The Resistance

Well, screw you. I’ve had enough. You never do anything anyway. As far as I can see, Pincent Pharma isn’t exactly afraid of you.’
    Pip’s brow furrowed. ‘I’m sorry you feel this way. I have never sought to be important, only to protect mankind from the terrible temptation of eternal life, only to fight for the new, for the young. I was going to contact you tomorrow anyway, Peter, because I have information about Pincent Pharma that I wanted you to investigate. A Unit X on the sixth floor. We are very concerned about what’s happening there.’
    ‘Unit X?’ Peter put his hands in his pockets. ‘You tell me nothing for weeks and now that I’ve finally seen through you, you tell me about a Unit X? I’m not an idiot, Pip. I’ve had enough. I think you should go.’
    He opened the sitting room door to leave; Pip stood up.
    ‘Peter, don’t walk away from me. You’re making a mistake. For Anna as much as yourself.’
    Peter turned back, his eyes flashing. ‘Don’t you talk to me about Anna,’ he said, his voice low and hoarse. ‘Not after this. And don’t you even think about contacting her again. We’re going to sign, and we’re going to be happy. You make one move and I’m telling the Authorities everything about you. I want you to leave us alone, Pip, do you understand? Just leave us alone.’
    ‘I understand.’ Pip’s voice was gentle; sad rather than angry. ‘But I am here for you, Peter. I will always be here.’
    ‘Whatever,’ Peter said, pushing past him and making his way up the stairs towards the bedroom. ‘You can see yourself out.’
    Then, remembering something, he turned back. ‘I got your message, by the way. File 23b, wasn’t it?’ Casually, he pulled it out from under his waistband and threw it down the stairs.
    ‘Message?’ Pip had followed Peter from the sitting room into the hallway. ‘What message?’
    ‘Consider it my last job for the Underground. Consider us quits.’
    ‘Wait, Peter. I don’t know what you mean. I didn’t ask you for a file . . .’ Pip called after him, but Peter had already reached the top of the stairs and turned the corner. And as he crept slowly towards the bedroom, his anger turned to desperation. The tears that had tried so hard to fall earlier began to stream from his eyes, as he did his best to fight them back.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ he begged, as he got into bed and pulled Anna towards him. ‘I don’t deserve you. I’m sorry.’
    ‘Of course you deserve me,’ Anna whispered, turning and wrapping her arms around him. ‘Everything’s going to be OK.’ And Peter squeezed her back tightly, tighter than ever before, because he knew it wouldn’t, because he knew that things would never be OK again.

Chapter Fourteen
    Anna carefully manoeuvred Ben’s battered pram down the steps leading to the high street, and followed the road round until she reached Angler’s Way, where the Bright Days coffee shop was situated, and where she was due to meet Maria. It didn’t feel like a bright day. It felt like a horrible, black, gloomy day, even if the sun was doing its best to shine through the clouds. Peter had left early that morning, had said nothing about the night before, had given her no reassurance that everything would be OK, that things would return to normal. Pip had assured her that he would be watching closely, that she shouldn’t worry. But she did worry; she worried all the time. She felt like a balloon, felt as if Peter was losing his grip on her, that any minute now she’d be floating away into oblivion, alone and helpless in a never-ending sky.
    As she entered the coffee shop, she saw Maria sitting at a small table in the window and she waved, relieved to see a friendly face, a face that didn’t seem disappointed in her or angry for no reason. Maria immediately stood up and helped her navigate Ben through the closely clustered tables, then smiled benevolently at him. ‘Such a handsome young man,’ she said sadly. ‘Such a shame he won’t have any friends to play with.’
    The smile on Maria’s face was so sweet, so warm, and Anna felt her eyes well up. She longed to talk to someone about Peter, to hear a comforting voice telling her that his anger, his words, had meant nothing, but instead she wiped the tears away briskly and sat down, ordering a cup of sweet tea for herself and a glass of milk for Ben.
    ‘You know, I am so very grateful you came,’ Maria said, once the waiter had moved away. ‘You’ve been