The next day Peter woke feeling unrested, listless. Anna was already up; he could hear her pottering around the kitchen, could hear her chatting to Ben. She sounded so at ease, so comfortable, and yet he knew that the minute he went downstairs the veneer would crack, to be replaced by tension, by anger, by denial. All he’d done was tell her the truth and now he felt betrayed, pushed out, deserted.
Eventually, he forced himself out of bed, delaying the moment where he’d have to face her by taking a shower, scrubbing himself all over, then getting dressed silently. He had his coat on by the time he walked into the kitchen; the sooner he was out the door, the better.
Anna looked up and he could see that she had been crying.
‘You don’t want breakfast?’ she asked, avoiding his eyes, her voice tinged with reproach.
He shook his head. ‘I’m running late. Better get to work.’
Anna nodded and turned back to Ben.
‘So I’ll see you later, then,’ Peter said, forcing his eyes away from her.
‘OK.’
She didn’t turn around; Peter shrugged and walked towards the front door, banging it loudly behind him. By the time he arrived at Pincent Pharma, his mood had worsened; it was not improved by the fact that his grandfather was waiting for him in the lab.
‘Dr Edwards tells me you’re signing the Declaration.’
Peter started slightly, then frowned and looked over at Dr Edwards, whose expression was unreadable.
‘He did?’ Peter took off his coat and hung it up on a hook, careful not to react, forcing himself not to say anything he’d regret.
‘You’ve made the right decision.’
‘Turns out I didn’t have much of a choice.’
His grandfather stared at him levelly for a few seconds. ‘Peter,’ he said, ‘I understand that you came by some information. Something that I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tell you until after you’d signed for the right reasons. I am unclear as to how you came by it. Nevertheless, I think in the circumstances that these issues might be overlooked.’
‘Right. Thanks.’
Peter shot a furtive look at Dr Edwards who was staring at him curiously.
‘So you’re definitely signing?’ His grandfather was looking at him intently; Peter swallowed uncomfortably. ‘Because I was thinking that we should celebrate it. Hold a press conference, perhaps . . .’
‘I’m not signing.’ Peter’s voice was flat.
‘Not signing?’
‘No.’
There was a pause. ‘I see.’ His grandfather’s face was impassive. ‘Well, isn’t that a shame. Any particular reason?’
Peter didn’t say anything; his grandfather, though, didn’t appear to need to hear the reason out loud. ‘It’s the girl, isn’t it? She’s stopping you.’
Peter’s continued silence was all the answer he needed; Richard Pincent smiled tightly, and left the lab.
‘I didn’t realise the two of you were so close,’ Peter said archly to Dr Edwards, and pulled on his lab coat.