“Well Philip was right, you should have given me a call!” Peter was shocked, was he really so out of the loop in this family that he was the last to hear of his own wife getting mugged.

“Mum, can you pass some bread please?” Michelle interrupted.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Shirley passed the plate down to her daughter. “I didn’t see that there was any need, Peter. What would you have done? I was back at home so I didn’t need picking up from anywhere, and it would have taken you about an hour to get back from the office anyway. I was just as capable as you to cancel all the cards with the banks. I’d already made the police report. All that would have been achieved would have been an interruption to your already busy day, and you’d have just sat there worrying instead of getting on with that project.”

The Marks family was for once managing to all coordinate their eating times and were sat around the dining table. Peter always insisted that family meal times were an important part of life – vital to share family news and to “bond”. Invariably though, on the rare times they managed it, they ended up either bickering or having two sullen teenage daughters scowling through the meal because they wanted to be somewhere else.

Peter wasn’t about to let logic get in the way of him winning the argument. “But you could have been hurt! I’m your husband, I have a right to know these things.” He left off the end of the sentence, “… before my younger brother,” but all those around the table knew what he was thinking.

Shirley sighed. “I wasn’t hurt, Peter. A bit bruised and shaken perhaps with some wounded pride thrown in for good measure, but otherwise unscathed. I don’t understand why you are being so unreasonable.” The last part was a lie, she understood exactly why her husband was being unreasonable.

“Any more bolognese left?” Clare queried hopefully.

Peter passed the dish down the table in silence and an awkward five minutes passed with just the sounds of eating and cutlery scraping against plates. Peter morosely pondered how little he had in common with his own family, how he didn’t seem to fit. Shirley and the girls were close; he was the outsider. He wished he was in Sue’s flat eating out of takeaway containers and animatedly discussing current affairs. He conveniently forgot that their last meeting had had its own discomfort and miscommunications. He did however remember his half-formed plan to escape for a weekend and used the opportunity to change the conversation to happier subjects.

“I do have some news. Management have been pleased with what I’m doing with our new project and want to send me away on a training weekend sometime soon. It could mean a big boost to my career – the residential training centres are quite expensive so it’s a good sign, don’t you think?”

“That’s great news, Peter!” Shirley was genuinely delighted for him. “Do you know which weekend yet? I’ll put it on the kitchen calendar so I remember.”

“I’m … not sure yet, the details haven’t quite been finalised. Should be some time this month though – sometimes they give very short notice for these things. I’ll let you know as soon as I do though.” Peter was pleased at how easily Shirley seemed to accept it without asking too many details. As an off the cuff decision he hadn’t been quite as meticulous with the explanation as he was usually careful of being. He wondered where he should take Sue – a smart hotel in Devon would be nice, maybe Torquay.

Michelle and Clare looked bored. “Mum, we’ve finished. Can we just take a piece of cake each up to our rooms?” Clare pleaded. Shirley glanced over at Peter, knowing how much he cared about these family times together.

Being pleased with his private plan, Peter felt magnanimous. “Sure. Help your mother by clearing the dishes away first though please.” The girls exchanged exasperated glances but obeyed, happy to be making their escape.

Later that evening, the Marks’ daughters were holed up in one of their rooms listening to something closely resembling music and Shirley had gone for an early night claiming the excitement of the day had tired her out contradicting her earlier protestations that she had been unaffected. Peter sat with his feet up in the living room with a glass of wine at his side and an open but unread John Grisham novel on his lap. He was staring into space trying to work out where his ideals of a “perfect” family life had fallen by the wayside.

Of course, it was partly his own fault, he realised that. These days it was more encouraged, no… expected even, for a man with a young family to focus more on them than on his career. He’d had such little involvement with the girls when they were younger – most days he left for work before they were up and arrived home after they were asleep. At the weekends, he was tired and just wanted to be able to put his feet up and read his paper rather than get too involved in the minutiae of entertaining small children. All these sacrifices that didn’t feel like sacrifices because all his peers were doing the same and making the same choices in their lives in the hopes that promotion and a better life would follow. In his case, it never did. Was it any wonder that Shirley had the closer relationship with them?

He got down an old photo album from the shelf, brushed off the dust and opened it to when Clare was born, gazed at the young couple beaming with pride, full of hope and high expectations. He stroked the picture of the baby’s cheek with the pad of his thumb and asked himself if he would do it all differently if he could do it all again. He wondered whether the baby Sue was carrying was a boy or girl. Would it look like him or share more of its mother’s features. If given the chance, would he have the energy to run around a garden playing ball with a toddler, teach them to ride their first bike – all the things he never really got to do the first time around and never missed before. He reminded himself crossly that he was being foolish, that the “baby” was presently just a ball of cells and not going to be allowed to experience the world. It wasn’t his choice to make.

In many ways, he was relieved. He couldn’t see a way he would have been able to stay involved with the child without Shirley finding out about the affair. He didn’t really want to start afresh with a whole new life, despite his current dissatisfaction he was comfortable with things as they were. Then again, he felt so out of control – this potential new life that was part of him was going to be snatched away from him and there was nothing he could do about it. He felt a yearning to fix the past with the life of the new, to feel small plump fingers grip around his, to hear the first lisp of “Daddy”, to feel like he mattered in someone’s world.

Maybe it wasn’t a decision set in stone. Perhaps Sue was just doing what she thought he expected of her. It would be crazy not to talk to her about it and see if there were other options, some way around it. Plus, he still had to tell her about the romantic weekend he was planning. He resisted the temptation to send her a text message saying that he was thinking of her, reminding himself that he would be seeing her tomorrow night.

Standing up, he replaced the photo album back on the shelf returned the still unread John Grisham to the coffee table and drained the last dregs of his wine. Things would look better in the morning he was sure of it. He climbed the stairs to bed, unaware that he was humming a traditional lullaby under his breath.

That night, Peter was plagued by bad dreams with a running theme of feeling powerless: a faceless child would be swept to their deaths over a waterfall, just out of his reach, only for them to morph into Michelle or Clare as they tipped over the edge; protecting Shirley from a knife-wielding Sue only to find he was the target not his wife; the unknown assailant not only removing his wife’s handbag, but taking his wife and children out of Peter’s grasp as well. He awoke in the morning with none of the surety and confidence he had hoped for.

The morning’s work passed by in a blur without making any major mistakes, but lacking his usual thoroughness and attention to detail. Lunchtime found him in the pregnancy and birth section in the Waterstones near Trafalgar Square, flipping through the pages of such titles as What to Expect When You’re Expecting and Conception, Pregnancy and Birth. He wanted to make sure he knew as much as possible about what Sue was going through so he could make his case. He may not be able to control the final decision, but that didn’t mean he was going to stop idly by and let this baby slip away from him without comment. It wasn’t just a baby any more, it was a symbol, an opportunity to put so many things right, including his initial reaction when Sue had told him. He had a lot to make up for. In many ways it felt like he was swotting for an exam, one in which he only had a few hours before being tested.

An hour before he was due to leave, he spotted Brian weaving towards his desk with yet another file. Peter inwardly groaned. He couldn’t be late tonight, not again and so soon after the last one. He forced a smile on to his face for his boss.

“Hi Peter, you busy? Can I have a quick word?” Brian indicated towards his office.

“Sure.” Peter followed his boss and sat down in the chair pointed out to him.

Brian closed the door and perched on his desk facing Peter and leant towards him in a “you can confide anything to me” sort of way. “We’re very pleased with the work you did towards the warehouse portfolio, Peter, this isn’t about that, but it has been noticed that over the last couple of days you’ve been somewhat… distracted… if that’s the right word to use. Your work hasn’t been up to your usual quality. Is everything all right at home?”

Peter blinked in surprise. He’d obviously been wrapped up in his problems but hadn’t realised that it was that obvious to anyone on the outside. He cursed his carelessness. “No, nothing’s wrong. Just a couple of late nights and got a bit over tired that’s all – my own fault. I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that it had affected my work. It won’t happen again.”

Brian leaned back out of Peter’s personal space and visibly relaxed. Employee counselling wasn’t a job he relished. “I’m glad. Anyway, I also wanted to let you know that Marie and I are having a little get together at our house next Friday evening for all the senior underwriters. We’d be delighted if both you and Shirley could join us.”

“We’d love to be there, we’ll look forward to it.” Peter was amazed, this was the first invite he’d been given to the boss’ house. Maybe he hadn’t been exaggerating to Shirley last night after all, maybe he was destined for better things.

“Great. I’ll email you with directions and details. Have a good weekend.”

Peter left the room, relieved that he seemed to have been let off the hook so easily and convinced that life was looking up.