Feel like I'm treading water slightly with this chapter so I suspect there won't be too much more.
The day passed by with little trauma. Harry was relieved.
He needed a day off from death.
The only problem was that he had seen too little of Ruth . She had been meeting with a former asset who had new information. When she returned it was with a fresh face, ruddy from the cold chill air.
He thought how alive she looked.
Once more his door opened.
"Hi," he said softly.
"Hi," she smiled as she crossed towards him.
"Meeting go okay?"
"Fine. I'm going to go through his intel tomorrow."
"Good."
He stood up leaning against the desk.
She smiled suddenly.
"What?" he asked.
She stepped a pace towards him raising her hand close to his chest. And with a gesture filled with a tenderness and intimacy it barely deserved, she brushed a crumb from his lapel.
"Tell me you haven't eaten them all, Harry?"
"I haven't eaten them all."
Her eyes narrowed.
"I've eaten them all but one. Saved it for you."
He leaned away, desperately in need of the excuse. There was something in the close proximity of her, the scent of her, the power of her that was overwhelming, like a wave breaking over him, dragging him tumultuously down towards her.
He pulled the packet out of the drawer and sure enough there was the one remaining biscuit.
She took it with a smile.
"Thank you, that's very generous."
"Saving me from myself, hey, Ruth?"
"I'm not sure one fig roll will do it, but I can try."
For a moment he was caught in her gaze and he was drowning. He turned away to get rid of the packet.
She moved towards the door.
"Harry?"
"Mm."
"Would you like to go for a drink?"
He paused as he was about to sit.
"Yes, Ruth, I think I would."
And he reached for his coat.
She slid the door open and stepped to one side, glancing out nervously towards the grid.
He looked questioningly at her.
"Just waiting for someone to come and tell us there's a national emergency."
He laughed, straightening his collar, smiling eyes locked on hers.
They both stepped towards the door and side by side they left the grid.
Tucked in an unremarkable corner of an unremarkable pub, two people sat talking.
They talked for over two hours.
They talked until they were hungry but then they talked some more and the hunger was forgotten.
For an observer it would have been difficult to guess of what they were talking. Of serious matters, of frivolous matters, of matters of national importance. Perhaps all.
A barman collected their empty glasses and silently moved on.
"Excuse me…" the woman called him back.
"Could we could get a bowl of chips?"
"No problem."
"Chips?" queried Harry. "And you criticised my diet."
"A girl can't live by fig rolls alone," she smiled, "besides I'm starving."
"There's a good restaurant round the corner."
"I'm happy here", she said sitting back, "aren't you?"
"Yes, Ruth. I'm very happy here."
He was in danger again and so he hurriedly got up with an offer to refresh their drinks.
She watched him as he crossed to the packed bar.
And she decided that she loved his walk.
There was something totally Harry in his walk. Something strong and decisive. And comfortingly familiar. Something Harry.
It was only the waiter that disturbed her from her reverie.
A few moments later Harry sat back down.
"Thought you might have moved on to whiskey by now?" she teased.
"No. The beer's good and I need to keep my senses about me."
"Why? Do you have to be somewhere else?" she queried, heart suddenly a little heavier.
"No, I just know what you're like, Ruth. Your arguments will be too good for me and I'll never win the –"
"Chips." Announced the waiter.
He hesitated, wondering where to place them.
"They're to share," Ruth declared.
The bowl was laid in the middle of the table along with a small ramekin of tomato sauce and one of mayonnaise.
"Mayonnaise!?" questioned Harry, with an expression of distaste.
The waiter looked slightly puzzled as he glanced at Ruth.
"Yes, sir, your wife asked for it."