'What?' she snapped before apologising, as she lent over her desk, realising that her soaking wet hair was threatening to destroy the paperwork that invariably littered its top. She'd had a god awful journey into work, jostled at every turn by her fellow commuters who were attempting to board a train that was already fifteen minutes late. Added to which she was soaked, almost to the skin, because the skies had opened on a day when she'd chosen to leave her umbrella at home, having cleared up after Fidget who'd been sick. So not only was she late, but Ruth was well and truly wound up as well as cold and upset.

'Sorry have I caught you at the wrong moment?' said the gentle voice at the other end of the phone, as Malcolm, who'd seen her the previous evening at choir practice, wondered if he was making the right decision, by asking someone as gentle and kind as Ruth was to deal with his agitated and overwrought boss. Still Ruth did have a reputation that was second to none when it came to discretion, and if anyone could keep the now extra complicated divorce proceedings of Harry and his wife Jane out of the public eye, then it was surely her.

'He's called Harry, he's my boss, would you at least meet him?' he heard himself asking her.

'Give me a couple of hours, I can make some time then Malcolm,' she told him, looking down at her diary, that told her as if she needed reminding, that she had the funeral to attend the following afternoon, of the man who had been the other half of Harrison and Evershed Solicitors.

Ruth had a welter of qualifications to her name, having attended Oxford where she'd studied English Literature and Modern Languages, until wanting to tax her brain even further she'd sidestepped into law. She'd met Alex Harrison when she'd been interpreting at a multi European conference in Amsterdam, at a time when her career was really kicking off. Despite them spending all of their evenings together and him showing interest, she'd made it quite clear that she wasn't interested in taking their relationship any further. Time had moved on and they'd stayed firm friends, and when he'd married Sylvie and moved back to London, he'd persuaded her to move from the world of academia and come and work with him. That was until two weeks ago, when during a game of squash, he'd suffered a massive brain haemorrhage and had been dead within minutes.

Was his death affecting her more than she'd first realised? Of course it was, as she sat back down and wondered not for the first time, if a lifetime's commitment to the same person was worth it. Divorce after divorce, people who had vowed to spend the rest of their lives together, torn apart for a myriad of reasons and now this, had dampened any longing that she may have once had to fall in love and get married. Still, now wasn't the time to wallow in self-pity, she needed to straighten up her desk and get herself smartened up and quickly, before this Harry, what was his name Pearce, arrived on her doorstep.

Malcolm hadn't told her anything about him, but if he was a friend of Malcolm's then he was bound to be nice and without Alex and his contribution to the payroll to rely on, she really did need the money, or God alone knows how she was going to survive.

At forty six years old, when he was pushing fifty, Jane had finally decided, for personal gain he'd recently found out, that they needed to go their separate ways. It had been a close run thing more than twenty years ago when the children had been younger, but they'd made the joint decision, ridiculous though it had been, to stay together at least until the children were old enough to cope without their father. So much for good intentions, which had backfired stupendously when Graham had gone on a bender into heaven knows what.

It wasn't as though he hadn't tried to move on, whatever the hell that meant. He'd had dates aplenty in the early days as had she, but it had reached the stage where he could barely remember the last time that he'd been out with a woman, never mind slept with one. Work had become everything, but Catherine recently suggesting that he'd die alone had scared the hell out of him.

'You can forget dating sites, they're a nightmare,' he'd told her, 'I want to see what I'm getting myself into before taking the plunge,' was a comment that had elicited the raising of Catherine's eyebrows, and a look on her face that suggested he was living in the Dark Ages. But she hadn't finished and more was to come, and it was this and more precisely her use of the word old, that had prompted him to confide in Malcolm.

'For heaven's sake Dad,' Catherine had yelled at him, 'do as Mum wants, get yourself divorced and move on, she has, find somebody else or you'll end up as a sad old man with only a dog for company,' had been her last words to him, before she'd flown back to her saving the world exploits in Israel.

'Come on Malcolm what's this friend of yours like, is she any good?' Hadn't divulged anything other than the fact she was sweet, plus her address. Well he didn't want sweet, he wanted efficient and bloody ruthless, he wanted this to be over quickly before Catherine got back in a couple of months' time and suggested that she take him on as one of her hair brain projects, or worse still started checking his dirty linen. Still if Malcolm liked this Ruth and had recommended her, then there had to be something about her that made it worth him giving her a try. Apparently she liked classical music, which at least meant they had something in common and if she proved useless as a solicitor, then maybe he could let her down gently during a discussion about Beethoven?

Would he be required to divulge his occasional early day's dalliances outside of the marital bed that had put an end to his status as a husband? He hoped not. Their rows in those days had reached proportions that had threatened to wake the entire street and seen him buying a much smaller house that was closer to work and where he was now living. The only plus being that he'd been able to acquire Scarlet who he adored. But he and Jane weren't arguing any more they were friends, well up until recently when she'd met Harvey bloody high and mighty, who according to Catherine was a charmer and likely to become a permanent fixture, which for some inexplicable reason was irking him. He looked in the mirror and ran his hand through what was left of his hair, another annoying habit that he knew he'd acquired recently. He wished he hadn't, Catherine was right, he felt old all of a sudden.

She'd got as far as shaking his hand and saying 'you're Harry Pearce I presume, I'm Ruth Evershed, Malcolm called me to say that you needed my help,' before asking him to take a seat and to pass her the paperwork that he was holding.

'Harry?'

'Yes I'm sorry, I wasn't,'

'Yes I can see that, I know this must be difficult for you, but I do need you look at me and concentrate on what I'm saying.'

His bloody divorce from Jane was less than two months away and his solicitor had chosen this precise moment to up sticks and leave the country without so much as a bye or leave, and yet here he was, grateful that he was sitting in front of this tiny woman with the most startling blue eyes that he'd ever seen.

'Have you done this before?' he asked her inanely, praying that his face wasn't starting to flush and painfully aware of how stupid he sounded, having just walked across the Millennium Bridge and climbed the staircase which had directed him to the small four room offices of Harrison and Evershed Solicitors.

'Many times, you have no need to worry, you can trust me Harry,' did nothing to calm his heartrate that was accelerating far faster than his departure from the family home. Whether or not she had any idea as to the affect she was having on him he had no idea, as he watched her turning the pages patiently and making notes on the pad that sat beside her. He was even fascinated by the way that she was chewing the end of her pen, what the hell was the matter with him?

'We'll sort this out Harry however long it takes us,' she finally said, failing to bring him out of his daydream, as his mind went into an anything you want and I'll do it mode, made worse when she stood up and smiled at him and held out her hand, intending him to shake it and leave.

'I'll leave it in your capable hands then shall I?' he heard himself saying without moving, before realising that she was still standing there waiting.

As always when he had the rare opportunity to be free of the goldfish bowl where he spent most of his working day, Harry took as long as he thought he'd be able to get away with, before turning in the direction of Thames House. Today more than at any other time he felt the need to walk beside the river and for the solace that it might bring him. He'd started his day in a positive no more complications mode and now what, he'd been blindsided by a woman years younger than he was who had completely captivated him? What he wanted was so far removed from what he had as to appear unattainable, but was it too late to make that change and find someone he could trust and confide in? Jane the wife he had once loved and still did, but not with the passion of the young man that he'd been when they'd first met, was in love with another man. His children both grown up and on paths that he'd never taken, free to do as they pleased. And now, just when he'd thought that life might be able to take a turn for the better if his divorce from Jane could be made an easy transition for both of them, Juliet bloody Shaw had turned up again and was threatening to blackmail him.

Would Ruth take the time to read what he'd left with her, rather than him having to enter into the shame that he knew he'd feel if she wanted to discuss it with him? Would she even want to help him once she'd read it? Probably not, with a business to sort out and a funeral to attend?

Still as difficult as it was, he had to be patient. 'Two days Harry,' she'd said to him, 'give me two days and I'll call you I promise.'