Ruth can't see her anywhere. It is just after 6.30, and the after work crowd still lingers, finishing their wine or their coffee before heading home to spouses, partners, children, lovers, or empty houses and flats. Ruth now shares her flat with Beth Bailey, so she is in no hurry to be home. Seeing a raised hand above a wrist encircled by several bangles, Ruth smiles to herself and heads in that direction.
"God, doesn't anyone go home after work any more?" Jane asks, more to be saying something, than to begin a conversation. In the twelve or so months since she and Jane Townsend had had their first inauspicious encounter, they have met maybe three or four times, usually in the company of others. "I was thinking I might again have to accost you by the Thames," Jane continues, "but then you rang, so saving me the trouble."
Ruth sits, slinging her bag over the back of her chair, and sitting back with a heavy sigh.
"Hard day?" Jane asks.
"Yes. Rather difficult. It's been terrible since Harry was suspended from duty."
"I can't claim to know the whole story, and I'm supposing that any questions I ask will be met with a wall of spooks' silence, so all I can say is ….. typical Harry!"
While speaking Jane had poured a generous amount of white wine into a glass for Ruth, which she has already picked up and drawn to her lips for a much-needed gulp. "It's complicated," she says once she places the glass back on the table. "And yes, I can't tell you very much about it." Ruth fiddles with the stem of her glass, unsure of how she should best continue. "How's Phillip?" she asks, chiefly to give herself thinking time.
Jane waves her hand around in a now familiar gesture of dismissal, her bangles clunking together, her rings reflecting the wall lighting, her eyes rolling dramatically. "Oh, you know Phillip …... wonderful one day, dull as beach sand the next."
Ruth smiles as she takes another sip of wine. She misses Harry dreadfully, and has little idea when next she'll see him. Except …... "I didn't ask you here to discuss Phillip's shortcomings …... nor Harry's," Ruth says quickly, carefully placing her glass back on the table. She must slow down. The last thing she needs is to get tipsy and share something she shouldn't.
"I gather this meeting has something to do with the redoubtable Harry."
Ruth nods, casting a covert glance around the room, more from habit than necessity. The room is still overflowing with people who care little about others, and far too much about themselves. "I need to speak with Harry, but I have to be …. creative about how I go about it."
"You know, I can't remember much about the secret service and how it all works, but one thing I remember is that when an agent is suspended, he or she can still cohabit with their spouse."
Again Ruth sits back, but this time she stares across the table at her companion. The cheek of the woman! She can't believe Jane has just said that.
"Oh, don't be like that, Ruth. It was you who told me Harry proposed to you all those months ago. I'm merely stating the obvious. Had you said yes, then you'd not have to devise a way of meeting him in secret."
"Water under the bridge."
"God! Why is it you and Harry and Phillip insist on speaking in metaphors! Doesn't anyone speak plain English any more?"
"I seem to remember that you once taught English, Jane."
"English, yes. Double-speak, no. My son texted me. Perhaps you can act as interpreter." Jane takes her phone from her bag, and scrolls through until she reaches the text Graham had sent her. "What does this mean?" She hands the phone to Ruth, who reads a series of intelligible English words, interspersed with gr8 and l8r and nvr and ur.
"I think he wants to meet you after his Monday night tutorial," Ruth says, handing the phone back to Jane.
"I'm just too old for this world," Jane says with accompanying dramatic emphasis.
"We're all too old for this world."
"Including Harry it seems."
"Especially Harry," Ruth says, staring into the distance where a group of mid-20's women are playing a drinking game, their laughter getting louder each time someone has to down their drink. "Only this time it's the service which wants to get rid of one of its own."
Jane follows Ruth's gaze to the group of young women. "You don't wish to be like them, surely."
"No. I have no wish to be 25 again. I was never that confident."
"Those girls are only confident when they're drunk." Jane brings her glass to her lips and takes a lady-like sip, and then watches Ruth over the rim of her glass. "So, Ruth …... I take it this is not two girls out for a drink and a good time. What is it you want me to do?"
Ruth sighs, and sits back in her chair before leaning forward again so that she is closer to Jane. "I need you to get a parcel to Harry ….. a small parcel. You carry a bag big enough to carry an automatic weapon, so -"
"You want me to take a gun to Harry?"
"Not a gun, no. I have a small box in my bag. In it is a phone which I need you to get to Harry ….. so that I can communicate with him without anyone listening in on our conversation."
"Why not post it?"
"Too risky. Internal Affairs randomly checks the mail – both snail and electronic - of people they're surveilling."
Jane hesitates before answering. "You see, this is one of the many things I hated about the secret service. All that …... secrecy."
"It is a secret service."
"Yes, yes, of course, but everyone knows that the other side knows that they know what they know. No-one fools anyone else. If you walked up to Harry's front door and knocked -"
"My presence would be reported, and then I'd also be suspended from duty, and there'd be no chance I'd see him before his tribunal."
"What have you ever done wrong? Why would they punish you?"
"They – the service – believes that Harry committed …... a …... wrong-doing …... to save my life."
"And did he?"
"Technically yes."
"Well …... that is good news," Jane says with a smile, her eyes wide.
"Good news?"
"That Harry loves someone enough to commit a crime against Her Majesty."
"Harry loves his children very much, and I also believe that he loved you ….. as best he knew how at the time. And yes, he loves me enough to risk his career to save me." Ruth sits back and watches Jane's face, which is impassive. "I've already said too much. You're not to repeat anything I've said tonight …... not to anyone …... other than Harry, of course."
"Of course. Today's secrets are tomorrow's gossip, and next week's wrapping around the fish and chips."
"Now who's speaking in metaphors?" Again Jane's eyes widen in surprise. As she sees it, Harry's suspension can be a good thing if it gets Ruth out from within his shadow. "If Harry goes down," Ruth continues, "he'll be gaoled for a very long time."
"How long?"
"Upwards of fifteen years."
"That's ridiculous. Even I know that Harry, flawed as the man may be, does not deserve to be locked up for doing his job ….. as impossibly bewildering as his job is to me." Jane knocks back the remainder of the wine in her glass, and places her glass very carefully on the table. "So, Ruth …... what do you want me to do?"
Harry has only just finished cleaning up after breakfast when he hears his front doorbell. "Bloody hell, Leo," he says aloud. "Tie a knot in it." Expecting it to be the younger of the two IA minders who has been using his loo several times a day for the past three weeks, he is shocked to see his ex-wife on the doorstep, her mouth curved in a smirk and a sparkle in her eyes. He stands with one hand on the door, not sure what he should do.
"You'd better ask me in, Harry, before Mr Ferocious across the street knocks me down with one of his death stares."
Harry steps aside to allow her into his hallway. "Why are you here?" he asks.
"Can we do this somewhere else, Harry? I'm not about to bite or snarl, and God knows, I'm not planning to kiss you."
"Thank God for small mercies," he says, leading her down the hallway to the kitchen. "Would you like a tea …. coffee?"
"Tea would be nice. Earl Grey if you have it. A dash of milk, no sugar."
Harry shows Jane to a chair, and then busies himself with filling the electric kettle, gathering together tea and sugar and milk and two mugs. When he hands Jane her mug of tea, she hesitates before taking it from him.
"My mother always said tea should be served in a cup and saucer."
"Your mother was a narcissist."
"Well, yes, that is true, but she was still my mother, and she had -"
"- wonderful manners, yes, I remember all that. I know this is not a social call, and I haven't requested your visit, so why are you here?"
Jane brings a halt to Harry's tirade by slowly sipping her tea. "Lovely," she says. "Just what I needed."
"You could have had a cup of Earl Grey at home, served to you by Phillip, and in your best china, too. Why are you here? This is not about Graham, I hope."
"No. Graham is fine. Last I heard he has an exam on Thursday next week, so he's busily studying. And Catherine is fine also. She and Mark have flown to Australia for two weeks ….. something about a refugee summit. I think they're staying in Melbourne." She looks down and takes another slow sip of her tea. "The secret word you're looking for is Ruth."
"Jesus, Jane. Why didn't you say so? I thought something terrible had happened to one of our kids. Is Ruth alright? I haven't been able to contact her, and to attempt to is to risk her freedom also."
"Ruth is very well. It's clear she misses you." The I still don't know why she would is implied.
"And?"
"Oh, Harry, patience is a virtue."
"Jane, quoting your mother might impress Phillip, but it irritates me beyond any imagining."
"How many women do you know who are friends with their ex's new love? You should be thanking me, Harry."
"`Friends' is a very flexible concept. Ruth is a useful channel through which you believe you can influence me."
"Oh, rot! You're lucky I'm so friendly," Jane throws back, as Harry stares at her with his mouth open. "Phillip's ex-wife can't stand me. I suspect her of having a contract out on my life."
"You're only friends with Ruth because she's so tolerant, and she is the one fostering the friendship. You are doing little more than taking advantage of her kind heart."
They stare across the table at one another, the air charged with their energy – part anger, part memory of what had once attracted them to one another. Harry suddenly remembers that it would be at this point in proceedings that they would throw aside their clothes and have frantic sex on the nearest available surface. He sees the invitation in Jane's eyes, and he breaks eye contact with her.
"Did we almost …...?" she says huskily.
"No, we didn't. We are each committed to others."
"If you say so."
"You know so." Harry stands, pushing back his chair with the backs of his legs. The screeching of wood on wood breaks the tension between them. "I take it you are here on an errand from Ruth," he says, his back to Jane as he empties his tea into the sink and then rinses the cup under the tap. "You'd better get on with it."
By the time he turns from the sink to face her, Jane is holding a mobile phone in her hand. "Ruth wants you to have this."
Harry sighs as he takes the phone from her hand. Now he is free to show her to the door. He was not even mildly tempted by her presence, but he was irritated by it. He'd almost forgotten how much Jane enjoys playing games. "It's time you left," he says.