Excuse me, Mrs. Griffiths, may I come in? One of her deputy managers paused awkwardly in the doorway of the plant directors office.
Yes, of course, Peter, Mrs. Griffiths nodded briskly. So, how are things today?
Which things? Where? Peter asked, still hanging on the threshold.
The department, Peter. The department.
Oh, the department. Yes, thats all fine. Why?
Well, surely you havent popped in for no reason, Peter. I take it you want to say something about work?
Yes, I do need to talk to you about something, Peter said, scowling. Actually, more like ask for something.
Ask? What is it now? Mrs. Griffiths eyed him closely, shaking her head. You know, Peter, lately I find you a bit off.
As in lately? he sighed.
Yes. Youre always moping about these days. Like youve been cast in a tragic play. Is all well at home?
Well he heaved a theatrical sigh, not for much longer. Unless you can give me a certain document.
Document? Mrs. Griffiths narrowed her eyes. Youre losing me. What do you mean?
I realise it sounds odd, but Peters face became grave with melodrama. I really do need a written statement. For my wife.
What? Mrs. Griffithss eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. A statement? For your wife? What sort of statement are we talking about?
That nothings ever happened between us and never will, Peter mumbled, turning a worrying shade of beetroot.
Nothing what, exactly?
No close relationship. You know not as a man and woman, his ears now a glorious crimson.
Have you gone completely barking? Mrs. Griffiths paled in disbelief. Or are you seriously pulling my leg?
I wish I were! Peter groaned. But this silly bit of paper with your signature and the company stamp could decide the whole fate of my family. My wife has got it into her head that you and I well are carrying on.
Mrs. Griffiths stared at him, mouth agape. After a beat, she said cautiously, She isnt unwell, is she, your wife? Demanding a certificate that her husband? Ive honestly never heard of such a thing not even in a BBC drama.
I know! Peter was now near tears. But what can I do? We have kids, you know. My wifes threatened to file for divorce if you wont confirm that were merely director and deputy, nothing more. Shell take the children and move to John OGroats to her mothers and you know thats practically the edge of the civilised world. So, please, Mrs. Griffiths, I beg you just write the bloomin letter.
Now hang on, Peter! Why on earth has your wife decided were up to something? Ive never even met her! And my lipstick has never so much as glanced at your shirts. Wheres she getting these wild ideas?
This Peter produced his phone, found a photo, and waved it under his bosss nose. She saw this and had a meltdown.
What, this group photo with the whole management team? Ive got the same one. It was when the mayor handed out those Thank You certificates.
Yes, Peter grimaced. But were standing next to each other and I put my arm on your shoulder.
Because we were squeezed in like sardines!
Right, but look at your head. Rachel says only an enamoured woman inclines her head to a mans chest like that.
What?! Mrs. Griffiths looked fit to burst. What enamoured women? Is your wife blind? I bent my head because I was dodging Susans flower bouquet from blocking my face!
I tried to explain, believe me but the more I talked, the more suspicious she became. Honestly, without your letter, Im doomed. Honestly doomed.
This is just absurd! Mrs. Griffiths fumed. Are you truly so henpecked, Peter, that you tremble at your wife like Prime Ministers Questions?
Yes, Peter whispered, but only for my childrens sakes. Without them, I cant function. Understand?
This is pure madness, muttered Mrs. Griffiths, plucking a clean sheet from the printer. All right If it gets you out of this mess, lets get on with it. Dictate.
Right. Peter sighed. Write: I, Victoria Griffiths, confirm that I can barely stand my deputy Peter Matthews
Victoria shot him a scandalised look, but he held up a placating hand.
Yes, yes, please write it just like that. Barely stand. And add, and in fact, I loathe him.
Loathe?! Victoria spluttered. How am I supposed to run this place if I claim to loathe you?
Okay, then say loathe as a man. And that I wouldnt sleep with him even if he offered a million pounds. Add your signature and the company stamp. For reassurance.
The stamps with Accounts, Victoria replied by habit, then re-read the letter. It was staggering in its idiocy.
But this is absolute rubbish! she declared, folding the sheet, then suddenly fierce tore it clean in two, then again, and one more time for good measure.
What are you doing? Peter gasped. Thats my important document!
You know what, Peter Victoria broke into an oddly cheery grin. Best you just divorce Rachel and be done with it.
Are you mad? Shell vanish to John OGroats with my kids. She absolutely will.
She wont, Victoria kept smiling. I know an absolutely first-rate solicitor wholl make certain you keep the kids by court order.
But I
And if it comes to it, Victoria cut him off, Ill personally help look after your children.
You? Personally? Help me?
Of course. I quite like you, Peter. At least as a deputy. Ill even find you the best nanny in the home counties. Youll see.
And Rachel?
Let her move to John OGroats. Or she can pop by my office for a heart-to-heart woman to woman. Much better than some bonkers letter with a stamp, eh?Peter stared at her, mouth open, hope flickering through his worry. Youd do that for me?
Peter, sometimes the best thing for a family is honesty, not theatre, Victoria said gently. And as much as you fret, youre ten times braver than you think.
He gave a short, shaky laugh. Rachel will never believe it.
Then let her see what happens when we work together, not play pretend, Victoria replied, standing up and clapping him on the back. Either way, no more daft certificates. From here on, we face things like grown-ups.
Peter managed a faint smile. You know, Mrs. Griffiths, youre not half as terrifying as everyone says.
She winked. Dont let that get around, Peter Matthews.
He couldnt help but grin, something lighter settling in his chest for the first time in months. As he left her office, he caught sight of the group photo again in the corridorhimself, Victoria, the mayor, everyone crammed together. He suddenly saw it with new eyes: just colleagues, just a team, standing side by side. Peter realized, maybe all along, what he really needed wasnt a magical paperbut someone to show him that no problem, however absurd, was truly insurmountable if you didnt face it alone.
And for the first time since the row started, Peter thought perhaps everythingchildren, work, Rachel, all of itmight just be all right after all.
