Chapter Text
“Right, I’d better get back to work," Lisa said, pulling her suit jacket over her shoulders and smoothing down the lapels.
Carla had picked up some sandwiches from Roy’s Rolls earlier, so today’s lunch had been a massive improvement on Carla’s usual standard of cooking.
"Ok baby," Carla said, leaning against the kitchen counter with a faint smile. "I need to get moving too, else Betsy will be telling everyone at the factory that the boss is skiving."
Lisa chuckled, stepping into the hallway just as the doorbell rang. "I’ll get it," she called back.
Lisa unlocked the door and pulled it open, a polite smile already forming. "Hel-," she started, but the word died instantly in her throat. The colour drained from her face. She took a ragged, desperate breath, her heel catching on the edge of the doormat as she instinctively stumbled backward into the vestibule.
"Wait, Lisa," a woman’s voice called out from the step. "Please, I just need to speak to you."
Lisa didn’t answer. She scrambled back into the living room, leaving the front door wide open to the street. Carla, who had just slung her handbag over her shoulder, looked up. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of her wife's face.
"Lisa? What’s wrong?"
The world seemed to slow down. Lisa crossed the room with blind, panicked strides, heading straight for Carla. She was shaking violently as she clung to her, burying her face into Carla's neck.
"Make her go away," Lisa whimpered, her voice tight and breathless against Carla’s shoulder. "Just make her leave, please."
"Lisa, please!" the voice called again, closer now, echoing from the open hallway.
"Who the hell is that?" Carla asked. She tried to pull back slightly to make eye contact, to figure out what was happening, but Lisa wouldn't budge. The grip on her jacket was iron-clad. Realising she wasn't going to get a straight answer right now, Carla murmured softly, "Hey, listen to me. I’ll be right back. Just stay here."
Gently but firmly extracting herself from Lisa's grasp, Carla left her by the sofa and strode out toward the front door. Her own chest was tightening now, a cold spike of adrenaline hitting her veins. Her mind went to the worst-case scenario, bringing back memories of the cupboard and the horror of the shipping container.
But when she reached the threshold, she didn't find a corrupt copper. Instead, there was a petite, older woman standing on the doorstep.
She was impeccably dressed in a beige trench coat, tailored white blouse and smart blue trousers, her immaculate white pixie cut sharp and precise.
"Who are you?" Carla asked, her voice dropping into that dangerous, low growl she used when she was fiercely protective.
The woman studied her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. And then Carla saw it. The sharp set of the jaw, the piercing intensity of the green eyes, the slight tilt of the head.
"I’m Caroline," the woman said, looking Carla up and down with cold appraisal. "Lisa’s mother. Well, you’re certainly prettier than the last one. Much more suitable, I must say."
Carla blinked, the casual mention of Becky catching her off guard, though she refused to show it. "Right. Well, I’m Lisa’s wife."
Caroline’s eyebrows rose just a fraction. "And when did this happen?"
"Recently," Carla said curtly, keeping her body language blocked, taking up the space in the doorway.
"I read about what happened to that awful woman in the papers," Caroline said, completely unfazed by Carla's hostility. "I never liked her anyway, from what little I’d seen of her."
Carla didn't know what to make of this woman, but judging by the absolute terror Lisa had just displayed - keeping her at arm's length wasn't just a choice, it was a necessity. It explained a lot, too. The complete absence of any Swain family members at their wedding, a topic Carla had instinctively known never to push.
"What do you actually want?" Carla demanded.
"For Lisa to give me a chance," Caroline said, her voice softening just a fraction, though her posture remained rigid. "Will you speak with her? My sister used to get a few responses from her years ago, but even that dried up. And Betsy seemed to be allowed to write the occasional letter to my other daughter, Kim, but it had been ages. Then Kim finally got a letter back from the girl, with this new address on it. With you in their lives now, I thought... well, I thought this might be the right moment."
For all her composure, Caroline’s green eyes looked strangely desperate.
Carla shook her head, her brain working overtime to process the sudden influx of family history. "Look, you need to leave. Now." She reached out to close the door.
"Wait," Caroline said quickly, reaching forward and catching Carla by the wrist. Before Carla could yank herself away, Caroline stuffed a scrunched-up piece of lined paper into her palm. "Take this. Please. I’ve only ever seen pictures of my granddaughter. Just... tell her I came."
Irritated, Carla snatched her arm back, glancing down at the paper. It was just a phone number scribbled in faded blue ink.
"You need to go," Carla repeated, her voice shaking slightly with residual anger.
The woman gave a tight nod, taking a few steps backward down the path before turning swiftly and disappearing around the corner. Even the way she walked, that brisk, determined stride, was identical to Lisa's.
Carla slammed the door shut, her heart thumping against her ribs.
"She’s gone, Lisa," Carla said, rushing back into the living room.
Lisa was sitting on the floor now, her back pressed hard against the sofa, knees drawn to her chest. Tears streaked down her face. Carla dropped to her knees beside her, wrapping her arms around the shaking woman. As she pulled her close, she heard the metallic clink of Lisa’s handcuffs shifting in her covert rig. The sound was a harsh reminder of how strong her wife usually had to be.
I’m late," Lisa choked out between heavy, ragged sobs. "I’m meant to be at the station. I’ve got paperwork, I've got..."
"Lisa," Carla interrupted gently, pressing a firm kiss to the crown of her head. "Call in sick. You are in no fit state to go anywhere near a police station today."
Lisa leaned forward, burying her face in her hands, letting out a raw, broken sound that tore right through Carla.
"Oh, baby," Carla whispered, pulling her tight against her chest, letting Lisa burrow into her. "Listen to me. I’ll text Sarah, tell her I won't be coming into the factory this afternoon. And when you’re ready, you can make the call to the station. Alright?"
Lisa gave a barely perceptible nod against her shoulder.
Usually, whenever they went anywhere together, Lisa insisted on driving. Carla was always more than happy to sit back, play DJ, and look out the window. But today, Carla wouldn't let her near the keys. Lisa was in a trance, an empty stare fixed ahead, anxiety practically radiating off her.
Carla pulled the car into a quiet car park on the edge of a park and turned off the engine.
"Is this the place you wanted to talk?" she asked softly.
Lisa just nodded, opening the passenger door and stepping out into the cool air without a word. Carla quickly followed, locking the car and jogging a few steps to catch up, reaching down to take Lisa's hand.
An elderly couple walking a dog glanced at them as they passed. Carla felt a brief, familiar flicker of self-consciousness, something she was still trying to get used to after all these years of living her life differently. But she squeezed Lisa's hand tighter.
She looked around at the houses bordering the park. It was a lovely area, tree-lined and middle-class, certainly a world away from where Carla grew up.
They walked through the heavy iron gates, breathing in the damp, crisp air. The autumn leaves were turning a brilliant, fiery orange. Carla found herself wondering what it was with figures from Lisa’s past and parks, but she kept the thought to herself.
They passed a children's play area, past a small brick café that smelled faintly of fried food and cheap coffee, then skirted around a duck pond and a Victorian glasshouse. Lisa kept guiding them toward the furthest, most overgrown boundary of the park.
"It’s really nice here, Lise," Carla offered gently, trying to break the heavy silence.
Suddenly, she felt a sharp tug on her arm. Lisa had stopped dead in her tracks. She was staring fixedly at a dense patch of rhododendron bushes built up against the high brick perimeter wall.
"Lise? What is it?"
"There," Lisa whispered, her voice cracking. She took a few tentative, trembling steps forward.
Carla squinted at the thick foliage. "What am I looking at?"
Without answering, Lisa ducked down, crouching low to slip beneath a hollow gap in the branches, her small frame disappearing completely behind the heavy green leaves.
"Oh, for God's sake," Carla muttered, running a hand through her hair. The things this woman made her do.
Crouching down, Carla shook her head and followed her wife into the undergrowth, weaving through the scratching twigs until the space widened out into a small, hidden dirt clearing shielded from the rest of the park.
Lisa stood there, slightly hunched under the low canopy of branches, using the toe of her boot to clear away some dead leaves on the damp ground. She let out a dry, joyless chuckle.
"I slept here."
Carla froze, her eyes widening. "You what?"
Lisa opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her shoulders hitched once, then again.
"You slept here?" Carla repeated quietly, the words landing like a punch to the stomach.
"For a bit," Lisa said quietly, her voice rising to a strained, high pitch. "When I was a teenager. A few weeks, maybe."
Carla felt a familiar, burning ache in the back of her throat, her own memories of sleeping rough crashing into her, but this was different. This was her proud, brilliant wife. "Why?" she managed to ask, her voice incredibly croaky.
Lisa just shook her head, tears spilling over her eyelashes. "I need to get out of here," she choked out, turning sharply and pushing her way back through the cracking branches.
Back in the safe, warm confines of the car, Carla handed Lisa a flask of coffee she’d grabbed from the house. Outside, the heavens had opened, heavy drops of rain drumming a rhythmic, isolating beat against the windscreen.
Carla swallowed down her own rising sadness, forcing herself to be the anchor Lisa needed right now. She knew what it was like to be out there in the cold, but she had been an adult. The thought of a young girl out here, terrified and alone in the dark, made her blood boil. It was so hard to connect the Lisa of now with that past, yet somehow it made sense.
"I don’t like to think about it," Lisa said suddenly, breaking the long silence. She stared straight ahead at the rain-streaked glass. "They kicked me out. I don’t really remember the exact night... I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t want to, or if my brain’s just blocked the worst of it out."
Carla’s jaw stiffened. She reached across the centre console, taking Lisa’s hand and squeezing it with everything she had. No wonder Lisa had that reaction to her mother.
"I can still see him, though," Lisa whispered, her eyes staring at nothing. "Standing over me in the hallway. Just shouting. Screaming so loud his face went red."
Carla stayed quiet, letting the silence settle between them. She assumed 'him' meant Lisa's father, a man who had barely merited a mention in all the time they’d been together.
"How old were you, Lise?"
"Seventeen... I think. I didn't even get to finish my exams. And I was smart, Carla. I really was."
"Of course you were," Carla said, a tear escaping her eye as she looked out her own side window to hide it. "Did you live near here then?"
"Yeah. Just a couple of streets over."
Carla let out a breath. As a kid, she’d dreamed of escaping to live in a leafy suburb like this. But money didn't guarantee humanity. "Why did they do it? What kind of parents throw a child out onto the street? I don't care what you did."
Lisa shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her gaze dropping to her tightly clasped hands.
"Because," she said, her voice hitching dangerously. "They found out about me. My dad walked into my bedroom and caught me with a girl from school. Jasmine, her name was. It was just a kiss, Carla. We didn't know what we were doing, we were just figuring things out."
Carla felt a heavy lump form in her throat.
"Mum wasn’t happy about it either. I mean, it was the nineties, a different time, but she just sat there and let dad say and do whatever he wanted," Lisa whispered, her voice trembling. "My sister, Kim, she could be horrible back then, but at least she tried to stop him when he got angry."
Lisa took a deep, shuddering breath, her knuckles turning white.
"It didn't matter that I’d been the perfect kid up until then…that they’d loved me. My bag was packed in five minutes. He threw it down the path, and I just remember... him pushing me down. Hard. Right into the front garden. I can still feel the gravel cutting into my knees."
"Lisa," Carla murmured, leaning across the seats to wrap her arms around her wife's shaking frame. "Hey, look at me. You don't have to do this all today. Ssh, I’ve got you."
The dam broke completely, and Lisa wept uncontrollably against Carla's neck, letting decades of buried shame and rejection finally pour out. Carla rubbed slow circles into her back, whispering quiet comforts until Lisa’s breathing finally began to steady.
"I couldn’t even stay at my friends' houses for long," Lisa muttered, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve. "Word got around fast. And Jasmine... she got scared. She made up a story to her parents that I’d cornered her, that I’d forced myself on her. Just to protect herself, I suppose. But it meant nobody else's parents would let me through the door."
Carla glanced back out at the grey, rain-drenched park gates. "So you ended up here."
"Yeah. It was the only place I could think of. I’d try to wash in the school toilets before anyone arrived, but your clothes don't stay clean for long when you're sleeping outside. I was rationing toothpaste, trying to scrape together pennies for sanitary products... eventually, the gossip got too loud, and I just stopped going to school altogether."
Carla shook her head, her heart aching so deeply she felt physically sick. "Can we go home now, please?" Lisa asked, her voice small and completely exhausted. "I'm done."
"Course we can, love," Carla said, starting the engine.
For the next few days, Lisa wasn't right. She put on a brave face and insisted on going into work, claiming the routine was good for her, but Carla couldn't stop worrying. She wondered what Kit was making of her mood, or if he just assumed she was being her usual cynical self.
It left Carla uneasy. She couldn't help but remember the mess Lisa had gotten into months ago, letting her poor mental health cloud her judgment when she’d slammed Brody down in the café and arrested him without proper cause, completely missing the fact that the lad didn't have his medication.
Later that afternoon, sitting alone in the factory office, Carla pulled her handbag toward her and zipped it open. She fished out the small, crumpled piece of lined paper Caroline had given her.
Carla had a terrible habit of interfering where she shouldn’t and getting herself into absolute messes, but looking at the faded phone number, a fierce spark of anger rose in her chest. She’d give that woman a piece of her mind.