Ruth was awake early, despite the fact that she'd barely slept. Intent on ensuring that Harry continued to sleep peacefully, while the overnight rain had pounded against the tiny windowpanes, she'd forced herself to stay awake, making resolutions that she intended to keep. First and most importantly, they needed to take it one day at a time and today she'd determined was going to be a happy day. A day when they could just be themselves, with no more in - depth discussions about his or her perceived failings or regrets, was going to start with their first proper breakfast together. Not the hurried one, that had seen him driving away and leaving her with more questions than answers. After that, the walk across the Downs that Malcolm had insisted she'd enjoy, with some sea air to chase those cobwebs away, could now be shared. She was feeling positive.
Harry opened his eyes and closed them again. His head ached and not because he'd had a drink or had any clear memory of what he'd told Ruth the previous evening. He couldn't even remember getting undressed or climbing into bed and certainly not hanging his trousers on a hanger and folding his sweater. But there they were all neat and tidy, so Ruth must have done it. He could hear music coming from the kitchen and the smell of bacon cooking, so whatever he'd said or done, he obviously hadn't made a complete hash of things or disgraced himself. First things first though he needed to use the bathroom. Here again, everything was laid out tidily. She'd obviously been shopping, because there were new towels that he hadn't seen before. Not crass enough to be labelled his and hers, defined by some ghastly logo. Just white, hanging side by side. As was his bathrobe which was hanging next to hers on the back of the door. All screaming of an acceptance that they were a couple. Ruth was obviously dressed, which was a shame, given how much he enjoyed first thing in the morning sex, or at least he did now. Best not to push it, but maybe tomorrow if he played his cards right.
'Coffee's on when you want one,' called a cheerful voice from downstairs,' bringing him back from where he drifted off. His words of the previous evening I want to spend the rest of my life with you, revisiting in his head from seemingly nowhere. Short of that, there was nothing, other than he was suddenly damn sure that if he'd said that, then he must have told her the rest of his sorry behaviour. One thing he did know, was that he felt and looked a complete mess, so he needed to shave and to have a shower. He'd have quite liked a long soak in the bath, but he didn't want to risk Ruth walking in and being confronted with his black and blue body, which was ridiculous when she'd obviously already seen it. Twice if you counted last night. Mind you, the first time she'd had her eyes closed for the most part, whereas he'd seen every glorious inch of hers. Control and self - denial was so bloody over rated, especially now when his overactive imagination was causing his body to react, and it wasn't as though there was a lock on the door to keep her out. He opted for a quick shower and then got dressed. It was time to face the music. He hoped it was a waltz and not a tango.
Intentionally, neither of them mentioned what had happened the previous evening. Harry because he didn't want to revisit those memories and was happy to do whatever she asked of him, her for the same reason, other than she had a different motive, as she passed him a plate filled with what looked like the entire contents of the fridge and said 'tuck in, I'm sure you're hungry.'
He was, he was ravenous, and not just for the bacon, as Ruth buttered her toast and smiled at him. Then suggesting that they made a picnic and go for a long walk, was the first of what would be thousands of steps that they'd take together, over the weeks that would follow that day. A day that was just the start of their new life together, that with those few simple words and a smile, Ruth had done more than any shrink could have hoped to achieve, to make him feel better.
If there was a way to describe the South Downs, it would be to say that they wrapped themselves around you. Smooth and curved like a woman on her back, some writer or other had written. Not that Harry cared, or could remember which one. He was much more invested in the present company and following the curves that were walking a few steps in front of him. Day dreaming about the evening, and the night that he hoped would follow.
'Better?' she asked him, dragging him back to the present, having paused at the first style, after a mile or so.
There was nothing physically wrong with Harry, other than maybe he was carrying a bit too much weight and that was easily solvable. Smaller breakfasts starting tomorrow or maybe next week would be a start. The problem was all in his head and out in the fresh air with the wind in their faces, with the determination of someone that belayed her small stature, she was determined to prove it.
'Malcolm told me to get myself up here and blow the cobwebs away,' she continued, gritting her teeth and struggling like billy - oh to get the top off the thermos.
Ask Harry later and he would have described it as a light bulb moment.
She was so close. Close enough that if he'd wanted to kiss her, he'd only have needed to take a step. Except that he couldn't. Because with this one simple act of failure he was transfixed. It put everything into perspective. This was what really mattered. Her with him in the moment, and a thermos top that was refusing to budge.
'Ruth,' was enough to stop her struggling. 'Here let me help you with that,' and she looked up. 'I love you so much,' and the flask slipped through her fingers.
It was a further two weeks before Ruth broached the subjects of her funeral and the house. Two weeks, during which she put her heart and soul into making sure that Harry continued to move forward. All the barriers had come down and there was nothing that she felt they couldn't say to each other.
They were sitting on the beach. His choice this time. Sheltered by one of the large wooden breakwaters, designed to keep the occasional storm tides that frequented this part of the coastline, from depositing their pebbles onto the promenade and into the road beyond. He'd done his research and he was proud of it.
'Not quite the Thames Barrier, but it's pretty much the same principal,' he told her, moving a strand of hair that was obscuring her view, seemingly fascinated as another huge wave crashed into the nearest wooden wall, sending a spray of water into the air.
'And Sussex?' she asked him again, ensuring that he couldn't ignore her question indefinitely, despite his finger tips trailing their way across the back of her neck.
'It's no mystery Ruth. Remember I was hardly myself at the time. Malcolm and Jo put in all the leg work and as far as the house and your funeral were concerned, it was pretty much a chicken and end situation. London was out of the question, and let's face it, you'd have hated to be buried in the Home Counties. They all knew that you liked the sea. As do I so it seems,' he said, pulling her to her feet, before gathering their things together. The smile that she'd worked so hard to create, full blown.
One month later.
'Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds. Or bends with the remover to remove.'
Ruth had been thumbing her way through Shakespeare's sonnets, hell bent on finding this one, in an attempt to stop herself from climbing out of bed and throwing on the first clothes that came to hand. Walking up onto the hills, she'd rejected. It was the middle of in the night. She needed a cup of tea and she needed Harry. It was just so bloody unfair.
Weeks that had seen Harry growing in belief and strength, ruined in the blink of an eye when he'd received the call to say that Ros had been killed. She'd stayed silent as she'd held him while his chest had risen and fallen, feeling the anger that was rising from deep within. Knowing without a doubt that he wouldn't let this go, as he'd gathered himself together and gone upstairs to change. The Harry that she'd first fallen in love with was back, and with it, the real possibility that he was teetering on the brink yet again. Why? she'd wanted to ask anyone that would listen. Her unconditional love for him, the only thing that had stopped her from begging as she'd stood and watched him pack.
'You know I have to do this Ruth,' the sole sodding reason she was spending a second sleepless night on her own, with her imagination all over the place. Most especially, would he be able to get away with it? Ros's death had to be avenged and he was the one to do it, was what had kept her awake and taken her back to a time that she'd schooled herself to forget. He didn't work for five anymore, so let someone else take over the mantle that had so recently brought him to his knees. Praying that all the work that they'd put in together, to build what was now a loving and stable relationship, wouldn't be blown away as he'd searched for those bloody gloves. Hell bent on getting his revenge for Blake's betrayal, by sanctioning Ros's death, she hadn't dared ask him where he was going, or the inevitable how was he going to do it. What she didn't know couldn't hurt her, he'd said, had left her wondering if it would ever stop, or worse still, if she'd see him again.