"Don't be grumpy!"
That had been Ruth's refrain for weeks. As his birthday grew closer and closer, Harry became more and more annoyed with things. And by the time October ended, he was positively melancholy.
His wife—wife! What a thing!—had done her best to keep him in good spirits. She doted on him, trying to tell him that she still found him attractive and virile. She insisted that age was just a number, that he was in better shape than he'd been in for years, that he had so much good in his life. But of course, the extra attention just kept reminding him of the depressing reality of it all. She may have been correct about all that he had to keep him happy, but the fact still remained that Harry Pearce would be sixty years old. He'd always been a bit of a grumpy old bastard, and now it was official. He was old.
When he woke up on his birthday to the first of the November dimness, he rolled over onto his back and gave a quiet groan of annoyance. Sixty. What a hideous number.
"Don't be grumpy," Ruth told him again, feeling like a broken record and her sleepy voice sounding a bit like a broken record to boot.
"I'm not grumpy," he insisted. "Just old."
"If you keep going on like that, I won't give you your birthday present."
"And what is my birthday present?"
She sat up in bed and frowned at him. "Why, you want to know if it's worth cheering up for?"
"Perhaps," he replied. There was a slight glint in his eye, however, to let her know that he was joking. Mostly.
"Well, we will be busy during the day…"
"Doing what?!" he asked, not realizing there were actual plans in place.
"Don't interrupt me," Ruth scolded.
"Sorry."
She began again. "As I was saying, we'll be busy during the day, so I thought I could start the morning off for you properly and then tonight, you can do whatever you want."
"Whatever I want? Isn't that what my whole birthday is for?"
"I mean whatever you want, sexually. Assuming you don't insist with this defeatist mood and put me off you altogether," she warned.
Harry smirked. "I guess you should start my morning off and perhaps that will inspire me to behave till later."
"I don't find you very appealing when you're grumpy. But you're my husband and I love you even when you're in a bad mood," Ruth told him with a soft smile.
He pulled her back down onto the bed and into his arms. "I am very lucky to have such a wonderful wife."
She pressed a few sweet kisses to his lips. "And I haven't even given you the first part of your birthday present yet."
"Then maybe you should, darling," he suggested, eyes sparkling with delight. For how could anyone be grumpy when Ruth was ever so lovely and charming and perfect?
Ruth pulled away from him slightly so she could push the bedsheets off of their bodies. She didn't say a single word as she undressed her husband and set to starting his birthday off properly. She'd had a few years to learn exactly how best to pleasure Harry with her hands and tongue, and he was always extremely appreciative. And by the time he came in her mouth, she was feeling quite pleased with herself.
Harry passed out from the power of his orgasm. By the time he regained consciousness, Ruth had returned from the bathroom where she cleaned herself up. She was smiling at him. "I'm going to make bacon for breakfast. Whenever you're ready."
"Come here," he beckoned, his voice hoarse from the panting and groaning he'd been doing just moments before.
Ruth returned to his arms and happily snogged him till they both pulled apart breathless. "Happy birthday, my love," she whispered.
Things were significantly less lascivious once they'd made their way down to breakfast. Harry had a shower while Ruth got breakfast ready. He fed the animals just as she was finishing the cooking.
"The party starts at one," she informed him.
"Party?"
"Yes, Harry, your birthday party," Ruth replied, as though such a thing was entirely obvious.
"Where are we having a birthday party?"
"Right here. I know how you prefer to stay at home when we can. And you always like to have everyone here, talking and laughing and drinking."
"Who all is coming?"
"You'll see." Her beautiful full lips quirked upward as she taunted him. "It wouldn't be a surprise otherwise. But I know better than to surprise you too much, so that's why I'm telling you that there is a party, and that way you can prepare yourself. I thought we could take Edith for a walk first and then get ready for everyone to arrive."
Harry agreed whole-heartedly. Really, that's all he'd wanted for his birthday. To get up to something naughty with Ruth and have a peaceful day at home playing with the dog and maybe curling up on the sofa all together. But apparently there would be a party of some sort, which he probably should have expected, knowing Ruth and her incessant need to make things just as they should be.
That was how their whole life came together, actually. Ruth had decided they should be together, live a life away from the Service. And so they did. Ruth had decided that Harry should have a better relationship with his children. And so they did. Harry had never really thought he deserved such things. After all, how could a man responsible for so much death and chaos and destruction ever be worthy of a quiet retirement with children who didn't hate him, with a wife who actually wanted him, with a front door of peeling green paint on a quiet house in Suffolk. Men like Harry Pearce die in a fiery blaze with no one but their subordinates to attend a funeral out of duty. He'd told Ruth, all those years ago, that he didn't want what Ros ended up with for himself or especially for Ruth. And even though she'd rejected what he'd offered her then, she had eventually made it come true nonetheless. Ruth was the cause of it all. She was the beginning of a new life, and she was the happily ever after.
"What's made you maudlin?" she asked, interrupting his reverie.
Harry gave her a soft smile. "Just thinking about how incredible you are. How much I love you."
She kissed him as she set the breakfast plate in front of him. "I think you're rather incredible yourself, and I love you very much. That's why I married you."
The both of them were full of smiles for the rest of the morning.
At half past twelve, Harry was pacing back and forth downstairs, waiting for the party guests to arrive. He had no idea who to expect. There were some people who were surely invited, but he had no idea how big the guestlist might be. Knowing Ruth, it could be anywhere from just two or three people to half of their little Suffolk town.
Edith followed him as he walked back and forth. Noodles was curled up nearby in a small patch of sunlight coming through the window.
"I wasn't aware that you paced," Ruth noted, standing and watching from the kitchen doorway.
Harry paused, recalling a similar conversation had many years before. "Only in a good way, someone once told me."
"Must have been someone very clever."
He chuckled, "Yes indeed."
"Probably had a massive crush on you, too. What an embarrassing thing to say."
"I found it incredibly charming."
"Well, you would, wouldn't you?"
"Only coming from a clever young woman on whom I had a massive crush myself."
Ruth was about to reply and continue their banter when the doorbell rang. She smiled broadly and hurried to go answer it.
Harry followed her slowly, not wanting to be inundated by well-wishers. But of course, these sorts of well-wishers he could stomach.
"Happy birthday, Dad!" Catherine exclaimed, abandoning Ruth and rushing toward Harry. She threw her arms around his neck enthusiastically, and he happily pulled her into a big bear hug.
"Thank you, sweetheart!" He kissed her cheek and smiled. "I'm so glad to see you!"
Fabian entered after his partner, carrying a brightly smiling little girl. "Someone told us that she had to see Granddad on her birthday, and who are we to refuse?" the Frenchman teased.
"Oh come here to me, you precious little darling!" Harry gushed, taking Claire from her father's arms. He kissed her chubby baby cheeks and delighted in her shrieking giggles.
Ruth ushered the family into the sitting room so they weren't all blocking the entryway. After all, there were other party guests who would be arriving any minute.
Fabian went out to the car to collect the food and drinks they'd brought for the party. Catherine had insisted, not wanting Ruth to go to the trouble for everyone else. But Ruth and Fabian got everything all set up anyway, leaving Harry and Catherine to play with the baby. After all, it was his birthday. And he was spending it with his very favorite little person in the whole world.
The doorbell rang again, but the arrival did not wait for the door to be opened. Graham let himself into his father's house, holding Sharon's hand. "Oi, it's not polite to leave people in the cold!"
"It's also not polite to barge into people's houses unannounced," Ruth chided with a light laugh, giving them both big hugs in greeting.
"We were invited. You knew we were coming. I rang the doorbell. Nothing was unannounced," Graham insisted.
Ruth just rolled her eyes at that and locked the door behind them. She and Fabian went to serve the food and drinks to everyone as Sharon put the birthday cake she'd baked into the kitchen for later.
"Happy birthday, Dad," Graham greeted.
Harry lit up to see his son. "Thank you," he answered simply, not wanting to get too effusive.
The family settled together with paper plates balanced on their knees and plastic cups filled with wine put on whatever surface was nearby. Catherine was on the floor with Claire, whose new favorite thing was to stand while holding her mummy's hands. Harry was in his armchair with Edith at his feet. Ruth was on the sofa with Graham and Sharon, and Fabian pulled up a chair from the dining room.
"Who else are we expecting?" Harry asked, noticing that nothing else seemed to be set up to allow for more guests.
"No one else. I thought this would be the guestlist you'd like best for your birthday party," Ruth told him.
He grinned. "Quite right."
"Dad get a bit grumpy with too many visitors?" Graham asked teasingly.
"He is not grumpy, nor will he be grumpy," Ruth snapped.
Graham held his hands up in defense. "Sorry, touchy subject there?"
Harry hummed in confirmation. "I've been told that being a grumpy old sod makes me unattractive, so for the sake of my marital relations, I'll just be an old sod, rather than a grumpy one."
Even the rather tame allusion to their sex life elicited a variety of responses. Fabian and Graham both laughed. Sharon blushed. Catherine wrinkled her nose. Claire shouted, "Da!" without any particular intent.
But before anyone could say anything more, Catherine gasped, "Fabian, I think she's going to do it!"
Fabian immediately took his mobile phone out of his pocket and pointed it towards where Catherine was sitting, holding Claire's hands. Ever so gently, Catherine let go of her daughter. Claire took a shaky step forward. And then another. And then another. And then another. And when she was just within reach, Harry held his arms out toward her, only for Edith to hop up and enthusiastically lick the baby's face. She immediately started crying.
"Oh dear," Harry said, laughing. He pushed the dog away and scooped Claire up into his arms. "No more crying, Claire. You should be celebrating! And it's my birthday, so I do wish you'd stop."
As though she had really understood him, Claire's little face changed instantly. Her tears stopped falling and her scrunched up red face calmed. And within seconds, she was smiling again.
"I got it."
Everything turned their attention to Fabian, who held up his mobile.
"Filmed the whole thing," he explained. "Our daughter's first steps. Felicitations, ma fille."
From there on out, the afternoon was significantly less about Harry's birthday and much more about Claire learning to walk. Harry couldn't have been more pleased. He didn't like that sort of attention to begin with, even if it was just his family around him. But the very thought that his granddaughter had taken her first steps into his arms—despite the interruption from the dog—was more than he could have ever hoped for on his sixtieth birthday. Fabian played the video about a dozen times, but it never got old. By the fourth time seeing it, however, Harry noticed himself in the footage. He was rather certain he'd never seen himself look so happy.
But eventually the fun had to end. The guests all had long drives home, after all. Claire had fallen asleep in Harry's arms, and he was forced to give her back to her parents. She stirred slightly as Ruth kissed her goodbye. Ruth could have sworn she heard a little baby murmur of "Naa Ru," which Ruth would always insist was the beginnings of Claire saying "Nana Ruth."
When everyone had said their goodbyes and gotten in their cars and begun their trek back to London and Gerrands Cross, Harry and Ruth were left alone in their little house once again.
"So," he began, snaking his arm around her waist, "I don't think I was too grumpy today."
"I had a feeling I could break you of that mood with my very carefully curated guestlist."
Harry kissed her temple. "The perfect guestlist, darling, thank you."
"I'm so glad you had a good birthday, Harry. I know you don't like getting older, but it is a fact of life, and I just wanted to remind you how wonderful everything is, and that doesn't change because you've turned sixty."
He could feel himself start to get emotional and did not want to ruin the good feelings. So rather than respond to her lovely sentiment, Harry cleared his throat slightly and asked, "Can I have the second part of my birthday present now?"
"I've got to clean up the kitchen first."
"We can start there."
Harry reached down and pinched her bum, making Ruth yelp and laugh and scurry off to the kitchen. Harry Pearce chased his wife and began thinking of exactly what he'd do when he caught her.