Having walked the length of the pier and back, had lunch and told the boys to wash their hands thoroughly, because smelling of fish and chips won't go down well with the other customers who are doing their last-minute panic buying, Angela sets off to do her own shopping. But not before reminding the boys that she'll pick them up outside the florists in precisely two hours. A florist which amongst the Christmas wreaths that some of her neighbours hang on their front doors, but she never has, sells a variety of what are described as the perfect gift for that special person. Which of course in her case is her son, who ever since she was unceremoniously dumped, has never failed to present her with a card at this time of the year. Handmade in the early days, when because his efforts to write his name had taken up most of the page, had caused her to wonder if perhaps she should have called him Tom? Dick, never because it was what she'd called her husband for reasons that were and still aren't repeatable, but Harry, now that she's met Ruth's Harry, who in her opinion is one of life's good guys and a romantic to boot, a distinct possibility. Despite his wish list which is tucked in her pocket as she walks into the local bookshop, being what she would describe as modest when it comes to what he wants her to buy on his behalf for Ruth. Something which if not confirming, makes her as certain as she can be, that his hesitation before he'd told her that he wasn't going to give up work, is as credible as her suggesting that she intends to apply for his job when he does. Which means that Ruth's in for one hell of a good Christmas.
Adding to her newly acquired admiration of Suffolk's very own James Bond, is that he's also entrusted Wes, with not only buying but choosing some flowers for Ruth. In the certain knowledge that whatever Wes chooses, Ruth will accept in the same way that she will if he gets down on one knee and proposes. Something else, which isn't beyond the realm that she herself is envisaging for this couple, as she heads in the direction of the travel section and specifically Europe.
The reason that she's suggested the florist at the far end of the high street, is not only because the owner Maggie is one of her well-established clients, but because she knows that she treats her customers with sensitivity. 'I never presume,' she'd told her during one of their recent meetings. Going on to explain how one of her customers had been quite prickly when he'd come in to by a bouquet of flowers, but had eventually told her that it was a coping mechanism that he'd adopted to deal with the grief from losing his grandmother. That because of this, she knows that Maggie won't ask two ten-year olds and Wes in particular when he's trying to make up his mind, if the flowers are for anyone specific and more importantly, assume they're for his mum.
She's also right in thinking that the boys will take their time, in what is proving a busy day for Maggie, and that Wes will ask Michael what he thinks, when they are gazing at what are far too many choices of flowers. 'Something that will last for more than a couple of days,' Uncle Harry had said and because there aren't any labels which say, 'don't buy these, the petals will start to drop off if you forget to top up the water every day,' they have to wait until there's a break in trade before they can ask the question. Choosing what Maggie describes to them as a seasonal and long-lasting selection of flowers and because Wes has asked - very politely and because it will make Harry laugh, although she has no idea why, has added a sprig of holly. Before agreeing that they can collect their purchase when they've done the remainder of their shopping.
Shopping which takes them into a newly opened sweetshop, where Wes buys Harry the closest thing to a large packet of chocolate buttons he can find and Michael buys his mother, a box of chocolates which are her favourite. To guarantee that she'll share them with him, rather depends on whether or not he can avoid the temptation to open them on the way home. The same applying to Harry's chocolate Santa's agrees Wes and is the reason that they both accept the offer to have them gift wrapped. Which leaves them just enough time to collect the phone which Ruth has bought for Harry and make a short but successful trip to buy themselves a shared present.
Angela rings ahead, 'we'll be there in a couple of minutes and I could murder a cup of tea,' she tells Ruth, sending her into the kitchen. The soon to be recipient of the one present that can't be disguised when they climb out of the car, and is why she'd pre-arranged with Harry that she'll leave the flowers on the bench that stands on the veranda which runs the full length of one side of the cabin. Which when Ruth had been attempting to relax under the shower, Harry had swept in readiness for his declaration.
'Not too bad,' she tells Ruth, who has asked, 'if the shops were very busy, having already asked Wes, 'if he got everything he wanted?' In other words, Harry's new phone.
Ruth, whose Christmas shopping when she'd lived in Paris had been limited to treating herself and her landlady. Whereas this year and not only because she's been reunited with Harry, not to mention the accident, has found the entire business traumatic in the extreme. Oblivious to the fact that Angela and Wes have been doing Harry's bidding, which is why the various presents have been put into several different bags and are due to be distributed to various locations to be wrapped. One of which is Angela's house and is why she'll disappear again after a few moments, on the pretext of collecting whatever post might have arrived during her absence.
All of which comes under the heading of normal, for families who are well practiced when it comes to buying presents for their loved ones, but in Ruth's case is a whole new experience. The only one who is as cool as a cucumber being Harry, who hasn't had leave the house. Never mind stand in a queue or swear when the wrapping paper he's so carefully cut, isn't quite large enough to cover the present which he's wrapping. Or discover that the end of the sticky tape has disappeared.
.
'Rugs, I'm sure I've seen some somewhere,' he tells Ruth, when she's says, 'it's too cold to be sitting outside, even for a few moments,' after the tail lights of Angela's car disappear through the main gates.
Wes who is already out there, having had his suggestion that they ought to blindfold Ruth, rejected with a barely contained smile from Harry, who for a brief moment had forgotten his well-practiced lines. Replaced by the memory of an unusually quiet Christmas Eve on the grid. When terrorists had been short in supply, so Zaf had suggested that they play what could only be described as party games for adults. At a time when a game of scrabble would have come under the heading of raunchy for him and Ruth, so they'd bailed as soon as they could. Him insisting, despite her saying that she'd get the bus that he'd drive her home because it had been snowing. How quiet it had been on the streets and worse still in the car. How they'd both stuttered their way through even the simplest of wishes that they'd both enjoy their lonely Christmases on her doorstep. Not any more he thinks to himself, dismissing an image of Ros shouting, what are you waiting for. Get on with it, you idiot. Before he nods at Wes who is hovering in the background.
'Uncle Harry didn't tell me what to write on the label,' Wes tells Ruth, who is also watching Harry mouthing, 'just go with it' from behind the child who is standing in front of her. The message of love from Uncle Harry and Wes on the label which Wes insists that she reads, the expression of concern that she won't like the flowers that he's chosen and the sheer togetherness of this moment, all combining to render her incapable of moving.
Finding her voice, 'they're perfect,' she tells both of them and means it. No longer feeling the cold.
'I'll be back in a moment,' says Harry, disappearing back into the house and returning with the blankets. Inviting het to sit down, which is Wes's cue to disappear for a short while.
Not before Ruth gives him a hug and says, 'make yourself a mug of hot chocolate sweetheart, we won't be long.'
Before turning her attention back to Harry and saying, 'before I tell you this is building up to be the best Christmas I've ever had, I'm struggling not to cry and before you say, me too, Adam was right Harry. You and Wes have a bond that's difficult to put into words, other than to say, however did you think that you're anything less than the perfect person to be looking after him?'
'So, you like the flowers then?' he asks her, in a voice to suggest that he knows exactly what she means, which of course he does. Before shuffling closer, wrapping the second rug around the two of them and taking both of her hands in his.
'What I'm about to tell you, isn't in this case a spur of the moment decision, which means that when I stop talking, I don't want you to ask me am I sure? Despite me struggling to remember exactly what I planned to say, which I put down to thinking about this for the best part of a week, which includes buying you those flowers. But then you, more than anyone know how I waffle when it comes to matters of the heart. Because looking back, I think I probably made the decision on the day you opened your front door. That we've moved from that moment to where we are now in such a short space of time, including my unplanned dip in the river, which incidentally I make no apologies for, other than to say it couldn't have come as a surprise knowing how I act before I think things through, I want you to know that I realise how much you love living here. Here being your house with the peeling green painted door. Paint, which by the way is still available if you'd like me to repaint it when the weather gets warmer. Or any other jobs that you may not want to tackle on your own.'
The look on Ruth's face as she reboots, from thoughts of an extended romantic gesture, to DIY, make Harry wish he had a phone. Which of course he does, but doesn't know. Or Whether Ruth is about to tell him where he can stick his paintbrush, rather depends on him coming clean and quickly and is why he says, 'I have no idea where that came from, but your right it is bloody cold out here, can you feel your feet?'
So now you want to talk about feet, says her expression. 'Just about, but why?' Is more than he deserves, given that he's equally cold.
'Because eventually we'll have to get up. But not until you've read this,' he tells her.
.
Where to go, when you not only do you want to warm each others feet but in Ruth's case, wants to show the man who has just shown you his letter of resignation how unbelievably happy he's made her, when the sofa is occupied by a ten-year-old drinking a mug of hot chocolate and watching a film. Especially in broad daylight and because she has no idea when Angela and Michael will get back, which is why she's kissing Harry in the kitchen rather than the bedroom.
A kitchen that they are going to make their own for what remains of the day, with strict instructions that it's out of bounds to Angela and the boys, who having eaten they're main meal at lunchtime, are going to have a snack while they sit on the sofa playing board games, is something they decide when they finally pull apart.
It is after all Christmas Eve, the first that they've spent together, which had the circumstances been different, Harry would have booked a table in a restaurant to wine and dine Ruth. Instead, and in keeping with his declaration, he intends, not only to cook for her, but to tell her the extent to which he's planned their trip to London. A trip that will not only close the door on his career, but will map out what he imagines their future will contain.
