She takes a deep breath.
"I have always struggled with my feelings for you."
"I think I could have told you that, Ruth."
Her look is harsh and he feels the cold radiate from her.
He sighs and buries his gaze back into the green grass beneath his feet.
"And I am sorry if that has made things difficult," she continues calmly.
"If?"
"Harry, please."
"But you didn't struggle with your feelings for George?'
"You have no comprehension of my feelings for him," she bites back.
"Or the banker, or whatever he was, whose voice you fell in love with and pursued to a concert with Malcolm posing as your brother."
Her face is stricken.
"How the hell do you know about that?"
He looks away.
"I asked Sam to keep an eye on why you were taking files home."
She glares at him and though he can't see her, he can feel the anger.
"What a fool, what a young, sad, foolish girl. Is that what you thought Harry?"
"No."
""I'm sure!"
"If you must know I wished I were younger and that it might have been me."
She is silent, surprised.
"Now who's the sad one, Ruth?"
She has no answer for him.
"You fell for him in a moment. It was easy. Doesn't that say everything?"
"It says nothing. Stop putting words into my mouth," she snaps.
"Fine," he mutters.
"Fine," she adds and they sit silent, stubborn, seething.
"You wished you were him?" she says eventually.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you were vibrant, intelligent, beautiful."
It silences her for a moment more.
"You never said anything?'
"Why would I?" he asks, "I was your boss. It was not for me to go chasing my staff, no matter how much I would like to. And I could see no reason why you would feel the same about me."
"I felt something."
He looks at her. And the masochist in him needs to know.
"It was a crush, I think."
He wishes she hadn't told him.
"It started as a crush, or that's what I thought it was. And somewhere it changed, I don't know where or when. I just know that when you asked me to help you prepare for the board for DG that I suddenly realised what it would mean if you weren't there anymore."
For the first time in days she sees a small smile escape him.
"What?"
He doesn't answer.
"Harry, what?"
"You told me I paced."
"In a good way," she adds hurridly.
"Yes, in a good way…..and for the first time I wondered if you… cared a little, Ruth."
"I did."
"You did?"
"Yes. You know I did, Harry."
"I didn't know. I hoped. I wanted to believe. So many times I wanted to reach out. When you stood by Danny, stroking his face, grieving, grieving for the first time, I wanted so much to reach out to you and I knew then how much …."
"how much…?"
"I felt."
"And still you said nothing?"
"Self control, Ruth, self denial."
"Then what made you ask me to dinner?"
"Juliet."
"Juliet!" Her surprise is considerable.
"She asked me if I was in love with you and told me that you were in love with me."
"She said that?
"Yes. I didn't believe her, I hoped, but that was all."
"But I said yes."
"Was she right, Ruth? Did I even come near him, the banker, singer?"
She shakes her head, stunned by the insecurity of a man of such confidence.
"Perhaps not," he adds, sadly. "I always seem to misread you, don't I? I thought your reserve when we were having dinner was nerves, was shyness, as wonderfully endearing as it was. I should have known you were uncomfortable with how other people would see it."
"I …."
She fails to continue.
He sighs.
"You don't understand, Harry."
"No, I don't. Do you, Ruth?"
"No. I …. I was … I can't explain what I felt, how I felt. You were talking about this perfect companion and looking at me and you were you and yet so different, so relaxed, so open and I felt excited and thrilled and frightened and … overwhelmed."
"So overwhelmed that the next day you run for the hills," he adds sadly.
"You were the boss, there was something horribly seedy about what everyone was thinking."
"It was a world away from seedy, Ruth," he says firmly.
"But what they thought wasn't, younger woman, older man, boss, employee, it was wrong. So much gossip, all eyes on us. And then Havensworth and them all expecting something, all watching, waiting."
"No one was watching, no one was waiting."
"You were," she says directly.
"And you ran, desperate to be away from me, again."
"I couldn't …."
"Couldn't what? Couldn't bear to look at me, certainly."
"You were…you looked….I knew what you wanted. You kept looking at me like …like a man …"
"That's what I am, Ruth."
"…Who was making it very clear what he wanted, what he expected."
"I expected nothing, I wanted everything, I said little. Do I need to apologise for that?"
"No."
"Do you blame me?'
"No."
"Was it so abhorrent to you?"
"No, Harry, no. Not abhorrent, how can you think that?"
"Because you ran"
"Because I felt too much, because it was what they all expected, because it was so predictable and because I wished I had the courage to….."
He holds the thought and so does she. The possibility and the loss sit between them.
"Ironic then that the only time I had the courage was when I was leaving," she says eventually, "and stranger still that it suddenly seemed the most natural thing in the world to kiss you."
He looks at her, that kiss, as ever etched, seared, burnt upon his memory. Always.
And she sees the extreme of sadness on his face.
"You should have let me say it, Ruth"
"Do you think I could have got on the boat if you had?"
"But I needed to say it. To you. Out loud. Not to Scarlett, not to an empty bottle of scotch, not to the heavens. To you. So that you knew."
"I knew, Harry."
"But I never did, still, now, I don't know."
She looks away from him, overwhelmed, trying to reign in the feelings that threaten to overcome her.
He continues, relieved to be unburdening himself, to speak openly, honestly, whatever the outcome now.
"Every day I looked at your desk. Everyday I wished you there. Everyday without fail. And I would have buried every feeling, never mentioned it again if I could have you back, back on the grid even if I had to watch you with someone else…. anything. And I got what I wanted….George."
She looks sharply at him.
"And I understand why Ruth. Really I do. I could see as soon as I saw him why you were with him. Tall, young, strong, handsome. What chance had I ever stood? And what chance would I ever stand again as you looked at me with such revulsion, such pain. You thought it was easy to make those decisions Ruth? It was the hardest thing I've ever done. The hardest choice …to break your heart."
She looks at him and feels the world starting to unravel, feels herself starting to unravel.
"Oh god, Harry. You have no idea.'
Next part of conversation been worked on imminently!