[Chapter One]

A soft humming sound of diluted voices filled the ground floor of the house. A stranger knocking at the door would notice immediately what was going on in here. The general atmosphere was one of severe sadness. Nobody was an exception today and she knew that Peter would have hated it. They were all wearing black and and a grieved expression seemed to be etched on the faces of every person in the room.
High, round tables were spread across the large space. Plates were filled with sandwiches of all kinds: tuna, salmon, roast beef, ham, cheese… there were also bite sized pieces of cheese and crackers. There were also simple desserts like squares, tarts, cookies and chocolates. There was juice and coffee. Yes, she had prepared everything well. It was going fine, just as she had planned. The fact that she had control was a small comfort, she would have preferred chaos if it meant still having him around. If he had been still around, there most certainly would have been chaos.
She wore the dress he had liked the most, ironically a black one. It fit well around her body, as if it was made for her. Her hair was brushed and straight, her make-up simple. As she was walking around, she made the obligatory talk to everyone. Yes, he was a great person. It was such a shame he had to leave us so soon, and how… No, life wasn’t fair. It were always the good ones that died young. No, he hadn’t deserved it. Her opinion was that nobody really deserved to die, but she didn’t utter that opinion. This day was the hardest day of her life, everyone thought. This day and the day he had died. Little did they know that the worst day of her life had been all those years ago. She had known from the start, holding on to this silly hope that maybe she had been wrong, for this once. Or maybe they would have mercy. She had been a fool thinking so. She was never wrong.
It confused her severely to see people that Peter hadn’t liked at all, people he knew where talking behind his back. He had never really cared about this, but still she thought that it took some nerve to show up here. There were colleagues… there was Ian, she saw and she felt bitterness. Ian, the man who had moved heaven and earth to get Peters job. Ian, the man who had got Peters job immediately after her husband had died. Their eyes met and he nodded politely. She couldn’t find the strength to go over and put up a play he would gladly participate in. She stared back coldly, lips pressed together.
She also saw a lot of people Peter had loved, admired, protected, defended. It touched her to see them all gathered, to see them all here because of him. They were so fundamentally different and now they shared this grief, now they had their mourning in common. She knew it would have warmed his heart. Her lips curled into a small smile when she thought he would also be a bit offended that they were all looking so sad and wearing black. He would probably be disappointed.
The fact that she had had so much time to prepare herself for this moment didn’t matter. It made the pain even worse, it stung even deeper. This day had always lied in the distant future, it had always seemed so far away. Maybe it wouldn’t even come, maybe she was wrong… Yes, she had learned from this. But she felt that if it was this was the lesson, there were so many other ways They could have used to teach her. It needn’t be like this. The smile had turned into a frown. It was all becoming too much to carry and she needed time to be by herself.
She excused herself to the person she was talking to – not that she had really heard what the man was saying – and walked up the stairs. Her fingers touched the railing lightly as she dragged herself upstairs. When she finally reached the landing, she dropped herself against the wall. She sat there and hours could have passed, but she wouldn’t have noticed. Her eyes were transfixed on the painting in front of her, the painting that hung above the front door. How many times had he stood leaning over that armrailing, gazing at it, marvelling at it’s beauty?
She knew she couldn’t stay here, it was still too full of his presence. Too full of the art he loved, the paintings he could stare at for hours and talk about so passionately. The small statues everywhere that he had seen at galleries all over the world and had brought with him as a souvenir. She heard foot steps on the stairs, but didn’t look up. The person sat down next to her, sighing deeply. She knew who it was.