Sorry it took a while. Em wants you all to know that she is "dosed up on sugary cherry drops and typing like a secretary on speed, to make sure it never happens again."


"I-I'm not sure I did it justice," she mumbled. "T-the routine, I mean."

They were still side by side on the chaise- lounge, having been left there after Daniel declared that they needed no help from him and left to go and sort out the trio of dancing snowmen who had started arguing outside.

Harry crossed his legs and tried not to think about how her body had felt, pressed so closely to his. "You did it beautifully, Ruth." He turned and offered her a smile. "I don't think I've ever felt so frustrated in my life."

He could tell she was pleased by his comment, despite the blush that swept across her cheeks. He gave himself a moment to enjoy her reaction and as a result was caught off guard as she pressed her warm body against his side, murmuring softly in his ear, "You're not the only one Harry."

He was about to pass comment with a promise that he would make sure she would be considerably less frustrated by this time tomorrow, intending to follow his pledge with a sound kiss on her full lips, when a small voice interrupted them.

"Ew, they're going to kiss!" It was on of Wes's chanting friends from earlier.

"That's what married people do, stupid!" piped up another.

"They're not married," panted Wes, skidding out from behind the curtain and colliding with a short, ginger kid. "Hey Auntie Ruth, hey Uncle Harry." The short, ginger kid now looked confused, unable to figure out the combination of auntie and uncle in relation to an unmarried couple.

"Is she your girlfriend then?" the short ginger haired kid asked Harry.

"Um, w-well I-I suppose so, o-of sorts. I-it's complicated really, you see..."

"Eugh mister, don't you know girls have the lurgy?" the boldest of the three piped up.

Harry didn't know if he was more mortified from the conversation as a whole or from the fact that he had been rendered speechless by 3 nine year olds.

"I'll come over there and kiss all three of you, if you don't bugger off!" Ruth chuckled as the three of them ran off screaming. "That did the trick I think."

"Boys," Harry said, with a roll of his eye. "I'm glad I wasn't one."

Ruth gave him a funny look and laughed.

"Bad phraseology. I meant I'm glad I wasn't like that."

"Oh, I can imagine you were quite the flirt at all ages, Harry, don't you worry."

He was captivated by the twinkle in her eye and the lovely curve of her smile, so much so that he found his hand reaching out and sweeping a lock of hair off of her face. "I must be losing my touch then; otherwise you'd never be able to resist me."

"I doubt I can for much longer, Harry." She whispered, as her gaze locked with his. "I'd just prefer to succumb to your charms without the audience we seem to have attracted."

She moved her head in the direction of the window and he could see a number of children squashed against the window, watching them. However it was the five familiar adults stood behind the row of children that caused him the most concern. Wes and his friends had obviously reported what they had walked in on moments before.

"I'm going to hold you that, before the night is over, Ms Evershed." He murmured seductively before checking his watch. "Come on, there's still time before the show starts to go and get some food."

---

Quite how she had come to be this nervous, she wasn't quite sure. It was 3 minutes to curtain-up and she wasn't even on until the second half, but suddenly her palms were clammy and her stomach was churning. As she apologetically slid past the half a dozen school parents in the fifth row of the auditorium, she felt a warm hand on the small of her back, protectively guiding her to her seat. It was odd that, after the comments about "Uncle Harry and Auntie Ruth", she should be here in the audience with him, watching the first half and looking on Wes together, as if they were all one strange family. She pulled down the seat and sat down, and their elbows bumped as they both went for the armrest. He looked at her, grinned, and gave her arm a cheeky shove, a gesture she misinterpreted and nervously folded her hands in her lap.

"I was teasing, Ruth," he whispered, above the buzz of the hall.

"Oh…erm, I don't, it's fine, I don't need it." She chewed the inside of her cheek and nearly drew blood when, startled, she bit down too hard when she felt his hand pick up hers, wrap his fingers around hers and place both their arms together on the wooden support.

"Nonsense."

She smiled and said nothing, not really trusting that anything appropriate would come to mind and content with the silence anyway.

"Wes should be up first, I think," Harry eventually ventured, as the lights dipped and the audience began to quiet. "What year is he in?"

"Five," she whispered. "Why?"

Harry released her hand and fumbled in his jacket pocket a second, and Ruth wondered if he would place his fingers back in hers when he was finished. Squinting in the dark, he tried to read the programme he'd found. "They're doing Imagine."

The lights went out completely as he spoke and suddenly the only sound was the rustle of his programme as it was hastily stuffed in his pocket. The curtains opened and a quartet of four year 2 boys in 60s suits began an endearingly cute rendition of I Want to Hold Your Hand, complete with a troupe of pigtailed year 2 girls in fluffy coats. Ruth wondered if perhaps they were projecting her thoughts through the speaker system. "I never knew this was a Christmas number one," she whispered.

"And there was me thinking your encyclopaedic knowledge would never fail," he teased.

She blushed behind her smile, and focused intently on her lap for a while, until the song wound down and she was forced to raise her head and applaud.

"They were good," she commented, to which Harry made a non-committal gesture. "Oh come on, Harry, they were cute in those little suits."

He rolled his eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing," he replied over the applause.

"You rolled your eyes."

"I was just wondering why women always get broody at a child in a 'cute' outfit."

"B-broody?"

He raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for an answer. He was clearly amused; she less so.

"You shouldn't generalise," she muttered, and focused her attention forward, trying to ignore his remark, not least because it was true.


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