"He asked me to marry him."
Beth was sure Ruth must have run dry of tears, but at this moment she knew that she certainly hadn't.
"Beth, why are you crying?"
"Oh, Ruth, I'm sorry. Why didn't you tell us?"
Ruth looked at her. "What was there to tell?"
"Had you chosen a date?" Beth said wiping her eyes, trying to be strong for Ruth but stung by the bitter timing of his death.
"Date?" said Ruth, "I said no."
Beth looked at her.
"Why?"
"I don't know," said Ruth.
Life on the Grid was hard. Their loss hung heavy. Their new boss, a 'yes' man from six, rushed over by the Home Secretary, was not Harry. No one was Harry.
They were doing their jobs. Ruth was functioning and very little else.
"Hi, is that Ruth?"
"Yes."
"It's Catherine, Harry's daughter."
"Hi."
"Hi."
"How are you doing?"
"Fine. Well, you know," said Catherine wondering why people always said fine when they clearly weren't.
"Yes" said Ruth she knew very well what she meant.
"Ruth, do you think we could meet. I have something that I think is yours."
"Mine? Yes, of course. Is tonight alright?"
"That's good." For a moment she just sounded like him. "Will you come round to dad's, around eightish?"
"Oh," Ruth was thrown slightly, "Ok, I'll see you tonight."
"Bye Ruth."