Read Please Release Me for Free Online Page B

woke up to the sound of a car crunching up the gravel drive. A car door slammed. He groaned and pushed himself out of bed. He had just got to the landing, pulling his dressing gown over his pyjamas when his mother let herself in through the front door. ‘Peter, darling. It’s only me,’ she shouted. She looked up and spotted him. ‘Hello darling. Did we wake you?’
    As Peter limped down the stairs, the door opened again to admit his father. ‘You did, but that’s okay. I said I’d sit with Sally all day today.’
    His parents exchanged a glance. His father carried some carrier bags into the kitchen while his mother removed her coat and scarf, still watching Peter.
    He ignored them and went into the kitchen. ‘Coffee?’
    ‘Hmm,’ said his father, as he deposited the bags on the surface and then sat down. Peter put the kettle on and put on a round of toast. His leg was particularly painful today. He moved it around, trying to warm up the muscles so that the pain eased.
    ‘I’ve brought you some cottage pie, which can go in the freezer, and some bolognaise sauce for today. You’ll have to make yourself some pasta to go with it. I was going to make some this morning but I didn’t have time.’ Diane Wesley was a small, tidy woman. She moved around Peter’s kitchen with the assurance of someone who knew exactly where everything was. Peter noticed that she’d moved a few things from the places Sally had allocated for them. Sally was going to be really pissed off when she came back.
    Diane unpacked a load of Tupperware containers from the bags. The kettle boiled. Peter started making drinks.
    ‘Oh Peter. You haven’t eaten half the meals I left for you.’
    Peter ran a hand through his hair. ‘Uh … I got home late the past few nights and I wasn’t hungry.’
    ‘I know you come in late. That’s why I leave these meals for you. Darling, you have to eat.’ She came over and put a hand over his. ‘Look at you. You’re so thin. And you need a haircut.’
    He moved his hand away. He’d had this lecture before. ‘I can look after myself. Don’t worry.’
    His father made a noise. Peter looked up. ‘What?’
    His father was frowning. ‘Don’t talk to your mother like that,’ he said. ‘And we’re not so sure you can look after yourself.’
    ‘Frank …’ There was warning in his mother’s tone.
    ‘No love. We can’t keep pretending that things are going fine. We’re worried about you, Peter. We think you need to see a doctor.’
    His mother gasped. ‘Frank!’
    Peter scowled. ‘A doctor? I see doctors every day. Why do you think I need another one?’
    Frank shot a quick glance at Diane, before he said, ‘We think you might be depressed. Just a bit. We could be wrong.’
    ‘Yeah? Well, let me see. I was in a car crash on my wedding day. I have a scar the size of Berkshire from my car keys cutting into my leg. I live in a house with more rooms than I know what to do with. I spend my days either working or in a hospital room because my wife, the person I was supposed to be sharing the rest of my life with, is in a fucking coma.’ He slammed the kettle back onto its base. ‘Excuse me if I’m not bursting into song!’
    ‘It’s hardly surprising, given what you’ve been through,’ said Frank. ‘There’s no shame in admitting …’
    ‘I’m not depressed.’
    ‘You’re showing all the signs—’
    ‘Frank,’ his mother cut in. ‘See, he’s not ready. Stop pestering him.’
    ‘No, wait. What signs?’ Peter glared at his father. His mother said nothing.
    ‘Dad?’
    ‘You’ve been really distant. We expected to you be sad and angry, but we didn’t expect you to stop noticing the world around you. You spend all your time at work or with Sally …’ His father ticked things off his fingers, as though running through a list. He had come prepared for an argument.
    ‘Your sister had a baby, you haven’t even been to see him,’ his mother added. ‘This isn’t like you,