'I suppose nobody's going to own up to knowing where Harry was last night?' Asked Juliet. Sweeping into a depleted meeting room, with an expression to suggest that she'd swallowed a wasp and with a voice to match.
In complete contrast to the way in which Ruth had arrived a few moments earlier, which had been to look tired. That it was a happy tired which said, 'just leave me alone, it's private, we had a lovely evening and I don't want to talk about it,' was fair enough. It was what Adam had learnt to expect from Ruth. He was also pleased for them, as without a doubt was Malcolm who'd he'd seen helping her off with her coat and having a quiet word after they'd walked in together.
What he also knew, was that at some stage during the morning, the lack of sleep would start to catch up with her. Not that Ruth was showing any signs of it happening at the moment, in fact she was holding up very well. That hitting a brick wall feeling which was how he'd felt during those first heady days and weeks when he'd met Fiona and they'd been burning the candle at both ends. When his ability to concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing, had been overtaken by thoughts about the previous evening. Which meant that once Ruth started analysing what had happened, something that was inevitable in her case, her energy levels would either peak if only briefly, or drop to a point, where if Juliet did pick up on it and put pressure on Ruth to explain herself, would result in Ruth running for the hills and not back into Harry's arms for a third night in succession. Something that he couldn't and wasn't going to allow to happen. Because although his own life resembled a train crash, it didn't mean that Harry and Ruth had hold back in the fear that it would make him feel any worse. Because if he was recalling nights with Fiona from more than ten years ago, then he was already there.
.
As was Juliet, who had driven what had been a relatively short distance, full off optimism and with an idea building. Not only to be mightily disappointed to discover that Harry hadn't been at home when she'd arrived, but had been prevented from waiting until he got back. At what had been close to her bedtime, when sharing a bed with Harry, still ranked highly amongst the times when she hadn't regretted what she'd done when she'd woken up the following morning. Because in the bed department, Harry had simply been in a class of his own. Her thinking being, that after a couple of drinks, she and Harry, even if they didn't end up between the sheets, might verbally at least, relive what had been a never to be forgotten week in Paris.
Something that because they'd be out of earshot of his colleagues and with a little bit of flirting on her part, despite his indifference towards her since she'd arrived back, which she acknowledged was entirely her fault, given that she'd teased him about losing his edge, they might she'd hoped, enable them to ignite a long-lost spark and certainly before they both reached the stage where people of her age and certainly his, drank hot chocolate whilst reading a book before they went to sleep each night.
Only to be told in no uncertain terms that what Harry did or didn't do of an evening, was none of her business and to go away. From behind Harry's front door and from a woman who she didn't know and because she herself had refused to identify herself, other than to say she was a friend of Harry's, had refused her entry. During what had been a brief and very one-sided encounter, aimed at the letter box by Mrs. Harris, which had led Scarlet to believe that her master's neighbour was about to be attacked, so had added her own voice to the already rising decibels of Mrs. Harris's ire.
At which point and not wanting to attract any more attention to herself than she already was and with the threat of the police being called ringing in her ears, Juliet had gone home to an empty house and had made herself the warm drink of her musings. But not before she'd added a very large whisky, in the hope that it would stop her imagining where Harry was and more importantly, who he was with and what they were getting up to.
.
A thought that had stayed with her, during what had been a very restless night and now, as she watched his colleagues visibly closing ranks in front of her, was doing nothing to improve her mood this morning, or was made any easier, when Adam said in a voice which implied that if she didn't know where Harry was, then why should they, 'your guess is as good as mine.'
Before Malcolm who generally didn't comment, poured water on what was an already dying fire, by chipping in with, 'what makes you think that Harry wasn't at home Juliet?'
Which of course left Ruth, who in Juliet's wildest imaginings wouldn't have been on the list of women that Harry would have wanted to take to bed, but having dodged the question thanks to the boy's intervention, had the luxury of gazing at the wall somewhere above Juliet's head.
Where she was currently on cloud nine where the bed sheets were still tangled in the afterglow of what had not only been a passionate, but an incredibly tender first night with Harry in her bed. Memories that were causing her body to respond, in a way that was totally inappropriate given where she was. Not helped by her thinking ahead to the evening, because Harry had promise that he'd come round again, no matter what happened during the course of the day.
It was more than that though, when wasn't it with Harry? Harry who had not only succeeded in breaking down every barrier she'd erected to protect herself from heading headlong into a sexual relationship with the potential to break her heart, but he'd left her with something to ponder, by raising again the question of them having a day out away from London. One during which he'd suggested, that if he wasn't being too presumptuous, they could stay over for the night. Which as they'd both been lying naked, having opened their hearts to the possibility of a future, was a rather unnecessary but typical Harry question. One that had gone a long way to convincing herself that Harry was ignoring what he himself wanted, in favour of being led by her. Which if she'd been able to find the courage, would have been to tell him that she loved him and was the reason she'd said 'yes'.
Which had resulted in a broad smile from Harry and a repeat of what had already happened, but with a prolonged build-up, proving just how inventive a lover Harry was. So much so, that somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she'd heard a voice that wasn't her own, pleading with him not to stop. Which of course he hadn't, memories of which were starting to overwhelm her.
To be saved in this instance from a mad dash into the ladies, when Adam asked Juliet, 'to explain what she was thinking.'
A question which left Juliet with no alternative, other than to tell them what they already knew was only in part true. Her version which was to say that 'as it had been very quiet on the grid, she hadn't felt she needed to stay,' as opposed to saying she'd been bored. A response which did nothing to repair what in their eyes, had been negligence at the very highest level. Something which of course they already knew, but had wanted to see Juliet squirm first. Because Colin had rung Malcolm as soon as she'd left, to ask him if he knew the answer to nine down. Malcolm who in turn had rung Adam and as the Chinese whispers continued, Mrs. Harris had repeated verbatim as soon as Harry had arrived home.
Which in his case had been less than two hours ago, but not before he and Ruth had enjoyed a hurried breakfast and he'd rung for a taxi to ensure she wasn't late in.
.
The changing of the guard didn't happen until around lunchtime, when Zaf and Jo exited the pods, with all the appearances of having enjoyed their time sitting in an ops van in a forested area not far from Heathrow airport. The frustration that came from watching and waiting and having nothing to show for their efforts, not obvious as Jo headed over to talk to Adam, while Zaf veered off in the direction of the kitchen, in an effort to Juliet who was heading towards him.
Only just avoiding bumping into Ruth, who wasn't looking where she was going and looked as tired as he felt. At a time when teasing her as he regularly did, wasn't a good idea he decided.
So instead. 'Here let me take those,' he offered, nodding towards the two steaming hot mugs of tea she was carrying, receiving no resistance, before following her into the technical suite where Malcolm had his eyes fixed on the screen. The crossword that Colin had completed the previous evening, cast to one side in favour of todays. Colin who having watched the sunrise before he'd gone home, not due back in until late afternoon.
The sum total of which, thought Ruth as she sat down beside Malcolm and Zaf closed the door behind him, that no matter what was happening, Zaf always managed to lighten the mood. How right from the moment he'd arrived and had breezed into Harry office with a cheeky grin and a joke not far from his lips, he'd changed the dynamic of the grid for the better. Which now, was allowing her to imagine the grid when it got back to what approximated normal. When Juliet was back in her ivory tower and Harry was sitting behind his desk. The analyst in her, allowing her to compare what had happened in the past with the present.
Starting as far back as the day when Danny had sacrificed himself to save Fiona. When Harry had called round to see her in the evening and when she'd burst into tears again, without any encouragement he'd put his arms around her and held her until she was cried out. How he'd been reluctant to leave her and had told her so. Remembering now how safe it had felt to be in Harry's arms and how she'd dared to believe even then, that there had been more to his action than just to comfort her.
That when Clive Mc Taggert had been killed and she'd been bold enough to tell him that if he wanted some company that she didn't have any plans for later. How he'd said he had some old friends to look up, one of which had been Juliet who had sanctioned Clive's death. Which had raised concerns that were just as relevant now where Juliet was concerned.
How Harry had made her promise to ring him when she'd arrived at the safe house and the look on his face when he'd said it and in a voice that had been filled with concern. And more recently after Fiona had been killed, when they'd sat side by side in his office drawing strength from one another, talking in whispers about Adam and Wes. How Harry had always spoken to her in a voice that was gentle, even when everyone else was getting the full force of his temper.
Which surely meant that against all the odds and the rules in her opinion, which Harry had said in their case had been destined to be broken, Harry was right and they could have a relationship and still hold down their jobs. Certainly, dear sweet Malcolm seemed to think so, as did Adam. Which meant that providing the rest of their colleagues kept any comments to themselves, she'd cope. Especially if Harry stuck to the agreement that he wouldn't treat her any differently during working hours. Something that might take a bit of convincing where he was concerned. Because without making it obvious, Harry had always treated her as though she was made of porcelain.
That Harry had never told her that he loved her or she him, even last night, she knew wasn't far from happening. Or that Juliet was history in the sense that she and Harry in a relationship was thing of the past.
That wasn't to say that on the other side of the coin, there would come a time, when Juliet would want to abuse the position that Harry had handed her on a plate to her own ends. Because having read her file, there was something about Juliet which reminded her of Tessa and look what a traitorous bitch she'd turned out to be. When being the only question?