Okay, here's another short one. I did have a plot in mind but things seem to be going slightly askew already. Usual disclaimers apply. Hope you enjoy...although given the first para I'm not counting on that one!


From: Harry Pearce
To: Beth Bailey; Ruth Evershed; Dimitri Levendis; Tariq Masood; Alec White
Subject: Date for your diary

Dear all

Hope this finds you well and working hard so that I can sleep soundly under my bed at night.

I'm sure you all know that shortly after I left the service I began seeing Sally Chapman. Much to my surprise and delight the poor woman has now agreed to marry me, and we have set a date of 24 June for the nuptials. Formal invitations will be sent out nearer the time, but I do hope you will all be able to attend.

Best,

Harry

As each in turn read the email, they glanced across at Ruth. Her gaze remained fixed on her monitor, her face impassive.


Having spent most of the afternoon trying to pluck up the courage to speak to her, Beth finally followed Ruth into the kitchen.

'Are you okay?'

'I'm fine. Why shouldn't I be?'

Beth hesitated. 'I think given that he knows how you feel about him, that was a rather cruel way of letting you know he's getting married.'

Ruth ducked to retrieve her milk from the fridge. 'Whatever I felt for Harry Pearce died a long time ago. Do you want a tea?'

'No thanks. And sorry, but that's bull. I was with you the night the inquiry finished when he blanked you, and I've watched you being awful to Alec these past few months, just because he's not Harry.'

Busying herself with her tea-making ritual, Ruth didn't respond.

Beth sighed. 'Look, if you want to talk, you know where I am,' and she turned and went back to her station. She didn't see that the hand pouring milk into the teacup was shaking.


'Penny for them?' With her fingertips Sally was tracing whorls on Harry's bare chest.

He tilted his head towards hers, nestled at his shoulder.

'Oh, just thinking how your life can change beyond all recognition in the space of a few months. This time last year I was dealing with the fallout of one of my team emptying an entire cartridge into a hitman and another going rogue; now I'm spending my days in bed giving you multiple orgasms.'

Sally laughed. 'Days? You should be so lucky! You do know that I took today off to shop for a wedding outfit?'

'Mmmm. I wouldn't bother though. I prefer you naked.'

Her hand snaked under the duvet. 'Mm, so I see. Would you not be a bit pissed off if I got arrested for public indecency before the wedding night?'

He gasped as, cupping him, she gently squeezed. 'I didn't think women could get arrested for that. But never mind public indecency, I think it's time for some of the more private sort.'


Two weeks later

The funeral was rather better attended than the last one she'd been to, with pews filled with staff from both Five and GCHQ. Seated with Malcolm near the back of the church, Ruth scanned the rows for a familiar head, castigating herself for being disappointed that he wasn't there. As they waited for the service to begin, she glanced back down the aisle only to see Harry appear in the doorway. Their eyes met. She saw him freeze and gave him a quick, small smile then turned back to face the front. A few seconds later she sensed him slide into the pew beside them.

'Hello Ruth, Malcolm,' he whispered.

'Harry! Good to see you!' Malcolm beamed.

The voice resonating from the pulpit obviated Ruth saying anything at all.


As they walked back to their cars to head for the wake Ruth had somehow attached herself to a group from GCHQ. Turning his collar up against the bitter wind, Harry watched her, his face troubled.

'It was a pretty lousy thing to do, you know,' commented Malcolm.

'Hmm?'

'Telling her you are getting married in a round robin email.'

Harry frowned. 'She made it abundantly clear how she felt about me. I doubt if she gives a damn about the fact I'm getting married or about the means by which I announced it.' He realised Malcolm had stopped walking.

'What?' Malcolm was looking at him in utter incredulity.

'Do you really believe that? For god's sake Harry, look at the woman. She's skin and bone. At the risk of sounding Victorian, if that's not pining away for you I don't know what is.'

Harry, who'd been stunned at the gaunt, pale, almost ethereal face that had greeted him in the church, scoffed. 'Whatever ails her, if anything does, I promise you it's not me.'

'Don't you think it's odd that she's off hobnobbing with the mathematicians?'

'No. She doesn't want anything to do with me, I told you.' He jabbed at his keyfob. 'Want a lift?'

Malcolm shook his head. 'My car's just around the corner. Are you coming to the wake?'

Harry hesitated.

'The two of you need to sort things out. Please, Harry. For my sake if nothing else. I hate seeing two dear old friends at daggers drawn.'

'We're not...' Harry's shoulders slumped. He was mindful too of what had happened at the last funeral he and Ruth had been to. Had that been the beginning of the end? 'I'm not sure that Sam's funeral is the best place for us to thrash out our differences.'

'No need to thrash. You're grownups, for crying out loud.' He glanced over at Ruth, deep in conversation at the cemetery gates. 'And you can start by giving her a lift. I've just remembered some urgent business I need to attend to.' He winked and strode off round the corner, leaving a woebegone Harry staring after him.