Hi Happy New Year everyone and I trust Christmas went well. I had intended this to be the final chapter but it wouldn't be Harry and Ruth without some problem. Thanks to my faithful readers for sticking with this and extra thanks to those who reviewed. So here goes...

Sitting in his car on the opposite side of the road to Ruth's block of flats, the darkening sky, twilight when he'd arrived, now scurrying towards midnight black, saw Harry's fingers drumming his steering wheel with impatience. Where the hell had she got to? Beneath his irritation, disguising a concern that something sinister might of have befallen her, when Harry wasn't cursing Ruth for her absence he was cursing himself for his well intentioned discretion.

All too aware that the delicate state of their relationship could be smashed in a moment by the wrecking ball of gossip – Harry, having been forced to listen to numerous conversations emanating from bugged ladies toilets, was well aware that the so called gentler sex could outpoint his own gender effortlessly when it came to crudity in speech. While he'd absolve Ruth of any desire to titter about the dimensions and staying power of the male member he also knew that even the vaguest hint that she was a centrepiece for salacious gossip would send her scuttling back to GCHQ. Consequently, when leaving the Grid to pursue her, he'd instructed his driver to take him home as usual, before collecting his own car and driving directly to Ruth's flat. Knowing her strange penchant for travelling by bus he'd calculated that she should have crossed her threshold about half an hour prior to his arrival. Nontheless her domicile had remained shrouded in darkness when he rang a determined tattoo on her bell, productive of no response other than that of a neighbour curiously poking her head out a nearby front door. Otherwise all was silence, with not even the mewing Ruth's cat to indicate any life in her flat…..

Ahhh Face palm to self. Of course. She must have headed off to the cattery that had the pleasure of housing Tiddles or whatever other moniker she'd blessed the beast with. So now did he remain here, or drive off to the rest home for moggies and take the risk of missing her again? The sight of Ruth's neighbour emerging, halting before casting, what, even at this distance, was obviously a suspicious glance, decided him. If he lingered around the area much longer the woman was likely to report him as a stalker. Not entirely untrue but a conversation with PC Plod was not on his preferred agenda for the evening. Recalibrating his options he concluded that if he missed Ruth he could always return and check out the lights- unless she'd change the curtains into black out material since his last visit months ago – when she was still under the impression that her lover was Horatio Prince.

Setting his sat nav for the address of the cattery – still listed in his text messages – he let in the clutch and embarked on another happy journey through London's evening traffic, a game of dodgems that was enough to drive anyone to drink. About forty minutes or so later he drew up outside the premises, indicated by an illuminated sign of stomach heaving cuteness, featuring a white kitten, all big eyes and fluffy fur, sporting a big blue bow. Just as he was pulling up in the car park he spied a familiar figure, humping a cat carrier, clambering into a taxi parked just outside the entrance with its engine idling. As Harry half opened his own door to call out the vehicle it pulled away, passing him as it headed off in the direction he'd just arrived from. Noooooooo, Harry was well accustomed to the frustrations experienced in the average operation but this was surpassing well beyond what he normally endured.

After a frustrated thump of his steering wheel he considered his options yet again. Which realistically came down to two. Either give up, go home to a whisky and attempt a sensible conversation with Ruth on some future occasion, or in the worst traditions of spy movies follow the taxi and accost her when she arrived home. Reckoning that if the latter failed he could always use the whisky as his fall back Harry set off in pursuit. If nothing else it would give him an opportunity to dust off the follow and observe skills which he'd rarely practised since his elevation to Head of Section D.

The need to concentrate on his driving, keep the car pursued in sight while dropping behind sufficiently to avoid detection, the training reflexes of years past kicking in, was preventing him from formulating in any great depth what precisely he intended to say to Ruth when they finally arrived at Ground Zero, aka her flat. The last time he'd pursued a woman with such intent was years back in the past, a member of a very militant animal rights group who afforded their furry friends rather more consideration than their fellow human beings. As he recalled she'd been carrying a quantity of explosives in the car with the amiable intention of blowing up the CEO of an animal experimentation unit. As an operation that one stuck in his memory since Mata Hari lite had been foolish enough to smoke at the wheel and a casual flick of a spark from her cigarette had ignited the combustible materials she'd stowed away on the back seat of her car. Seated three vehicles behind Harry had just avoided being involve in the conflagration, which had forced his then superior into issuing several D notices to the press, and required a torrent of signatures to the Official Secrets Act from bystanders and the various health professionals who had treated the injured. Of the woman herself a later more decorous cremation had seemed an act of superfluity.

As a memory it wasn't the happiest harbinger for the future as he finally drew up outside Ruth's flat for the second time in the evening. As she exited from the taxi struggling with the cat carrier while simultaneously attempting to unfasten her handbag to pay the driver off Harry emerged from his own vehicle. Walking over and ignoring Ruth's alarmed exclamation, 'Harry' he opened his wallet to settle her bill

Ruth, recovering her breath managed to stammer to the driver, "Really no need …I can…. "

Harry totally ignoring her turned to her driver, asking, "How much on the clock?"

"No really Harry…"

"I insist."

An ongoing dialogue that left the taxi driver bemused. The lady was his customer so by rights her instructions were paramount, but without uttering any threat whatsoever Harry exuded a presence that it seemed unwise to gainsay. He was saved from his dilemma by Harry stuffing an array of high value coloured notes into his hand with the words, "I think this should cover it." A calculation based on the number of expenses forms he signed off on a daily basis. With a final gulp the recipient of this largesse retreated to his cab and drove off leaving Harry and Ruth facing each other over the low barrier of the cat carrier, the occupant of which was yowling its objections to being dumped on the chilly ground when trapped in a confined space.

Ruth's original heart leap at the sight of Harry – he'd actually cared enough to follow her from work – was warring annoyance at his calm assumption of possession in front of a total stranger. Something of her irritation registered as she finally spoke, "Really Harry is this the time or the place for…" Only to cut off mid sentence by his moving to pick up Fidget's carrier in one hand while placing his other in the small of her back, its slight pressure urging her towards the entrance of her block with the statement, "Can you tell me when there would be a right time and place – I've been trying to talk sense into you for months now."

Ruth managed to resist melting as she indignantly replied, "And who was it who was deceiving me, blackmailing me and finally – tried every trick in the book to make me give in."

"From what I can recall on some occasions you quite enjoyed the experience of giving in."

'So that's what you're here for."

"Not exactly."

By this time they'd reached the door to Ruth's flat, whereupon Harry dumped Fidget unceremoniously on the doorstep, producing yet another set of hisses, "What have you got in there, a small tiger?" Ruth snorted, "He's called Fidget and he's not keen on strangers."

"Never mind he'll get used to me – now please can we discuss this inside?"

When Ruth, with every intention of giving in, opted to stage a token resistance, which took the form of folding her arms and stubbornly refusing to look for her key Harry sighed, "Well I suppose I'll just have to break in", as he made move to locate his picklock, only to be interrupted by a voice floating down from the staircase.

"Oh no you don't I've heard enough – you are harassing this young lady and if you don't leave at once I will arrest you." The speaker crunching his way down the stairs ignored Harry as he spoke to Ruth, "Don't worry Ruth, Amy recognised him as the guy who was hanging around earlier so when she saw him outside again she knocked on my door." Turning to Harry he demanded in a no nonsense voice that under other circumstances Harry might have appreciated, "Go now."

Harry was groaning inwardly, the number of times he'd had to spearhead an operation whose magnitude could have been avoided if only the good folk of London had been more curious regarding their neighbours and he, with every good intention, had now been caught out by one of the few who did take neighbourhood watch seriously.

While Ruth was saying, "Honestly Mark it's okay he's my boss", Mark not to put off was growling back "That doesn't give him the right to talk to you like that. I'd put in a complaint of harassment to your HR department tomorrow, but for now he's going, aren't you?"

While Harry knew that he could break this up by showing his official id he was disinclined to do so, given the usual animosity between her Majesty's Secret Service and Her Majesty's Constabulary. Instead he replied, "I just need to ask Ruth one question and then if she wishes I'll go."

Mark responded,"Very well but I'm not leaving until you do."

This was not quite what Harry had planned, but that was on par with the entire evening. He turned to Ruth, who was while remaining silent had decorated her face with the mulish expression he knew only too well,

"Ruth I came to ask you about something. When you come into work tomorrow can you let me know your preference."

"For what precisely?"

"Licensed place, registry office or church."

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