Wednesday, September 5th, 1984 - Harry's House
Harry gets up and makes his way to the front door, checking to see who's there through the peep-hole. He swings the door open. "Hello, Graham," he smiles.
"Hi, Dad," Graham grins.
"Come in. Where's your sister?" Harry replies and pulls him unto a brief hug.
"She's talking to Jake," Graham replies as he rolls his eyes with a long suffering air and makes his way into the house.
Harry frowns and looks over to the garden fence where Catherine's chatting with a boy of about the same age as her. Harry steps outside and makes his way towards them. "Hello, Jane," he says to his ex-wife as she appears from the other side of the car and looks like she's also making her way over to Catherine.
"Hi, Harry," she smiles. "How are you?"
"I'm fine. You?" he replies, pausing in his walk to talk to her.
"Excellent, actually," she grins.
"Oh?" he raises his eyebrows at her, taking in her glowing face. She looks really happy.
"Simon's asked me to marry him," she volunteers.
"Well, congratulations, Jane," he replies with a genuine smile. "I hope he's a better husband than I was. You deserve better."
"Thank you, Harry," she smiles. "Though I have to say that you did have your moments. You look like you're happy too. Ruth taking good care of you, is she?" she asks with a mischievous smile.
Harry stares at her for a moment, debating the wisdom of confirming her suspicions or not. Eventually he decides that it's wiser to not insult her intelligence by denying it. After all, their friendship is a very new thing and, consequently, very fragile, and he really doesn't want to go back to the way things were. "She is," he nods.
Jane almost makes a sly comment about this, but decides against it at the last minute. "Is that little Jake?" she says instead, nodding in the direction of their daughter who is conducting an animated discussion with the boy next door.
"It is," Harry frowns. "Not so little any more."
"Oh, Harry," Jane smiles, glancing at his face. "You're not going to be difficult, are you?"
"Difficult?" he asks, adopting a nonchalant air. "What do you mean difficult?"
"You have that look," she replies. "The one you always used to wear where you were about to give one of the kids a lecture about something." He glances at her in surprise, wondering how Jane can read him so well and hoping that it's not so easy for everyone else, or he'll be out of a job in no time at all. "She's fourteen, Harry, and I'm afraid that it's quite normal that she's discovered the joys of attention from the opposite sex." He scowls. "Anyway, I remember him as being a kind, gentle boy."
"He still is," Harry concedes grudgingly.
"There you go then," Jane smiles.
They watched as Catherine and Jake make their way towards them.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Pearce," Jake smiles. "How's that paint job coming?"
"Fine, thank you, Jake," Harry replies a little tightly, but Jake doesn't seem to notice. He'd asked the lad to help him move Graham's furniture on the first day so he could start covering the walls with the primer. In truth, Harry does like the lad. He's a good sort, polite, considerate, and helpful, and has been living next door with his grandparents since he was six when his parents had been killed in a car accident. That doesn't mean, however, that Harry approves of him talking to his daughter and looking at her like that. God, things were so much easier when they were little, he thinks as he stifles a sigh.
"Hi, Dad," Catherine smiles and kisses her father's cheek.
"Hi, Catherine," he replies, a little more warmth creeping into his voice.
"Hello, Ms..." Jake begins and falters unsure of what to call Jane.
"Townsend," Jane smiles and holds out her hand. "It's good to see you again, Jake."
"Thank you, Ms. Townsend," Jake smiles, shaking hands. "It's good to see you too. It's been a while. I was just asking Catherine if you still make those gingerbread biscuits at Christmas time. I still remember how delicious they were."
Jane laughs. "That's right. You loved them. I used to have to make extra just for you. I'd forgotten about that."
"Dad, Dad!" Just then Graham appears at the front door and sprints toward them. "Did you do that? It's totally, completely incredible!"
"Oh, bugger," Harry murmurs and turns toward the rapidly approaching Graham.
"What?" Jane and Catherine ask simultaneously.
"Oh, Mum, Catherine, you have to come see my room!" Graham exclaims and throws himself at his father. "Thank you, Dad. Thank you."
"You're welcome, Son," Harry grins, returning the embrace and patting his back affectionately.
"What's going on?" Catherine demands.
"Come see," Graham replies and grabs her hand to pull her towards the house. "Come on, Mum," he calls back as he drags his sister towards the front door.
"I take it he's seen his room," Jake smiles.
"Yes," Harry nods and then adds as an afterthought, "you're welcome to come in and see it yourself. After all, you did help prime the walls."
"Thank you, Mr. Pearce," Jake grins and turns to follow Harry inside.
Harry grabs the camera from the hall table as he passes and follows the others upstairs.
"Dad!" Catherine's voice greets him as he approaches the room. "This is so very cool."
"It's wonderful, Harry," Jane adds, her voice conveying her astonishment and pleasure at the sight.
"Wow, Mr. Pearce," Jake adds. "This is truly a work of art."
"Thank you, all of you," Harry replies, feeling uncomfortable, "but I cannot take credit for it all. I just did most of the labour. Ruth came up with the idea and the design. Now, I need to get your picture, Graham. I promised her I would because she couldn't be here to see your reaction."
Graham steps up to the knight on the wall and grins as Harry takes his picture.
"Ruth, did this?" Catherine asks in awe. "She's truly amazing, Dad."
"I know," Harry replies without thinking. Then realising what he's said, he hastily adds, "Graham told her he didn't like the space theme on his walls any more, so she suggested that I might want to change it to give me something to do while I recovered from my injuries. She did most of the drawing as she's much better at it than I am. Jake here helped me move the furniture and prime the walls."
Graham and Jane thank Jake, and Catherine looks pleased by this news and gives Jake a warm smile, the only reward the lad needs. He grins back, and though part of Harry is pleased that everyone's attention has shifted from his remark about Ruth to something else, the rest of him isn't happy that his information has raised Jake in his daughter's estimation. Whatever logic might say, Catherine's his little girl, and he's not happy about her growing up and being the object of boys' attentions. He needs to talk to Ruth, he thinks. She'll know just want to say to calm him down. He glances at his watch to see how long he has to wait for her to come home, but something Catherine says catches his attention and almost sends him into cardiac arrest. "Do you want to see my room?" she asks Jake. Harry feels his blood pressure rise, but before he can react he hears Jane say, "Perhaps another time, Catherine. It's almost tea time, and I expect, Jake needs to go home."
"Yes, I do," Jake nods. "It was lovely to see you all and thank you, Mr. Pearce, for allowing me to see Graham's room now that it's finished. It's great." He says goodbye to everyone and they all go downstairs to see him out.
Once he's gone, both Catherine and Graham return to their rooms to unpack and Harry turns to Jane saying, "Thank you, Jane."
"You're welcome," she smiles. "After the effort you put into that room, I didn't want you to ruin the weekend before it had even begun. You looked like you were about to throttle our daughter."
"In all seriousness," he mutters darkly, "it did cross my mind. What in hell's name was she thinking? I don't know how you cope with it everyday, Jane. Truly I don't."
"Keep calm and carry on, Harry," she grins making him chuckle. "You must have some patience yourself given your chosen profession, Harry. You must be able to control your anger when you're undercover."
"That's different," he replies. "I'm not Harry Pearce when I'm undercover."
"Perhaps that's your solution then," she suggests.
"Perhaps," he shrugs and changes the subject. "Would you like to stay for dinner, Jane?" She looks surprised at the invitation and he adds quickly, "I've cooked. It's Shepard's pie."
"In that case, I'd love to," she smiles. "If memory serves, that was always one of your best dishes."
"Thank you," he murmurs and turns toward the kitchen, feeling suddenly awkward. "Wine?" he asks to cover his embarrassment.
"Maybe a small glass. I'm driving," she says and follows him through to the kitchen. As they enter the room, they hear a scratching at the back door. "What's that?" Jane asks.
"My dog, Aella," Harry sighs and goes to open the door for her.
"My word, Harry!" Jane exclaims as the puppy enters the room and rushes up to her to make friends. "You're outdoing yourself today. What on earth's got into you? You're suddenly so... domestic. If I'd known that a broken leg and collarbone would have effected such a transformation, I might have been tempted to plant a bomb under your car long ago."
Harry's unsure of how to react to such a statement of simultaneous praise and condemnation so he just ignores it, placing the food and water for Aella on the floor. "Here you go, girl," he says quietly and the dog rushes over and gives a grateful little bark before tucking in.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Jane murmurs quietly. "That was uncalled for."
"It's okay, Jane," he assures her as he turns to open the cupboard to get the glasses. When he turns back around, he finds Jane watching him thoughtfully. "What?" he asks a little apprehensively.
"Nothing," she mutters, shaking her head and lowering her eyes. He watches her for a moment more, and as she looks up at him and their gazes meet, he sees a look of determination appear in her eyes before she adds, "It's just surprisingly hard to accept that this transformation we all see in you is a result of the influence of another woman." His gaze turns weary and she hastens to add, "Sorry, I didn't mean that to sound so bitter. It really is none of my business now, and I truly have no desire to go back; I love Simon and he's wonderful for me. I suppose I'm just feeling a little sorry that we couldn't give each other what we needed while we were together." He nods silently and she adds with a mischievous smile, "I confess that my ego is also a little bruised by the fact that I wasn't able to reach you in over a decade of trying, and Ruth has managed to do it in less than a month."
"Jane-"
"No, it's okay, Harry. You don't need to explain. None of us can help who we fall in love with, and I will never consider the years we spent together a waste of time, painful though they were at times. If nothing else, we made two wonderful children together."
"And had lots of fun trying, at least the first time round," he adds with a wry smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.
"Indeed," she laughs as happy to take refuge in humour as he is. Harry could always make her laugh. It was one of the things that had drawn her to him in the first place and what, she believes, held them together long after they should have fallen apart.
"I did love you, Jane," he murmurs quietly after a moment.
"I know, Harry. I loved you too. Just not with the same depth of feeling as we love our current partners."
"No," Harry shakes his head. "Nowhere near the same."
"Would you leave the service for her?" Jane suddenly asks.
Harry pauses for a moment, thinking about her question and how to answer it. "I don't believe she'd ever ask me to do that," he says eventually.
Jane just nods, though he can tell that she's not convinced. Suddenly feeling a little uneasy again, he excuses himself to go to the pantry to find a bottle of red wine. When he re-enters the kitchen, Jane's already setting the table for dinner. He pauses in the doorway as his brain tries to process this. It feels so odd and yet familiar at the same time, like deja vu but different.
She looks up at him, and must notice the odd expression on his face, because she says, "Everything's exactly where it used to be, Harry."
"It seemed a little stupid to move everything and have to re-learn where I keep it all," he shrugs trying to get rid of his feeling of unease. Perhaps this was a bad idea, he thinks.
She nods and he walks over to the counter to open the wine and pour them each a glass. He hands Jane her glass and she sits down at the table. He checks the food and comes over to sit, pulling off his crutch before sitting down.
"That's a clever design," Jane comments. "I don't think I've ever seen that before."
"It was specially made," Harry replies.
"Whoever made it should patent it," Jane says.
"I'll suggest it."
There's a brief silence and Harry feels his anxiety increase. "This feels rather odd, doesn't it?" Jane asks and he nods.
"The food will be ready soon," he volunteers.
An awkward silence descends on them while they both try to think of something to talk about, the memory of the openness of a few moments ago making them both suddenly feel uncomfortable. Harry takes another sip of his wine and eventually asks about his children. They talk for a little while about them, and Harry's pleased to hear that they're both doing well in school. Graham had been struggling a little, but it seems that in the last month he's been doing better.
"It seems to be a result of his last visit with you," Jane confides after a moment's hesitation. There's a short silence before she continues, "I know that I have been very critical of you in the past, Harry, and for that, I'm sorry. I thought that I was doing a good job of not letting my resentment of your behaviour towards me influence your relationship with the children, but I can see now that I wasn't. And although I can't say I've forgiven you for all you did, I can see that you're trying hard with them now and that they need you, especially Graham. I'm sure the anxiety he's been suffering from over the last few years is related to the divorce and losing contact with you. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I am happy for you to have them to stay whenever you're able and willing. It's good for them and good for me too. I enjoy the time I get to myself, and having happier children makes parenting them the rest of the time so much easier."
"Thank you, Jane," Harry replies after a moment. "I'd like to have them to stay when I can. And for the record, it wasn't just you. I didn't make enough effort to see them before and I realise now that I should have tried harder. I promise I'll do my best to see them more often. I actually enjoy being with them very-"
"Dad!" Catherine's voice sounds on the stairs, and moments later, she enters the kitchen carrying the puppy. "You got a dog?!"
"Ah, yes," Harry smiles. "Her name's Aella. Someone at work found her in an abandoned building so I took her in."
"She's adorable, Dad," Catherine smiles and scratches the dog's ears.
"Right," Harry says getting up. "Dinner. Call your brother please, Catherine."
"Graham!" Catherine yells, making Jane and Harry wince.
"I didn't mean shout at the top of your lungs, Catherine," Harry mutters. "I could have done that myself."
"Sorry," Catherine smiles as they hear Graham's rapid footfalls on the stairs.
"Is it ready?" he asks as he steps into the kitchen. "I'm starving. Hey! Whose dog is this?"
"Dad's," Catherine smiles. "Isn't she wonderful?"
"Wow, Dad!" Graham exclaims. "Has Christmas come early this year or something?"
"It certainly looks like it," Jane smiles.
"Perhaps Dad's making up for the last four years worth of Christmases he's missed," Catherine teases.
"Well, it's working," Graham grins, seeing the hurt flicker across his father's face. He's always been the peace maker of the family, Harry thinks as he smiles at him. Always trying to cheer everyone up even though he's frequently sad himself. That's what Ruth said and she's right. They need to keep a closer eye on him because he hides his true emotions so well. Catherine has always been transparent when it comes to emotions; just like her mother. But Graham's like him, able to hide his true feelings from the world very effectively. However, whereas Harry hides behind a mask of indifference, Graham hides behind a mask of cheerfulness, which in many ways is harder to see through. He would make a good spook, he thinks, and though he doesn't wish either of his children to follow in his footsteps, he does feel some pride at the thought.
"All right," he says, snapping out of his reverie, "wash your hands and come to eat." Then he begins to serve dinner.