PETER

Everybody always said how right we were for each other. What a lovely couple we made. That was alright.  We were married. Just not to each other.

I knew he was married. Right from the start. It was on his resume when he applied for the job working under my boss. So I knew I was safe. It was alright to like him, I could be friends with him; nothing would come of it. I didn’t get involved with married men.

He was very likeable; he had an easy charm and flirted outrageously with all the women, but we all knew he didn’t mean it. He loved his wife and they were desperate to start a family. She came often to the office. She was a pretty, charming girl and he loved her. What could possibly go wrong?

He was always in and out of my office; mostly, it was to have a meeting with his Director, my boss. Sometimes he would drop by to see me and we would lunch a couple of times a week. It was usually work related, but we always had a laugh; we shared the same sense of humour and he seemed to have an endless repertoire of jokes – some of them were quite naughty, even a little risqué, but never offensive.

He didn’t use bad language in front of women and he treated them with courtesy and respect. He was very popular with his male colleagues as well as the ladies.

Everybody liked Peter; he was a thoroughly nice young man. He became my good and trusted friend. I felt so safe and secure with him – until the bombshell dropped.

About a year after Peter had joined the firm, one of the managers was leaving. There was a large collection for a gift and a leaving party had been arranged.

One of the things on his leaving present list was a very expensive part dinner service to complement and replace the broken items of what had been a much loved and cherished wedding present.

I had ordered it from a very up market department store and Peter offered to drive me there to pick it up.

We were going to hold the leaving party in my boss’s spacious office. He was out that afternoon but was returning later to join the party.

Peter and I collected the crockery without any problems and back at the Company he carried it to the office and helped me set out a few pieces of the dinner service to join the other gifts on display for all to see.

‘See you later.’ he smiled and left me to it. Soon a couple of the girls from the canteen came up and we set out the sandwiches and canapés, sausage rolls and various small cakes and tarts that they had prepared.

They put out the glasses and bottles of drink, serviettes, plates and cutlery. They had done him proud and it all looked good. There were good luck banners and balloons and it looked festive and welcoming.

It was a lovely leaving do but a lot of people did not stay late; they had long journeys home.

I was packing the crockery in its box while John, the leaving manager, was making final farewells on other floors.

The cleaners had agreed to do all the tidying up and return the glasses and plates etcetera to the canteen.

Peter came in.

He was a bit flushed from the wine, as was I but we weren’t drunk, we both had to drive home, but we were relaxed and merry.

‘Need a hand?’ he asked.

‘If you could just get those other bits.’ I indicated across the other side of the room.

‘Sure.’ he agreed and crossed to get them.

I turned back to what I was doing and then I noticed a sugar bowl on top of one of the cabinets, right at the back. I walked across to get it. I was right up on tiptoe but I just couldn’t reach it. I would have to ask Peter, he was quite tall.