Fic: ‘It was her turn to be happy.’
Title: It was her turn to be happy.
Fandom: Blackpool (TV).
Rating: (PG) - for language
Time Period: Episode 6.
Summary: Everyone but him was put first.
Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).
After watching Blackpool recently, I felt I had to write this moment. I was always curious as to what was not said on the screen. Maybe there’d been something said after what we’d seen; who knew?
Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of Peter Bowker; I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by them.
_______________________
Peter had been there, telling her to come with him and that he’d spoken to Ripley and that her husband had been fine with her coming with him. How could he ask? How could she leave?
Should she stay or go? She didn’t know the answer any more now than she had when she’d last seen him in his room at the Metropole.
She ran from Peter. Ran from her daughter’s wedding, tears blurring everything before her as though it didn’t matter or even exist. She didn’t care who saw her; all ... no, they were Ripley’s friends, not hers. Not really. Her friends ...
Did she have friends?
It didn’t matter as she fled the wedding where Shyanne was dancing with Steve and getting to know his family. It didn’t matter because Peter had shown up and asked her to leave with him. To run away and live with him surrounded by the happiness that she’d known when lying with him in bed at the hotel.
She stumbled to a seat on the boardwalk that overlooked the water and, her face in her hands, she sobbed; her world was ending and she couldn’t leave Ripley and the kids. She couldn’t live for herself because she’d always been there for her family: for Ripley, for Shyanne, for Danny. She’d mended grazed knees, sat and listened to Ripley’s grandiose plans and watched Danny try to live up to what he imagined Ripley’s expectations to be, to gain his praise when it wasn’t forthcoming. But for all that, she couldn’t stop thinking about Peter and how he spoke with his eyes, how hurt he’d been when she’d kept running away but he’d always welcomed her back, how cruel he’d been that last time in the Metropole. He’d thrown her out without a care it’d seemed and now, here he was ...
Ripley found her, crying as if the world had broken her heart. He sat opposite her, spoke quietly with gentle words in which he gave her his blessing. He hugged her, he kissed her cheek and sent her on her way although she didn’t leave. He couldn’t imagine her without Carlisle, the bastard, but he wanted Natalie happy; to him, that was all that mattered. God knew he hadn’t been a perfect husband and she’d given him her entire life so, as far as he reckoned, she was due. She looked at him, tearstained face and blurred eyes, wiping those tears away with one hand and holding one of his hands in the other. “Ripley, I can’t ...”
“Natalie, it’s like I said. It’s gotten so I can’t imagine you without him. He might be a bastard,” he looked into his wife’s eyes and found himself, surprised, thinking about her and not some other shag, “to me but he loves you and he must be all right if he can make you forget about everything else you’ve put yourself in. This is your time to live as you want and be happy. We wouldn’t be happy. Not the way you and he would be.”
“He wouldn’t share a fish supper,” she murmured.
Ripley cocked an eyebrow; right. That obviously made sense to Natalie but not to him. Carlisle was always going to be a bastard to him but, he knew, that had everything to do with that murder investigation and not the man ... okay. Maybe the man himself had been involved a little in his thinking of him as a bastard. “Just go find him, Natalie, and let him make you happy like you’ve made me. It’ll be better with him - you’ll make each other happy, I reckon.”
“Ripley, are you sure?”
“Go!” Ripley shook his head and watched his wife - soon to be ex - run in the direction of that charity phone centre where she’d been putting her changes of clothes lately. Soon, as he watched, she was emerging from the centre and running to see if she could find Carlisle. The man was a bastard and a cop but it wasn’t as if he’d have much to do with him. He had Plans and as he watched his wife run from the charity - Vibrations, wasn’t it? That’d be a good name for a strip club! - he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever be as happy as she and Carlisle were going to be.
Fandom: Blackpool (TV).
Rating: (PG) - for language
Time Period: Episode 6.
Summary: Everyone but him was put first.
Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).
After watching Blackpool recently, I felt I had to write this moment. I was always curious as to what was not said on the screen. Maybe there’d been something said after what we’d seen; who knew?
Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of Peter Bowker; I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by them.
_______________________
Peter had been there, telling her to come with him and that he’d spoken to Ripley and that her husband had been fine with her coming with him. How could he ask? How could she leave?
Should she stay or go? She didn’t know the answer any more now than she had when she’d last seen him in his room at the Metropole.
She ran from Peter. Ran from her daughter’s wedding, tears blurring everything before her as though it didn’t matter or even exist. She didn’t care who saw her; all ... no, they were Ripley’s friends, not hers. Not really. Her friends ...
Did she have friends?
It didn’t matter as she fled the wedding where Shyanne was dancing with Steve and getting to know his family. It didn’t matter because Peter had shown up and asked her to leave with him. To run away and live with him surrounded by the happiness that she’d known when lying with him in bed at the hotel.
She stumbled to a seat on the boardwalk that overlooked the water and, her face in her hands, she sobbed; her world was ending and she couldn’t leave Ripley and the kids. She couldn’t live for herself because she’d always been there for her family: for Ripley, for Shyanne, for Danny. She’d mended grazed knees, sat and listened to Ripley’s grandiose plans and watched Danny try to live up to what he imagined Ripley’s expectations to be, to gain his praise when it wasn’t forthcoming. But for all that, she couldn’t stop thinking about Peter and how he spoke with his eyes, how hurt he’d been when she’d kept running away but he’d always welcomed her back, how cruel he’d been that last time in the Metropole. He’d thrown her out without a care it’d seemed and now, here he was ...
Ripley found her, crying as if the world had broken her heart. He sat opposite her, spoke quietly with gentle words in which he gave her his blessing. He hugged her, he kissed her cheek and sent her on her way although she didn’t leave. He couldn’t imagine her without Carlisle, the bastard, but he wanted Natalie happy; to him, that was all that mattered. God knew he hadn’t been a perfect husband and she’d given him her entire life so, as far as he reckoned, she was due. She looked at him, tearstained face and blurred eyes, wiping those tears away with one hand and holding one of his hands in the other. “Ripley, I can’t ...”
“Natalie, it’s like I said. It’s gotten so I can’t imagine you without him. He might be a bastard,” he looked into his wife’s eyes and found himself, surprised, thinking about her and not some other shag, “to me but he loves you and he must be all right if he can make you forget about everything else you’ve put yourself in. This is your time to live as you want and be happy. We wouldn’t be happy. Not the way you and he would be.”
“He wouldn’t share a fish supper,” she murmured.
Ripley cocked an eyebrow; right. That obviously made sense to Natalie but not to him. Carlisle was always going to be a bastard to him but, he knew, that had everything to do with that murder investigation and not the man ... okay. Maybe the man himself had been involved a little in his thinking of him as a bastard. “Just go find him, Natalie, and let him make you happy like you’ve made me. It’ll be better with him - you’ll make each other happy, I reckon.”
“Ripley, are you sure?”
“Go!” Ripley shook his head and watched his wife - soon to be ex - run in the direction of that charity phone centre where she’d been putting her changes of clothes lately. Soon, as he watched, she was emerging from the centre and running to see if she could find Carlisle. The man was a bastard and a cop but it wasn’t as if he’d have much to do with him. He had Plans and as he watched his wife run from the charity - Vibrations, wasn’t it? That’d be a good name for a strip club! - he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever be as happy as she and Carlisle were going to be.