The house is well stocked with food, drinks and snacks, so they have no need to visit the shops. They unpack their things, storing everything in drawers and the large wardrobe in the bedroom. They make dinner together, and then eat it together at the small round dining table, and then they clean up together.

"I have to go online," Ruth says, leaving Harry to wipe down the table and the sink. "Colin promised to link me to a number of other blogs, and he'll need me to cross check the identities of those who leave messages."

"Right," he says, recognising that it is fast approaching bedtime, and their first night together – as a married couple – has potential for difficulty. Harry knows that it will be up to him to keep things running smoothly, and to ensure Ruth doesn't pack her bags and leave.

Christ! This really is like being married. How many times had he needed to watch his words and his step with Jane, just to ensure she'd not pack up herself and the kids, and leave him? Obviously he hadn't watched them carefully enough, otherwise they'd still be married.

Or …... would they?

And were he still married now, where would Ruth fit into the picture? Would he be attracted to Ruth were he still with Jane? He has no doubt that he would be. Ruth is like no other woman he has ever met. She transcends all the Janes and Juliets, and all the other – now faceless – women to whom he'd been attracted in the past. He likes to think of them as The Beautiful Women. It's just that Ruth has raised the bar on beauty. She is beautiful from the inside out.

He is still absently wiping a cloth over the draining board of the sink, his mind fully occupied with thoughts of Ruth, when she enters the kitchen. Harry jumps a little as he feels her hand on his back.

"Are you alright, Will?"

Harry turns to look at her, and it takes all his self control to not lean down and kiss her. He knows he is looking at her lips, and it is clear that Ruth is aware of this. Harry gives himself an internal shake and a slap, and smiles into Ruth's eyes.

"I suppose I must be tired," he says, not even convincing himself.

Ruth removes her hand from his back, and he sighs heavily. "You can have first shower," she says. "Unless you want to shower in the morning."

He turns away from her to place the cloth over the dish drainer. "I'll …. I'll shower now," he manages to say.

"That's good, because I have something to show you."

Ruth leaves the kitchen and heads back upstairs, while Harry struggles to control his private thoughts and images. He'd always believed that if anyone were to stumble during this assignment, it would be Ruth. He hadn't expected this. As he wipes his hands on a tea towel, he contemplates what it is Ruth may be about to show him.

What is he thinking? Of course it will be something related to work. She's hardly likely to walk in to show him something while he's in the shower, is she?


Harry has showered, and changed into pyjamas, slippers and a bathrobe. When he enters the office, it is clear Ruth is engrossed in working on the laptop. He stands behind her, and then leans over her shoulder, placing his hand on the desk beside her. Ruth quickly turns, and smiles up into his face, but Harry's eyes are on the screen.

"What have you found?"

"There are a number of new comments to your latest entry on your blog."

"Your blog, Ruth. You're the one who has created it."

"Then you'd better read what I've written in the past few days, just in case someone asks you about it."

"Someone?"

"When you meet this group of men."

"And when will that be, Ruth?"

"One of them – Andrew Sullivan – has invited us to their monthly dinner at the Carylon this Friday night."

"Both of us?"

"He says it's for members and wives and partners, so yes, both of us."

Harry is relieved and a little nervous also. In testing their `marriage' in public, he is going to have to suppress any feelings he has for Ruth, and simply act the part. Feeling something for Ruth should make the job easier, but it doesn't. It just adds a level of complication – something more he will need to transcend in order for their relationship to appear believable. It's not as if Ruth cares for him, is it? Were she to, there'd be no need for faking it.

"I'll have my shower while you read," Ruth says, rising from the chair, and indicating he should sit down.


Ruth doesn't spend long in the shower, and when she enters the office, she also is dressed in pyjamas, slippers and a bathrobe. She feels rather self conscious entering an enclosed space, with she and Harry both dressed for bed. She stands beside him, watching him reply to a message on his blog. To her, he appears to have difficulty in hitting the right keys. On looking at his face, Ruth notices him squinting.

"Will," she says, "do you need reading glasses?"

"I have them."

"Then where are they?"

"I hadn't wanted to wear them …..."

"Tell me where they are, and I'll get them."

"They're in my bag. In the pocket on the outside."

Ruth has already left the room, and she finds his glasses easily, and brings them into him in the office, where he opens the case, and puts them on.

"Why don't you wear them at work?"

He looks up at her over the top of the silver rims of his glasses. "I guess it's pride. I don't want to ….."

"... admit to your much younger team that you're getting on a bit."

"Something like that, although `getting on a bit' is a phrase my father might have used."

Ruth notices the personal reference made by Harry, and files it away. "I think they look rather nice on you," she says with a smile.

"Really?"

"Really." Ruth resists the quite considerable urge to touch Harry. She is struggling between touching his arm, and stroking his cheek. It is too early in the operation for such a gesture. "I'm wondering how you're planning to spend your time between now and the dinner on Friday night."

"I've been thinking the same thing. We should have ordered two laptops, Ruth."

"Maybe I'll suggest that to Colin. It can always be delivered, or maybe one of us can pick it up."

"I think the idea of being undercover is that we don't break cover. What about you? What are you planning for the next three days?"

"I'll have to write some more articles, but before I do that, I need to interview a couple of Falklands veterans. They are rather keen to tell their stories."

"So …..." Harry says, again looking up at Ruth, "pretend life is becoming blurred with real life."

"Mmmm," she says, gazing at him for perhaps a moment too long. "You know, I don't think these veterans from the Gulf War will care whether you were in the Falklands or not. They want someone to tell their side of things, and they prefer that someone to be one of them. Besides, Captain Will Garside only spent ten days in active service in the Falklands."

"Before I was shot by a sniper. I never thought I'd reach the day when I'd be thankful for Tom Quinn shooting me."

"Surely these men won't be expecting you to provide evidence that you were shot."

"No, Ruth, but an actual bullet wound adds authenticity, even if no-one but me ever sees it."

They exchange a look which can only be interpreted in one way. Is it possible that over the next few days, someone else may get to see his bullet wound? Harry breaks eye contact with Ruth, looking away, suppressing a smile.

She was contemplating seeing my bullet wound …... I'm sure of it.


Ruth is the first to head off to bed, while Harry visits the bathroom. He needs to pee, but more than that, he needs to give Ruth some privacy while she gets into bed.

When he enters the bedroom, Ruth is already in bed, and is sitting up, her back against against her pillow, reading. The lamp on her side of the bed is the only light in the room. Harry crosses the room to close the curtains, and then he removes his bathrobe, kicks off his slippers, and climbs into bed. The bed is large enough for them to lie comfortably without having to touch one another. Harry notices that Ruth keeps her eyes on her book while he gets into bed. They are each being so damned polite. He wants to look at her – scrutinise her – but he daren't. Ruth requires `careful handling'.

"Do you want the light off?" Ruth asks, looking down at his head on the pillow (and silently wondering where this will all end.)

"No, Ruth. When I'm tired enough, I can fall asleep standing up. Feel free to keep reading. If you don't mind, I'll turn my back on you and try to get to sleep."

"Goodnight, Will."

Harry turns back slightly, so that he can see Ruth over his shoulder. "Ruth, while we're alone, why don't you call me Harry?"

"I don't think that's a good idea. I know you're an old hand at this, but I'm not. Once this operation is over, I'll call you Harry, but not before."

"Alright," Harry smiles at her. "Goodnight, Ruth."

Harry again turns on his side, and closes his eyes. It is quite dark on his side of the bed, but it is not the light which is keeping him awake. It is the knowledge that Ruth is lying next to him in bed. It is her smell – soap, shower gel, skin cream – an intoxicating scent that promises to drive him mad. He'd thought that bringing Ruth with him undercover would be easy. She's clever, competent, discreet, intuitive, sensitive, along with a whole lot of other qualities he daren't even think about.

Harry normally enjoys going undercover. It's the unknown factor …... the challenge ….. the adrenalin rush when just one wrong word or gesture can lead to disaster. Not any more. This is a new kind of challenge, and he's not sure that he's up to it.

"Will …..." Ruth's voice is quiet, but Harry hears it like she's shouted at him.

"Yes?"

"What do these men want with you? Do you think it's just someone to tell their story?"

"I don't know the answer to that, Ruth. I suspect they want me to tell their version of events, just as the blog you're writing as William Garside is exposing truths about the Falklands War …... things which the public hasn't been told. The way our soldiers were sent in unprepared. Will Garside is a journalist. I suspect they're simply looking for a voice, someone to tell their story."

"I ….. I'm afraid that you might be stepping into danger," Ruth says, her voice still very quiet. "I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

"I don't want anything bad to happen to me, either, but I still have to find out what these men are up to, and why three of the group have recently purchased digital timing devices, and another three are suddenly buying furniture from the Netherlands."

"If they are about to perform a terrorist attack on government buildings -"

"Which may include Thames House."

"Then …... won't it be too dangerous for you to show your face? What if even one of them knows who you are?"

"I don't expect that to happen. I only became section head after they all retired from the army, and besides, I keep my profile very low for this very purpose."

"We have to work out a contingency procedure …... for if the unexpected happens."

Harry turns to face Ruth, and watches her carefully. Her brows are knitted, a worried expression on her face. This is something else he is not accustomed to. It is a long time since he's had a woman worrying about his safety. He doesn't enjoy being limited by the fears of others, but he has to admit to himself that he is enjoying Ruth's concern for him. If he didn't know better, he could believe that she cares for him. But that's just ridiculous …... isn't it?

"We have ample time for that, Ruth."

Ruth nods, but she looks unconvinced. She closes her book, and places it on the bedside table, and then turns out the light. "Goodnight, Harry," she says.

"Goodnight, Ruth." Harry smiles at her slip of the tongue, and rolls back on to his side, away from her.