it’s a gift from Mickey.)
*
“This one’s meant to be really fun,” Betsy says, leading them towards a large attraction named Hyperspace Mountain.
Carla’s doubtful as she goes in, but she reasons with herself that Disney is for children, really. It can’t be that scary, she tells herself, as they join the queue which is apparently 90 minutes long already.
They make their way through the dark queue slowly, Carla maintaining her cool exterior until they enter a room where they can see people loading into the cars and take off, relatively slowly Carla thinks but then just seconds later she hears screams and her heart drops into her stomach.
“Lise, you’ll sit with me, right?”
“Noooope, I’m sitting with mum,” Betsy says, linking her arm through her mum's. “You should have brought Ryan and then we wouldn’t have this problem.”
“He couldn’t get out of work!”
Carla grips Lisa’s hand tightly, making eye contact with her fiancée that says help.
“I’ll sit with you next time, Bets.”
“You scaredy cat, Carla!” the younger blonde laughs, not picking up on Carla’s genuine tension or the fact her heart is beating rapidly. “Didn’t take you for such a wimp, wicked stepmother!”
“I’ve never been to a theme park before, okay?!"
At the slight outburst, Betsy stops laughing.
“What, never? Not even Alton Towers or Blackpool Pleasure Beach when you were at school? Did you not even take Simon when he was little?”
She shakes her head. “We never had the money for it when I was a kid and even if we had, I was never invited on any of those school trips. I got too many detentions and I was absent far too much. And then I always just let Peter and Simon go alone. So no, I’ve never been to a theme park or on any rollercoasters,” she bites out and Betsy softens.
“Hey, it’s honestly not that bad, okay? According to one of my pals at college, anyway. It does go upside down and it’s in the dark but it’s meant to be really smooth and it’s dead quick, okay? And this is Disney, it’s all really safe. You can sit with mum, I’m not actually bothered.”
Carla doesn’t get a chance to say anything in response because they’re being ushered forwards the tracks and Carla is relieved when they end up in the middle section of the train, rather than the very front or very back, and she pulls the restraints down tight and then grips Lisa’s hand, feeling a little reassured when one of the cast members tugs on the restraints and they don’t move a centimetre.
Then they set off and Carla screws her eyes shut, unable to stop herself from screaming when it becomes apparent that it’s significantly faster than she’d expected it to be.
It is however, a mercifully short experience, and the ride is smooth which is a pleasant surprise for Carla. Simon used to come home complaining of headaches, saying that some of the rides were bumpy and knocked him and his dad about.
Still, she’s relieved when they slow down and then stop and Lisa helps her out of the train, her legs only slightly shaky. Betsy throws an arm over her shoulder casually, nudging into her.
“You alright?”
“Could have been worse,” Carla allows. “But I don’t think I like rollercoasters much.”
Betsy laughs. “I cannot wait to see the picture. C’mon, time to go to the gift shop.”
*
“This is much more my speed,” Carla says later that day, yet again in front of the castle. They’re in prime position, Carla having quickly realised that she can pay for the privilege of avoiding the worst of the crowds and queues and deciding that the cost is more than worth it.
“More your speed? Carla, this is the firework display,” Lisa laughs. “You liked the Pirates ride, remember? And Ratatouille. It’s not all bad.”
She hums her agreement. “Yeah, Pirates was fun actually. I’d go on that one again. Maybe we could eat in that restaurant tomorrow? It’d be nice watching the boats go through it.”
“Let’s do it,” Lisa agrees, wrapping her arm around Carla and falling silent when the music starts up and they watch the projections of Disney films - mostly ones that Carla isn’t familiar with, dotted with the odd one she remembers from childhood, gazing at Michelle’s TV - illuminate the castle and then fireworks light up the sky.
She doesn’t expect it when the fireworks end and Betsy takes hold of Carla’s free hand.
“Today’s been really fun. You’re my favourite wicked stepmother.”
“You’re always welcome, kid,” Carla replies softly, pulling her into a hug. “Now let’s get back to the hotel before we’re all too exhausted to move.”
“Speak for yourself, boomer. Besides, the hotel is literally at the entrance to the park. We don’t exactly have far to go. I can’t believe we’re all sharing a room though. Please do not have sex.”
Carla rolls her eyes. “As if. I make no promises that I won’t drag your mum into the shower with me in the morning though,” she deadpans.
“Carla!” both Lisa and Betsy exclaim in sync and the brunette laughs, shrugging her shoulders at Lisa.
“What? She started it. The room cost an absolute fortune and have you seen that shower? I think we should make use of it. Betsy can always go for breakfast, it was included in the price,” Carla reasons.
“It’s a character breakfast, I can’t go alone.”
“What’s a character breakfast?” Carla questions, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“You know, the characters join you. Mickey and Minnie and whoever else,” Betsy explains briefly and Carla balks. She’s seen the queues today, for people to meet different characters, and she doesn’t get the appeal at all.
“We have to have breakfast with a bunch of people in costumes?” she asks loudly.
A young girl ahead of them dressed up as Elsa looks at them, and then tugs insistently at her mum’s top. “Mum? Why did that lady say people in costumes? Is Mickey just someone dressed up?” they hear her question and the parent shoots daggers at Carla who can’t help but laugh lightly.
“Whoops,” she says, entirely unbothered. “At least I didn’t tell her about Father Christmas.”
“What about Father Christmas?” The child questions, eyes wide as she looks at Carla.
“Uh, Carla, remember we need to go buy that thing!” Betsy says, pulling her into a shop quickly and far away from the parent that’s escalated from shooting daggers at Carla to looking as though she might punch Carla in the face.
“Only you could pick a fight in the middle of the happiest place on Earth,” Betsy giggles once they’re a safe distance away.
“I didn’t!” Carla says. “It’s not my fault the kid was listening in to a private conversation.”
“Let’s just try and avoid any of those situations tomorrow, yeah?” Lisa suggests.
(They do.)
***
paris with the ‘rents Betsy captions her instagram post, sitting in Charles de Gaulle as they wait for their flight home, carefully curating the best of the photos they’ve taken across the week.
Comments flood in.
DJConnor: hope you had a shit time without me. see you at home betsy-boo
lozboltons: that’s my gorgeous bestie! ❤️ frankie says hi
sibarlow: lol no way you got carla to wear those ears.
fizdobbs_: The cutest family! Have a safe flight home.
michelleconnor: Dublin next time. Or else.
Carla swipes through the photos, stopping when she comes across one of just herself and Lisa from the impromptu - and forced - photoshoot at the castle, the two of them wearing the bridal Minnie ears that Betsy had forced upon them.
It’s candid, just after they’d kissed and they’re both smiling widely, foreheads pressed together and veils blowing in the gentle breeze. The castle is framed in the shot just behind them, and god, it could almost be an advert.
She saves the picture to her phone, setting it as her new wallpaper.
(It doesn’t change again until their wedding day, just over a month later.)