Chapter Text
Abby rubbed her eyes hard, and settled in the booth, waiting for her to arrive. She hadn’t slept well, Lou and baby had been up all night with niggly noses and irritable moods. It had been the first night Abby didn’t feel like she could say much without getting a glaring stare from her otherwise equally exhausted wife. She was snappy, and Abby tried her best not to irritate her further, but it meant she tried to soften Charlotte’s cries while Lou caught some sleep, and the mild two hours she’d had on the sofa rocking the baby were just not enough. After two coffees, she ordered a martini, knowing she shouldn’t but desperate to wet her lips with something other than caffeine. The young girl had left in a hurry, claiming she had work to return to. Abby dismissed her with a shuffle, and now sat sipping away at her drink, picking at the pickles on the side after finishing her salad.
“Would you care to explain what the hell is going on?” Carol burst over to her, earlier than expected, with fiery, fuming eyes and flaring nostrils.
Abby frowned, “what?”
“Don’t you even dare, Abby Gerhard! I mean what the fuck is Therese bloody Belivet doing leaving my club?” Carol burst, arms thrown around. Abby thought if she growled any louder, she might bust a vein in her forehead and the thought of it on her tired brain made her snigger. It was clearly not the response Carol was expecting, and she fumed a little more.
In an effort to defuse the burning rage, Abby hushed her, “she asked if you were here. I said you weren’t here, and she rushed off to a work meeting.”
Carol dragged her coat off her shoulders and thumped down into the booth, “On a Saturday? Why is she working on a Saturday? Did-what—why was she here?”
Abby wanted to be as honest as she could, but vague, “for you, obviously.”
“And what did you say?” Carol tried, grabbing Abby’s martini and throwing it back. Abby grimaced, and chuckled.
“Carol, I told her you weren’t here,” Abby rolled her eyes, “now are we having drinks or not? I’m… well, ahead of you. I needed a snack, and I need to leave soon.”
She knew Carol was going to preoccupied with the mere thought of catching Therese, and Abby held great pride knowing that she had timed it beautifully. Therese arrived at 1, left perfectly at 2 when Carol was to arrive to set up for accounts, and work until midnight. As planned, Therese had obviously been exiting the building as Carol entered. Abby wondered if she saw her leave Abby’s table, but perhaps Carol might have interrogated her further. Carol said she saw her running out, but didn’t stop her, or talk to her. Abby talked about Lou, Charlotte, work, Harge, anything but Therese, and smiled at how quickly Carol distracted herself, and seemingly couldn’t distract herself enough. Her eyes drifted to focus on anything but Abby as she nodded away, fixating on her glass, or the olive, or the pickles they shared in the ramekin. After the drinks, Abby caught a cab home. She knew that brief encounter (or lack thereof) would be a temptation of delight, an ember if there was any desire left to uncover, and clearly, by the flustered Carol that presented herself with little to no poise or coverage of her true feelings… a spark bloomed in the wake of connection.
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Why was she here? Why didn’t she say hello, wave to her, did she even see me?
Carol’s thoughts raced, pumping new questions and concerns with every ticking second as she prepped for the shift. It had been a very vague meeting, with Abby drinking and eating continuously, filling the silence with chats about Harge and Pam and work, and ultimately asking her questions about Angela. Abby was intrigued, “have you noticed that Harge has been away during the week?”
Carol sipped at her drink, and shook her head, “and? I try not to notice, Abby, or my mind spirals.”
Abby nodded to her, a look of contemplation piercing the conversation and she shrugged, “oh, that’s what you’re mind is spiralling around, huh?” she teased, and conceded when Carol threw an extremely threatening glare at her, “eh, well, I think it’s odd Angela and Harge are both out of town during the week, and he’s been late picking up Rindy the past few Fridays, right?”
Carol agreed, the rumours had already been flowing in about the two of them, but she couldn’t think for long enough to process it. Tomorrow’s issue, she thought. More to the point, today’s issue… why was she here? What did she want to see Carol about?
“alright, alright, enough. I can get ignored all on my lonesome in my own home, but I’d rather be soaking my bones in a bath doing it while they sleep. You’re boring when you’re distracted.” Abby left in a huff, shaking her shoulders out, planting a kiss on her forehead and waving as she launched herself towards the door. Carol went to comp the drinks and the snacks and looked closer at the tab her staff had placed it on. They’d continued Abby’s open tab, and Carol went to comp the previous order, until she noticed the order was longer than usual.
Abby Gerhard
1x: Caesar salad
- Add pickles (side)
- +chicken
- ++dressing
1x: Soup of day
- ++bread
- +side salad
2x: cap +extra shot/+sweetener
1x: chai +soy/+sugar/-foam
“What are you up to, Abby?” Carol murmured under her breath and hesitated for a moment. She clicked the bill, and the time. 1pm, she’d been there a while. Despite this, Carol couldn’t stop thinking about earlier. Abby had messaged to catch up before she started work at 2pm, and carol agreed because she wanted to get in early and finish the paperwork before everyone arrived. In all honesty, she was exhausted, and so excited for Gary and Angela to both be working at full steam. It had been a revelation that she wasn’t cut out for the full time work, the full time parent, and her own full time neurotic thought processing. Now, she couldn’t help but cast her mind to when she left the uber, pulled her bag over her shoulder and saw soft running footsteps leading to her right, a bundle of red cardigan, short skinny legs, flowing brown hair swinging around a soft, supple face, red cheeks puffed and eyes ablaze; a woman on a mission, or late for something? Carol swirled around, and followed her intently, her feet dragging her body forward in a lurch, to catch her, but she was already across the road, jumping into her car, driving off without even indicating onto the road. Carol’s heart had pounded, and she tasted blood; how long had she forced her breath out for? More importantly, why was Therese coming to Apples? To see you. After everything? After Rockpool? Surely not! Abby had been extremely vague. Did she have lunch with Therese? Behind her back? The unsteady, sickly feeling crawled across her belly, and Carol rushed herself to the toilet, breathing heavily. God, she didn’t need this. She couldn’t think about this. She had Rindy to worry about. Rindy, Rindy, Rindy. She tried (and failed) to only think of her little girl while she prepped tables, cleaned the booths, poured a few drinks and smiled at her patrons as they started to come in for dinners and beers. The night got a lot busier after the rugby game finished, as the already boozed people started to be joined by larger (and younger) groups of people, and the music turned up and the lights dimmed further. Slogging her efforts, she kept working, bopping to the music, turning her brain off, and focussing on her pour, her count, the change and her staff. Rindy. Rindy, your daughter, who needs stability right now!
“Can we talk, or are you going to bite my head off?” Angela asked her, picking at some leftover fries from the basket, in a quiet moment behind the bar. Carol nudged the door to the kitchen open and walked away from her with a roll of her eyes. Angela followed, and Gary managed the bar like his usual self. Amber was happy being front of house tonight, and Carol kept walking quickly to her office. Angela didn’t let up, and shut the door behind them, “Carol, what’s going on?”
“Are you and Harge… seeing each other?” Carol threw back the only ammunition she had left in her kit, and prayed there was more than the rumours that had been floating about. Abby had made it rather obvious, probably from the grapevine that ultimately would have bled from Pam’s mouth and nosiness. Angela shook her head, “don’t avoid the question, what is going on with you? You’re hot, you’re cold, you’re angry one minute and yet you’re happy the next. I’m worried you’re having a breakdown and if you need help, you need to ask for it. Soon.”
Carol burst into laughter, “a breakdown, seriously? Just tell me, is it true? You and Harge?”
Carol sat on her desk, arms wide, and she felt snarky. Angela crossed her arms, and nodded, “I was… I didn’t want anyone to know until I was sure.”
“Sure about what?”
“That I think I love him,” Angela murmured, almost to herself more than to Carol, and she smiled at her revelation, perhaps having said it for the first time beyond her own solitary thoughts, and her eyes met Carol’s with hesitation. Carol licked her lips in thought, narrowing her eyes to trace back, “but Carol, I wanted to talk to you first. If you’re not happy, if Rindy… I would never— I wanted to be sure, for my kids. I wouldn’t want them seeing Harge and then for it to not work out… and I even ended it all because I was worried my kids wouldn’t cope, and he started seeing that Mary woman so I assumed I should just move on, but then my kids were doing okay, and I saw him again. We got talking out in a furniture shop.” Ange’s smile curved wider as she recounted, “I tried everything to stop thinking about him, but he niggled in my brain, Carol, I could barely focus on my kids half the time because I kept thinking about what he was doing, and if he was thinking of me.”
Carol thought to Rindy, immediately, and the tone changed before she interjected “I’m not angry, Ange. I thought there was something, but when Harge started dating Mary it blew the scent off. I want him to be happy, you have to know that, and you, I want you to be happy.”
Angela’s surprise melted into teary eyes, and she grinned, “you’re not upset?”
Carol paused with her mouth open, choosing her words, and she shrugged, “it’s really none of my business. Rindy is my business.”
“I know and if you don’t want me to be around Rindy, I understand. Harge wanted to make sure we took our time, before we even considered telling the kids.”
“Ange, you’ve basically been part of the family… I—I’m just surprised, and yet, not at all.” Scratching her head, Carol said, “I’ve never noticed Harge make so much effort with Rindy until recently, and he didn’t start drinking when Mary was around, and I know it was hard for him. I guess it’s— as long as you’re both happy.”
Carol felt worried, but comforted that Rindy would be okay; she didn’t know how she knew, but it didn’t spark the fear in her heart like it had when Mary was around. Something settled in her mind, and as it happened, her brain kept tracing back to flashes, images of Therese, and her chest heaved to hurt again. Angela interrupted her thoughts, “my cup is pretty full at the moment.”
“You deserve it.” She smiled and smacked her hands together in a quick change of topic, “but, we better check Gary hasn’t been eaten alive by the youth of Saturday night’s fright.”
Angela chuckled, and made way for a hug, wrapping her arms around Carol, dripping a few soppy tears on her shoulder, “I want you to be happy, too, Carol. Your cup isn’t broken. You are not broken, I know it. Do you?”
Carol felt an unnerving flush of mist crowd her eyes, and she blinked the tears back, reeling them in. It was the same feeling she had that night she tried to sleep with Catherine. The pain, the terror, the loneliness. It flooded her, her throat slammed closed, and she felt hurt flutter in her chest, hard and heavy, and she nodded, lying through gritted teeth, “thanks. I’m happy enough.”
Angela winced her disbelief, and made faces of cheeky judgement, but both women returned to the bar, and Angela went out to the office for her break.
Carol swiped a cloth across the benchtop and leaned over to serve a young man and his girlfriend, but it didn’t take her very long to glance to the booth in the far corner. It wasn’t empty. It wasn’t full.
“IPA, please.” The boy ordered, and Carol nodded, moving to pour the pint, as her eyes remained glazed. She couldn’t see the front of the woman, but her hair was just below her shoulders, curled in bouncy waves, and her shoulders were creamy, pale, flowing into a tight emerald green slip by the looks of it. A hand rested on the table; fingers curled around a glass of white wine, but Carol couldn’t see her face, or the shape of her, only the hair, the shoulder and the arm. The rest of her was concealed in the booth that curved into the corner. Turn around, she thought, but Gary was already yelling for her to make a few cocktails and get the chefs to drop more onion rings and fries. She caught her cough in her throat and continued to work. Was it her? Carol scolded herself, of course it fucking isn’t! Gary nudged her side, “hey, cat got your tongue? You alright?”
Carol nodded, not looking at him, and retorted, shrugging it off, “just a niggle in my brain. It’ll pass. I need a smoke, can you handle it here for a bit?”
Gary saluted her, and she grabbed her purse, ducking out back for a cigarette, lighting up before she even got out the door, and she slumped into the seat, elbows planting on the wooden table, dragging her breath in and out with each puff. The relief hit her immediately, and her mind dulled to a light buzzing, a hum of quiet, and she gathered herself more comfortably. It tasted like clarity, and her heart pounded in her chest. She sat in wistful want. Angela and Harge were happy, why couldn't she be happy? Part of her screamed inside: why did she leave it so late? Why didnt she say it out loud. Therese, wait, wait for me... I don't know how to do this, to be more than this Yet she knew she wanted it, she had wanted nothing more than to wake up to her, to see where it led, to kiss her forehead and see her nose wrinkle as she smiled in laughter. How could Angela be sure she loved Harge? How could anyone know? a niggle, she thought, Angela had said a niggle in her brain kept her from running, and instead she chased it, and realised she was ready to love someone. Carol was jealous. It dwelled on her, what Abby had been saying. Everyone was fine, she was right. Rindy was fine, Abby and Lou were fine, even Harge was fine. Happy, content, with full unbroken cups, and here she sat. Carol Aird, flung out of space, cast aside by her own choice, looking out, with a niggle in her brain for a girl she had hurt, a girl she had loved. Left it too late, she thought. Gary popped out quickly, and dropped a drink on her table. She frowned, but he was gone before she could ask. She took a sip; lemon, lime and bitters.
“I have one question, before I let you go.” The voice called from a close distance, and Carol spun, taking her in under the dim light. She stood, strong, and proud, shoulders out, face up, but her fumbling fingers digging into each other told another tale of nerves, and Carol just sat there, cigarette in her hand and jaw resting agape. She blinked, and again, and the ringing chuckle came from a newly confident, shaggy, curly haired brunette with little liner on her bright green eyes, blush on her cheeks, and red lipstick on her lips, in the emerald, green slip. It was her. It was always her. Only, she was real, in the flesh, or so Carol prayed it was, and when she stood, she stumbled, nervous, and heard her voice again, stopping her in her tracks, realisation hitting that she really was here, “Will you always be Aird of Aird’s Apples?” Therese took a step towards her, “or will you be mine?”
Carol didn’t say a word, her feet took control, her body left her behind for a second. She raced to catch up as she moved towards her in a blink, and had her in her arms the next. The walls of Carol Aird shattered, and the sun rose in Carol Ross’ eyes, and she sobbed, shuddering as Therese just held her, still in space, cast out and clinging to each other. It was her, it would always be her, in a thousand cities or worlds, she couldn’t escape the niggling efforts of Therese Belivet, and flung herself forward into the light, casting the shadows behind her; a perpetual sunrise.
“Still with me?”
“Yes.”