November 5th.
'There's somebody who wants to talk to you,' Adam told an already excited Jacob, handing him his phone, as he was being helped into his boots by Fiona, before they headed off for the bonfire and fireworks party on Hampstead Heath. He'd stayed over the previous night, sharing Wes's room. Wes who'd spent virtually all his childhood in adult company, seemed to have revelled in looking after someone so much younger, as the boys had played contentedly and then been allowed to watch TV before they'd gone to bed. Adam's suggestion that, 'now Harry was potentially going to have so much time on his hands, that perhaps he'd like to add Wes to his creche,' had been met with a wry smile, and 'was that a pig that's just flown past?' from Fiona. As was his comment that Wes would make a very good older brother.
As promised though, right on cue and something that Harry had prearranged with Adam before they'd left, was that he was handing Ruth his phone, as they sat in the lounge of a small hotel in Italy, perusing the menu. The sheer delight on Jacob's face as he chatted away, first to Ruth and then to Harry had been well worth the subterfuge at both ends, as an equally happy Ruth, was wondering just how much more surprises Harry had up his sleeve and could she possibly love him any more than she did at this moment, as he smiled at her from across the table, sipping his drink.
When Harry had answered the phone, Adam had fully expected his first question to be about work. But no. That they were apparently in Italy for a night, as opposed to their love nest in France and about to go into dinner wasn't a surprise. Harry had style in bucket loads when it came to an occasion, something that he admired and aspired to. He could just picture him in this new role, his attention entirely on Ruth, totally at ease in his surroundings, their evening mapped out and probably the rest of their holiday as well.
'I'm in love with Ruth, it's as simple as that,' Harry had told him when he'd handed him his letter of resignation and he'd questioned Harry's reasoning. 'Call me a misguided old fool if you want too Adam, but I've been handed the chance that I never believed possible. Someone who loves me for my frailties as well as my strengths and we both know how rare that is. I've lived on the grid, almost considered it to be my home, whereas now if you can you can believe it, I haven't so much touched a drop of whisky in months?'
Harry had been the equivalent of the Godfather when he'd been on the grid. The rock. The steadying influence that they'd all clung too and would obey without question. The man that had made him. His closest friend. That Ruth had walked into Harry's life at a time when he'd been at an all - time low, doubting his capability, not only as a section head but as a man, was a miracle. She'd taken on the mantle that had been missing for years. His lover obviously, but his soul mate as well, who had revitalised the other side of Harry that very few saw or believed existed, other than perhaps him and Malcolm. His ability to love someone other than his children and of course his country, without reservation. Whereas now, Harry was beginning to sound almost poetic. Something that was supposed to be his forte or weakness, depending on who was listening. In love maybe, but that Harry was resigning within five months of meeting Ruth, almost beggared belief. Harry was the beating heart of section D. As he'd said, destined to end his days slumped over his desk with a glass of whisky in his hand. Or so the cynical and probably envious of the prestige that his position held, muttered amongst themselves in the darkest corners of Thames house and beyond. Well more fools them he'd concluded, shaking Harry's hand and watching with envy, the broad smile that had spread across Harry's face. His eyes full of certainty.
Simple maybe, but as Harry sat on the other side of the table, listening to Ruth talking to the waiter in a prefect Italian accent, just as she'd done when he'd stumbled over his French, on more than one occasion over the past few days, but without embarrassing him or making it obvious, he was wondering if perhaps they really needed to go home at all, at least for the moment. Would it be so ridiculous to spend the next six months or so driving around Europe and indulging themselves? In principle Ruth had agreed with everything that he'd suggested, bar the where and what she thought wouldn't be insurmountable questions that they'd have to put to Sophie.
At that precise moment, his eyes were drawn to a French couple who were walking across the car park, their children laughing and giggling as they jumped up and down in the recently fallen snow. Snow and children screamed of Christmas to Harry and, more especially, one of those rare Christmas mornings when Graham had been the same age as Jacob was now, when he'd managed to grab a few hours away from the grid and had played in the garden with his children. Ruth had heard the commotion and was watching with a look on her face that he couldn't quite decipher and begged a question. Why Jacob and why did he mean so much to her?
She was still in her thirties and would make a wonderful mother, but was there a reason that this hadn't happened? Did she even want a child of her own? Was her friendship with Sophie and their weekends with Jacob enough?
Not now he told himself, not so soon after she'd said yes. He'd leave that one until they got home. Home, their home was almost more than he could cope with thinking about at the moment. He was still coming to terms with the fact that she'd agreed to spend what amounted to the rest of her life with him and he wasn't about to throw a spanner in the works. If truth be told, he didn't ever want to throw a spanner again, although he suspected that at some time he would.
'Harry?' brought him down to earth again, as they were asked if they were ready to order.
That Ruth had never been abroad, other than on a day trip with her school to Calais, when she'd been in her teens, whereas he'd been to countries, some of which he would rather forget, made the fact that they were in a small hotel in Italy, whose men were reputed to be the best lovers in the world, something that always annoyed the French and, explained why they had a two hour lunch break, somewhat of a challenge to Harry. He adored Ruth every inch of her, but the past few months with the constant interruptions, had dictated that their love making had been somewhat haphazard and restrained. It was one thing to have made love to Ruth in a hotel in Windsor, whereas here, shut away from the rest of humanity, in the Alps, with the snow falling silently outside the window, in a room that screamed of romance, the possibilities were endless. So by the time that they reached the top of the stairs and he closed the door behind them, Harry was ready to take Ruth to heaven and back, for as long as his energy would allow him.
What he hadn't considered was that Ruth was feeling exactly the same as he was, so wasn't about to object. She'd spent her life studying people and she'd been fascinated by how Harry's body language had changed since they'd arrived in France. That he was fiercely British was never going to change, but that he'd embraced the French and now the Italians as though he actually liked them, seemed to have energised him. It certainly had her. It completed him, made him less secular and for someone who appeared to be fascinated by her grip on languages, was an added attraction. That and it was Harry the man that she was about to sleep with, or not in this case, as opposed to Harry the spy, who was pinning her against the door as soon as it closed behind them, well hey ho. Clothes flying and kissing her with a passion that usually built up steadily. Sound proof walls or not, this Harry was a real turn on.
December two years later.
The consequences of that night had been challenging. Not only because they'd returned to London, at a time when people were queuing up to buy houses at the right price and they'd sold within a month, moving to a house on the Devon coast that overlooked the sea. But when on a routine visit to register with their new doctor, Ruth had been told that she was pregnant. A miracle given that after a minor operation in her twenties to alleviate minor stomach cramps, she'd been diagnosed with a condition that meant she'd never be able to conceive a child.
He'd been sitting in the waiting room, presuming she'd get a clean bill of health, which she had, as had he, but had been called in when Ruth's legs had given way under her and she'd fainted.
'Never say never,' the smiling doctor had said to them, pouring Ruth a glass of water as he congratulated them. Scribbling down details of the specialist that they needed to see, as Ruth gripped his hand like a vice, as though she thought he was going to run away and leave her. Her eyes full of questions that he was too shocked to answer.
Terrified that she'd never go full term, he'd attended every appointment she'd been too, during what had turned out to be a complicated nine months. As was the birth, when he'd been advised that he needed to stay with her. Ruth, convinced that their baby wasn't going to be born alive, whilst he, fearful that they'd lose not only the baby, but her as well, he'd done what was asked of him. During what had felt like a lifetime, he'd breathed with her, through all the contractions and the pain, as she'd clung to him. Until screaming into the world to meet his parents, their miracle had arrived.
Nicholas 'our snow baby' as he'd found himself telling him, during those first few precious hours, whilst Ruth had slept and he'd sat holding him, was perfect. Completely overwhelmed by the instant love that he felt for this child, their son was a now a happy and healthy, heading towards two years old. With his mother's eyes and temperament, Harry loved him more than life itself, as he watched him gazing at the Christmas Tree that Ruth was attempting to decorate. He'd been sitting on Harry's lap but had begged to be put down, by banging his tiny fists on Harry's legs. One of the many amusing traits that he'd inherited from his father. Now though, he was doing his best to join in, by tottering and crawling around in front of Ruth, impeding her progress. Giggling in the same way that she did when she was happy.
It was one of those special moments that Harry knew he'd never forget, as an insane feeling of love, mixed with the urge to cry gripped him. Ruth had handed their son the tiny toy train decoration that he'd been given by Jacob, and in that instant Nicholas had looked up at Ruth and smiled. Mother and son, miraculously his.
Disadvantages had he been asked, were that they'd both been denied their beauty sleep, but other than that it was hard to think of any. Advantages plenty. Ruth had been advised and had no plans to go back to work for at least another year, which if she did, she'd work from home she'd told him. Nicholas was healthy and loved and at a time when probably he shouldn't have had a child, he'd arrived without that consideration. He'd re energised both of them and having a child had brought other people into their lives. People who would never know what he'd once been. He was just Harry and he was accepted as such. The world was still turning as it always would. They had the spring and then the summer to look forward too, with walks on the beach and new horizons to explore.
Sophie and Jacob were still a very important part of their lives. She'd been a rock in the early months, as Ruth had recovered and he'd adapted to the responsibility of looking after a small baby. She'd willingly followed them to Devon and she and Jacob were set to join them for Christmas. No snow unfortunately, but then who needed snow, when his future was mapped out. A future filled with love and expectation.
Ruth didn't need to look up to know that Harry was watching them. He'd barely stopped since Nicholas had been born. Deliriously happy in their new home, she had the family that she'd craved. A man who loved her and a child that was never meant to happen.