Ruth had been dividing her time between Harry and Wes, neither of whom had moved or made a sound. Sleep was a great healer so she hadn't worried that someone as young as Wes was being given what Chloe had described as a mild sedative to keep him calm and antibiotics to prevent any infection. Which was fine, until just when she'd convinced herself that perhaps it was safe for her to go home, having run out of things to say to Harry, other than to repeat what she'd already told him, which over the space of an hour, had been to tell him that Wes was asleep so he wasn't to worry. That she loved them both and that when he woke up, he had to promise her that he wouldn't do anything as stupid as jumping into a freezing river again, when he made a ghastly gagging sound and vomited.
The following morning.
Her memories of what happened next, just as vivid now in response to Chloe pressing the panic button, are that all hell had broken loose. How she been bundled outside, only to be told after what had felt like an eternity that the reason Harry had vomited, was due to an adverse reaction to the drugs that they'd been administering to combat the germs in the water. That she could see him for a couple of moments, but after that she should go home and try not to worry.
Easy for them to say, but not for her to do, when she'd been sitting in the taxi on the way back to The Stacks and imagining the worst. That if they hadn't gone for that walk, the four of them would have been snuggled up together on the sofa, watching whatever Wes and Michael had chosen from what at this time of year, would be limited to reruns of films that had been resurrected to keep children amused. Safe and together, as opposed to her wondering if there would be any lasting effects, for the two people she loved most in all the world.
.
That she and Angela were destined to be close friends and a real support to each other, Ruth had known, from the first moment that she'd opened her front door and Angela had said, 'my kettle is always on.' It was the reason that she'd called her and was why Angela had abandoned her course and had been waiting up for her when she'd dragged her weary body through the door at midnight.
Now, eight hours later the same applied, when Angela was ignoring her pleas that she wasn't hungry and was making her breakfast. With the odd word here and there, to suggest that she was building up to what would be a conversation that started with, 'how did you and Harry meet?'
Not because Angela was nosy, far from it. It was the reason their relationship had developed to the point where they never lied to each other and Ruth didn't intend that to change, when Angela said, 'the fact that Harry didn't hesitate, just dived in when he thought that Wes was going to drown, says a whole lot about his character. Has he always been like that?'
Breathe she told herself, before saying, 'as long as I've known him, yes he has.'
Expecting Angela to say, 'how long is that?' as she watched her pour herself a cup of tea and sit down, to which she would have replied for ever because that was how it felt, she found herself facing an altogether different question.
'So why when you love him as much as you do, did you go to Paris, when it's blindingly obvious he's the reason you came home?'
'I can't tell you much, but I used to work for the Security Services and Harry still does,' she heard herself say, expecting a reaction of shock or horror, or something that amounted to disbelief.
'And?' asked Angela, as though she'd just told her that she and Harry had worked in the local supermarket stacking vegetables.
'Harry was set up for a crime that would have seen him going to prison for the rest of his life and I couldn't let that happen. I stepped into the frame and my colleagues devised a way to make it look as though I'd committed suicide. It was at a time when Harry and I were on the brink of what we have now, so I don't need to explain how difficult it was for both of us. It was supposed to a one-way trip with a new identity and life plan, but I never really settled. Living and working in Paris and the fact that Harry had said that he wanted to take me there, is the reason we're having this conversation. I got restless and started to look at properties to rent in the UK. Far enough away from London that I wouldn't be tempted to contact Harry, but close enough to feel he was there if I really needed him. Less than two weeks after I moved in, Wes's father was killed. He and Harry were good friends as well as colleagues and Adam had appointed Harry as Wes's guardian, should anything happen to him. Something that I suspect neither of them expected to happen before Wes was an adult. But these things happen and it was then that our remaining colleagues and one in particular, decided it was time I was brought home. The fact that I was already here, just speeded things up.'
Encouraged, as well as surprised, by to how easy it had been to tell Angela the truth and not only that, but to receive a reaction that told her that Angela would keep it to herself, Ruth stood under the shower and attempted to let the hot water wash away the horrors of the previous day. Before turning her attention to what she needed to do before Harry and Wes came home. Which included packing a case of warm clothes, because presumably what they'd been wearing, had been dumped in a bin bag or already thrown away. Which in Wes's case would require a visit to his favourite shop to buy him a new pair of warm trousers and jacket. Whether Harry's jacket had been left on the towpath along with his shoes she'd have to check, but other than that, there were enough clothes here for him to come home in. Either way, she needed to go shopping to buy some food that would be easier to eat than what they already had. That and she needed to call and cancel the day long boat trip and come up with an alternative that Wes would enjoy.
Which meant that not only did she feel grateful yet again, when Angela said that 'she and Michael wanted to go with her, because it was no fun shopping on your own and besides Michael wanted to buy a Christmas present for Wes,' but it made her wonder if she'd suddenly become transparent and did Angela having listened to her story, know that in the space of twenty-four hours, she'd gone from the person who had coped for two long years without any meaningful company. To someone because Harry had been ever present for the best part of a month, didn't want to be on her own?
Whether she did or not, it felt strangely comforting to be sitting alongside Angela as they headed into Southwold. That and to hear Michael talking about Christmas and how he was looking forward to going back to school with Wes. A positivity which he kept going all the time they were shopping and only stopped talking when her phone rang and, 'any chance of a lift home?' asked Harry.
.
Ruth had left Angela unpacking the shopping, having first made her promise that she and Michael would stay. Having originally booked the cabin with the idea that they would go home for Christmas and now knowing that both Harry and Wes would need looking after, to what degree she had no idea, she'd extended that invitation until they left in advance of New Year. Although Angela had protested that they'd be in the way, Ruth had a sneaking suspicion that she was looking forward to being useful. She was also confident that Michael who had been such a support when they'd arrived at the hospital, would be good company for Wes and was why she'd asked him to come with her.
This time when she parked up, she knew where she was going and the corridors had ceased to be a maze to be negotiated. They had however managed to turn her legs into what resembled a blancmange, now that she was within moments of seeing them both again.
The same applied to Harry, but for a different reason. Harry who no longer cared that his throat felt as though it had been cut and his stomach was protesting that it needed some proper food. Which was a far cry from how he'd felt when he'd come back to what Chloe had called the land of the living at six o'clock in the morning. Confused enough that it had taken him a few moments to remember where he was as why. Whereas Wes had been sitting up in bed as bright as a button.
Their discharge now guaranteed, after a couple of visits from the doctor who had insisted that unless they had someone at home who would ensure that whatever they needed to do they would, in their case Ruth, he'd move them to a ward for at least another day. Wards which Harry knew, because he'd overheard one of the two nurses who had been looking after them, telling her colleague that they were running short of beds after what had major incident, had made it easier for him to plead his case. Something which had briefly taken him back to the last time that he'd been in hospital after Tom had shot him. How Zoe had asked Ruth to go to the hospital. How inventive Ruth has been and although it hadn't crossed his mind at the time, maybe that was the moment Mace had seen her as a target to get to him.
That he was smiling, when Ruth walked the few short steps to where he was sitting, didn't fool her into thinking he was feeling as well as he was pretending to be. Even more so when he struggled to get dressed without her help and when they were walking towards the car, into the teeth of what was a biting wind, he put his arm around her shoulders for support. Suggesting, 'it was because he'd missed her.'
The same thing happening when they parked up and walked the short distance to the door to be met by a smiling Angela and he said, 'he could murder a coffee.'
As opposed to water, tea or soup, which were listed to accompany the light meals that he'd been instructed to eat for a couple days. In addition to getting plenty of rest, which went without saying. Evident when he didn't argue when Angela said 'he and Wes needed to go to bed and she'd keep an eye on the latter.'
'You have no idea how much better I feel now that I'm back here. Only healthy people should be subjected to the bright lights and constant interruptions that you get when you're in hospital,' was Harry's continuing attempt to make light of what had happened. The only flaw being, that he knew that Ruth knew what he was doing and why and was the reason that he gave up in his attempt and instead, accepted the cup of tea that she'd made him, before sinking into the pillows and closing his eyes.
Waking up the next morning, with vague memories of Ruth coming to bed and wrapping her arm around him when she'd snuggled in behind him, meant that when he looked at the clock on the bedside table to see that it was almost eight, he realised that he'd slept for the best part nine hours. His next coherent thought after realising that she wasn't there, was that his phone was languishing several feet down on the riverbed, which begged the question, what if Ros had tried to ring him? Telling himself that if she had and failed to get through, she'd have rung Ruth and besides did it even matter? Only to hear the bedroom door open and for him to watch Wes walk across the room and climb into bed beside him. Something that he hadn't done since the day of Adam's funeral and now because he wasn't feeling on his best form, had the effect on him that he would have only wanted Ruth to witness, as a single tear ran down his cheek. Which came with the added realisation, that he Ruth and Wes were bound together in a way that he couldn't put into words without sounding sentimental. Even more so when a few moments later, the door opened again and along with his medication, Ruth was carrying a tray with his and Wes's breakfast, consisting of scrambled eggs and the obligatory cups of tea.
.
'Anything else you need me to fetch?' asked Angela, who because she was staying was about to pop home for a change of clothing.
'A Christmas present for Michael from Wes and, what the hell is that?' was Ruth responding to a quad bike pulling a trailer which had stopped by the front steps.
'Everyone who stays over Christmas, gets one of these,' said the estate manager who she didn't recognise, having not seen him since the day that they'd booked, unloading a Christmas tree and a box of lights. Although it was clear to Ruth that, 'the hamper is a present from the boss and his wife and this is a gift for you son,' wasn't. Or his departing comment, 'if you need anything else just give me a shout,' which he was directing at a smiling Angela.
