The siblings stood staring at each other, neither wanting to be the first to avert their gaze. They both knew that the moment one of them moved or spoke they would need to address what had just been said.
The air was heavy and oppressive, Peter's look was firm and serious but he knew his eyes would soon betray him. Anne was struggling to hide her discounterance and could feel her eyes beginning to sting as she held back tears.
She was the one who moved first by turning and heading to the door.
She stopped briefly at the threshold, "I could always pull over and let you out" she said meekly,
"I'd just steal your car" he replied.
*
By the time Anne had returned home Toby had already started to organise dinner and had laid the table. She went into the kitchen to see what had been put on but found the oven off and no evidence of food in the microwave. Upon further enquiry she learnt he had ordered a takeaway pizza; luckily gorging herself of calories was exactly what she needed.
Toby assumed that Anne's conversation with Peter had not gone well; since she had arrived home she was distant and aloof, even struggling to put on a cheery face for the girls. He didn't want to be the one to broach the subject, firstly because he knew from experience that she would talk to him about it when she was good and ready, and secondly because he had a nagging suspicion that he was complicit in whatever level of crazy she had confronted Peter about. Instead he had decided to undertake the girl's bedtime routine alone so that his wife could soak herself in a hot bath.
When Toby came to bed he was surprised to find his wife kneeling on the floor with her hands clasped in prayer. In the eight years they had been married, the ten they'd known each other, he had never seen her pray. He had always wondered why she didn't pray, even more so when he had first met Peter in his get-up, but he had never asked her. Although not religious himself he understood that faith was something very personal and he didn't want to pry.
He carefully walked round to his side of the bed, trying not to disturb her and climbed under the sheets. Just as he did so Anne made the symbol of the cross and climbed into bed herself.
"Do you want talk about it?" he asked caustiously, but she shook her head and rolled over.
*
When Charotte had returned home she was relieved to see Peter laying on the sofa with his eyes closed. She had half expected to find a note telling her he was staying at his sister's and that he'd be along at a mutually convenient time to collect his things, so when she saw him laying on the sofa she felt a sense of solace.
She moved closer to get a better look at his resting form. He was using the arm if the chair as a pillow and had a small smile on his lips. In that moment she felt like everything was normal and the events of the past week and a half had all been some awful nightmare. She took a few more steps closer to see if he was asleep, and without warning or provecation Peter lurched forward and pulled her into a hug.
"I'm an idiot, you know that right?" he said softly next to her ear.
*
The rest of the weekend came and went without any major dramas. Peter and Charlotte's neighbours had got a dog which seemed to only bark from dusk till dawn. Neither Peter nor Charlitte had been getting much sleep of late, but the dog barking seemed to be grating on Charlotte's nerves significantly more than Peter's.
When Monday morning arrived Charlotte was busy making her lunch while Peter poured them both a bowl of cereal. He knew he had treated her appalling over the last couple of weeks, but she really was looking forlorn and unwell.
"I'm just so tired" she complained when he enquired after her health, "it's that blasted dog". Peter turned on the coffee machine and dissapeared to the bathroom, when he returned he was holding a bottle of vitimin c tablets. This small gesture made her smile; this was the Peter she was used to and the Peter she loved, the man who cared about the welfare of others and liked to 'look after' her.
She would be lying if she told people that everything wad okay between them because she knew it wasn't, but she took his small gesture, his admittance of his idiocy, and his silly smile as a sign he had fought his demons and their relationship was on the mend. She made a mental note to call Anne and thank her.
"I'm going to miss you today at work" she said as she hugged him from behind giving his waist a slight squeeze before they both went to sit at the table. "I have a meeting at 9 which is probably going to last at least a couple of hours - all while your off gallivanting with your mate from uni" she said with an exaggerated pout. "What time do you think your be back?"
He made a conscience attempt not to look at her while he was talking, "I'm not sure. I'll see if I can make it back to Vic before the commuter train, if not I'll get a later one to avoid the rush".
"Okay, I won't make you dinner then" she said gulping down her coffee, "have a nice time". She walked over and placed a chaste kiss on his lips, "just don't be sick on the car when you get home" she said with a cheeky smile and left for work.
*
Peter hated the tube. He had never been one to be overly concerned with personal space, but standing millimetres away from a drunk businessman that smelt of vodka would be enough to turn anyone's stomach. Although everyone was tightly packed together in a disturbingly intimate way, the typical British aloofness was ripe; everyone was avoiding eye contact and travelling in silence, except for the occasional muttered apology for slightly knocking a fellow traveller when the train stopped .
Relieved would not adequately describe how Peter felt when he alighted the sardine can. As he hurried to the escalator he could feel beads of sweat on his brow; he was unsure if this was possible this was a manifestation of his nerves or due to the heat. As he stood to the left hand side of the escaltor he remembered reading that in the summer the tempreture inside the carriages on the London Underground becomes so hot it would be illegal to transport cattle under those conditions. He convinced himself that wad why he was sweating.
*
When Peter arrived at his destination he suddenly felt apprehensive. It was not an intimidating structure, it looked like all the other buildings around him: modern with large glass doors and walls. His heart was pounding as he stood on the opposite side of the road considering his next move. He watched a few people leave the building wondering what kind of people were inside; he couldn't really surmise anything from their clothes because some dressed in buisness attire and others much more casually. He must've been standing staring at the building for at least ten minutes when he saw a red Audi TT drive past, "fast car" he said to himself and crossed the road.
He entered the lobby and went straight to the reception desk. "Good morning Sir, are we checking in?" the clerk asked.
"Hmm, no. My friend said she'd left an envelope for me",
"You're name?", the man spoke with an air of superiority
"Peter Clifford"
"Your title?", he said holding a brown envelope in his hand, Peter must've looked confused because the employee felt the need to clarify himself "your title? Your position?".
After a brief moment to think he responded "Father Peter Clifford?".
Once he had given his name accompanied by his former title the clerk had handed over the envelope, but not without a disapproving smirk.
He had opted to use the lift instead of climbing the stairs for a few reasons: firstly he wasn't sure how many flights he'd have to climb, secondly he didn't want to loose his nerve and run out th building, and thirdly he wanted to conserve his energy. Once he left the lift he walked briskly to Assumpta's room before pausing unsure of what to do. He considered using the keycard thay was sticking to his clammy hand, or knocking on the door. Peter briefly closed his eyes to help bring his breathing and heart rate under control. As of yet he hadn't done anything that couldn't be undone and still had the option to turn away and never look back.
He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.