Once Harry had left her office, Ruth had called it a day and gone home. The answer phone might or might not have messages waiting for her when she next came in, more likely not and although she'd given Harry her mobile number he was unlikely to ring, why would he? She'd told him that she'd ring him?
At least the house felt welcoming and as always when she came home, a small warm body wound its way around her legs.
'Feeling better boy, I'm sorry that I shouted at you,' she told the ever faithful Fidget, as though he'd ever answer, kicking off her shoes and hanging up her coat before heading upstairs to change. A warm drink, a shower, her baggy trousers and a warm sweater, that's what she needed if she was going to be able to concentrate on the file that she had in her briefcase. Lasagne, well what was left from the oversized amount that she'd made at the weekend would have to do. That and a salad and just enough wine, to help her get her through the evening and take her mind off the following day.
The third page in the file saw her abandoning the sofa and her cup of tea and heading into the kitchen to switch on the oven. With dinner now underway and with the table laid, there was just enough space to spread the paperwork in front of her. She really ought to convert the spare bedroom into a home office, how many times had she said that? Instead of which, she dismissed the thought, topped up her glass of wine and read on.
He'd seemed so mild mannered, sweet even and a bit nervous, yet according to this file, he'd been heartless and entirely to blame for the long ago break up of his marriage. Pull yourself together, don't be judgemental, people can change can't they, and why the bloody hell was she even thinking like this, he was a client, it was work, nothing more? But there had been something about Harry that had fascinated her, not as a solicitor but as a woman, at a time when she'd never been more vulnerable than she was right now. She'd sunk every penny that she had into the partnership that she'd had with Alex, but Alex was gone and she couldn't be choosy as to who she took on as clients, she needed this case wherever it took her.
She read on, pages that told her that he and his wife had initially stayed together for the sake of the children, grown up now and flown the nest she presumed. What were they like, had they been told about the long delayed divorce of their parents and would they prove a stumbling block in the transition? What about this new man in Jane's life, was this the reason that Harry had agreed to a divorce after all this time, they'd lived apart for years for heaven's sake? There were more questions than answers and Ruth could only work efficiently if she had all the facts. The oven beeped, her dinner was ready, she poured herself another glass of wine, and considered when and the alternatives as to how best approach him.
Funerals were never pleasant and Ruth had attended far too many. Up until now she'd always imagined that her fathers and her mothers would be the worse that she'd have to cope with, that was until Sylvie with her two year old son holding tightly to his mother's hand pleaded with Ruth to sit next to her. Jacob, oblivious to where he was or why he was there, was in Ruth's mind the sweetest child that had ever been born and as Sylvie scrabbled in her handbag for her hankies, Ruth found herself being handed the two year old, who promptly wrapped his tiny arms around her neck and closed his eyes. Ruth closed hers, grateful of his presence as she breathed him in, painfully aware that the coffin that stood no more than three metres in front of them contained his father, the man that had been her closest friend.
After a short introduction by the vicar, Michael who had been Alex's best man at his and Sylvie's wedding, walked slowly from where he was sitting towards the front of the church. The sound of his shoes on the stone floor, far too loud in the silence, before he turned towards the small congregation and took a deep breath.
'Alex was a man blessed with more integrity than anyone I've ever known and the best friend that I could have wished for,' he told his audience. 'He was a family man to the core who cared deeply for his wife and son, and at this sad time my heart goes out to them. My personal and abiding memories of him will be of his sense of humour that could light up a room and of the fun that we used to have together, all of which have been taken away from us far too early,' he continued, going on to tell them about the plans and hopes that Alex had had, looking towards where she was sitting holding Jacob, with Sylvie's stoic expression starting to crumble beside her.
For Ruth, to whom singing came as second nature worse was to follow, when the music of the first hymn filled the air. She was supposed to be the grown up here, in a congregation full of Alex's thirty something or so friends, as for the first time in her life she found herself unable to sing. She'd told herself to be brave and to hold it together for Sylvie, but she was a million miles away from being able to do that, her only comfort being Jacob's tiny little form that she was holding tightly against her.
She needed a distraction, something that would prevent her from crying, and the only way to do that was to think about the incredibly complicated contents of the file she'd read the previous evening. Not only was Harry her one and only client asking her to act for him during his divorce proceedings, but a tiny post it note that he'd added, told her, for a reason yet to be explained, that he was being blackmailed. She was so way out of her comfort zone with all this, but the analyst in her was also intrigued. He worked with Malcolm at the Department for Food and Fisheries, in fact he was Malcolm's boss, so what the hell had he done to get himself blackmailed, done a dodgy deal in some trade war over the fruit and veg? She very much doubted it. The only saving grace as far as she was concerned, was that he'd arrived on her doorstep via Malcolm and she trusted Malcolm implicitly, because without him she'd have sent Harry packing. Or would she?
'Have you got an idea what's the matter with Harry?' Adam asked Malcolm, arriving at his desk unexpectedly, having taken Harry his afternoon cup of tea and been confronted with him shutting the lid on his laptop rather too quickly, before dismissing him with just a brief nod on the grounds that he needed time to think.
They'd had an unusually quiet day, free from any intel or terrorist threats, that had seen them catching up on the routine and boring jobs that inevitably heaped up when they were busy.
'He's got a lot on his mind at the moment, I think it's best we leave him be, at least for the next few days,' didn't answer Adam's question or serve to dim his curiosity, especially as Juliet Shaw had just two days ago, barged her way into the early morning briefing as though she owned the place and Harry hadn't questioned it. Come to think of it, when hadn't Harry been in anything other than a strange mood recently, or come to that, acting as though he'd taken his eye off the ball?
'What's she even doing here?' had resulted in Harry telling him that his life had just gone tits up but to leave it, it was private and he'd sort it, but most worrying was that Harry had said that unless they got rid of this bloody woman, that his time as Section Head would become untenable.
Harry was sitting in his office, trying to ignore the fact that Adam had headed in Malcolm's direction. Malcolm wouldn't betray a confidence, he was sure about that. He looked at his watch, Ruth would be at the funeral now, he wondered how she was, if she'd read the sorry state that his life had once been and still was? He'd thought of little else since he'd seen her the previous day. He didn't sleep at the best of times and now he didn't want to. Would she ring him, would she think him pushy if he rang her, how the hell was he going to justify another mysterious disappearance from the grid without people, or more precisely Juliet asking where he was? Which meant what, that he'd have to instigate a meeting outside of working hours and how would Ruth respond to that? He looked at his watch again and tried to picture where she was and whether or not she was coping?
By the end of the day, another one where Harry's productivity would have been seen to be wanting, had anyone other than Adam known about it, he strolled towards his boss's office. Harry was pouring himself what looked to be another glass of whisky, always a sign that he was stressed or needed a good night's sleep once he got home. Adam had always held the greatest respect for Harry, was fond of him Fiona said and she was right. His sometimes gruff persona masked a lifetime of hurt and he knew that his boss was lonely, who wouldn't be after heaven knows how many years on his own? Whatever Harry was going through at the moment, it in some way related to that, this wasn't work related, it was personal, Adam was sure about that.
'Adam,' said Harry, briefly returning his gaze, resigned to the fact that once he'd been to see the Home Secretary and handed in his resignation, that Adam would be the one that would have to step into his shoes and ensure that life on the grid carried on as normal. He nodded to him to sit down and reached for a second glass, having conseeded that Adam had to be told what was happening.
'Juliet Shaw's blackmailing me,' he told him without preamble.
'Jesus Harry, what the hell have you done?' was Adam's assumption that whatever it was had happened recently, whereas it had happened so long ago, that as far as Harry was concerned, if not a huge error of judgement on his part, it was at least history, done and dusted. Now though, with Juliet threatening to have a quiet little chat with Catherine who had so recently come back into his life, which in all probability would blow any chance of him ever seeing his daughter again, he was hamstrung, and the only possibility of preventing it happening was to give Juliet what she wanted.
'But you can't let this happen, the woman's a power crazed lunatic Harry, have you talked to your solicitor about this?' He asked him.
'She's called Ruth, she's a friend of Malcolm's,' he told him, which despite his powers to remain casual and disconnected, failed abysmally, as Adam picked up on the small tell that always showed when Harry was holding something back.
Leave it old son, he'll tell you when he's ready too, he always does, failed to connect and Adam pressed on.
'This Ruth, she might be good but she's an outsider Harry, surely it would be wiser to use one of the Service's solicitors?'
'Yes and I'm a Monkey's Uncle Adam, so just leave it,'
OK, change the subject.
So what do you intend to do about Juliet?' he asked Harry instead.
'I have no bloody idea, I just need time to think it through,' was all Adam got, before Harry looked at his watch again. She'd be home, surely she'd be home by now?