14 October 2005 - Harry
Tonight. It has to be tonight, he decides as he leans back in his seat, staring unseeing out the window of the car, while Anthony drives him home, his thoughts full of Ruth and their lovemaking last night. He simply hadn't been able to resist her when she'd looked at him like that, her gaze open and honest, her eyes luminous, calling to him like a Siren, drawing him in until he'd lost himself in her, drowning in his love for her, in the essence of this woman who has come to mean so much to him. His self-control hasn't snapped like that on operation in a quarter of a century, and though he's ashamed of himself for taking such a risk, for potentially putting them both and the success of the operation in danger by taking his eye off the ball, he can't quite bring himself to regret it. It had been the most satisfying, spectacular sex he's ever had.
He has to talk to Jane. Now. Tonight. Before Ruth's reaction to what happened, whatever that might be, influences him and he risks falling back into inaction.
The flight home had been so different from the one to Baghdad. Ruth had sat beside him, but there had been others watching them and an increasing tension between them until, by the time they'd landed at RAF Northolt, Ruth had seemed so distant that he'd feared the worst. Adam had met them with a team who would be transporting the Uranium to a safe, non-disclosed location. Only he, Adam, Ruth and the American, Libby McCall – who'd insisted on flying home with them – will know where that is, though he secretly has plans to move it later, just in case. This had been part of the deal they'd struck with Hillier, McCall and Mani, in return for their freedom and ability to carry on in their jobs unimpeded.
Ruth had seemed so tired and quiet once they were back on British soil, barely making eye-contact with anyone, least of all him. He'd wanted to keep her by his side as long as possible, talk to her, kiss away her fears and guilt, tell her all the things he should have told her last night, make all the promises he should have made, and reassure her that everything will turn out well for them, but he'd realised that she needed to be alone, needed to rest after their long trip and a virtually sleepless night, and the chances of him finding a moment alone with her to explain were close to nil after his two day absence from the Grid. So he'd sent her straight home – she was meant to be ill anyway – while he and Adam took care of the Uranium and went back to the Grid.
He sighs, rubbing his face to dispel the fatigue that's beginning to catch up with him. He'll just have to find another opportunity to talk to Ruth before it's too late, but right now, he needs to focus on how to break the news to Jane and prepare himself for her reaction.
She's not home when he enters the house, making him wonder where she's got to. He's rarely home before eleven, so even if Jane's out most nights, he wouldn't know it, but the fact that he's never wondered or bothered to ask before highlights just how distant they've become over the years. It really is a miracle that they've lasted this long, he muses as he removes his coat and makes his way to the kitchen in search of something to eat, a rather excited Scarlet jumping up at him as soon as he opens the kitchen door. He crouches down to stroke her, murmuring sweet nothings to her before he straightens up and moves over to the sink to wash his hands. "Where's Jane?" he asks the dog as he sets about warming up his food and grabs the half-empty bottle of white wine from the fridge. Scarlet doesn't answer but simply stares at him, her tongue hanging out of her mouth, making her look like she's laughing. She's sitting at the table already, having jumped up on the chair beside the one he usually occupies. She always does this when Jane's not home or if she's already in bed, and he doesn't have the heart to tell her off for it. It's their little secret, and he finds himself wondering if Ruth will mind, if they ever live together.
He's just finished eating when he hears the key turn in the lock. Scarlet immediately jumps down and dashes out the room, and he hears Jane enter the house and exclaim in surprise, "Scarlet! How did you get out of the kitchen?" She must see his coat hanging in the hallway because, when she appears in the kitchen doorway, she doesn't seem surprised to find him there. "Hello. You're home early," she says.
"Yes," he nods. "I managed to get off early after my trip. Have you eaten?"
"Yes," she replies, going over to the sink to wash her hands. "You?"
"Just finished," he smiles. "Join me for a glass of wine?"
She turns to look at him speculatively then, but she nods her ascent and pulls a glass out of the cupboard before she sits down across from him. It's odd, he thinks absently, sitting across from Jane, sharing a bottle of wine. They haven't done this in... oh, years now. In fact, the only meal they share with any regularity is breakfast, and that's only usually on a Sunday and they hardly talk at all. Jane's usually busy reading, planning, or marking something for her A-level students, and Harry's lost in the paper or running over what needs to be done next in all the current ops, making mental notes of what he needs to tell whom.
Sex is usually silent too. No sweet nothings whispered in the midst of passion, no declarations of love. Just an occasional direction – faster, slow down, a bit to the left, that's good, etc. He can't remember the last time Jane had whispered his name, or he hers, in the height of passion. With Ruth it had been so... but he mustn't go there now. It's good sex with Jane, he can't really complain. A lot of men would give their right arm for what he has – a wife who doesn't nag or care where he is and what time he gets home, and yet is happy to have sex most of the time. She's remarkably self-sufficient is Jane, though that hasn't always been the case.
When the children had been small, she'd been actually rather depressed, especially after Juliet. She'd pulled through it somehow, however, and has changed over the years. She'd found a therapist she liked after she'd agreed to give him another chance, and she seems to have helped Jane a lot. She's become more like him, or perhaps she just hasn't had the time to be depressed any more while almost single-handedly raising their children on top of teaching full time. And until he'd met Ruth, he'd been content with their arrangement. Yet now he longs for more than what they have. He longs for someone who understands him, understands his work and what it demands of him, understands his thoughts and feelings, understands his guilt and loves him anyway. He longs for intimacy and passion and bliss. He longs for Ruth.
"What's the occasion, Harry?" she asks as she slides her glass across the table for him to fill, interrupting his thoughts.
He doesn't answer at first, watching the wine swirl as it falls into the glass. How does one tell one's spouse of twenty-six years that it's over?
"Not a happy one then," she states, nodding her thanks and taking a sip of the wine.
"This isn't easy, Jane," he murmurs eventually, twisting his glass with his fingers. "And I want you to know that I haven't come to this decision lightly..."
"But you want a divorce," she finishes for him.
He looks up at her sharply then and stammers, "How did you...?"
She shrugs and looks away, out of the window and into the night. "I've been expecting it for months now." She turns back to look at him, adding, "What we have... it's not the same any more. I can feel that your heart isn't really in it. I know that it's been years since we've had what could be described as a good marriage. I don't think we ever really recovered from Juliet, but since Graham left home, things have been even worse. I mean, we hardly speak to each other any more, Harry, and then in the last few months, I've realised, you've found someone else. To begin with I thought it was another affair, but then I realised that it's much worse than that. You're in love with her, and whether you've been sleeping with her or not makes little difference. It's always been just a matter of time."
He's stunned by her ability to read him so effortlessly, and a little alarmed by it as well, but he's also amazed at how calmly she's taking it. He'd expected some emotion, not tears necessarily, perhaps name calling or shouting, but not this calm acceptance, and he finds that he feels rather hurt by the indifference. "I don't know what to say, Jane."
"There's nothing to say, Harry. That's the point. There hasn't been for years."
"That may be true, but this... It's not easy," he murmurs, surprising himself by the sudden surge of emotion and regret. When he'd married Jane, he'd had such high hopes for himself, for her, for their life together. Admittedly he'd started to screw it up from day one by withholding from her the fact that he was a spy until after they'd signed the register, but he'd meant to give it his best shot.
"No," she shakes her head, her gaze softening. "It's been a long time and we've had some good moments together, Harry."
He nods, looking down at his wine glass and raising it to his lips, draining the glass. "Catherine," he smiles as he refills his glass, remembering holding his daughter for the first time.
"And Graham," she adds.
"And making them?" he ventures, lifting his eyes to her face to gauge her reaction, not sure if his attempt at humour was wise or not.
"Definitely making them," she chuckles. She raises her glass to her lips, taking a sip before she lowers it and adds, "You're a good lover, Harry, and I'll miss that – the sex. If you ever need a... really good shag, give me a ring. If there's no one else in my life..." She shrugs leaving her sentence unfinished, and despite himself, he feels flattered. He can't foresee any circumstance in which he'd be tempted to take up her offer, but it feels good to receive such praise.
"Thank you, Jane," he smiles. "I'll bear it in mind. I do hope, however, that you find someone more... compatible, less secretive and more generous and loving than I have been. You deserve that."
"It's nice of you to say, but I'm not holding my breath," she sighs. "It's been a quarter of a century, give or take, that I've spent looking for that, and if I'd found it, it wouldn't be you asking for the divorce right now." She pauses, accepting the refill that he offers her, and then asking, "Who is she, Harry? Another spy?"
He hesitates for a moment but then nods, murmuring, "But not like Juliet. She's... principled and kind."
"That figures," she murmurs before taking another swig of her wine. Then at his questioning look, she adds, "You swore to me that you weren't having an affair, so naturally I assumed it was because of her. She didn't want a relationship with a married man." He feels a stab of guilt at that, remembering the lie he'd told to get her into bed, knowing full well that, while one could argue that technically having sex with Ruth once isn't an affair, in reality it had still been a betrayal and now, having had sex with Ruth twice more in Baghdad, he's definitely having an affair, though whether it continues remains to be seen. He's no idea how Ruth will react to the guilt this time, though he expects her to bolt again and avoid him for a while. She can't seem to stay away for long, however, and that gives him hope for their future together, hope that her feelings are as deep as his, hope that they can make it work in spite of how they began.
They're silent for some time while they finish their second, and in Harry's case, third glass of wine. "I'll move out this week," Harry murmurs eventually, "and you can have the house." She sighs, taking another sip of her drink. "I'm sorry, Jane," he says, feeling a surge of guilt.
She shrugs. "I was just thinking of the hassle of selling the house and sorting everything out, going through the courts," she explains.
"If we agree on everything beforehand, it'll make it much simpler and quicker," he states. "I'm not bothered about the things. Anything you want, you can have. We'll have to sell the house though, and I think we should split everything fifty-fifty. I also think we should each keep our car and any difference in value can come out of the rest."
She nods in agreement. "When do you want to tell the children?"
"I think you should decide that, Jane," he replies. "As hard as it is to admit, you know them far better than I." He gets up then, taking his empty glass and plate to the sink, squirting a little washing-up liquid onto a damp sponge and washing them quickly, along with Jane's glass that she places on the draining board before stepping round the other side of him to dry the dishes and put them away. Then he checks the front door and alarm while Jane makes sure Scarlet has enough water and closes her in the kitchen. "What about Scarlet?" she asks as she waits for him by the foot of the stairs.
He pauses in what he's doing, feeling a pang at the thought of losing his faithful companion, before he turns towards her and murmurs, "You can keep her if you like."
She studies him for a moment before she declares, "No, you should have her. You need her more than I do and she'd miss you terribly. You've always been her favourite."
"Are you sure?" he asks, stopping in front of her.
"Yes. I'd like to make a clean break of it as much as possible. I'll get another dog if I find I miss it."
"Well, if you're sure," he murmurs. She nods, so he reaches forward and takes her hand in his, squeezing it gently. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," she smiles, but as he turns to walk upstairs, she adds softly, "I'd like a favour in return though."
"Anything," he replies, turning to face her once more.
"I want to say goodbye properly... tonight. One last time, Harry."
He knows she's talking about sex, and though part of him's not that keen on the idea now that he's started to sever ties with Jane and after what happened last night with Ruth, another part of him wants to have one last time with her tonight too.
"Are you sure?" he asks softly. "I don't want to make it harder for you tomorrow when I leave."
"I'm sure," she declares without hesitation. "I'll be hard anyway, but this way we'll have closure."
So despite his misgivings, he nods his agreement and lets her take his hand as she leads him upstairs to bed.