Next morning, Ruth was woken by an excited Harry. This time he was fully clothed, and so didn't climb into bed with her.
"Good news, Ruth," he said, kissing her excitedly. "Two birds in one night."
"What's this about birds?" she asked him, still half asleep.
"Come on, sweetheart. Get dressed. It's a great day."
Ruth had never seen Harry in this kind of mood. She thought she'd witnessed all sides of him, but exuberance was something different.
When Ruth was dressed she joined Harry and Malcolm downstairs.
"Did Harry tell you what happened, Ruth?" asked Malcolm.
"No, and he'd better not either, not until I've had a cup of tea. And some toast."
"Toast?" exclaimed Harry. "It's eggs and bacon this morning, Ruth. We're celebrating."
"As glad as I am about whatever it is is making you two happy, I still need my tea."
"Consider it done," said Malcolm, as Harry fired up the frying pan for bacon and eggs for three.
"So," said Ruth, once she'd finished her first cup of tea, "what's all the excitement about?"
"Last night Adam picked up Detlef Rau, who, after considerable persuasion, confessed to the murder of Christina MacTernan, as well as to wanting to capture you so that he could force you to transfer the five million from your Linda Sorenson account to his. He seemed to not have thought it through very well, although I believe this was Plan B. Plan A was to kidnap Harry, and hold him until you'd transferred the money. It appears his aim had been to have enough money so that he could escape Paul Engel's clutches."
"And Adam should be back here by mid afternoon," added Harry. "He's handed Rau over to the Northumbria police in Newcastle. He just has to make a statement, and then he can leave."
"And better than that," said Malcolm, "is that early this morning I received a phone call from cousin Ronnie's son, Eddie, from Amsterdam. It seems Eddie caught Oliver Mace and Simon in flagrante delicto, and he now has a series of very incriminating photographs, all of which are extremely graphic and of excellent quality." Malcolm seemed pleased about that. "Eddie emailed them to me after he phoned."
"You'll excuse me if I don't want to see them, Malcolm," said Ruth.
"I wouldn't dream of letting you see them, Ruth," Malcolm replied. "With the financial trail that Trent followed, there is enough on Mace to be able to trade him for a confession that he had the video of Mik Maudsley's suicide doctored. If not, more pressure will be brought to bear, with the threat of High Court action in this country, if necessary."
Ruth didn't know how she felt about all this. An innocent young woman had been murdered, only because she looked remarkably like someone else. Too many people had died, too much time had been lost while she and Harry had been apart, and suddenly it was all too much for Ruth. She felt the tears tumbling down her cheeks before she was even aware that she was crying. Harry dropped the spatula on the bench by the stove and came to her side.
"Ruth, what is it?" he asked, concern in his voice, as he pulled out the chair next to her and sat down.
Malcolm took over the cooking, turning his back to give his two friends some privacy.
"It's all too much, Harry," she said, her voice quiet, so that only Harry could hear her. "I was scared a lot of the time I was away, and I was terribly lonely. And I missed you terribly." She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jumper. "But all this death and …... everything. It's too much. It's too high a price. I've enjoyed being here, just the two of us, with no excitement, no surprises."
"So have I. You know I have."
Ruth turned her head to look at him. "But Harry, you come alive when there's an operation under way. I can see it in your eyes. You're excited about this. I feel as though I'm again losing you to the job. And when that happens …... well, we both know what happens."
"Ruth, I'm excited to have trapped Mace. That's what this is about. Once we have his confession to having framed you, then you can reclaim your identity, and we can get on with our lives. Our lives, Ruth. You and me. Together." He leaned across and put his arms around her, and held her for a long time. After a time, Ruth put her own arms around his neck, and allowed herself to he held by him.
"Breakfast is ready," said Malcolm quietly.
Adam dropped in briefly on his way back from Newcastle, but he was keen to get back home to spend the weekend with Wes. Ruth reached up and hugged him. "Thank you," she said, "for everything." Adam nodded, and kissed her on the cheek before he climbed into his car. "And give Harry's and my love to Wes," she added.
Adam nodded and waved before he drove away.
Harry and Ruth convinced Malcolm to stay with them for another two nights – until the end of the weekend – and he could then drive Ron's Mercedes back to London. As reluctant as Malcolm seemed, he was pleased to be asked, and so agreed.
"Besides, Malcolm," Ruth said, "Harry and I need help in getting through this truckload of wine. We'll never manage it on our own."
"I'd be happy to help in any way I can," Malcolm replied, a slow smile creeping across his face.
"Malcolm," asked Ruth, as Harry opened their fourth bottle of pinot noir, "do you think that I'm – or Harry, even – are still in any danger? Tell me seriously what you think."
"As of this moment, Ruth, no. Mace can only act from outside the UK, and he has bigger problems at the moment. He'll not want his ….. private activities to become common knowledge. Just imagine the damage we could create if those photos were to be leaked to some of the European magazines. Then there's the internet. All it would take would be one click of the mouse, and his proclivities would become public knowledge. Before anything else, Oliver Mace is self-serving. And Paul Engel is only interested in money, and he cares not where he gets it. He has no personal interest in you. Mace's interest is in Harry, and his word is worth nothing, now we have these photographs."
"So what happens to the money in the Linda Sorenson account?"
"At this early stage I couldn't say. Perhaps Interpol may be interested in it. I could easily hack into the account and transfer some to any account you nominate. All you have to do is say the word, Ruth, and the money's yours." Malcolm looked at Ruth quizzically.
"God, no, Malcolm," she replied, "I don't want any part of it. It's dirty money."
"You're far too decent, Ruth," Malcolm commented.
"Would you want any of that money, Malcolm?"
"Not really, but nor have I earned it."
"Neither have I."
"You lived in a degree of danger for anything up to thirteen months, Ruth. You were at the centre of a plot to discredit you and to entrap Harry. I'd call that having earned it."
"Well, I wouldn't. What do you think, Harry?"
"I think you should accept whatever money accidentally falls into your account, sweetheart. None of these people know you as Melanie Glover. It would look like an innocent mistake."
"And what if Interpol find out?"
"Now that," said Malcolm, "may be tricky."
When Harry opened the fifth bottle of wine, Ruth asked Malcolm about her identity.
"I can't wait to be Ruth Evershed again. Will I be able to do that, Malcolm? I need to feel like me."
"That's a Home Office issue, Ruth. Whom would you suggest we contact, Harry?"
"No-one in high office," Harry replied. "Perhaps you could try Eve Cunningham. She's high enough, but not political, and she owes me several favours. I got her son out of that scrape with the prostitute five years ago, if you remember, Malcolm."
"Yes, I do. Consider it done," Malcolm replied.
"Harry, you can't possibly expect me to climb up there!" Ruth exclaimed. "I'm a woman, not a mountain goat, and nor is Malcolm."
"I'm not a mountain goat, nor am I a woman," observed Malcolm, "but I'm quite happy to just sit here, enjoy the view, and leave the climbing to you, Harry."
It was Saturday afternoon, the air was cold, the sky was almost clear, and they had walked all the way to the cave which Harry had promised he'd show Ruth.
"Ruth, give me your hand," Harry said, reaching out to her with his hand. "I'll help you. It's not as high up as it looks. It's worth it when you get there. Trust me."
"Harry, you must know that `trust' and `me' are two words which should never be spoken together by a man to the woman he loves. Trust me, I've had a vasectomy. Trust me, that woman is not my wife. Trust me -"
Malcolm's shoulders shook as he laughed to himself. These two were still a steady source of entertainment, even now they were together.
"OK, Ruth, I get it. Here – take my hand and I'll help you up the slope."
"Slope? That's a bloody sheer cliff! You may have been used to rambling around on this moor for the past four months, but I'm not leaving the ground."
"Darling, take my hand. Please."
"Calling me sweet nothings won't change my mind, Harry. I left Denmark with you so that I could stay safe, and now you're hell bent on trying to get me killed!"
Malcolm stood beside Ruth and put his hand on her shoulder. "Harry," he said, "I suggest you climb up to the cave, take some photographs with this camera," handing his digital camera to Harry, "and I'll look after Ruth for you."
So Harry climbed, while Ruth and Malcolm sat on a rocky outcrop and gazed across the valley below them, the sea sparkling in the sunshine way in the distance. They sat for some time in companionable silence.
"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," Ruth observed.
"Me neither," said Malcolm. And after some time, "Ruth, now that you're technically a free woman, when are you thinking of coming back to work?"
"I haven't been asked back yet, Malcolm."
"I'm sure that Harry will want you back in Section D."
"One would think so. He and I haven't talked about it, although he did say something about us needing a couple of weeks to ourselves before we go back to London."
"That might work out well then."
"How so?" Ruth asked.
"Trent Devereaux begins at Six in three weeks. You're an obvious replacement for him."
"I'll talk to Harry. I know he's keen to get back to work, but we both need at least another two weeks just to unwind and enjoy each other."
"You missed out on an adventure, Ruth!" Harry shouted from the mouth if the cave.
Ruth looked up at him and waved and smiled. He looked so relaxed, so happy she couldn't do anything else.
Malcolm insisted he take them out to dinner. "I've already booked," he said, when Ruth objected. "You'll like it, I promise."
The sign above the door of the restaurant made Ruth smile. "Harry's!" she said. "What a lovely gesture, Malcolm. I thought this place was booked out weeks in advance."
"Not at this time of year, although I had to exert some – er – influence to get us the table I wanted," Malcolm said, opening the door to Harry's Lounge Bar & Brasserie for Ruth to enter ahead of he and Harry. "I happen to know someone on staff."
"Is there anything you can't do?" asked Ruth once they were seated at their table in the brasserie.
"I haven't been able to find what you and Harry have," Malcolm said with a hint of sadness.
"It's not too late, Malcolm," said Harry, with equal seriousness. "You're never too old to find love. Look at me."
"You and Ruth were made for each other," Malcolm replied. "You just have to watch you together to see that. That is very rare. Don't ever take it for granted."
Ruth and Harry exchanged a look which said that they were happy and grateful that they had found one another. Harry grasped Ruth's hand and drew it to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. "We don't," Harry said quietly.
"Besides," continued Malcolm, "I've come to enjoy my own company. No-one to argue with over who has control of the TV remote, or whether the roast is overcooked, or getting into bed with cold feet. I can do what I like without fear of upsetting another."
Harry and Ruth looked at one another, their understanding communicated through their eyes. They knew there was more to their life together than TV remotes or cold feet, and the benefits of being together far outweighed any differences of opinion.
It was early Sunday morning, and Harry was still in bed beside her, but he wasn't asleep. His legs were entwined with hers, and his hands wandered over her naked skin, while his lips savoured her shoulder. Then her collarbone. Then her neck. Now her ear, and his tongue had found its way into her ear so that she gasped with the tingling which rippled through her body.
"Harry …... what are you doing?"
"Do I have to draw you a map, Ruth?" he mumbled, his lips still over her ear, one of her more sensitive body parts.
"But, Malcolm …..."
Harry pulled away from her so that he could look at her, although one of his hands still traced circles on her lower abdomen. "Malcolm can't join in. I won't allow it."
"He's just through that wall," Ruth whispered, pointing to the wall which separated the two bedrooms.
"And that wall is at least six inches thick."
"But Harry, I heard you that night you were calling out for me in your dream, and I was in that same room."
"I seem to remember I was screaming for you. Unless you are in a screaming mood, Ruth, I think we'll be fine."
Ruth made to punch his shoulder, but he grabbed her hand and began kissing the inside of her arm, his tongue circling her skin. She lay back on the bed and sighed. Harry had magic hands …... and magic lips …... and a magic tongue …... God, he was good! "I just hope that if he hears us, Malcolm won't be embarrassed," she managed to say, before he lifted himself above her, taking his weight on his elbows. He leaned into her and kissed her deeply, while at the same time he allowed his erection to nestle between her legs, gently rubbing back and forth across her wetness, encouraging her to part her legs.
"I guess it's too late for me to be saying no," she gasped when he lifted is mouth from hers.
"Do you want to say no, Ruth?"
She very slowly shook her head, grasping his buttocks in her hands, and pulling him towards her. As he entered her, she gasped again – quite loudly – and Harry smiled and put a finger over her lips. He then began moving inside her, slowly at first, until their bodies took up the natural rhythm, leaving them to wash in the sensations. This was only one way in which they expressed their love for one another, but it was such a good way. He leaned his face down to her and took a nipple between his teeth. The flick of his tongue across her nipple sent her body into spasms which heralded her own climax. He followed soon after, allowing himself to let go completely, losing himself in her.
Unknown to Harry and Ruth, they both breathed heavily during their lovemaking, and unconsciously emitted loud gasps as they came. Next door, Malcolm was already awake, sensing some movement from their room. He heard their gasps of pleasure, and smiled to himself. He would have been surprised had they not found it necessary to make love at some time while he was visiting. Whilst he envied them, he was also happy for them. He had been there, somewhere in the background, throughout much of their relationship, and he believed they deserved all the pleasure and happiness they could find together. Besides, he was certain Harry would be much calmer, less moody now he and Ruth were close, and that would make life on the Grid easier for everyone.
Malcolm rose from the bed, donned his bathrobe, and crossed the landing to the bathroom. He figured he had a spare half hour to shower while his hosts lay in post-coital bliss. He would keep his poker face, giving away nothing. He could only imagine Ruth's embarrassment if she knew he had heard them.
By the time Harry and Ruth came downstairs, they were greeted by Malcolm sitting at the table tucking into his breakfast. "Pancakes?" he said, indicating the pile of cooked pancakes on a plate in the middle of the table.
"You've made enough for an army, Malcolm," observed Harry.
"I thought you might require some sustenance, Harry," Malcolm replied, to which Harry looked up sharply, wondering just how much Malcolm had overheard. "It's all this outdoorsy stuff you do. All that climbing and rambling and everything. You need to keep your strength up."
The three of them sat in a comfortable silence as they ate. Harry and Ruth knew that Malcolm had overheard them, but being the gentleman he was, he would never say anything. This would be another spooks' secret about which the three of them would never speak.