Chapter Text
The factory floor was now quiet, the staff having left for the day, with Sally being the last one to leave. At the door, she met Becky, who almost walked in when Sally opened the door to leave.
“Hold on! Who are you, and what are you doing here at this hour?” Sally asked, suspicion written all over her face.
“I’m a friend of Carla’s. Is she in?” Becky asked, trying to push past Sally, who was firmly blocking her way.
“No,” Sally almost yelled, glaring at the woman. She looked her up and down, the large green coat nearly swallowing her whole. “Carla’s busy, and she hates to be disturbed.”
“Oh, does she now?” Becky replied with a challenging look. “Go and tell her an old friend of hers is here to see her.”
Sally didn’t move. She waited for more information.
“Lisa’s sister,” Becky finally added.
Becky’s patience was wearing thin. She could slap the woman blocking her or better yet, knock her out just to wipe that smug look off her face; the one that said “I’m better than you” expression. The audacity of people who judged a book by its cover never failed to amaze her. If this woman knew what Becky was really capable of, she’d run a mile in the other direction.
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“It’s alright, Sal. Let her in,” Carla said in a tired tone.
She was swamped with paperwork, none of which seemed to be Sarah or Michael’s cup of tea. The past two weeks she’d been in Ireland, and now she’d come back to find orders that needed urgent attention, clients waiting for renewal calls all untouched by the two managers she’d left in charge.
Sally glared at Becky, who walked in right then, that smug look still plastered across her face.
“Should I stick around, Mrs. Connor?” Sally asked. She didn’t trust the woman with short hair; there was something off about her. Sally couldn’t tell if she was here peacefully or not.
“Yes, Sally. I’m okay. Go home and make Tim that lasagna recipe you told me about,” Carla reassured her.
“Are you sure, Mrs. Connor?” Sally’s eyes darted between Carla and Becky, suspicion not leaving her face.
“I’m sure, love. Go home,” Carla said firmly.
She knew Sally wanted to stay for gossip, but she also saw genuine concern in the woman’s eyes. It wasn’t just Carla’s hackles rising, Becky Swain gave off dark, unsettling vibes. Carla had tried to tell Lisa as much, but she’d finally washed her hands of it. Lisa seemed completely enamoured by Becky, and lately, whenever Carla brought her up, Lisa turned skittish.
Lisa was always too busy; another case here, another overnight shift there. Since Carla returned from Ireland, they’d barely spent an hour together. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Lisa was doing everything possible to avoid her. Her mind took a darker turn. Had something happened between Lisa and Becky while she was away?
When Carla had asked Roy about it, he’d avoided the topic altogether, changing the subject and asking about Ireland instead. Maybe Becky could shed some light now that she was here.
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“What can I do for you, Becky?” Carla got straight to the point. She wasn’t about to waste precious time entertaining her fiancée’s smug wife in her space. Becky had already taken over her house in all intents and purposes, always there with Betsy, as if she was one of their furniture.
“I just came to call a truce between us,” Becky said, extending her hand for Carla to shake.
Carla looked at the hand with pure disgust, all her pent-up hatred simmering beneath the surface. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Come on, Carla. You and I haven’t exactly been besties since I showed up, have we?” Becky asked, her tone dripping with condescension.
Carla rolled her eyes. “I’m not interested in this bullshit you’re trying to pull, Becky. Don’t try to play a player, lady. I know exactly what you’ve been doing — I’ve pulled that kind of crap myself to get my way before.”
“Oh yeah? Tell me more,” Becky teased, leaning her elbows on the table, that smug grin never leaving her face like she was a friend eager for gossip.
“Say what you came here for and get the fuck out of my factory, Becky. I’m not going to ask twice,” Carla snapped, her patience thinning fast.
“Okay, jokes aside,” Becky said, dropping her tone. “I came here to ask you to release my family, Carla. They should come away with me to Spain. They aren’t safe here.”
Carla froze, shocked into silence. That was the last thing she’d expected Becky to say.
“You see, Betsy thinks this...” Becky gestured around the factory “...is a dead end job. And honestly, I think so too. She could do so much better in Spain. Maybe even Milan, get a proper jump start on her fashion career.”
Becky’s gaze met Carla’s, and she saw a flash, was that hurt? ... cross Carla’s face. It felt good to inflict some of that pain, the kind Becky had felt watching them play happy family for months, pretending she didn’t exist.
Time to throw the final grenade into their little household. Time to make Lisa see that Carla wasn’t good for them. Only Becky Swain was.
“Oh well, I guess it is,” Carla said flatly. “I mean, the factory is a dead-end job for Betsy. She’s talented, and I do see a bright future for her.”
But she was bleeding inside. She loved Betsy, yet since Becky’s return, subtle changes in the girl had cut deep. It felt like Betsy wanted her mums together again, like she was in on Becky’s quiet campaign to edge Carla out.
And if Becky was right about Betsy calling the factory a dead end gig, maybe Carla’s insecurities were justified. Maybe Betsy didn’t need her anymore and maybe Lisa didn’t either.
Lisa had made that clear since Carla’s return from Ireland. They’d only spent one night together, and even then, Lisa hadn’t initiated anything. Carla had tried and was turned down with the excuse of being knackered after chasing criminals all day. Carla hadn’t pressed the issue any further, but she’d felt the shift and the distance. And now Becky was here to confirm her worst fears.
“Thank you for agreeing,” Becky said, almost smug again. “Lisa thinks so too, that Betsy’s destined for bigger things than Weatherfield.” She paused. “So, I spoke to our girl, and she wants to come to Spain with me. We asked Lisa, but she didn’t say no or yes. She just… scoffed it off.”
Carla’s heart was pounding so loud she could barely hear, Becky’s words muffled but still cutting through.
“What I wanted to ask,” Becky continued softly, “is why not have Lisa come with us too? You know?” She tilted her head, feigning sympathy. “She doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, to be honest. We had long talks, she and I, while you were in Ireland.”
Carla’s stomach turned.
“When you called her that first day you got to Ireland, the day Betsy was arrested I had just come downstairs from taking a shower.”
Carla’s eyes widened.
“Oops,” Becky added, smirking. “She didn’t tell you about that?”
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