In a previous life, there had been much made of Harry having disciples and Ruth being able to turn water into wine. Either or both of which would have come in handy, when without warning, the unpredictability of the weather at this time of year, forced Harry's hand into giving Malcolm the keys to the Range Rover and asking him to drive the family home. Telling him that he and Ruth would gather up their belongings and be right behind them. The adults and Harry and Ruth in particular disappointed, Thomas suggesting that the rain that was now bleaching across the beach would stop in a moment so couldn't they wait, with the birthday boy the only one that was taking everything in his stride. Simply because he didn't realise the effort that had gone into making this day all about him and had been splashing about in the shallows with Catherine. Not minding that he was wet. The shallows as they were known locally, being small strips of water that crisscrossed the beach and in normal conditions were a safe and fun area for children to play. As opposed to now and was why Catherine had hoisted him onto her hip and was carrying him up the steps. Calling back to a dallying Thomas to get a move on.

By the time that Harry and Ruth had climbed the steps for a second time, carrying what little else they'd been able to salvage, they were pretty much soaked and in Ruth's case visibly shivering. In any other situation, Harry's suggestion that she strip down to virtually nothing and wrap herself in the blanket that he'd found on the back seat of Malcolm's car, would have caused her to smile and look forward to more than a hot bath when she got home. But in this case, it was Harry at his most gallant best, who in addition to being frustrated that the day had been ruined, was with no regard for himself, really concerned Ruth might end up with more than just a cold. Causing him to put his foot down and drive perhaps far faster than was wise, in a car that didn't belong to him, whilst at the same time being blinded by spray.

'Mum's just a bit cold,' he told a concerned looking Thomas, who had been looking out of the window and opened the door as soon as they'd pulled up. Showered and dressed in a fresh set of warm clothes. As was Finn, although nobody seemed to have noticed that his jumper had been pulled on back to front. Something that Harry rectified as soon Ruth disappeared upstairs. While Malcolm, the only person who'd had the foresight to take a waterproof jacket with him was making the boys warm drinks and Catherine emerged from her bedroom.

'Take as long as you like, Malcolm and I have got everything under control,' she told her dad in a voice which suggested that she'd taken over, as she walked past the bathroom door where the taps were already running. In what Harry always referred to as Catherine's, well despite what you might think I'm more than capable voice. Something that she'd developed in the run up to his and Ruth's wedding and seemingly hadn't grown out of. Still he supposed he should treat it as her caring. As opposed to a dig at the mess he must look. Added to which she was making a huge effort with Finn, which to her credit, seemed to be having a positive effect on the young man.

'We'll see tomorrow then,' he countered, closing the door behind him, before stripping out of his soaking clothes and joining Ruth beneath the bubbles. His previous expression of concern changing into one of relief, as the hot water eased the cramp that had been invading his body and when Ruth assured him that she was feeling better.

Only to find when they arrived downstairs, that Catherine had been true to her word and that there was nothing left for them to do. That in the space of less than a week, they were once again being treated as guests in their own home. Without any fuss either and in such a short space of time, the room had been rearranged and had the feel of a party. The table in the corner had been plated up with the food that they'd been able to salvage. Finn's still to be opened presents were tucked away in the corner and the young man in question was being entertained by an attentive Thomas, who was making up whatever story he was telling Finn as he went along. All by the sound of it, based on Finn's reaction.

A castle with a moat and with flags flying on its turrets was being described in great detail. The main character was a Knight called Buster, named after Finn's teddy bear. Who they were told, had been very upset because he hadn't been invited to the original party, but was happy now. Proven when he lifted his tiny paw and waved to them. The smallest of actions, remembered by Thomas from when he'd been Finn's age, but in this case was designed to make his baby brother laugh.

Ruth only prevented from averting her eyes, when a still attentive Harry put his arm around her shoulders and a mug of tea arrived courtesy of Malcolm.

So, they weren't on the beach as they'd planned. The fire might be smaller, but the atmosphere it created made it somehow more intimate. They were still having a party and Finn was surrounded by the people that loved him and would be shaping his future, thought Harry, as he and Ruth were given the honour of sitting on the sofa, described by Thomas as where the King and Queen in his story always sat.

Considering that the food had spent the best part of the day in plastic boxes, it was still remarkably tasty. Which once it had all but disappeared, apart from one sausage, that had, as if by magic, dropped on the floor to be gobbled by Whisky, resulted in a 'thanks mum' from Thomas. Heralding the moment for Catherine to walk in from the kitchen carrying the cake, chocolate as it happened, before placing it on the small table in front of Finn. Where despite being encouraged, it soon became evident that this was the first time that Finn had been asked to blow out any candles. Enter Thomas, who knelt down beside him and after a nod from his dad, ensured that at least one of the four candles was left for Finn. Before telling him that it was his turn. At which point five people held their breath, until Finn said, 'puff' as opposed to blowing. Resulting in a barely contained round of stifled laughter, that was drowned out by a chorus of Happy Birthday, until Finn finally got the message.

.

'Thanks for everything love,' said Harry, when Catherine was relaxing in what was normally his chair and he was sitting at one end of the sofa with his legs stretched out in front of him, ready to close his eyes. Malcolm having gone home and Ruth upstairs with the boys, to ensure that the story reading that was into its second chapter wouldn't extend beyond Finn's bedtime. That whatever Thomas intend to do after that and before he went to sleep, wouldn't prevent an already sleepy Finn from heading into the land of nod.

After which there was a lull in proceedings, during which Harry heard Ruth close the boy's bedroom door and then walk along the corridor to their own bedroom.

At which point Catherine decided to acknowledge that her Dad was still in the room, by posing a question that was destined to stop him from relaxing. Which became two questions that amounted to the same thing. Firstly, at which point in his relationship with Ruth, had he realised that he'd fallen in love with her? And secondly, how had he been so sure that she was the person that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with? Which was odd, because as far as Harry could remember, they'd touched on this several times, if not in any great detail. His instinct now, telling him that despite not knowing the reason for her questions, that he wouldn't be able to fob her off by telling her he was tired.

'You do realise that this is going to be a long story,' he told her. Tempted to add, remind me if I'm repeating myself or I'm not the best person to be answering these questions. Whilst acknowledging that it felt those early days when he'd still been living in the family home and Catherine had said, 'Daddy please tell me a story?' Watching her now as she nodded her head, waiting for him to begin.

Before answering her first question, by saying that Ruth and he hadn't been in a relationship when it happened. That up until then there had been what he could only describe as moments. That there was a connection between them had never been in doubt. But it wasn't until they we're in the meeting room during one of the morning briefings at Thames House, that he'd acknowledged that his feelings towards her had become irreversible. A group of terrorists had obtained a huge bomb. One that would have created havoc and thousands of deaths across a wide area of London if they'd allowed it to be detonated. Which left them with no option but to get it back. Something that he'd said was complicated, to which Ruth, who she had to remember was an analyst at that time, had replied no it was simple. That he wasn't as patient then as he was now and that the field officers who were sitting around the table had expected him to react. But he hadn't. Because when he looked at Ruth's earnest face, he saw compassion and an absolute certainty. So much so, that he just couldn't look away. That he could remember somebody coughing, which broke up the moment and allowed him to dismiss the meeting. Which would have put an end to it, if it hadn't been that in the run up to that day, he'd been persuaded by someone who he'd known for a very long time, that Ruth was in love with him.

'That awful Juliet woman,' suggested Catherine.

She does remember, thought Harry. Before going on to tell her what he knew he hadn't told her before. How he'd booked a table in the hope that Ruth would go out to dinner with him. That when he'd gone up onto the roof terrace, to think not only about the bomb, but when and how to ask Ruth out, that she'd followed him. How she'd lent against the railings gazing out over the city, so close that he could have reached out and touched her if he'd wanted to. And by god that was all that he'd wanted at that moment. He hadn't of course. Instead there had been a lot of bluster both on his part and Ruth's, until to his amazement Ruth had said yes, she'd love to have dinner. Together. That he still doesn't know which one of them was the more surprised.

That when they went out to dinner a few days later, the conversation that they'd had, could and should have led to more. But for reasons that he couldn't understand at the time, but later respected, meant that it didn't happen.

'Then of course Ruth ended up living in Cyprus, and as if that wasn't bad enough, fast forward to the time when I was bundled off to the US because I hadn't listened to Ruth's advice,' he reminded her. 'Which means that if you hadn't been so bloody determined, we wouldn't be having this conversation.'

'I wish I had your certainty,' said Catherine, preventing him from continuing, as though she'd been using him to buy herself some time. Which of course she had. Something that Harry realised and decided required him to fetch a couple of glasses and a bottle of wine. 'I want what you have Dad and I'm not sure that I have the ability to achieve it,' she continued, as he settled himself down again. Whilst trying not to yawn or envy Ruth, who was far better qualified when it came to discussing problems than he was, but had deserted him in favour of going to bed. Despite there being a small part of him, which was pleased that Catherine after all these years, was asking for his advice.

'I'm guessing that you've met someone and that you're trying to strike a balance between work and your personal life. Am I right?' He asked her. Knowing that she and Callum had split up because she hadn't been prepared to stop travelling, despite the fact that he'd left the service.

'How did you know?'

'Because it's what I failed to do with Ruth and why it took us as long as it did.'

'He's called Chris. He's a science teacher and the absolute opposite of Callum. None of those dreadful jokes that used to annoy me. He's even gone as far as talking about us starting a family. Something that Callum didn't want.'

Well that's something I didn't know until now thought Harry. He'd just assumed that Callum had reverted to being a pain in the arse.

'Do you love him?' he asked her. Reverting to what for him was all that mattered. That so long- ago asked question resurfacing.

'I'm missing him, if that counts?' Was a typical Catherine answer and all Harry was going to get.

'Then I'm going to bed and you need to call him now,' he told her, dragging himself to his feet.

.

A week later.

Harry and Thomas were once again standing in the departure lounge at the airport. This time waiting to say goodbye to Catherine. Harry now knowing that when the family went down to London, that they'd be introduced to Chris. After nightly phone calls that had brought a genuine smile to Catherine's face, rather than her need to keep occupied at a speed that she'd admitted, had been to divert herself from fixating on what she hadn't been able to sort out in her mind. Something that had been helped when she and Ruth had spent a morning in Stornoway together. Only three days before Ruth and Thomas were due to go back to school. For the final term in both cases. Leaving Finn, in what Ruth had described as Harry's more than capable hands. Something that had caused Catherine to wonder, if Ruth really needed to be giving up her three mornings at the school, when according to Rose, Ruth was a someone who it would be difficult to replace. Something that Catherine had never doubted for one minute. In fact if pressed, she'd have replaced difficult with impossible.

'See you all soon then,' she told Harry, before hugging Thomas and then turning on her heel and disappearing into the crowd of her fellow passengers. Leaving Harry happy and with a sense of relief. That not only would he and Ruth finally be on their own with the boys, but in the knowledge that Catherine wasn't going back to an empty house. The only question that he hadn't asked her, being had she told her mother about Chris? Brought on by the intensity of the eye contact that she'd held with him when she'd said goodbye. Something that he hadn't experienced since the day when they'd been sitting on the bench by the river and he'd been showing her the poem that her mother had read to her students. A Prayer for my Daughter.

Turning his attention back to his son, he knew without asking that they wouldn't be going to watch the plane take off. That as resilient and happy go lucky as Thomas was, that there were still cracks in his armour. Most of which stemmed from his beginnings and were based around his need to keep the people he loved close. Something that he'd never voiced, beyond needing to know where Ruth or he was. Or looking at him for assurance when he thought that something was wrong, but didn't know what it was. That Catherine going home fell into that category and is the reason why as soon as they get back, he's going to start planning their trip to London.

But what is really important and doesn't resonate until he's watching Ruth, trying to persuade Finn that the dumpling that he's pushing around in his bowl of stew is anything but a giant bogey, are the things that he does have control over and more importantly understands. Their continuing support of Thomas, who despite being hell bent on helping his baby brother to settle in, is still a child that needs to be told that he's loved, just as as Finn does. Something that he's going to rectify once Finn has gone to bed. But before that, he's going to get down on the floor himself. To join in with the building of Finn's Lego castle. After all, he's also a Knight of the realm. Albeit a reluctant one.