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Lisa Swain liked to think she was a patient woman.
Policing had taught her how to stay calm in high-pressure situations. She’d talked people down from ledges metaphorical ones and well real ones, and navigated tense rooms without raising her voice. She knew how to assess, de-escalate, and breathe (most of the time)
None of that training had prepared her for Carla Connor on a bad perimenopausal day and Betsy Swain with time on her hands.
From the doorway of the living room, Lisa watched Carla pace, not storm, not stomp, pace. That was always the warning sign.
Carla was muttering under her breath, one hand fanning her face, the other clutching her phone like it had personally betrayed her. The window was open. The fan was on. She was still flushed. Lisa clocked all of it quietly, like she did everything. Temperature. Tone. Timing.
Betsy, meanwhile, was sprawled upside down on the sofa, scrolling on her phone.
“Why are you walking like that?” Betsy asked, not looking up, too preoccupied with her TikTok feed.
Carla stopped dead. “Like what?”
“Like you’re about to fight the furniture.”
Lisa closed her eyes for maybe half a second. “Betsy” she said gently, “maybe- don’t.”
“I’m just saying,” Betsy continued, sitting up now, “you’ve done like twelve laps.”
Carla laughed sharp and brittle, “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I disrupting the peace Betsy?”
Betsy shrugged with no care in the world.
“A bit.”
Lisa stepped forward. “Okay. Time out.” She mumbled but she was too late, Carla had already tipped.
“I can’t” Carla said voice rising, “exist in this house without commentary today. I’m too hot, I’m tired, my head’s pounding, and every time I move, I get reviewed like I’m on some sort of reality show.”
Betsy blinked a little shocked at whatever was going on with The Carla Connor. “I wasn’t..”
“And I know you’re a teenager,” Carla went on words spilling now, no time to even take a breath, “and I know sarcasm is basically your second language, but I am at the end of my rope.”
The room went very still, David next door was probably questioning the change in the weather.
Lisa felt it, that shift, that moment where something small had turned heavy and something was going snap, maybe a hair tie.. she hoped it was a hair tie.
“Carla,” The older blonde said carefully, but it was too late.. it was already boiling.
“For once.” Carla snapped, turning fully on Betsy “could you just not?”
Silence.
Betsy’s face fell not dramatically, not angrily. Just quietly, it was like she was 7 again.
Lisa felt it like a punch to the chest, stopping herself from hissing at the tension in the Connor-Swains living room.
“Right” Lisa said firmly almost like she was making an arrest “Betsy, bedroom. Five minutes.”
“But..” Betsy mumbled.
“Now.” Lisa retreated.
Betsy got up without another word and disappeared down the hallway, door closing with a soft but very deliberately loud click.
Carla stood there, breathing hard.
The anger drained from her face almost immediately, replaced by something Lisa recognised too well regret, shame.
“That was..” Carla started, not sure what she was actually trying to say.
Lisa held up a hand, needing a minute to process a hormonal Carla Connor snapping at her daughter “Give it a minute.”
Carla nodded, rubbing at her temples, apologetic written all over her face. “I didn’t mean too.”
“I know,” Lisa said gently, “But it landed hurt her a little maybe.”
Carla sank onto the sofa, suddenly looking exhausted, smaller, she pressed her palms into her eyes, trying to seem invisible.
“I hate this,” she said quietly. “I don’t feel like myself, I don’t like it.” She mumbled.
Lisa sat beside her, not touching yet. “You don’t have to hate yourself for struggling.” She nodded softly.
Carla huffed a laugh that had no humour in it just full of regret. “I just snapped at ou-“ she paused, “your kid.”
“Yes our” Lisa said honestly. “You did.”
Carla winced. “Lovely.”
“But,” Lisa added, “you can apologise that is what matters.”
Carla nodded immediately. “I will, I swear.”
They waited, silence radiating through their newly bought house.
After a few minutes, Carla stood and walked up the stairs slowly, like someone approaching a wild animal, she kinda was, teenagers were unpredictable like wild animals.
Lisa stayed where she was, this was theirs to sort and she knew they would sort it out, if Betsy could cause Carla a head injury and Carla could forgive her, Betsy could forgive some hormonal rage.
Carla knocked softly. “Betsy chicken?”
No answer.
She knocked again. “I messed up..” she mumbled.
A pause. Then a small “I know.” Faded through the door.
Carla swallowed the frog in her throat that was suddenly too dry, “Can I come in?”
Another pause. The door opened a crack
Betsy went back to her bed, sat on it, arms crossed, expression guarded.
“I shouldn’t have shouted,” Carla said, voice steady but quiet. “You didn’t deserve that.”
Betsy shrugged “You’re stressed.. hormonal innit.”
“That’s not an excuse” Carla replied, “It’s a reason and reasons don’t make it okay.”
Betsy looked at her properly now, phone somewhere on her cute pink bowed duvet cover.
“I get annoying” Betsy said. “But you looked… really mad at me. At everything.”
Carla nodded understanding where she was coming from. “I was! But not at you, at everything..? and I took it out on you. Which isn’t okay.”
Betsy hesitated, looking suddenly 13 instead of 17 with her jellycat bunny near her knee, “Mum says when people apologise properly you should listen.”
Carla smiled faintly. “Your mum is very wise ain’t she.” She joked slightly.
Betsy uncrossed her arms. “I’ll try to… not poke the bear” her smile finally making a breakthrough.
Carla chuckled softly “And I’ll try not to be a bear.”
They shared a small smile, forgiveness.
Back in the living room, Lisa watched Carla return, shoulders lighter, seemed softer.
“She okay?” Lisa asked trying not to pry.
“She’s better than okay” Carla winked. “She’s gracious and definitely your daughter” she chuckled.
Lisa squeezed her hand. “So are you.. But not my daughter of course.” Lisa chuckled lightly.
Carla leaned into her, finally letting herself be held, feel loved. “Thank you for stepping in.”
“That’s my job,” Lisa said quietly.
“No..” Carla replied “That’s why I love you.”
Lisa smiled, resting her chin against Carla’s head.
Chaotic days happened, Snapping happened, but so did apologies, and understanding and choosing to do better the next time, and for Lisa Swain, that was what made it a family.