'If we haven't got it in stock, I'm sure we can mix it for you,' the young man told Catherine, who was showing him a photo of the peeling front door, insisting that the paint had to be the same colour, while Graham was wandering around, what was reputedly the local 'everything you need to transform your home store' according to its website. Collecting the remainder of what they needed, to make good their Dad's and Ruth's 'to do' list and more, in the time that was available to them. Until he arrived back at the counter, to confirm that was being describe to Catherine as light fern, was as near as damn it the right colour. The question as to what to buy their Dad and Ruth as a housewarming present and a way to say thank you – for everything, providing that they didn't arrive home any earlier than planned and they didn't muck it up, pretty much sorted.

Highly unlikely, based on the previous evening which they'd spent in the garden, where Ruth's insistence that she didn't want any fuss on her birthday, had been accepted without argument. Firstly, because it had been a lovely balmy evening, during which they'd all slowly but surely and with the help of a few drinks during dinner begun to relax. Together with a better knowledge of what Ruth did and didn't like, so they knew what their Dad had planned was close to perfect. Booked several weeks ago, to coincide with her birthday, he'd added to it recently, when the date they were moving in had been confirmed. That and because he'd been given a clean bill of health, meant that the real celebration, which he'd planned to be over Christmas and New Year, was an option. Albeit one that they wouldn't be able to spend with them, but with others to look forward to he'd told them.

.

'The last time that I spent a birthday with someone that I loved, it was with Catherine when she was nine,' Harry told her, as they headed into the fens in search of somewhere to stop for lunch. Lunch in this case being a picnic in a quiet spot, before they arrived at their destination in plenty of time to relax before dinner. Somewhere that was still registering with Harry as a good secret and one that had been worth keeping. A trial if you like, to see how Ruth reacted, in view of what he had planned for Christmas. After an evening which had been just as exhausting for Ruth, if not more so. No longer an outsider, who until almost bedtime had watched on with a mixture of incredulity and amusement, he was sure. Probably wondering what she was letting herself in for, as his son, perhaps based on what Lucas had done, the unwelcome catalyst who had brought his sister and Ruth together, had first made a brave and open statement, by telling them that he now understood what his chosen career had cost him, before apologising for the second time in as many days. Then after a short break, had turned the mood around the table on its head, by morphing into Catherine plus one. Reviving tales of their early childhood with happy memories. Designed he was sure, to enable him to bury the box of regret that he'd been living with and more importantly to prove to Ruth as if she didn't already know, that he had hidden depths. Including a story about a Christmas when he'd dressed up as a gorilla and chased them around the garden. Why not as Santa or an elf? Because of course he'd stayed so long at work, that by the time he'd reached the shop, it had been a gorilla or nothing. All at complete odds with what he remembered. That and not so subtle little hint, that if they ever did have a child, that he'd make a good father. Only coming to an end when it was five minutes before midnight and her birthday, when Ruth had escaped to bed, saying she was tired. Whether he would ever totally be able to bury this so-called box, he didn't know? Only time and his developing relationship with Ruth could help him with that.

Harry was right. Ruth was quite happy to relax and let Harry do the driving. To the moon would be nice. To make the most of the start to the final year in her thirties, before she hit the big four zero, as they crossed the county border into Norfolk. Having already eliminated, several of the destinations that she'd imagined they might be heading, until she found out that Harry's idea of simple didn't match hers, as he swung in between two vast wrought iron gates and drove down a long sweeping tree lined drive. To pull up in front of a hotel, that if she'd been able to speak, when he walked round and opened the car door for her, she'd have done so.

It wasn't only the sheer grandeur of the building that was still causing her to take in huge gulps of air as they followed their luggage, in this instance being carried by a young man that had introduced himself as George. It was the fact that she'd had no idea until they'd signed the register, that Harry had planned this as far back as when he'd come out of hospital. Months before they'd found the house that they were now living in.

'Here would be nice,' she heard Harry tell George, in a tone that was measured and only used when he was thinking about her, when he asked him if they would like to take tea in their room, or on the terrace. She'd wandered over to the window and was gazing across the acres of parkland and the huge lake, which according to George, they were welcome to explore. Maybe later she thought as she heard the door close. She didn't need to turn around, to know that Harry was walking towards her. Or that it was going to be another of those special moments. An inevitability, only one of many that she hoped would continue for years to come, when he wrapped his arms around her and whispered, 'Happy Birthday darling.'

Harry Pearce 'the romantic- part one' had come home.

.

The lead up to Christmas.

If asked why he liked Christmas so much, Harry would have said that he didn't have a definitive answer. It wasn't as if he was religious, far from it, but he just knew that he did and that more now than ever, he wanted it to be the time of year, when looking back, he and Ruth would be able to say - they were fun times weren't they, when we did this or that. The that in this case, being the first of many that he hoped they'd enjoy in the years to come, although this one was going to be very special. Together and very much in love and miles away from the rain and the gloom of East Anglia.

Rain which had been falling for days which meant that even the usually positive Ruth was beginning to get fed up with it. Because there was so much that they still needed to do, before they could close the door and say, 'well that's it, if we haven't got it then we don't need it.' Harry on the other hand, was delighted to have in his mind 'arranged that it would piss down for days' as he brought in what he knew would be one of the last baskets of logs, before the turn of the year. Malcolm was arriving, surprising Ruth by doing so, on the pretext of his central heating having broken down, when in fact Harry had invited him to house sit for as long as he liked, having first driven them to the airport. For what would be ten days of snow-covered streets, horse drawn sleighs, a Christmas market with a giant Christmas tree flooded with lights and what he hoped for Ruth would be the crowning glory of the holiday, a performance of The Nutcracker ballet at the Opera House.

As tolerant as Ruth was, he'd always know that he couldn't just spring it on her, despite knowing several ways that were guaranteed to win her round, no matter what he'd been accused of. A day trip to Brighton yes, but this wasn't a day trip, it was a ten day break that would require them to go into Norwich in search of warmer clothes. Not before he got a proverbial clip around the ear and or a night of unbelievable sex. Which if he was planning on the latter, meant that he had to tell her this evening and that they'd have to go shopping in the morning. In mitigation, neither of his children or Malcolm knew where they were going and that was how it was going to remain until they were on their way.

'I hope that your passport's up to date, because there's something else that I need to tell you?' He threw in casually over breakfast, having ducked the clip around the ear, but enjoyed much more than the obligatory cuddle before they'd gone to sleep. Amazing really, because all he'd needed to say, was that they'd be spending Christmas away from home.

Why Norway? Because it was one of the few countries left, where the values that he'd fought for during his years in the service remained unchanged. Where the family units still stuck to the basic traditions and of course, it was a country that renowned for its Christmas trees. The inhabitants in the main spoke English and, if they ran in a Norwegian that didn't, well he'd have her with him wouldn't he, had not only had the desired effect, but ensured by the time that Malcolm arrived, that they were packed and ready to leave.

.

'It's going to be a lot colder tomorrow,' their taxi driver told them cheerfully, as though this was supposed to be good news, when they were speeding towards the centre of Oslo and the hotel that Harry had chosen. Characterful and not as large as some of the newer ones and where the main attraction was that it was family run. That and having done his research, it was obvious that the city was going to be crowded, so to be able to walk out of their hotel and after a short distance be in the centre, would be an advantage.

'Hat' mouthed Ruth, smiling at him, with an expression that said I told you so, to someone who had up until then, steadfastly refused to buy a hat and whose ears had turned blue while they'd been waiting for the taxi. Everything else that she thought they'd need, packed into two cases, not strictly true when, 'you have to promise me that there aren't any more surprises Harry,' she'd told him on the plane.

'Yes, we've arrived and the hotel's fabulous,' Ruth told Malcolm in response to his question, as they sat in the small Brasserie that was linked to the hotel by a short corridor and catered for outsiders as well as guests, before they went out to explore. A table in the main restaurant, already booked for dinner. Their table for the duration of their stay and no there weren't any other British guests arriving until the New Year, were the only questions that Harry had asked, when they'd signed in.

Given that Oslo was one of the smaller capital cities in Europe, with a tram system that stretched as far as the suburbs, it wasn't difficult to get around. But being based close to the centre, but not actually in it, the moment that they turned the first corner, they found themselves under a vast archway covered in tiny lights, where any doubts that Harry might have had about his decision vanished. Elbows weren't required, to get you through the crowd. That the Norwegians who were reputed to be organised and Christmas shopping was never left until the last moment, was obvious. It no longer mattered that Ruth would inevitably want to drag him around and had energy to burn, as she nodded in the direction of the first stall of many that were sure to catch her eye.

If Harry was happy, then by comparison Ruth was ecstatic. Yes, she'd given him some grief during the run up to them packing, but then that was what they did. It was all part of the game that made them who they were and hopefully always would be. As much as she loved being at home, going away for Christmas and avoiding the inevitable grey skies and rain that had been forecast, to somewhere that was snow covered, in a country that never hit in the headlines. With a Royal Palace, Botanical gardens, Christmas Markets like this one and a hotel room with Harry, was pure heaven.

'I think it makes you look very distinguished,' she told him, after he'd been persuaded by the lady who was selling the hats that black suited him, wondering if he'd think her insane, if she suggested that they went to church on Christmas Eve, because it suddenly felt right to do so?

.

The church was really quite full by the time they arrived, where they were greeted at the door by a member of the congregation who introduce himself as Johan, when he heard her ask Harry if he was OK, to be assured that everyone was welcome. A church with people of all ages, even children in their pyjamas, all ready to be put to bed as soon as they got home, bringing back memories for Ruth, when she'd been to Christmas Services as a child. Except for the decorations, which eclipsed everything and anything that she'd ever seen. Garland upon garland of holly teeming with berries, lights everywhere and an almost perfect looking stable with each and every character carved by the children of the local school. Childlike in its simplicity and what Christmas was all about, as they searched for a seat that was out of the limelight and for the service to begin, as the choir filed in.

Three days later and in complete contrast, the Opera House, which had opened its doors for the first time in 2008, was a contemporary building that displayed all the talents of its Norwegian designer. On the waterfront, it was a building that on first viewing, gave the impression that it was made entirely of wood and glass. Triangles of each that looked as though they'd been thrown together at random, had of course, produced something that was quiet stunning. Ablaze with lights that cast images across the water, each and every one of the fourteen hundred seats had been booked for this evening's performance, as had the restaurant, where Harry had booked a table for after the performance.

Without the unspoken but adhered to rules of other Opera Houses around the world, apart from the dress code which still applied, they walked in. Ruth on Harry's arm, in the direction of the bar. Him dressed in a tux that he'd hired for the occasion and Ruth wearing a dress that would have graced any such establishment, they looked every inch the couple that they were.

This night was all about her, he'd told her when they'd been leaving the hotel and that she looked beautiful. Now as they took their seats, with a quiet word of encouragement, again from him, to ease any nerves that she might be feeling, they were reborn. To do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted, without anything or anyone to hold them back. Starting with an evening, that would be unforgettable, from the moment that the curtain went up and Ruth reached out for his hand.