When Catherine had rung her Dad and he'd told her what had happened, she'd been surprised. Rather than him sounding upset, he'd seemed resigned. Calm even. Most unlike him in a crisis. Or what she'd have deemed to be a crisis. Only to be confirmed when she'd helped Ruth get dinner and then make up the beds, when she'd been staggered by the extent of what they'd had to buy, and more especially by the reality of what they'd actually lost. Virtually everything, or at least everything as she could remember - just gone.

'Just put me to work,' she'd told Ruth and had meant it. Still wondering how the hell they were both managing to stay so calm. That, and remembering that her Dad had once told her that she'd have made a really good spy and to some extent he'd been right. She'd seen so little of her Dad and Ruth as a couple, so part of the reason that she'd given in to the boy's demands without a fight, was to prove him right.

A revelation in itself, for someone who had only seen them together a few times. An unspoken magnetism. Nothing overblown, or showy with a big sign hovering over their heads. This togetherness that they had was far more subtle, and because of it, totally believable. More than that though, it was lovely to see how comfortable they were with each other. How ordinary they looked. A word that she'd never have applied to her Dad. But then in recent years, she'd rarely seen him in anything other than a suit and tie and never this happy. No obvious sign of resentment from either of them, that she'd gate crashed their party. Not that this was going to stop her worrying about them. Not yet anyway. Which was why she was going to ask them if she could stay until the end of the week.

'I really do want to help,' she told them and meaning it, walking into the kitchen the next morning in search of a quiet few moments with the grown-ups, before the boys woke up. Rewinding to the previous evening, when she'd said goodnight and then watched her Dad and Ruth heading for bed close to midnight, she hadn't expected to find them laying the table and getting breakfast prepared so early. Opening and closing cupboards, presumably trying to remember exactly where they'd put something, with a pile of already empty boxes waiting to be disposed of. Sure that anyone other than her, would have presumed that they'd been up all night.

Except that they hadn't, as the slight blush on Ruth's cheeks indicated, when she'd walked into the room and disturbed them. She wasn't naiive by any means, she was a married woman herself and it wasn't as if she hadn't imagined her Dad and Ruth in bed together. But to see it the morning after so to speak, was an all-together different experience. Resisting the overwhelming desire say something less than sensitive, she poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table.

.

On the other side of the kitchen where he was slicing bread, Harry wasn't in the least bit fooled by the expression on Catherine's face. He was also well aware of what was going through his daughter's mind. She was right though. He and Ruth had christened their new bed. Quietly as it happened or so he'd thought. Which had been bloody difficult, given that they'd both been on a massive high. Which after a day of positives, had they'd been on their own, would have seen the windows rattling on their hinges in appreciation. Whereas unfortunately, it had been restricted to a desperate and quick release for both of them. Not without it's passion though and a combined expletive.

Whether Catherine had heard them or not, sex wasn't only a privilege of the young. But even if she hadn't, he knew what a vivid imagination she had. Terrifying close to Ros in fact. Maybe it had something to do with her being blonde. An inbuilt radar of some sort. Which was probably racist or sexist or one of the other non PC whatsits that he'd never got his head around.

Then of course he had the boys to consider. Having already asked him when they could go and see some sheep, and why were the cows who'd been studying the new arrivals from the other side of the fence, different colours? Harry knew when it came, that the question to which he still didn't have an answer, sufficient to stop the twins their tracks, would be directed at him. If for no other reason, than they thought he knew everything. A miracle in itself. But then they were only three. That and the fact that every answer he'd ever given them, had been followed up by another question. In the same way that Catherine had questioned everything at the same age.

Up until now, Ruth had been just Ruth. The nice lady who'd he'd known for a long time, who loved their Grandpa very much. No other explanation had been needed. Explanations as to why she now lived with him and was sleeping in his bed, they'd face when it happened. Now as imminent as the approaching thunderstorm that was sweeping in from Scandinavia, if the weather forecaster was to be believed. Questions from the inquisitive twins, which would include, could they still climb into his bed for a cuddle if Ruth was in there, and why did they have three grandmas now, as opposed to their friends at school, who in general had two? The fact that some of these friends had two mummies or two daddies, had so far passed them by according to Catherine, so maybe this new situation would as well?

It had been years since he'd had to field off such questions from his own children. In fact, Graham had barely asked him anything. How he wished he had. Maybe now was the time for him to really make an effort with his son. This need he had, to put the final piece in the jigsaw puzzle. When he would have Ruth to help him find the words, or console him if he was rejected yet again.

Although for every negative there was always a positive and this had been no different. Not once had it crossed his mind that he'd have grandchildren, and certainly not two at the same time. He loved the boys unconditionally. More than that, they'd been the catalyst that had patched up his relationship with his ex-wife. On the day that they'd been born, he'd suggested with little hope that she'd say yes, that they drive to the hospital together. But she had. Both of them overwhelmed by the prospect of what was unfolding, they'd been civil to each other. To the point where she'd grabbed his hand when they'd been ushered in to meet the new arrivals. How out of nowhere when they'd gone for a coffee afterwards, he'd told her all about Ruth. How she'd walked into his life at a time when he'd been floundering. That instead of her usual rebuff, Jane had said that she was happy for him and that it was time they personally rebuilt some bridges. How when Catherine had told her that he and Ruth had got married, that she'd sent them a card.

Thoughts that were interrupted, by what later in the day, he would go on to describe as an icing on the cake moment. One that would stop him worrying about things that he couldn't control. Michael, only distinguishable from Tom, because he was slightly less quick on his feet, and less pushy than his brother, was always on his shirt tails to some extent. As they came bundling through the door, his route to Harry was cut off by the legs of table. At any other time, he'd have headed for his mother, but Catherine had gone back upstairs for a shower. It would have been unkind to have said that Ruth was his only option for a morning cuddle. She was much more than that. This child had taste he thought, as with a certain amount of pride, he watched him over Tom's shoulder. Ruth had been sitting down when they'd come in and with no hesitation, he climbed onto her lap and made himself comfortable. By the time that Catherine came back down, Michael and Ruth were deep in conversation about the fact that his wellies were red, whilst Tom's were blue and the merits of jumping up and down in puddles.

.

The puddles that the boys had been craving, were likely to be provided by some heavy rain, due to start later in the afternoon. Whereas for now, the beach was providing an outlet, not only for their energy but to keep them occupied for a while. That and to give him and Ruth a break.

'Stay close, no rushing off now,' he told them, in voice that they'd rarely heard, as he looked at the waves that were crashing onto the sand and shingle beach. Tom racing towards the water. Michael holding back. Turning to wave at him and Ruth. A beach, that by no means tourists would flock too. In fact it was tiny compared to its neighbours. But it was their beach now. From which the one hundred or so souls that lived in Dunwich gained great pride, by keeping it clean and litter free.

With the unpacking forgotten for a while and with Catherine staying at home to tidy up and get the lunch ready by the time they got back, it was a relief to get outside and breathe in some fresh air. Harry could almost imagine him and Ruth going for walks and getting a dog at some time in the future. Wrapped up against the cold wind, had anyone been watching them, they would have thought them to be a conventional family group. No one would have suspected, that this man who was watching the woman who'd walked ahead of him, to keep a close eye on the boys who were exploring the rock pools, was the recently retired head of counter terrorism. Even more unlikely, was that his wife, who over the years that she'd worked by his side, had uncovered more essential Intel, than any other analyst in the history of the service. They were as Catherine had observed, just two ordinary people, who after all this time, had the world at their feet.

.

Sausage and mash, who didn't like sausage and mash? It was easy and it was quick and after a morning in the fresh air, whether you were a three-year old, or in your fifties, with the promise of ice cream to follow, you weren't going to say anything other than 'yes please' were you? That and an evening when they'd all cuddled up around the fire and relaxed, until Catherine announced that she wanted to get an early night. Having already settled the boys down with a bedtime story and the promise of another fun day tomorrow.

When because they'd finally got some time on their own, Harry and Ruth stayed by the fire. Until Ruth headed for bed, while Harry tidied up the kitchen and to save time in the morning, laid the table for breakfast. Like his daughter, Harry could sleep the sleep of the dead when he was tired and he was certainly that. So it was guaranteed that when he fell into bed, that tonight, he'd be asleep within moments.

Despite being just as tired, in fact overtired in her case, Ruth couldn't sleep, and as a result, the longer that she lay there, the more her mind got working again. Even spooning herself in behind Harry. His bulk that was her comfort blanket that usually sent her into the land of nod without thinking about it, wasn't working as it usually did. She tried turning over. She tried adjusting her pillow. She turned back again and snuggled in behind Harry, breathing him in. Letting her mind wander towards happy things.

They'd had a wonderful day, Harry especially and that was what mattered to her the most. But this happiness went far deeper than that, because she now felt part of the wider family. She'd always known how protective Harry had been of his daughter and she of him, so as someone who'd only recently become part of the Pearce clan, she'd been harbouring a niggling doubt that it would take a while before Catherine would accept her. Except that from the moment she'd arrived, Catherine had made it obvious that she had. By insisting that she and Harry should take the boys out, then telling her that she needed to talk to her. That she had plans. Plans that included getting Graham back into the fold. He was teetering apparently, as opposed to his previous rejection of his father. Too keep it to herself, just for a few more weeks.

How could she not. This was what Harry had wanted for so long. It was heart breaking, that he still believed that he'd never see his son again. Besides, he was a father, a grandfather and a husband now. He put them all first. Come to think of it, despite the fact that until recently he'd believed that he'd got it so wrong, he hadn't. They'd always been his priority. As well as them being his greatest loss, they'd also been his finest achievement.

Closing her eyes, she buried herself against Harry's warm frame. Overwhelmed with a rush of love, for the man who was so close to getting the one present that he still craved.