Peter

Chapter Eighteen - Everything she knows

The train trip to Scotland is long and tedious.

It's the first time I have taken a train, and it is not what I thought. My husband and I are in a compartment by ourselves. It has tartan benches and thin carpeted floors. I turn to my lover.

He bought my story, of forgetting to close the window the other night, and a thief came in and snatched our son.

I can't bear to look him the eye.

I have never lied to him before. I have never lied to anyone before. I feel like I must tell him everything, but if I do, I know he'll-

What would he do?

He has never rose a hand to me. Never been aggressive. He is a kind and gentle man who has loved me for all six years I have known him. I reach across and take his hand.

He looks up from his cross-puzzle, his half-moon glasses resting on the end of triangular nose, his hazel eyes staring into mine.

I tell him.

I tell him everything I know.

***

"Don't leave me, Peter!" I beg as he stands to leave the compartment.

"I can't be with you anymore." He whispers. He isn't angry, but disappointed, and that makes the world seem even worse than before. "I can't be with the woman who stole my child away from me."

"We couldn't afford to keep him alive!" I cry.

"We would have found the money somewhere, Anna!" He yells. I whimper as he stands tall over me.

"Where?!" I stand up, even though I only meet his collar bone. "We have no money, Peter! We have nothing!"

A tear rolls down his cheek. "I would have fought every battle in the world for that child. That's the difference between us, Anna, you're afraid to risk everything for one person, no matter how small they are. I would risk everything I have."

"Peter, please..." I beg. He doesn't turn back as he shuts the compartment door behind him.

***

A letter for Mr Peter Waylin.

Dear good sir,

It is my with a heavy heart and deepest sorrow I bring you the news on your wife's death.

We apologised upon your behalf that you were not present in her final hours, but that does not prevent us from telling you the cause of her untimely departure.

Heart ache is very common in the modern world. It is a terrible way to leave, but not a subject that should be dismissed.

We wish you the best of luck in the future.

Yours,

Mr H. James.

Splattered with the tears of a broken gentleman.