Chapter Text
Carla trudged up the steep hill to her coastal cottage, recovering from yet another awkward interaction in the local shop.
“Are you entertaining tonight?” The old man had asked - not for the first time - as he tapped the till to count up her two bottles of red, box of fish fingers and sea salt crisps.
Carla had laughed like she always did when he said this, despite the sad fact she had not entertained anyone since moving to Devon almost four months ago. She had barely had a conversation even, isolating herself in her cottage as punishment for her transgressions.
Carla watched the beach from the large window in her living room. Last month, it had been crawling with people, but most of the holidaymakers had left by now. The village looked calmer, more peaceful - more like the Devon she had envisaged. She expected to wake up to the sound of the waves, then stroll along the sand for as long she pleased before picking up breakfast for herself and Nick at the bakery. Her reality was far from this slow bliss. She rotted away alone in her cottage like some kind of Miss Havisham in a leather jacket. She shuddered at the thought and headed out, slamming the door behind her.
The Moon and Starfish - the village pub - was a novelty when Carla first arrived. Finally, she could drink as much as she liked and nobody knew her well enough to judge. That soon proved to be untrue. When she ordered a bottle of wine to herself, she couldn’t ignore the looks from the knit and natter group who sat in the corner every Thursday afternoon. This never dissuaded her from indulging, despite the poor selection of red wine on offer.
“Bottle of red please.” Carla said as she reached the bar, the same time as another woman’s voice echoed hers. She turned her head to see a short blonde standing beside her.
“I’m afraid there’s only one bottle of the cab sauv left, ladies. Suppose you’ll have to fight for it.” The younger man who worked the bar said with a suggestive grin which made both women glare.
“That won’t be necessary.” The blonde replied, tense.
Carla turned her head when she recognised the accent. She was thankful not to recognise the face. The woman’s voice reminded her of the home she was trying so desperately to forget. “Hang on, Manchester?”
The blonde narrowed her eyes, looking Carla up and down. “Rochdale, for now.”
“Weatherfield. Well, used to be anyway.” Carla responded, smiling at the familiarity. She looked around the pub, spotting the usual groups and no one else unfamiliar. This woman must have been alone. “Do you wanna split this bottle between us? It’s only fair.”
The blonde smirked. “You don’t even know my name.” She breathed with a gentle laugh.
“It’s a bottle of wine, not a flaming engagement ring.” Carla scoffed, taking two glasses from the barman. This was her favourite spot in the pub - a tall table near the window with a good view of the room, perfect for people watching.
The blonde licked her lip and shook her head, following this strange woman and taking a seat on the high stool opposite her. She watched as Carla poured the wine generously. “Go on then, Weatherfield. What’s your name?”
For a moment, Carla considered lying. This woman didn’t know her, she could be anyone she wanted to be. “Carla.” She said. “And you, Rochdale?”
“Lisa.” She said. “You’re a long way from Weatherfield.”
“Pretty far from Rochdale too.” Carla responded, sipping her wine. “What brings you here?”
Lisa shrugged. “Haven’t been since I was a kid, I suppose I was after some familiarity. Nostalgia, maybe.”
“Has it changed much?” Carla asked.
“Bits of it. There’s a posh restaurant where my favourite ice cream shop used to be, but the same guy’s still running the corner shop.” Lisa responded. “What about you? What’s brought you out to sea?” She asked, intrigued by Carla.
“Mistakes, mostly.” Carla answered, wondering why she hadn’t just lied. It would have been easy to lie to a stranger. “How long have you been here?”
“Two days, twelve more to go.” Lisa responded.
“Oh.” Carla felt a surprising sense of disappointment on learning Lisa wasn’t a permanent resident, probably because this was the longest conversation she’d had in some time. “I live just on the hill in one of them little cottages.”
“Must be quite a change from the city life.” Lisa commented, hoping Carla would tell her more. She couldn’t help but interrogate people, especially those she found interesting. She supposed this was in her nature, to constantly question people and find out what made them tick; it was what made her a good detective and a difficult wife.
Carla narrowed her eyes. She wondered what Lisa was trying to get out of her. “It’s different, quieter, more peaceful. But walking up and down that bloody hill all day does my head in.”
Lisa smiled a little bit at Carla. Under the table, she felt for the bare finger on her left hand, as if to fiddle with a wedding ring that was no longer there. “How long have you been doing that for then?” She asked.
“Best part of four months.” She responded. “What about you, holidaying on your own?” She felt curious about Lisa.
Lisa nodded. “Needed to get away for a bit.” She said.
“Oh, you’re telling me.” Carla scoffed. “I’m the queen of getting away from it all. Usually, I jet off to LA and pretend I made it. This time, I’ve come to the world’s weirdest village and locked myself in some old woman’s cottage.”
Lisa laughed. “The cottages on the hill? People would kill for a view like that. I’d take that over California any day.” She sipped her wine again.
Carla tilted her head. “Liar.”
Lisa smirked, mostly because she did plan to lie to Carla, but not about that. She didn’t know her, she didn’t owe her honesty, and yet it would feel so good to get this off her chest. “It’s not a holiday, it’s more of a… self-imposed exile.”
Carla’s lips turned up into a wide, wolffish grin. “Now you’re talking. What are the chances of two lovely Mancunian women having the same idea, eh?” Lisa quirked an eyebrow, tilting her head, so Carla continued. “I’ve had a lot going on but mainly it’s down to the divorce, well, annulment. It was barely a marriage.”
Lisa pressed her lips together tightly. She hoped she wouldn’t be saying something similar a few months from now. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“No you’re not.” Carla laughed a little bit, topping up their glasses. “You’re glad to meet a woman who’s in more of a mess than you are.”
Lisa was surprised at Carla’s ability to see right through her. “We’re separated, at the moment anyway. It was a lot to deal with at home.” Lisa admitted.
Carla nodded. “Men, eh?” She said.
Lisa held back her laugh and smiled. At least that unfortunate gaffe had told her Carla was straight. She chose not to respond for now, tapping the bottom of her wine glass.
“Is it your first marriage?” Carla asked.
“Well yeah. I’m only forty.” Lisa let out the laugh she had been holding back.
“Alright, show off.” Carla retorted. “I’ve got a collection of wedding rings by now.” She sighed.
“I’m sorry, Carla. I thought you were joking.” Lisa responded. She felt she had put her foot in it. “Do you have kids?” She asked, hoping to return to their conversation.
Carla felt a dull ache, like an old injury playing up. “No, thankfully.” She said honestly. “Do you?”
“Yeah. One.” Lisa withheld her daughter’s name, just as she stopped short of revealing more about her spouse. She had to keep something back for herself. She had intended for this to be a couple of weeks of quiet introspection, but she was already breaking her own rules.
This surprised Carla a little bit. Lisa didn’t seem like a mum at first glance. “So your kid’s staying with the dad then?”
“Betsy doesn’t have a dad.” Lisa said, kicking herself for saying her daughter’s name but enjoying the opportunity to confuse Carla.
“Eh, well, I only found my dad a few months ago. So I shouldn’t judge.” Carla teased, sipping her wine.
“In fact, I don’t even know who he is.” Lisa said with her best poker face.
Carla’s eyes widened and she choked on her wine a little bit. Lisa really didn’t seem like the type. “So your husband isn’t the dad?”
Lisa gave in and laughed. “There is no dad. My daughter’s got two mums.”
“Oh.” Carla paused, putting down her wine glass. “So you’re…?”
“A lesbian, Carla. It’s okay, you’re allowed to say it.” Lisa chuckled, having thoroughly enjoyed messing with Carla. Saying her name for the first time felt strange, like she was trying it out in her mouth.
Carla noticed a few heads turning their way, then turning back. She smirked at that. Suddenly, she felt even more intrigued by Lisa. “My sister’s a lesbian, actually.”
“Do I know her?” Lisa asked, eyebrows raised.
“Maybe. Kate Connor. Dark hair, bit younger than me… you’re kidding, aren’t you?” Carla rolled her eyes, having fallen for the sarcasm. She sipped her wine and watched Lisa laugh, hoping this could be the start of a brief but beautiful friendship.