They sat in silence, holding hands and drinking whisky as night fell around them. Neither wanted to break the silence, at the moment being perfectly content with each others company and nothing more. What eventually disturbed them was Lucy, mumbling in her sleep on the baby monitor. She wasn't awake, but it jarred them out of their quiet companionship.
"We should go inside," Ruth said. "Get some sleep."
"Mm," he agreed. They went in the house and Ruth found a blanket and a pillow for him.
"Do you have any… things with you?" she asked.
"I've got some clothes at a B and B up the road. In case you didn't want me to stay." He seemed hesitant and nervous and she smiled at him.
"Of course I'd want you to stay here," she said. "But what B and B?" She couldn't think of one close to her house at all.
"Well, up the road is an understatement," he said. "About five miles away."
"Tell me you didn't walk here," she said in surprise.
"Of course I did. I needed the fresh air to clear my head anyway."
She smiled and wanted to hold him again, but resisted the urge. "Where do you want to sleep?" she asked to interrupt the silence, trying to pretend this wasn't awkward.
"The living room?" he suggested. As much as he would have liked to sleep in Ruth's bedroom with her, he couldn't do it. Not yet.
"Lucy'll want to watch Pepper Pig early," Ruth said.
"What's early?" he asked.
"Seven," she said.
"I'll be awake," he said. "I promise."
"I almost forgot," she said. "How you're a morning person."
"Army training I'm afraid," he said. "Go to bed. I'll be fine."
"Goodnight Harry," she said. She tentatively leant towards him and kissed him briefly. He smiled, then watched as she went upstairs. He got himself comfortable on the floor, without using a pillow. It was quiet here, a natural quiet which unnerved him. For the last few years, any quiet he had was enforced by soundproof rooms. Otherwise he had the constant noises of a prison. Even in London, alone for a few weeks before he came to find Ruth, there was still constant noise. Traffic, pub and club noises at all hours of the day and night, construction sites, 24 hour cafes. Never this natural quiet. It felt wrong and took him a long time to drift off into a doze.
Ruth went downstairs to find Harry cooking breakfast in the morning. Bacon sandwiches. She smiled at his back and passed him the framed photograph she knew he'd want to see. "I never forgot Harry," she said in a low voice. He took their wedding photograph and held it delicately, drinking in the image of himself and his wife, taken a little over four years ago. She looked as beautiful today as she had in that photo, and he loved her just as much now as he had that day.
"You haven't aged a day," he murmured, looking at her joyful face, frozen in time forever. How could any woman look at him that way? "I think I look a bit more haggard now, though." He put the wedding photo on the kitchen worktop, still staring at it as he flipped the bacon in the pan.
"Harry, you don't believe what I see in you, do you?"
"Not really," he said. "I never did quite believe my luck, and after so long…"
"I'm not going anywhere, Harry," she said. "You're stuck with me." He smiled and kissed her briefly. "You didn't have to cook," she said.
"I know," he said. "I wanted to."
"You didn't sleep well?" she asked, looking at him.
"No, I don't these days," he said. "I'm fine."
"Lucy will wake up any minute," Ruth said. As predicted, the girl came into the kitchen, yawning.
"Morning sweetheart," Ruth said.
"Mummy, I'm hungry," she said rubbing her eyes. She looked at Harry, and her shyness overcame her again, hiding behind her mothers leg.
"Come on, Luce," Ruth said easily. "You remember Harry."
"Pancakes?" she asked tentatively.
"Not this morning," he said. "Bacon?"
"Mummy?"
"I'll get your cereal," she said, knowing her daughter too well. "She doesn't like bacon," she added to Harry under her breath. He nodded, but stiffened a little.
Within ten minutes, Lucy had eaten and was sitting in front of the TV, watching her cartoons. "I should know," he said. "What she likes and doesn't like to eat, I should know that."
"It's not your fault," Ruth said. "You didn't vanish through your own choice. It's not like you were on holiday. You have a chance to get to know her. She won't remember your absence in the years to come."
"I hope not," he said. They finished eating and Harry moved to wash the dishes.
"Let me do something," she said.
"I want to feel useful," he replied, not letting her do anything at all. His hands were in the sink, and she knew that she had to say something. The longer she left it, the worse it was going to be when Harry eventually found out.
"I need to tell you something," she said.
"Oh?" Harry asked, looking at the sink and not at her.
"I slept with another man," she said. "Once," she added. He didn't move, but his entire body stiffened. She felt completely immersed in guilt over what she'd done, but knew that he needed to know.
"Why?" he asked gently, not looking at her.
"Because I was lonely," she said honestly. "I thought you were dead, Harry. I'd never have gone near him, had I thought there was even a possibility you were still alive. I'm so sorry, Harry."
He breathed heavily, still not looking at her. "Who?"
"His name's Chris," she said. "Chris…" She bit her lip, trying to remember his last name. It was so inconsequential that it hadn't stuck in her mind. "Barrington," she added, when his name came to mind.
He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "You couldn't remember?"
"No," she said. "It didn't matter."
He nodded then looked down at his hands. "Ruth, I almost expected after so long apart, with you believing me dead, that you might have someone else. That I might be pushed aside, and you might want someone else."
"Harry, I don't," she said softly. "It was one mistake. I don't want anyone else. I never have."
"Do you still want to be married to me?" He looked deep in her eyes, as if daring her to lie.
"Of course I do," she said, feeling a lump of emotion in her throat. "I don't want anyone else. That's not why I told you."
"Why did you tell me?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"Because I don't like lying to you," she said.
"I wouldn't have known," he said.
"Would you prefer that?" she asked. "For me to hide it?"
"Not in the long run," he said after a moment. "Right now, it would be nice not to know that my wife had been with another man." He moved, drying his hands on a towel, then reached for her hand and squeezed gently.
"Can you forgive me?" she asked, feeling his fingers gently run over her skin.
"Yes," he said. He smiled at her tightly and she felt the tension and fear lessening slightly. "Rationally, I don't blame you. Emotionally… it's going to be hard."
"I know," she said. "I am sorry, if it makes any difference."
"Let's just…" he shrugged uncomfortably. "Tell me the truth, was it just one?"
"Yes," she said. "One man, only once."
"Okay," he said. He seemed to retreat into himself and she mentally sighed. She knew it was the right thing to tell him, but she wished he'd be able to forget it. Soon.
More when it's written. Hope you enjoyed this instalment.
