Chapter Text
Carla was having a bad day. A bad few days, actually. A bad few months.
A member of staff at her factory had poisoned her and stolen her money. The police had decided to do sweet FA about that. The bloke was dead, so who cared about a missing £250 grand. Spare change, wasn't it? Inconsequential. DS Swain could look as apologetic as she liked but it didn't change the facts. The police weren't interested in Stephen Reid's crimes anymore because Stephen Reid was dead.
Carla's husband had killed him. Mown him down with a car. Carla couldn't work out if she was pleased Stephen was gone, or angry he wouldn't pay for his crimes. She was certainly angry she wouldn't be getting her money back.
And now Peter was gone. The guilt of killing a man was too much to bear. Carla had bought him the one-way ticket herself. It had nearly broken her. Peter was all she'd known for a long time. He was a comfort blanket. Although, if she was being brutally honest, that's all he'd become in the end. They rarely spent any meaningful time together. Rarely went on dates. They hadn't had sex for months. He had become more like a companion and, at times, even his company wasn't that appealing.
She still missed him.
It had only been three days, but she missed him. The bed felt too big. It felt empty.
The flat didn't feel empty.
Almost as soon as Peter had got on the tram, Carla had found herself with a new problem. A nephew she didn't know she had. He'd taken over the flat, behaving like an eight year old and leaving detritus in his wake. And possibly the worst bit about it was the fact that he'd driven Simon out. The flat had been her stepson's home and now he had moved back in with him mum. Just like that. The piece of Peter that Carla had left was gone. Her role of stepmother was finished. A curtain had been drawn over it. She was back to being single, childless, washed-up Carla.
It was almost too much to bear.
Arriving home from work this evening to find takeaway packages all over her living room, Carla had exploded at Bobby, telling him he had a week to sort his act out or he'd be out on his ear. She meant it. In the meantime, she'd needed an escape.
That's how she'd found herself in this bar. Alone. She needed some space from the carnage that was her life. A few gins and an escape from the same four walls. In a place where no one knew her. Where no one was giving her pitying looks, as they tried to remember how many failed marriages she'd had. 5? 6? Carla couldn't blame people for losing track. No, tonight was just for herself. And, if a warm-blooded man wanted to buy her a few drinks, she wouldn't say no. No sex, though. She definitely wasn't in the mood for a one-night stand.
Leaning against the bar, she tried to get the barman's attention. It used to be far easier when she was younger. After standing there for a few minutes, she was starting to get fed up with being overlooked in favour of someone else who'd just arrived. She felt invisible.
The barman approached again. This time, Carla wasnt going to let herself be passed over. Leaning over a bit further, she desperately tried to catch his eye.
"Same again, love?" He spoke to someone on Carla's right, his eyes passing over her like she wasn't even there.
"Excuse me, but -"
"Carla!"
Carla's head whipped round to see DS Swain standing next to her, the barman looking at her expectantly.
"Sorry, yes. Same again, thanks." DS Swain spoke to the barman before turning to Carla. "Can I...what are you drinking?"
"Don't worry, I can get my own. Doesn't really feel appropriate, does it."
The blonde frowned as the barman turned away, filling a glass with some kind of spiced rum and coke. Her cheeks had reddened slightly.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."
"You didn't. But it was only the other week you were arresting my husband for murder, so..." Carla shrugged. "Doesn't feel all that appropriate for you to be buying me a drink."
"Right." The detective shrugged, turning to face the bar again. "Enjoy your night, then."
The barman reappeared and, after taking payment from the other woman, he finally served Carla.
She felt a bit bad. She knew she'd been rude to DS Swain. None of what had happened had really been her fault. Peter had killed Stephen. It obviously needed to be investigated properly. Carla could see that. And whilst she was still smarting over the news that her £250 grand was a thing of the past, she knew it wasn't the fault of this one woman that it wouldn't be getting looked into. The powers that be had deigned it too insignificant to investigate.
Nevertheless, Carla hadn't been looking for company tonight. Not this sort of company, anyway. Maybe the sort that flattered. That flirted a bit. That made Carla feel vaguely attractive. Less washed-up. Someone she could make small talk with. Someone who might buy her a drink.
DS Swain had offered to buy her a drink. That was different, though.
Lost in her thoughts, Carla slowly made her way through her G&T. Should she just have gone to the Rovers? Should she just have gone to bed? Did she actually want to be stood in a sweaty pub, halfway between Christmas and New Year, with a whole load of strangers and the local bobby.
Not Bobby. Definitely not him. She'd rather have a drink with the detective than him.
Turning slightly, she looked to see if the other woman was still there. She was. Who was she with? Was she also drinking alone? It seemed odd. Somewhat opposed to the image she presented professionally. For one thing, Carla would have had her down as someone with a small group of select friends she socialised with. Maybe old school friends. Friends from university. People she'd known a long time. And, for another thing, Carla would never have pictured her in a place like this. Noisy. People jostling around. Nowhere to sit. No, the image of the detective stood there, hair down, jeans on, seemed far removed from what Carla had pictured her personal life to look like.
"Can I help you?"
Carla was jolted from her thoughts by the voice of the woman she'd been so carefully analysing. She startled.
"Sorry?"
"You're staring at me like a zoo exhibit. Is it really that strange to see me outwith the confines of my professional life?"
Carla laughed nervously, aware she'd been caught out. "Actually yes."
There was a beat of silence. They stared each other, a bit unsure of what to say.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to stare. But yeah, it suppose it is a bit weird, seeing you here in your jeans, drinking rum."
"I am allowed to be off duty, you know. I don't live at the station."
"I know that." Carla snapped. Why was this woman getting under her skin?
They went back to drinking their respective drinks. Carla finished the last of her gin, sighing at the realisation she was going to have to try and get the barman's attention again.
Once again, she spent a while trying to get served. Once again, the man walked past her without even noticing her.
"Can I get another rum and coke?"
Carla turned to see the blonde speaking to the barman again.
"Are you kidding me?" She muttered.
The detective turned and grinned at her. "Do you want to revisit that offer of a drink?"
Carla looked at her carefully. She couldn't decide if her grin was one of comradery or whether she was mocking her.
"I can get my own."
The detective laughed, no doubt at the petulant expression on Carla's face.
"You're so stubborn, do you know that?"
The barman returned, putting the rum and coke down and holding the card machine. "Anything else?"
The blonde looked at Carla expectantly. With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, Carla relented.
"I'll have a G&T please. Slimline, thanks."
"See." The detective smirked. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Carla shook her head, giving the other woman a small smile. "I'm sorry. I've been really rude. Can we start again?"
Tapping her card on the machine, the detective sipped her drink slowly. "Ok."
The resulting silence was awkward. Part of Carla was regretting getting another drink. She wanted to run away home, close her bedroom door and pull the duvet over her head. But she was here now. She couldn't leave without drinking her drink. Not when she hadn't even paid for it.
The detective moved slightly closer and stuck out her hand. "Lisa."
It was only as she was shaking her hand that Carla realised she hadn't known her name. It felt nice. Weird, but nice. It was strange to see the woman behind the job. She seemed different, but Carla found her intriguing.
"Are you on your own?"
It was a daft question. Carla had been there for half an hour and there'd been no sign of anyone with Lisa. Other than Carla and the barman, she'd not spoken to anyone.
"Yep. Apparently I'm not fun enough for my colleagues."
"What?"
Lisa paused, taking a big drink. "I never normally go on nights out with my colleagues. They're rowdy. I have...responsibilities. Frankly, I can't be arsed. But tonight was someone's leaving do, and it was someone I liked, so I thought I'd better show face."
"And...?"
"And...they all made a massive song and dance of the fact I was there. Took the piss. Said they thought I spent my evenings doing overtime and watching crime documentaries." Lisa rolled her eyes. "I felt like a massive prat."
Carla frowned. "They sound like dickheads!"
Lisa laughed, turning to face Carla. "Thanks."
"No, really. How can they expect you to come out with them if they're gonna take the piss out of you when you do?"
Carla felt a bit sorry for her. She seemed nice enough.
"So here I am. Drinking on my own. What's your excuse?"
"A random nephew that I didn't know about turned up a couple of days ago. He's turned my flat into a hovel. Completely taken over. He's like a weed. Like...what's that book?"
Lisa raised an eyebrow. "Day of the Triffids?"
"Aye, that's the one."
"So where's he sprung from?"
"Apparently he's my brother's kid."
"And why is he staying with you?"
"That..." Carla shook her drink in Lisa's direction. "Is the million dollar question. He won't be there much longer unless he changes his ways, let me tell you."
"Can he not stay with your brother?"
"Nope. Dearest Rob is living it up at His Majesty's Pleasure."
"Oh." Lisa's eyebrows raised, but she said nothing further.
"So Bobby has taken over my flat and I'm here, drinking on my own."
"Not totally on your own." Lisa shrugged.
"It seems not. Apparently the only way I can get a drink is through you. That barman looks right through me. What's your trick?"
"God knows. It's not like I'm flirting with him or anything." Lisa looked mildly disgusted.
Carla laughed. "I'd love to see that. The local detective getting drunk and flirty with the barman."
"I can assure you, it's a sight you'll never see. However drunk I might get."
She was interesting, Carla mused. She could potentially be good company, even if this all felt a bit weird. There was still a bit of a guarded feel to their conversation. It wasn't lost on either of them that their relationship thus far had been strained, and usually involved Lisa arresting Carla's nearest and dearest.
"Well...thanks anyway." Carla held up her glass.
Lisa tapped it with her own, her eyes burning into Carla's. She had nice eyes. Pale. Carla had never noticed them before. Had never had reason to, she supposed.
Silently drinking their drinks, Carla felt the tension building again. She just had no idea what to say to this woman. She knew nothing about her and she wasn't exactly giving off relaxed vibes. Although, to give her some credit, she'd told Carla the story about her work colleagues. She'd laid herself vulnerable in that sense. It seemed a shame that they viewed her like that. She seemed like she could be fun, once she got going.
Desperate to break the tension, Carla scrabbled for something to say.
"Peter's gone." It came out far more abruptly than she'd intended.
"Gone? Where?"
"Travelling. On a boat."
Lisa screwed up her eyebrows in confusion. "Why?"
"He wasn't happy." Carla said simply. It was the truth. She'd had to let him go.
"How long's he going for? You didn't fancy going too?"
"What? God no!" Carla shook her head. "We've...er...we've called it a day."
"Oh!" Lisa leant closer, her fingers briefly touching Carla's arm. "I'm sorry. That's...er...how are you feeling?"
"Well, I'm stood in a bar, feeling completely invisible, so I'd say I'm doing great, thanks. I could've been stood here all night and no one would've noticed me."
"I noticed you."
Carla laughed. "Not really the same, is it. I wanted someone to flirt with me a bit. Buy me a drink."
"I bought you a drink." Lisa was so deadpan, Carla couldn't really tell if she was joking.
"Yeah, but...you're not gonna stand here and flirt with me all night, are you?" Even the idea of it was ludicrous.
"Maybe if I've had enough to drink!" Lisa replied calmly.
Carla laughed. "Oh cheers! I'm that bad, am I?"
Lisa shook her head, looking away with a wry smile. "No."
The whole exchange had been weird. It was the closest they'd come to any banter all evening. It had felt like things were thawing between them but Lisa had shut it down. Brought the conversation to a slightly awkward end.
Carla tapped her nails against her glass, watching as Lisa swirled her own drink absentmindedly, clutching it around the top.
"How are you, really?" Lisa was looking back up at her. "Jokes aside."
"I don't know." Carla replied honestly. "A bit messed up. Things haven't been working for a while. We've drifted along. He always felt he took a backseat to my job at Underworld. I think he felt my business success undermined our relationship."
"Jealousy."
"Maybe." Carla nodded. "Then, everything that happened with Stephen Reid...he obviously never meant to kill him. But he did kill him. And, lord knows, no one is going to miss that mass murderer wandering around, but I didn't want it to end this way. His victims never really got justice. The father and son he killed. That Rufus bloke. Poor Tim, getting locked in his boot."
"And you." Lisa looked at her earnestly. "I'm really sorry for what happened, Carla. I'm sorry you never got justice. That he drugged you and got away with it. That he took all that money from you."
Carla nodded. She might know in her heart that it wasn't all Lisa's fault, but the apology was nice anyway. It felt validating. She'd spent months feeling like no one was listening. Even Peter had bashed around, all heavy handed. And now the bloke was dead and that was that. She resented Peter for that, if she was being brutally honest.
"Thank you." Carla said, sincerely.
"So Peter needed a break from it all?"
"Yeah. He found it really hard, the fact he'd killed a man. He couldn't stop thinking about it. It really affected him."
Lisa nodded, looking down as she swirled her drink around.
"I get that."
"I think it's something you can't really understand unless you've been there. Taking someone's life, you know?"
"I do know. Better than most. I killed someone once." Lisa glanced up fleetingly before looking away. "I killed a man and, for a while, I thought I'd never get over it."