Both old ladies clucked around their chauffeur, and then argued about who was going to sit where, before taking an age to get in. Sitting in the front shaking his head, the driver cursed his luck at being called to a fare like this. As the engine thrummed into life, Peter smiled and waved the two of them off, mainly to show anyone that might be watching that all he was doing was waving goodbye to his aunt and her friend after a prolonged stay. June and Mildred returned the waves as the taxi sped off up the street. Breathing a sigh of relief, he shut the front door. To keep up the pretence, it was thought to have been better for them to take a taxi to the railway station, where they would catch a train and then make their way back to the underground world somewhere further up the line.
Wandering along the hall and back into the kitchen, he switched on the wonderful new black DAB radio that Richie had bought him for Christmas. The quality was great, and having put it in the kitchen, he could now listen to it as he ate his breakfast every morning. An upbeat song sprang into life with crystal clear quality as he delved into the fridge to get a yoghurt before sitting down at the table, tapping his spoon to the beat of the music. Halfway through the yoghurt, he decided to retrieve a copy of the Daily Telepath, something he hadn't done for a few weeks.
Having read the paper and finished his breakfast, he decided to go and tidy the bedroom that June and Mildred had been staying in. Climbing the stairs and turning the corner on the landing, he reluctantly pushed open the door to the room that he hadn't been allowed near since the two crazy King's Guard dragons had arrived. The room, with two single beds in it, was a complete and utter mess. No teenager's room in the world looked this bad. Hundreds of sweet and chocolate wrappers besieged the crumb ridden floor. A square coloured pattern was supposed to be visible on the carpet, but there was absolutely no way to make it out through all the mess. Peter's stomach gurgled in disgust. Storming back downstairs, he retrieved the vacuum cleaner and a roll of black plastic bin bags, spending the next three hours tidying the room to his satisfaction. Once finished, only the bare frames of the two single beds remained in the now pristine room. Much to his frustration he'd had to throw away the two mattresses as they were worn and dirty beyond belief. Five big bin bags of rubbish waited outside of his house, just from that room alone. Both guards had most certainly done a job.
'The bin men are going to have a hissy fit when they see the rubbish waiting for them this week,' he mused, gazing at the now tidy room.
Tidying finished, he spent a little time on his computer, before grabbing a bite to eat and then having a relatively early night. The next day was his first back at work since the fight with Manson on November 5th and he had no idea what to expect, or what had gone on in the time that he'd been away. Hopefully he could just fit back in without any fuss and pick up from where he'd left off. Drifting off to sleep, content to know that in the morning he'd be back in the job he loved, all the time he felt happy to be rid of those two crazy King's Guard dragons. The sound of knitting needles clacking at all times of the day and night had, he was sure, driven him to the brink of insanity. Silence and darkness claimed him as his eyes closed and he started to snore, ever so slightly.
After the best night's sleep he'd had in months, he wolfed down a leisurely breakfast, grabbed his packed lunch from the fridge, strolled purposefully through the hall to the new front door, checked he had his phone, wallet and keys, before opening the door and heading out to his car, which for once was parked right outside his house.
Hopping into his car, he found himself feeling rather nervous for some reason, his stomach turning somersaults and legs having that turned to jelly kind of feeling. Desperately he tried to tell himself that it was just like any other day, despite the fact that he hadn't worked for nearly two months and that the last time he was there, he'd been escorted off the premises in front of the whole company, by two gun toting maniacs.
Too nervous to turn the car radio on, he made the short journey in complete silence. All too soon the turning for Cropptech came into view, the red and white barrier of the security checkpoint standing out, moving up and down to let the darting line of cars through, one by one. He queued for thirty seconds or so before his car reached the barrier. Other cars that had been ahead of him had only waited a couple of seconds or so before the barrier had been raised to allow them through. It felt as though he'd been waiting for an age.
'Perhaps it's been so long since I've been here, that they don't recognise me,' he thought, more than a little worried.
Up until now the gate guard had been leaning through the window, into the security lodge, with his back to Peter. As he turned around, Peter was pleased to see it was his friend Owen, the one person who'd stood up to Manson's gun toting goons, and had brought just a tiny sliver of hope to him when he was forced to leave last time. Owen just stood watching Peter in his car, a huge beaming smile spreading across his clean shaven face. Still unable to fathom why he hadn't been let through the gate yet, he could see the traffic building up behind him in his rear view mirror. Just as he was about to turn off the ignition and step out, the white double glazed doors of the security lodge sprung open, revealing a line of staff who exited into the frosty morning air. Still, he had no idea what on earth was going on. After every single member of staff from the lodge had stepped out into the cold, they all formed a single line on the pavement and then, as one, gave him a huge round of applause, led by the burly Owen. Peter blushed, as cars all around honked their horns in appreciation, provoking a sheepish smile for what he considered unworthy praise. Thirty seconds later, the staff all gave him a quick wave, before disappearing back inside. Owen smiled at him, gave him a mock bow and then raised the barrier. Smiling back as he pulled away, he went off in search of the nearest car park.
On the way to his office, he passed numerous Cropptech employees, most of whom he didn't recognise, but nearly all of them gave him a smile and a nod of the head. They'd clearly all heard that he'd played a big part in recovering the stolen laminium and thwarting Manson's attempted heist.
Entering his office, eager to escape all the attention, he shook his head at the sight that greeted him. His workspace was inundated with cards in all shapes and sizes covering just about every available square inch. Picking one up at random, it read: 'Thank you so much for the heroic effort you put into getting the company back on its feet.' It was signed by someone he'd never heard of in the accounts department. Intrigued, he picked up another. 'Good job getting the company back on track. Hope you feel better soon.' Again, it was signed by someone he'd never heard of, in logistics this time. Reading another dozen or so, they all appeared pretty much on the same theme as the first two. Sighing as he flopped down into his comfy leather chair at his desk, it was all a little bit too much, he thought as he booted up his office workstation. Leaning back, waiting for the computer to come online, he spied something hidden amongst the stack of cards on top of the bank of security monitors. Reluctantly getting up from his snug chair, he made his way around the desk and delved into the group of cards. Pulling out a wrapped up package about the size of a large board game, he tore the blue bow and silver wrapping off in one go. To his delight, the biggest box of chocolates he'd ever seen materialised. A little card was taped to the box. It was from Doctor Sheridan Island, the scientist who had been forced out of the company so brutally by the dreadful Manson, while he held sway over Al Garrett. The note simply said, 'Peter, heard what happened. You've changed things for the good for so many people. Feel free to pop over to the lab any time you like for a coffee and a chat. Regards, Sheridan Island.'