Chapter Text
Grey skies and somber clouds.. That was, for the most part, Manchester’s version of Summer. But Carla, instead of turning a light on, or doing anything that might emulate a calming ambiance, she sit there in the fading light with tears that cascaded down the sharp contours of her face and a brain that didn’t know which way was up anymore. Carla had spent the day laughing with her friends. She always had a certain aura that from the outside, would make everyone think she had it all. But underneath the hard exterior and the feigned togetherness, she was trapped in a void where the ladder had long been yanked out from under her.
For years she’d adopted loneliness as a new normal. She wasn’t living, just merely existing. But there were days, like today where she’d come home after wearing a mask of nonchalance and just sit in the dying light and feel nothing but sadness. She’d had a tough life, a lot of that was down to her own doing. The drinking, the drugs, the gambling during her younger years but even after those vices wore thin, she still had days, like today, where she’d feel that familiar emptiness that lingered heavy over her which felt almost identical to how the comedown would feel after a heavy night.
She stared blankly at the ceiling for god knows how long. Maybe she was expecting it to give her some answers or better yet, pull her into a new life altogether, but when she finally blinked and the tears that had pooled in her eyes slid down her cheeks, clearing her vision, she looked around at the same old surroundings and knew there would be no such luck.
No, it was up to her to turn things around but where would she start?
She didn’t have the answer to that. Because depression, for its part, had the ability to quietly distort reality. It’s slow erosion of connection, joy and motivation. It had a way of stealing meaning before it stole energy and so, how could she claw back the energy to fight and what would it mean to do so, if anything at all?
The buzzer rang.
It was loud and intrusive and made every thought in Carla’s mind break apart like puzzle pieces and fall into the abyss. She peeled herself off the sofa and reluctantly padded over to the intercom.
“Hello?” she whispered. Not meaning for it to come out so quietly.
“Hi, I’m Detective Sergeant Swain with the Weatherfield Police and I’m here to ask you a few questions regarding an incident that you may be able to help us with”.
“Uh.. yeah, sure, come up”. Carla said as she pressed the buzzer.
She left the door on the latch and went to settle back down on the sofa. Resuming her slow descent into darkness.
Usually she’d be guarded. She’d keep the door open just enough so that a visitor could see her face but where the backdrop into her life stayed private. But any control or self-preservation she used to have, had long left her body.
She laid there facing the ceiling with her eyes closed.
“Sorry to interrupt” a woman’s voice came from behind.
Carla slowly opened her eyes and sluggishly turned her head in the direction the voice came from. But as her eyes came to lock onto the detective’s that stood by her door, her breath hitched and the darkness that enveloped her dissolved, leaving no trace, as if it had never been there at all.
There in the doorway stood a 5 foot 3 blonde, wearing a pale pink blouse with a stiff white collar and cuffs, coupled with black slacks and a black leather trench coat .
“May I?” the blonde gestured toward the arm chair beside the sofa.
Carla just waved a hand signalling for her to take a seat. Her eyes didn’t leave the detective, not for a single second. Not because she felt uneasy but because there was something about her steady presence that felt magnetic.
“Miss Connor, we’re investigating a crime regarding a Mrs Cate Henri who we believe you may have had connections with in the past.” DS Swain said.
That name.
God, that name.
Carla’s vision began to blacken around the edges. Her whole world narrowed.
After all these years, that fucking name.
Carla’s breath began to quicken and before she knew it, she was doubled over with her head in her hands. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t see. Carla had just been blindsided by a name that she thought she had long since buried.
DS Swain immediately noticed the change in the woman who sat across from her and abandoning all protocol, she lowered herself to Carla’s level and put a hand on her knee.
“Miss Connor” she said in a calming tone. “I’m going to need you to take some deep breaths. Can you try and breathe with me?”
Carla heard the voice, but it sounded muffled, like it was high above the surface whilst she was drowning. Carla tried desperately to claw her way out of the void. When it was silent, she fell deeper into the black, but as Swain’s calming voice and steady presence filled her mind, freed her mind from the crippling pull. Slowly, grapple by grapple, Carla was able to pull herself back up and toward the light, toward the voice.
Carla blinked and suddenly she was back in the room, in the moment.
“I’m.. sorry.” she whispered. “I didn’t think I’d ever.. hear her name again. I’m sorry but I don’t think I can help you.”
Carla snapped out of her daze and got up on unsteady legs and started toward the door to let Swain out.
“Miss Connor, please sit down. I understand that this might be difficult but we’re investigating an incident and we believe you may be able to help us with our enquiries.” Swain said.
Carla blinked up at the ceiling.
“And I said that I don’t think I can help you!”
She gestured toward the door.
Swain knew she wouldn’t make any real progress and piling on the pressure would further alienate Carla so she took a different approach. Because DS Swain might arrest the criminals of Manchester, but she also has a duty of care.
“Carla”
Carla looked at Swain then. The way she said her first name made all of this feel more personal.
“Is it okay if I call you that?”
Carla nodded solemnly.
“Carla, I don’t know what happened between yourself and Mrs Henri..”
Carla flinched again at hearing the name.
“But it’s clear that something has and obviously hearing the name has brought up a lot of past history so for now, I’m going to give you some time to come to terms with this and ask that you come down to the station when you’re ready to talk.”
“I.. I don’t know. I don’t want to talk to just anybody.” Carla said quietly as her eyes darted around the room. Anywhere but on the detective sitting across from her.
Lisa said nothing. She gave Carla the room to breathe, to organise her thoughts.
“Would it be you that I’d speak to?” Carla said in a defeated tone.
“If you would prefer that, I can leave you my card and you can give me a call when you’re ready and I can make myself available.” Lisa said.
“Just you.. no one else” Carla said.
It wasn’t a question.
Lisa knew that the only way Carla would talk is if there was no one else in the room. She didn’t know why and it didn’t really matter.
“Just me” Lisa said affirmatively.
Carla just nodded.
“Right” she said.
Lisa nodded once and got up from the armchair, straightened and brushed off the invisible dust from her jacket.
“Thank you Miss Con-”
“Carla. Please, call me Carla.”
Carla looked at the detective then.
Lisa stared back at her and gave her a lopsided smile.
“Thank you.. Carla.” Lisa said as she handed her her card. “Call anytime. I’ll answer.”
And with that, the detective left.
As the door closed behind her, Carla leaned her back against the door and flipped the card between her thumb and forefinger. She didn’t know who DS Swain was. She’d never seen her around here before and she’d remember because how could she not?
That silky blonde hair tied neatly into a ponytail and the eyes. It was hard to give a colour to her eyes. They were a pale green and hazel she supposed.
Either way, DS Swain was blindingly beautiful.
Carla swallowed the lump in her throat and took a deep sigh because in that moment she realised that the only way she would see the detective again is if she dug up the trauma that she had kept buried for nine years.