Trying to avoid being mesmerised by Harry's fingers that were strumming in time to Haydn's trumpet concerto, Ruth smiled and turned her head to one side, watching the sites of London flying past the window. What wouldn't she give to be driven home like this at the end of every day, rather than having to battle her way through the unforgiving throng, most of which was inches or in some cases at least a foot taller than she was?

'I'm assuming this is it?' said his voice, dragging her back from her daydream, and to the need to make the decision as to what happened next. When had she last been out, as invited out, when choir practice once a week and her as and when babysitting duties of Jacob were the sum total of her social life? It was as ridiculous as it was a reality. Harry's invitation for a drink and a bite to eat amounted to what? Was he assuming that this was a date or just a business meeting, she had no idea? Still sitting here like a rabbit in the headlights wasn't going to solve anything, or answer her question, and whatever this was, she at least needed to have a shower and to get changed.

'I'll be as quick as I can,' she told him, glancing over her shoulder, as he followed her down her garden path carrying her shopping, then waited patiently why she scrabbled in search of her keys.

As always when she opened her front door, Fidget arrived without summoning, demanding some attention.

'You have a cat,' Harry commented somewhat obviously, as her miaowing tabby wound his way around her legs and then decided he preferred Harry's, before she bent down to drag him away, realising with horror that he'd deposited some fur on what looked to be Harry's very expensive trousers.

'Please don't worry about it, Scarlet's the same when I arrive home, they miss you don't they?' Didn't require an explanation that he wasn't talking about a girlfriend, but she got one anyway.

That settled, she pointed him in the direction of the sitting room and said that she'd be as quick as she could and to make himself at home while he waited.

Harry was perfectly content to idle away however much time it took before Ruth appeared again, as he took in his surroundings and accumulated as much information as he could as to what Ruth might do during her evenings at home. Malcolm was right, she certainly liked music as he bent his head and read the titles of the copious amount of classical CD's that she possessed. But it was the books that dominated the room, some of which were in languages that he would never have attempted to learn, never mind be fluent in, which presumably she was? Had she been a linguist in a former life, he could certainly picture it? Malcolm would certainly know. By now he was so engrossed in his exploration into the innermost workings of Ruth's head, that he didn't hear the door open.

'Ready when you are,' she told him, in a voice which to her sounded nervous, but to him filled him with the confidence he'd been lacking. Bugger this evening being a continuance of the interrogation, he intended enjoying himself in the company of this intriguing woman. He turned around to face her, too quickly as it turned out, because as his head spun and then settled, he realised that he was gawping at the transformation that was standing in front of him. Gone was the dark suit that she worn at the office, she was wearing a blue dress and jacket that almost matched her eyes. Not only that, she'd obviously washed her hair as well as had a shower, because as he walked towards her with the intention of following her out of the door, her hair was shining in the diminishing light and the smell of her perfume whatever it was, was as subtle as it was intoxicating. Any thought that he might have harboured that he'd be able to walk away from this woman when she'd finished working for him, was gone.

Gentleman that he was, although to be honest, some of the images that were going through his head in that moment were far from being gentlemanly, he gathered his thoughts into something less adventurous and opened the car door for her, before he walked around to the driver's side and strapped himself in. Not that he intended taking advantage of her, she was vulnerable having just lost her partner and he was far from confident himself. For the foreseeable future he was her client he reminded himself, nothing more, although his original idea of a simple pub meal and a couple of drinks suddenly felt inadequate. But where to take her so that they could have privacy to chat and maybe give him the chance to get to know her better, was easier said than done? He was so out of practice in this kind of situation, whereas once upon a time he'd have known everywhere when it came to style, and would have known just how to pitch this so as not to come over as trying to impress, whereas now he was floundering.

In the end, having asked Ruth if there was anywhere that she fancied going, to be told that anywhere so long as it wasn't noisy would be lovely, he drove over to Richmond and parked outside a small restaurant adjacent to the Thames. It was still early, around seven thirty, so finding a table away from what might eventually become a crowded area was easy. With their tentatively ordered choice of starters already being prepared and a glass of white wine and nibbles in front of them, the next requirement was a conversation that they were both struggling to start, until Ruth struck upon the common bond of Malcolm.

'How long have you and Malcom worked together?' she eventually asked him.

'Years, I don't remember exactly how many, but certainly more than twenty,' he told her.

'So, I'm presuming that he knows Juliet Shaw?' she continued, immediately wishing she hadn't, as his head dipped to one side and the expression on his face changed to one of pleading.

Please Ruth not tonight.

'He certainly does,' he told her, trying to blank out the image.

'But not as well as you do I suspect, am I right?' She replied, with what she hoped he would sense was an apology in her voice and an effort to recapture his previous mood.

Malcolm and Juliet, or Malcolm with anyone, you have to be kidding me, but 'are you trying to ruin my appetite?' he asked her, his previous smile back.

'Wow she's that bad, is she?' she responded, her eyes now twinkling at him across the table, his interrogation temporarily suspended.

During a break between courses, Ruth excused herself and headed in search of the ladies. She needed to compose herself and have one of her in the mirror conversations that she frequently indulged in at home, where at least she got the upper hand if not always the answer that she was looking for. Twenty - four hours earlier she'd cried herself to sleep, crippled with fear as to how she was going to cope without Alex, whereas now she'd spent the last hour or so feeling happier than she could remember. Did that make her a shallow or uncaring person, or was the way she was behaving just a coping mechanism that had kicked in to help her deal with what she'd lost? A wake after a funeral did just that didn't it, gave the grieving a chance to laugh again before the reality of what had happened recaptured them? Except, and it was a big except, would she have felt the same way if she were out with Malcolm? She certainly wouldn't, because there was something about Harry that had made her feel worth something, which until now had only happened behind the safety of her desk. She needed to get back out there and enjoy whatever else this evening, or more importantly Harry offered her..

'It seems wasteful not to make full use of the quiet you desire,' Harry said smiling at her, having suggested that rather than drive straight back to central London, that they walk along the pathway beside the river and enjoy what was left of the evening. The atmosphere in the restaurant had become less conducive to quiet contemplation once the tables had begun to fill up, by which time he'd reached a point where he was keen to continue to have Ruth's company to himself. To Ruth who by now was feeling positively overwhelmed, having been treated by Harry who it seemed had orchestrated the entire evening to suit her, a walk beside the river was closer to normal. It was ordinary, it was what she more easily coped with and her confidence that had been bobbing up and down like an apple in a bucket, was beginning to increase.

'If I'm not allowed to talk about Juliet this evening, will you at least tell me about your children?' she asked him, when he'd guided her to a small bench by a bend in the river, where a family of ducks were swimming about in the shallows between the reeds.

'You might not like what you hear,' he answered her, grateful in part that he'd been prevented from messing up the evening and possibly any extension to their relationship, by doing something stupid like attempting to kiss her.

'Tell me anyway, I not here to judge you Harry and nor will I,' gave him the confidence and the need if he was honest with himself, to unburden the another something that had been buried for years.

'Graham was twelve and Catherine eight, when I really started to mess things up,' he told her.

'What happened?'

'The discovery of the opposite sex in Graham's case. He heard Jane and I arguing, something that we'd previous managed to contain until the kids weren't around and he took full advantage of the situation and used it as an excuse for his bad behaviour. He brought a girl home after school and somehow managed to smuggle her into his bedroom without Jane seeing them. As you can imagine her parents went ballistic. He stopped studying and was so disruptive that we made the decision to send him to boarding school. Mainly because Jane just wasn't coping with him on her own and I was working all hours and not giving her the support that she needed, which was made worse, because by then I'd moved out.'

It was so far removed from the entire story but he couldn't bring himself to tell her about that yet.

'Why didn't you divorce?'

'God knows and in hindsight we should have done, but things calmed after Graham wasn't around and as neither of us had anyone else, we sort of drifted into our separate lives, which up until now hasn't become an issue.

'What about Catherine?'

'She was a tough little thing, or so I believed at the time, but she missed Graham and came down on his side, and it isn't until recently that she's let me back into her life and now Juliet Shaw is threatening to ruin that.'

'And Jane's found herself another man?'

'Yes, and Jane's found herself another man,' he replied, with a deep sigh and brought to end a conversation that Ruth had listened to on endless occasions over the years from one side of a broken family.

'Come on Harry, it's time you drove me home,' she said, squeezing his hand without thinking about what she was doing.

Once home, Ruth changed into her more comfortable clothes and made herself a cup of tea, before heading into the sitting room and settling herself comfortably on the sofa. The prime object of her contemplation had left her confused and curious, having presented himself as, what was the expression she was searching for? Two different people. One was the caring and attentive man who had gone out of his way to give her the evening that she'd wanted and the other who had held back, that was what he'd done, when she'd tried to press him about Juliet. Why? Screamed the solicitor in her, did it matter? As opposed to the woman who had agreed to his suggestion that as it was the weekend and he apparently didn't have to work, that he could come over and give her a hand with Jacob. It wasn't that she didn't trust him or like him, she did in bucket loads and had been thrilled at the thought of seeing him again so soon and away from the office. But there was something about the way that he'd described his reason for not getting a divorce that still confused her. She was sure at one stage that he'd been about to use the word protect, but had stopped himself from saying it, but why? Everyone who'd ever had children wanted to protect them whatever age they were, but this protection, if that's what it was seemed important and that made her curious. Malcolm might know, but that would mean betraying her client's confidence and she'd never do that. Maybe in the cold light of day tomorrow she'd find a way to ask him, although at the moment if she could ignore the fact that she was his solicitor, she felt less than inclined to do so, in case it ruined what was developing.