They were clambering their way over the seemingly never ending pile of the yet to be opened boxes, giggling like a couple of small children on Christmas morning, in an vain attempt to restore some semblance of order, before they headed back upstairs to make Catherine's bed, in what was now the designated guest bedroom.

'Promise me that we'll never move again Ruth,' he asked her groaning and drawing the sympathy card, as she watched him lifting another far too heavy box, the newly invented and determined Harry, gaining another tick on her ever lengthening do you realise how much I love you list.

The train was packed and in the melee of passengers that were filing towards them, Harry couldn't spot Catherine. For one awful moment he thought she'd changed her mind. She hadn't of course, but in her efforts to tidy herself up before disembarking, she'd dropped her backpack and one of the wretched straps had broken, so with a typical Pearce strop she was muttering her way towards the barrier.

'Catherine calm down,' Harry told her a bit too fiercely, when she glared at his shoes and said something that sounded like 'sodding luggage and she knew she shouldn't have bought a cheap one,' before apologising and shaking Ruth's hand.

In the four years since Ruth had sat in the meeting room and watched Harry pacing with his hand covering his face, Catherine's had barely changed. She still appeared to be the feisty young woman that had hugged her father goodbye before she'd flown back to Israel. Ruth had been there when Harry returned to the grid and she'd seen the barely disguised sense of hope in his eyes. It was during those couple of days that she'd realised that his bluster, as he now called it when it came to Catherine was a smokescreen, and that Harry really loved his daughter, and with that knowledge Ruth took the initiative to move things on.

'I'm hungry I don't know about you two, but we've got at least an hour's journey ahead of us, so maybe we should find something to eat before we set off?' She suggested.

As towns go, Halifax was unusually remote from any other and within a few miles they were back out into the countryside. Armed with their lunch, which in this case was fish and chips plus hot drinks, Harry pulled in at the first picnic area that they came to. Sitting at a run of the mill picnic table in the heart of the county where her father had been born, Catherine sipped her tea and took the first real look at her father and Ruth together.

'So what have you been up to?' Harry asked her.

Very little she thought to herself, apart from working herself to a standstill, trying to hold down a demanding job which was far from newsworthy. Whereas their news was mind blowing, and for once her grandad had been less than forthcoming.

'More importantly what have you two been up to?' she asked, before her brain engaged with her mouth.

Other than suggesting that they had fish and chips and a nice good to meet you handshake, Ruth had barely said a word, and now what had she done? She'd embarrassed her.

Everything stopped including the chip that had been heading towards Harry's mouth. He turned from looking at her to looking at Ruth, with an expression that Catherine couldn't read. But there was so much more to the look than searching for an answer and he didn't need to verbalise what he was feeling. Catherine sensed a chemistry that was so strong, that for the briefest of moments that it lasted felt like an eternity, before he turned back to look at her. He was breathing heavily as was she, but she'd shut down and the apology for being so crass just wouldn't come. Besides which all could think of was 'well I am you're daughter Dad, what did you expect?'

'You're a grown up Catherine, use your imagination, we'll give you a demo later if you like,' he told her grinning, and Catherine's imagination went to places that it didn't want to.

Three days gave them barely enough time to breathe, considering the amount of catching up on news that Harry and Catherine needed to exchange, which had been added to by his relationship and pending marriage to Ruth and the reasons why the two houses had exchanged hands. James had to be included in whatever they did, if Harry hadn't suggested it then Ruth would have done. After the first evening which they'd spent amidst the chaos of Harry and Ruth's now home, they made the decision to eat out. The second evening at the pub in the village, Ruth's first sortie there and only the second pub that she and Harry had ever walked into together was on quiz night. James and he and his mates were a team, which on this occasion Harry had been bullied into joining.

'Just this once,' he'd told his father, painfully aware that he'd been monopolising Catherine's time and that she and Ruth hadn't really had the opportunity to get to know one other.

'Grandad's so much happier now you're both here, as is he,' Catherine said to Ruth, nodding in the direction of Harry, who was weaving his way between the multitudes to order more drinks, as James totted up their halfway points on the score sheet. 'I know we wouldn't be sitting here this evening if it hadn't been for you and I know I'm only his daughter Ruth and it's been years since we were this close, but I do understand him,' she told her.

And you just want to be sure that I feel the same about your father Ruth thought, picking up on the unspoken question but realising that she had to be careful with her response.

'How much do you know about me Catherine? she asked her.

'Only what Dad's told me which isn't much. I know he loves you and says that your brilliant at everything you do.'

'Not when it comes to personal feelings, believe you me,' she answered, without thinking.

'Then you're marrying the right man aren't you?' was said with a glint in her eyes, so reminiscent of Harry, that Ruth found herself smiling.

'He has his moments,' and she'd been trapped.

'I bet he does,' and now Ruth really was getting out of her comfort zone and with a need to wind this up. They were in a room full of people, most of whom would know who she was, but none that she knew.

'On another day, soon I hope, when you come back to see us, we'll sit down and chat, just the three of us. But in the meantime and it's all I've got I'm afraid, there just aren't enough words for me to tell you how much I love your father.' She told Catherine.

Of course Harry knew where the Balkan States were, but then so did James which was just as well, because Harry's complete focus of attention had diverted to Ruth who was talking to Catherine, who had just taken her hand and was smiling at her.

Catherine's last day loomed large, although unlike the last time that Harry had said goodbye to his daughter, the certainty of a brighter future was the order of the day.

'The sea,' James said without hesitation, when they pulled up in front of his house and he was given a choice of where they should go.

It was mid - September so the children had gone back to school, as for the second time in as many days they pulled into a café that advertised the best fish and chips in Yorkshire. Perched perilously close the cliff edge, given the erosion that the North Sea had been wreaking on this particular stretch of coastline for years, James Pearce took stock. For almost thirty five years he'd put on a brave face and had made a life for himself, hoping but never expecting that the last few years of his life and let's face it, he might even live to be a hundred if they looked after him like this, would be as good. Harry who he loved almost more than life itself was sitting across the table in front of him, with a smile as wide as the sea outside the window on his face. Enraptured that was the word he was looking for, by whatever tale Ruth was telling them. He knew how that felt, it had been the same for him once, but until now he'd never believed it possible that his son would find that someone. Silly old sod that he knew he was, he just hoped that he'd live long enough to enjoy being part of this new family.

James wasn't the only one who had been taking stock and Harry's planning had been going on for weeks. It was a case of if you've got it flaunt it and when it came to a smile, Harry's could bring a concrete statue to its knees. With no need to resort to arm twisting, not only had he ensured that their wedding day would be everything that Ruth wanted it to be, but he'd ensured that the run up would give him the opportunity to spoil her in a way he had so far failed to do.

'We've still got three days eleven hours and five minutes, do you fancy going away this weekend?' he asked her, as they lay close to sleep and Ruth said she was still worried that they didn't have enough time to get everything sorted out before Malcolm and Jo arrived. Not in church they'd both agreed on that, which only left the register office in Halifax which was without atmosphere and although Harry had said yes and smiled at the registrar, there was no way he was going to get married to Ruth in a council building, stone built or not.

Ruth was tired both emotionally and physically. She'd tweaked her back lifting one of the dozens of boxes that they'd had to unpack and as much as she hadn't wanted to, she'd had to leave the remainder of their unpacking to Harry. He'd worked wonders over the last couple of weeks and she still felt guilty, and a weekend away if it was what Harry wanted, did sound too tempting to resist.

The approach into York and more importantly the finest view of the Minster was best appreciated from the west, so Harry had planned a slight detour. For all the travelling that Ruth had done, when it came to York she was a tourist, and a bubble of excitement was slowly building inside him as to her reaction to what he had up his sleeve. First though they needed to book into their hotel.

Close to the city walls and overlooking the river, The Royal George had not only been a hotel for longer than any other in York, it had been updated to offer the soon to be married couple, the honeymoon that had been put on hold until they could justify flying over to the States. So it might be in advance of the wedding, but in order to take Ruth where he'd booked, it was a case of now or never.

'We aim to please,' Harry joked, as Ruth opened the doors that led out onto their balcony, having already explored what she'd described as wonderful, that was the suite that Harry had booked. The fact that their wardrobe contained a tux for him and a new dress for her was to remain a secret until the evening. They'd already done the walking in the streets and sitting in café's bit over lunch and during the afternoon, but he'd so far managed to steer her clear of The Minster.

'Best leave that until tomorrow, it takes hours to really appreciate it,' he'd suggested to Ruth, who by now felt as though she was walking on a different planet. What they were doing was what normal people did and that was exactly what they were now, they were normal.

It was at six in the evening when he told her that they needed to get ready, because the taxi would be picking them up at seven. Now Harry in a tux with a bow tie, took Ruth way beyond her obsession to take his ties off, it took her on a pathway to have we got time before the doors open, as they stood gazing at each other in the lift that was taking them down to the foyer. The one and only time that they'd been dressed as they were now, was when they'd steered clear of each other at some function or other where they'd both been teetering on the edge of Harry's something wonderful, but without the courage to take the final step. Tonight though was different. They walked, they talked and looked as though they were a couple, and there would be no one that would know them or bat an eyelid when Harry offered Ruth his arm.

When they arrived at the Minster it was already beginning to fill up, for what was to be an evening of choral music with a buffet meal at the end. It was intended as the final chapter in part one of Harry's plans, which by the smile on Ruth's face when she turned to look at him was about to score maximum. The final item on the programme was a quartet's rendition of The Prayer, written by David Foster, something that had been released when Ruth had been in America and when Harry had been at an all-time low. Listening to it on the radio had been one thing, but hearing it sung in a Cathedral was beyond beautiful, it was all consuming, as Harry inched as close to Ruth as propriety would allow, until their hands closed the void between them.

Whilst Harry and Ruth were away, enjoying the spoils of York and each other, it was a case of all hands to the pump, and James to his delight had been put in charge. Armed with a Harry list, he'd rounded up a few youngsters from the scout troop and their leader, who'd rolled up their sleeves and got stuck in. Items that only came out of cupboard for the village fete, the flower show and the occasional bunfight, were transported up the hill to 'Brow Cottage'. With the promise of a donation to the scouts and an open bar and food at the pub for the remainder of the village on the actual day, the arrangements for the simple and private wedding that Ruth craved were underway. Rooms at the pub had been booked for their guests, who as far as the happy couple knew amounted to Malcolm, Jo and Catherine. All that Harry had to do, apart from part with a sizeable amount of his money, was to ensure that he and Ruth didn't arrive home until after dark, and that she was too tired to do anything other than go to bed. Easier said than done, when Ruth was urging him to drive faster, in the car that was, rather than what he'd been doing the previous evening, because she had a lot to do before they headed for Halifax the following afternoon. Luck however was on his side and apart from her threatening to leave him rather than marry him and the occasional for God's sake Harry have you gone out of your mind, when he took another detour to a pub where he'd apparently been when he was younger, because he was feeling peckish, Ruth for once was completely unaware that he was up to his tricks as his mother used to say, and was having the time of his life.

'I'll make us some hot chocolate,' was always the ruse that got him what he wanted, as when they eventually arrived home, Ruth dutifully announced that she was knackered and was going to bed and that if he wanted a kiss goodnight then he'd better be quick, and yes the wedding was still on.

'I'll just ring Dad and tell him we're back,' he said to her disappearing figure.

Harry Pearce, king of all things cunning, the ultimate planner when it came to Ruth, woke up early on the morning of their wedding. Ruth was still sleeping peacefully beside him, so he eased himself out of bed, crept down the stairs and made himself a coffee. For all her brilliance, not in a million years, would Ruth be expecting to get married in the garden of their new home, but that was what he'd arranged. As quietly as he could with his heart hammering in his chest, he opened the back door and walked out into the garden. To an absolute tee, James had somehow managed to create exactly what he'd asked of him.

'Love you Dad,' he whispered.

At the pub, having confessed to Malcolm and Jo the previous evening that 'yes she was enjoying herself,' Ros was also awake and getting ready. It had been months since she'd last seen Harry and Ruth and she had no particular expectation as to how they might look when she saw them today. She didn't do lovey dovey, she never had, but something deep within her, had given her the courage to ask Malcolm whether he thought that Harry or more especially Ruth, would mind her attending their wedding. Life on the grid had settled into its post Harry era, and with Alec, Ben, Tariq and now John on board, she could almost comfortably afford a few nights away. That they missed Harry was a given, but those of them that had also known Ruth, missed them. The surety of purpose that had been Harry and Ruth.

It was midmorning when Malcolm's car pulled up outside Brow Cottage, to be greeted at the gate by James.

'We're in the garden,' referred to the couple in question and the registrar who Harry had persuaded to make the trip from Halifax.

The fact that the sun was shining had nothing to do with Harry, but he was prepared to take the credit, although the fact that the garden was pristine and that there was a nice spread to follow the wedding, was entirely down to his father, he told their friends.

Twenty minutes later:-

Reserved and private, to the point of it being excruciatingly painful to watch at times, Harry and Ruth's open declarations, had seen James, Jo and Catherine reaching for their hankies, Ros wondering if she'd come to the right wedding, and Malcolm needing to change his speech.

'This isn't just another wedding that we've just witnessed,' he told the small audience who were waiting to raise their glasses. 'I'm sure I speak for everyone here, when I say that our friends who we've been privileged to see getting married today, never cease to surprise us.'

'All that I am I give to you,' Harry had said, as they'd stood facing each other with the backdrop of the moors behind them, oblivious to anything but each other.

'All of my tomorrows I'll share with you,' had been Ruth's reply.

'Wherever life's path takes you, I will follow you, 'he'd told her, with every ounce of love that he had in his eyes

And finally, 'Whenever you come home, I'll be here waiting for you,' Ruth had barely finished, before he kissed her.