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The speech cards were spread across the over-bed table in uneven rows, their laminated edges catching beneath the pale wash of hospital lighting. They contained simple pictures with simple words, things like book, house, bed, flower, sky, sun… nothing about any of it felt simple.
Carla sat tucked close beside Betsy’s bed, one tanned hand resting lightly around the girl’s pale wrist while the other moved slowly through her hair. Her hair had become tangled at the back from so many hours against the pillow so earlier Carla had brushed it with painstaking care, working out every knot as gently as she could while Betsy lay still against her. She had apologised with each stroke when it caught slightly as though she had been hurting her, even though Betsy hadn’t reacted in pain.
Her fingers now followed the same soothing path again and again through detangled brunette strands, from Betsy’s temple to the crown of her head, careful not to disturb the leads still fixed against her arms.
Everyone kept telling Carla she was doing a good job. The doctors. The nurses. Lisa, every time Carla forced her to go home for a few hours or dragged her away long enough to shower. Ryan, when he brought coffee Carla forgot to drink. Roy, with his quiet hand against her shoulder.
‘You’re doing so well with this’ , ‘you’re keeping her calm’, ‘she trusts you’.
Carla did not feel as though she was doing well.
She felt as though she was coming apart in places nobody could see. She stayed a solid force for Lisa, because Lisa looked like she might crumble into dust at any second, as exhausted and wrung out as she was. Carla had stood beside her through every update, every scan, every careful explanation about damage and recovery and uncertainty, she had held Lisa upright when her knees buckled. She had taken the consultant’s words and repeated them later in smaller, gentler pieces when Lisa had been too frightened to absorb them the first time.
She had stayed strong for Betsy because Betsy watched their faces now, searched them constantly for fear. So Carla smiled even when her chest felt caved in. She made jokes when Betsy’s mouth pulled down with frustration, she praised every small movement, every sound, every attempt, even when Betsy’s frustration became anger and she knocked the things away or turned her face into the pillow and cried.
Carla only broke when she was alone. In the shower, with the water running so nobody could hear her. In the hospital toilets, bent over the sink with both hands clamped across her mouth. Once, in the car park, she had barely made it behind the steering wheel before the first sob tore out of her. She had folded over it, forehead against the wheel, crying until she could not breathe, because Betsy was eighteen and bright and funny and infuriating, and she should have been rolling her eyes at them both, sneaking about with Dylan and complaining about Carla moaning at her over jam in the butter.
She shouldn’t have been learning how to speak again.
Carla’s hand stilled briefly in Betsy’s hair before refocusing on keeping Betsy positive, “Shall we try another one, sweetheart?”
Betsy’s eyes shifted towards the cards. Her hand moved first, slow and unsteady. The other remained curled closer to her body, stubbornly refusing to cooperate in the way she wanted it to. Carla pretended not to notice the fury that flashed across Betsy’s face.
“You’ve got it darlin’”, she encouraged softly. “No rush. We’ve got all day.”
Betsy’s fingers dragged awkwardly over the cards. She pushed one aside by accident, then another. Her breathing became louder, harsher with effort. Carla leaned closer, keeping her voice warm. “You’re all right Bets. Take your time.”
Betsy made a sound low in her throat.
“I know, baby. I know it’s hard.”
The word baby slipped out often now, a completely different context and meaning to when she used the term with her wife.
Carla hadn’t planned on using it as often as she did, although she had used it haphazardly in the past. She had never consciously decided Betsy belonged to her in that way. It had happened slowly, then all at once. Somewhere between freshco meal deals and arguments over curfews, between late-night lifts and hair held back over toilets, between Betsy shouting that Carla wasn’t her mum and then crawling into her arms when the world frightened her.
Carla loved her. Completely.
Not just as her wifes daughter.
Not almost like her own.
As her own.
Betsy tapped clumsily at one of the cards, this one showed a woman and child with the word MUM.
Carla’s squeezed her wrist slightly in support, she tried her best but obviously Betsy wanted Lisa instead. “Your mum’s still at work, darling,” she said, smoothing Betsy’s hair back from her forehead again. “But she’ll be here as soon as her shift’s done. She’ll probably break every speed limit between the station and here to get back to you as quickly as she can.”
Betsy frowned. Her mouth moved slowly, muscles fighting to shape what her mind already knew.
“Luh…”
Carla leaned in as Betsy’s brow furrowed with concentration. “Luffff… mum.”
Carla’s heart twisted. “Oh, sweetheart.” She blinked hard and smiled, though it trembled at the edges. “She loves you too. Your mum loves you more than anything in this world.”
Betsy shook her head. The movement was small and uneven, but determined. “Nnnnooooo.”
Carla paused as Betsy’s fingers curled against the blanket. Frustration flooded her face so quickly that Carla felt panic rise inside her.
“All right,” Carla said immediately. “It’s all right. I’ve misunderstood.”
“Muuuum.”
“I know.” Carla squeezed her hand. “I know you want your mum.”
“Nnnnoooooo. OuirErrrr…. Muuuum.”
The word came out stretched and broken, dragged through lips that would not obey her. Betsy struck her hand against the mattress, once, then again, anger building behind her eyes. Carla’s mind raced. Becky. It had to be Becky. No matter Carlas feelings, she was Betsy’s other mum. Perhaps she wanted to see her. Perhaps some part of her still needed her birth mother, no matter what she had done, the harm she had caused.
Carla swallowed the ache that came with potentially having to see that woman again. “Okay,” she said softly. “We can try.”
Betsy just stared at her.
“I can get in touch with the prison.” Carla kept stroking her hair, kept her voice steady despite the sudden pressure behind her eyes. “I can speak to them and see if they’ll make an exception in the circumstances to bring her. They might let Becky visit here if the doctors agree it would help your recovery.”
Betsy made an anguished noise. Carla hurried on, desperate to ease it, to make things easier, to support her where she could.
“Or we can ask the doctors whether you can be taken there to see her when you’re a bit stronger. Just for a visit. I’ll come with you, I’d take you myself, sweetheart, if your mum doesn’t want to You wouldn’t have to do any of it alone.”
Betsy’s face crumpled. “Nnnno!”
Her hand flew out. The movement was badly controlled, more of a swing than a deliberate strike, but her palm caught Carla against the wrist. It barely hurt. What devastated Carla was the horror that appeared instantly in Betsy’s eyes.
Betsy stared at the place she had hit her as though she had done something unforgivable.
“No, no.” Carla caught her hand gently before she could pull it away. “You haven’t hurt me. Don’t you dare worry about that.”
Tears slipped from the corners of Betsy’s eyes.
“Mum,” she forced out again.
Carla nodded quickly. “I understand. I get it, I do, I’ll see what I can do okay, I promise you I will try my best to make something happen.”
Betsy shook her head so hard her body shifted against the pillows. “Nnnno. No. Muuuum.”
Her eyes fixed on Carla’s. Betsy lifted their joined hands and pressed them clumsily against Carla’s chest.
“Luffff…” Her mouth trembled. Saliva gathered at the corner of her lips and Carla wiped it away without hesitation, not acknowledging it beyond resolving it, without breaking eye contact.
“Luffff… ouuuu…” Carla stopped breathing. Betsy’s gaze stayed locked onto hers, fierce beneath the tears. “Mum.”
Something inside Carla broke open. Every ounce of strength she had forced into place over the past weeks simply gave way.
“Oh,” Carla choked. She covered her mouth, but the sob escaped anyway. It tore through her chest, raw and startled, and for the first time she could not hide it quickly enough. “You mean me?”
Betsy gave the smallest nod. Carla’s face folded.
She bent over Betsy’s hand, pressing it against her lips as tears streamed freely down her cheeks. She kissed her fingers once, twice, again and again, unable to stop.
“Oh, my girl.” Her voice cracked completely. “My beautiful gorgeous girl. I love you too.”
Betsy began to cry too, breath hitching unevenly, her face twisting with the effort of emotions she couldn’t express the way she once had. Carla moved immediately, she lowered herself onto the edge of the bed and gathered Betsy into her arms as carefully as she could, mindful of every line and wire, supporting her weakened side as she pulled her against her chest.
Betsy’s head fell heavily beneath Carla’s chin as Carla held her. She held her as though she could press every broken pathway back together through sheer love. As though she could shelter her from every terrible thing that had already happened. As though the strength of her arms could become Betsy’s when Betsy’s own body failed her.
“I love you,” Carla sobbed into her hair. “I love you so, so much.”
Betsy made a trembling sound against her chest.
“You never have to struggle to tell me that, sweetheart. Never.” Carla’s tears soaked into Betsy’s hair. “I know. I know you love me.”
Her hand spread protectively over the back of Betsy’s head.
“And I’m honoured to be one of your mums,” she whispered, the words almost collapsing beneath the weight of them. “I’ll be your mum for as long as you’ll have me. For the rest of my life. Nothing could ever make me stop loving you.”
Betsy’s fingers twitched against Carla’s shirt, struggling for purchase until they finally caught in the fabric. Carla felt the weak pull and cried harder. She rocked her gently, even though Betsy was far too old to be rocked, even though there were nurses beyond the door and monitors sounding steadily around them.
“You’re so loved. Mine,” Carla said. “Do you hear me? Mine and your mum’s. Our girl. It’s us three against the world innit, us three and Rye.”
Betsy pressed her face closer into her neck. “Luffff… mum,” she breathed.
Carla closed her eyes. This time, she understood.
“I love you too, baby,” she whispered, holding her tighter.
Lisa arrived an a few hours later, still in the same clothes she had worn to work that morning, her coat unfastened, her hair had begun to come loose from its tie, strands clinging to her temples, and exhaustion sat heavily across her face. She had been counting down the final hour of her shift in minutes. Then seconds.
She had checked her phone so many times that Kit had eventually taken one look at her and told her to go, promising he would finish the paperwork and deal with anything that came in before the night team took over. Lisa had protested automatically, guilt and duty tangled together, but she had already been reaching for her coat (she also knew that really he was just hung up on being removed from the Silverton murder and was hoping to find a way back in).
The corridor outside Betsy’s room was quiet.
Visiting hours were technically over, but the doctors and nurses were turning a blind eye to the comings and goings of Betsy’s room, allowing them to rotate so there was mostly always someone present. They knew she would have slept in the chair beside Betsy every night if Carla had not forced her home occasionally and if they didn’t allow her in the room she’d just sot outside until visiting hours commenced.
One of the nurses at the desk looked up as Lisa approached.
“They’re both asleep,” she said softly, smiling in a way that made something loosen inside Lisa’s chest. “They’ve been settled for about an hour.”
Lisa nodded, breath catching. “How’s she been?”
“Tired. A little frustrated earlier, but your wife managed to calm her down.” The nurse’s smile deepened. “You might want to go in quietly.”
Lisa murmured her thanks and pushed the door open, the room was dim except for the low lamp and the soft green glow of the monitors. Their steady rhythm filled the silence, accompanied by the distant sounds of the ward beyond the walls.
Lisa stepped inside, then stopped. Carla was curled awkwardly on the narrow hospital bed beside Betsy, she’d somehow managed to fit herself into the small space to the side without disturbing any of the wires or lines. She lay partly on her side, one arm wrapped securely around Betsy’s shoulders, the other hand resting protectively over her forearm. Betsy was tucked against her chest, her head beneath Carla’s chin, her face soft with sleep.
Carla’s cheek rested against Betsy’s hair. There were dried tear tracks on her face. Lisa noticed them immediately. She saw the slight puffiness around Carla’s eyes, the patch where her tears had dried into Betsy’s hair, the way her fingers remained curled into the fabric of Betsy’s pjs even in sleep, as though some part of her was still afraid to let go.
Lisa’s hand rose to her mouth. For a moment, she simply stood there and looked at them.
Her daughter and her wife. Her whole life contained on one impossibly small hospital bed.
A sharp ache spread beneath her ribs. Carla had told her she was fine when Lisa had called on her break. She had proudly declared Betsy was managing the cards well, she had even made a joke about the old man next door making eyes at her, but Lisa had heard the tiredness in her voice,as usual, Carla had brushed it away with an, ‘I’m all right, babe. Concentrate on work. We’re fine.’
She knew Carla wasn’t fine, Carla had simply once again put herself bottom of the pile, putting her and Betsy first until she was running on nothing but fumes and pure stubbornness.
Lisa crossed the room slowly and set her bag down without making a sound, pulling the chair closer but not immediately sitting, instead, she stood beside the bed and looked down at her wife’s gorgeous face.
There were shadows beneath her eyes that no amount of sleep seemed able to erase. She looked fragile in a way Carla hated anyone noticing, all the sharp edges softened by exhaustion. Lisa reached down and moved a strand of hair from her cheek. The movement didn’t wake her, she just sighed quietly and drew Betsy a fraction closer.
The movement almost undid Lisa completely.
She bent and pressed her lips against Carla’s temple. “Thank you, I love you,” she whispered.
Betsy however, did stir. Lisa straightened immediately as her eyelids fluttered, her face tightening with confusion before her eyes focused slowly on Lisa. The fear faded almost at once.
“Mum,” she breathed. The word was blurred, heavy, but Lisa knew it instantly.
“Hi, sunshine.” Lisa crouched beside the bed, keeping her voice low. “I’m here.”
Betsy blinked at her, then glanced down at Carla. Her mouth twitched as though she was trying to smile. Carla remained deeply asleep, her face half hidden against Betsy’s hair. Lisa reached for Betsy’s hand. “How are you feeling?”
Betsy’s fingers shifted against hers. Her grip was weak and uneven, but deliberate.
“Tih… tihred.”
“Tired?” Lisa asked.
Betsy nodded.
“I know, love.” Lisa stroked her thumb over Betsy’s knuckles. “You go back to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”
Betsy shook her head. Her expression changed. A spark of urgency appeared in her eyes. She lifted her hand and pointed clumsily towards Carla.
Lisa followed the movement. “Carla?”
Betsy nodded quickly.
“Is something wrong?”
Another head shake. Betsy drew in a breath and tried to speak. “Cah… Cahla…”
Lisa leaned closer. “Carla.”
“Mmm.” Betsy frowned, gathering herself. Her lips moved several times before any sound emerged.
“Mum.”
Lisa smiled softly. “Yes, darling. I’m here, Carla’s here, we’re both here and we love you, very much.”
Betsy’s frustration appeared immediately. “Nnno.”
“All right.” Lisa tightened her hand gently around hers. “Take your time.”
Betsy looked towards the table, now pushed away from the bed to the side. The speech cards were still scattered across it, some overlapping. She lifted her hand towards them, but the movement faltered halfway.
Lisa reached for the table. “Show me.”
Betsy’s fingers hovered, trembling with effort.
She touched the card marked LOVE. Then MUM.
Lisa’s heart gave a painful jolt. “You love Mum?” she asked, assuming Betsy meant her.
Betsy shook her head fiercely. “Mmmmmm, Cahll, mmmm.”
Her gaze moved towards Carla. Lisa looked between them.
“You told Carla that you love me?”
Betsy’s face crumpled further with frustration.
“Nnnooo.” She slapped her hand weakly against the mattress. “Cah-la. Mum.”
Lisa paled, jumping to the same conclusion Carla initially had. “What? Darling, Becky, you want Becky?”
Betsy swallowed, her jaw trembling with the effort of forcing the words through. “Noooo! I… cahl… Cah-la…” She pointed to the card again. “Mum.”
Lisa stared at her. Betsy’s eyes filled with tears, but she kept going. “Lufffff… mum.”
Her hand moved towards Carla. Then she pointed to her own chest. Lisa’s lips parted in dawning understanding. “You called Carla mum?”
Betsy nodded. The movement was small, but certain. Lisa’s breath caught so sharply it sounded almost like a gasp. “Oh.”
Betsy watched her closely, then began trying to explain more. “Cahla…” Her mouth pulled sideways around the name. “Cah-la… waurtuuee.” Realising she was getting her words mixed she tried again, “wettt, cryy.”
Lisa’s eyes moved immediately to the tear tracks dried across Carla’s face. “She cried?”
Betsy nodded.
“Cry… hug.” Her hand curled into the front of Carla’s shirt, demonstrating. Lisa covered her mouth. Betsy continued, determined now despite the strain. “Cry… sleep.”
Lisa looked down at Carla again. She understood.
Carla had cried while holding her. She had cried until exhaustion had carried her under, still wrapped around Betsy as though she could not bear to leave even an inch of distance between them. Lisa made a broken sound. It escaped before she could stop it. “Oh, Bets.”
Tears flooded her eyes so quickly that her vision blurred. She lowered her forehead to Betsy’s hand and pressed her lips against her knuckles. “You called her mum.”
Betsy nodded again, patting Carla gently with her ‘good’ hand. “Luff… mum,” she repeated.
Lisa’s shoulders shook. She tried to keep quiet for Carla’s sake, but the emotion was too big. It rose from somewhere deep and bruised inside her, carrying grief and love and relief together until she could no longer separate one from another. She remembered the time at the beginning when she worried Betsy would never truly accept Carla. Even after the arguments had softened. Even after the first tentative hugs, the shared jokes, the late-night conversations Lisa sometimes overheard from the hallway. Betsy had loved Carla long before she had known how to admit it, but there had always been a wall around the word mum.
It had belonged to Lisa, and to Becky, once. It had carried too much history. Too much betrayal. Too much pain. And now, after everything, Betsy had chosen it for Carla.
Lisa lifted her head and looked at her daughter through tears. “She loves you so much,” she whispered. “You know that, don’t you?”
Betsy’s own tears slipped into her hair. “Mmm.”
“She loves you exactly the same as if you were hers from the very beginning.” Lisa’s voice cracked. “Probably more fiercely, because Carla doesn’t know how to do anything by halves.”
A faint sound came from Carla. Lisa froze. Carla shifted against the pillow, brows drawing together before her eyes opened slowly. For several seconds, she looked disoriented. Then she saw Lisa crouched beside the bed, saw the tears on her face, and alarm sharpened her expression.
“What is it?” Carla whispered hoarsely, moving to sit abruptly in a panic. “What’s happened? Bets!”
“Nothing.” Lisa shook her head quickly. “Nothing darling, Bets is fine.”
Carla pushed herself up slightly, careful not to dislodge Betsy. “Then why are you crying?”
Lisa tried to answer, but another sob caught in her throat. Betsy looked at Carla.
“Mum,” she said.
Carla stopped panicking. The colour changed in her face, looking overwhelmed and bashful. Lisa watched her eyes fill instantly. “She told me,” Lisa managed. “She told me what happened.”
Carla looked down, suddenly embarrassed by the evidence of her own breakdown. Her hand lifted as though she might wipe at her face, but Lisa caught it.
“She said you cried yourself to sleep holding her.”
“I didn’t mean to.” Carla’s voice broke, pulling Betsy close again, the younger woman letting out a contented sigh as she snuggled back in. “I just…”
Lisa leaned forward and kissed her. It was not a graceful kiss. Their cheeks were wet, as Lisa held her face between both hands and kissed her soundly. When she pulled back, their foreheads rested together.
“Don’t apologise,” Lisa whispered. “Not for loving her. For being so good to us.”
Carla closed her eyes. “I do love her.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry though…” Carla’s breath shook. “I know I’m not supposed to make it about me. I know she’s been through something horrific, and all that matters is getting her better, but when she said it…”
Her face folded again. Lisa immediately wrapped an arm around her, leaning carefully across the bed so she could hold them both.
“I just love you both so much,” Carla whispered.
Lisa pulled back just enough to look at her. “We love you. And you are her mum.”
Carla stared at her. “She is,” Lisa repeated, firmer despite her tears. “She’s your daughter. She decided that a long time ago, even when she was too stubborn to say it.”
Betsy made an indignant noise. Lisa laughed through her tears. “You are stubborn.”
Betsy’s mouth twitched. Carla gave a wet, broken laugh and lowered her face into Betsy’s hair again.
“I don’t want to take anything away from you,” she whispered to Lisa. “Or from what she has with Becky, however complicated that is.”
“You haven’t.” Lisa stroked Carla’s cheek. “Love doesn’t work like that.”
Carla’s eyes searched hers. “She can have more than one mum,” Lisa said. “She can have all the love we can give her.”
Betsy looked between them. Then, slowly, she lifted her hand and pressed it against Carla’s chest again. “Mum.”
Carla’s breath hitched. Betsy shifted her gaze towards Lisa. “Mum.”
Lisa began crying all over again.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Betsy’s expression softened, pleased with herself now that they both understood. “Two,” she said, the word thick but recognisable.
Lisa let out a laugh that collapsed into a sob. “Yes.” She leaned over and kissed Betsy’s forehead. “Two mums.”
Carla’s hand covered Betsy’s. “Two mums who love you more than anything,” she whispered.
Lisa climbed carefully onto the edge of the bed, ignoring the fact there was barely enough room. She fitted herself around them as best she could, one arm around Carla and the other resting across Betsy’s waist. For a while, none of them spoke. Betsy’s breathing gradually evened out again. Carla rested her head against Lisa’s shoulder, utterly spent, and Lisa pressed her cheek to the top of Carla’s head.
The monitors continued their soft, steady rhythm.Betsy’s fingers remained tangled in Carla’s shirt. Carla’s hand stayed wrapped around hers and Lisa held them both, tears slipping silently down her face, devastated by what had brought them there and overwhelmed by the love that remained.
“Two mums,” Betsy murmured again, already drifting back towards sleep.
Lisa kissed her hair. “That’s right, darling.”
Carla closed her eyes. This time, when she began to cry, she did not turn away or try to hide it.
Lisa only held her more tightly.
“Our girl,” Carla whispered.
Lisa’s voice broke against her temple. “Our girl.”