From the moment that Harry left Thames House, he had an uncomfortable feeling that he was being followed. He managed to avoid Juliet purely by good luck, having used the stairs rather than the lift which appeared to be permanently stuck on the fourth floor. Ducking behind a pillar to avoid a confrontation, he was delayed even further, as he watched her crossing the foyer, chatting to the DG who was trotting alongside her like a pet dog. Was there anyone amongst the hierarchy that he actually liked? No there wasn't and his comparison was a disservice to all four - legged creatures and to Scarlet in particular. As to who was following him he had no idea, but he needed to shake them off sooner rather than later and hope that he was faster and more adept at surveillance than they were. He switched on one of the two new phones that Malcolm had given him. 'In the circumstances I suggest that you and Ruth use these,' he'd told him, with just the hint of a warning in his eyes.
'I'm stuck in a meeting so I'll be a wee bit late, I'm sorry,' he told a relieved Ruth, who had been looking at the clock and wondering if Harry had changed his mind. Turning into the entrance of a large department store and disappearing through the food section to the checkouts that were heaving with people, he grabbed and paid for a small bunch of flowers. It was his go to shop that stayed open all night and he knew the layout like the back of his hand. Heading to the top floor and out through one of the many staff - only exits, he made an unseen departure via the fire escape and down into a back street, with nothing but a row of dustbins as his companions.
By the time that he knocked on Ruth's door, he was more than confident that he'd lost whoever it was that had been following him. Despite him knowing that the evening was in effect a meeting to discuss what would happen the following afternoon when he'd come face to face with Jane, he was determined to ensure that Ruth understood that his decision to walk away from her the previous evening had been purely work related, and had no bearing on how his feelings had developed for her.
Opening her door to greet him, a freshly showered Ruth, wearing a loosely fitting jumper with black trousers and in sock clad feet, beamed at him when he handed over his meagre offering, screaming of home comforts, of normal, of what he'd craved for years, if only it could last.
'You didn't open it,' he said surprised, when she handed him the same bottle of wine that he'd brought with him the previous evening. If it had been her that had walked out on him, then he'd have either thrown it against the wall or more likely drunk it. Ruth hadn't done either, so maybe he hadn't completely blown it.
'Yes, and you're getting the omelette that you didn't eat,' she joked, as he wondered how it was that she always managed to have the last word. The answer was simple, she didn't work at five, she was his equal, they matched and he gloried in the prospect of where this might lead.
He knew where the corkscrew was, she'd told him which drawer it was in the previous evening, so he stepped across in front of her, fully intent on opening the bottle. That it coincided with her trying to bypass him to reach over and retrieve her oven gloves, which resulted in them standing face to face within inches of each other with their bodies almost touching, was suddenly all too much for Harry. The news about Clive had shaken him more than he realised and if there was one moment in his life that he needed to feel the closeness of another human being, it was now and it was her, and against all the odds she hadn't moved. She was wearing the same perfume that had assaulted his senses on the evening that he'd taken her out, tempting him across the finishing line. He could hear Adam's words, you're roaming the streets of London when what you want is right under your nose as with no further thought he lent even closer, his lips within inches of hers. By now Ruth had closed her eyes but she still hadn't moved, the rhythm of her breathing mirroring his. That had to be a good sign didn't it?
Gently praying that he hadn't misread the signs and that the next thing he'd feel, wouldn't be her hand, slapping him across his face and a dismissal that he knew there would be no way back from, he gave way to temptation.
'I work in a job that's nothing but secrets,' he whispered.
'And you think that I don't, I'm a divorce lawyer Harry,' she whispered back, beating him to it with a gentle brush of her lips against his.
Had it not been for Fidget arriving and demanding to be fed, Harry doubted that he'd have been able to control himself, whereas Ruth who now had Fidget's tale, warm, demanding and flicking between her legs, was at crisis point. She didn't dare open her eyes in case they revealed what she was really thinking, which had gone far beyond her initial thought that Harry's lips had surely been made by the gods she so admired, to a quick sprint to the bedroom. It was only when her stomach started rumbling that she pulled back and opened her eyes, only to see his were still closed and realised that his hands had moved to her hips. How the hell she was going to be able to sit in a meeting the next day and negotiate the terms of his divorce with his soon to be ex – wife and her solicitor and remain unmoved by anything she heard, was the only thing that prevented her from kissing him again. Harry had called to see her this evening because she'd told him that she had more questions, nothing more, she couldn't let herself cross that boundary yet. But before she did anything else, she needed that glass of wine.
Harry had no such worries, he was on the stairway to heaven. All he had to do was to agree with everything that Ruth said, she told him, as they smiled their way through the vegetable pasta and salad and a very acceptable bottle of wine. Clive's death would be avenged, this evening he was doing something that amounted to wonderful.
'I have something for you,' he told Ruth, handing her the phone that Malcolm had given him. They were heading back to her cosy sitting room with a pot of coffee and her book full of notes, her composure for the moment back in place. 'It has only one number which is mine, it's best that you use it when you need to contact me.'
She was about to ask him why when she thought better of it. There would be time for in depth talking about his life as a spy at another time, for now she needed to concentrate on the job in hand.
'Jane's solicitor is Robin Adams, I've known him for a long time. He's assured me that unless anything unexpected comes up at the meeting tomorrow that you and Jane can't agree on, then your divorce will be just a formality. Is there anything that's still worrying you Harry?' She asked him.
'That I might put my foot in it as I tend to do,' referred to more than him meeting Jane again after such a long time.
'Then after the introductions just follow my lead and whatever happens we'll be fine,' meant what? Was she referring to the meeting or to them? He hoped it was both.
'I ought to be going,' he added as the silence lengthened and Ruth nodded and stood up, as unwilling as he was for the evening to end.
Just one kiss, one solitary kiss, would be enough for him to hold on to the memory of the evening and get him through the night.
'See you tomorrow then,' he whispered, leaning in.
The floor to ceiling windows that made up one wall of the offices where Robin Adams sat waiting with Jane Townsend and the accompanying Harvey, was approached by a sweeping staircase or in Harry and Ruth's case the lift. Exiting on the top floor, a receptionist directed them to a seating area at the end of a long corridor. It had been years, well over a decade since Harry had seen Jane, and memories tended to play tricks on you under stress. Despite the years that had passed, he would have recognised her anywhere and a small pang of regret for the pain he'd once put her through, battled with his composure as the introductions were made. She looked well, she looked happy if somewhat nervous and she was clearly glued to Harvey high and bloody mighty, just as Catherine had told him she was. As Robin ushered them into his office, he asked Harvey to wait outside, something that gave Harry a ridiculously over the top sense of triumph. It might be the end of an era, but at least it could be done in a civilised manner, without him having to be watched by the man who was so clearly able to give Jane what he hadn't. His thoughts were immediately interrupted by Robin inviting him and Ruth to take a seat on the opposite side of a large table.
'Remember what I said Harry, play nice,' Ruth reminded him in hushed tones, her composure seemingly fully in place, whereas her stomach was turning cartwheels, as she looked across the table at the woman who was the mother of Harry's children. She was blonde with tiny flecks of grey, taller and so much more sylphlike than she'd ever be, that for a moment made her wonder if the kisses that she and Harry had shared the previous evening were just a figment of her imagination. They weren't, were confirmed when she turned back to look at him and saw the concerned look on his face, because she'd failed to answer the question that Robin had put to her. It wasn't something that went unnoticed by Jane.
'Sorry, I'm just getting over a migraine,' she lied, when Robin asked if she needed anything. She did, she needed this to be over quickly, but she settled on tea and put her mind back to the reason they were there.
Once the formalities were over and having shaken everyone's hand, with the assurance that he'd register the papers formally and send her copies, Robin departed, leaving her and Harry in the corridor with Jane and Harvey. Knowing that it important to treat this like any other divorce that hadn't been contested, she did what she always did and suggested, to in this case Harvey, that they should leave Harry and Jane to say their goodbyes alone and that they'd see them downstairs. As soon as she'd said it, she realised her mistake. In any other circumstances she'd had shaken her client's hand and said she be in touch, but she hadn't she'd been distracted. Not that it mattered now that the papers had been signed, but none the less if she'd noticed, she'd left an opening for a comment from Jane.
Harvey had excused himself to go to the bathroom, which left Ruth standing on her own when Harry and Jane arrived. Her with a look of deep satisfaction on her face and Harry with a look that said don't worry, I'll deal with this.
'Harvey's going back to work aren't you dear,' Jane told him as Harvey appeared, in a voice that sounded more like an order than the fact that he needed to, having already suggested to Harry that maybe he and Ruth might like to go for a drink with her, which despite Harry's protest that he needed to get back to work, to which Jane had replied when don't you, he'd reluctantly agreed.
Ruth still protesting that she had a headache told Harry that she'd rather have a cup of tea, watching as he headed to the bar to order their drinks in what was a rather nice pub, which apparently Jane and Harvey frequented on a regular basis. Jane had excused herself and had gone to the ladies and not wanting to be faced with Jane on her own, Ruth was willing Harry to be quick and get back from the bar before Jane did. For one thing she needed to know what if anything he'd told Jane.
Harry arriving with her tea allowed her to occupy her now fidgety fingers, just ahead of Jane's return, which also gave him the chance to grab a seat that saw him facing both women.
'There's a situation at work which means that I can't stay long,' Harry told Jane, in the hope of an early escape, which was news to Ruth who he'd assured that once the divorce papers were signed and being processed, that he had the rest of the afternoon off and he had plans for them to do something.
Jane no longer had an axe to grind with Harry and she had long since worried about what he got up to at work, providing that it didn't impact on their children. She was there purely and simply to wind him up and get an insight into his solicitor that he was so obviously sweet on. It seemed highly unlikely that his feelings were reciprocated, but hey ho it was worth a dig or two. She knew that Catherine had been badgering him to sort himself out, but she doubted that her nearly ex husband had told their daughter about Ruth.
'I'm assuming that Harry's told you what he does for a living?' was below the belt even from Jane, as Harry's hackles rose and his eyes took on a look of murderous proportions.
As Jane's face broke into a broad smile, Ruth just stopped herself from saying that Harry had told her everything. Jane was playing a game and Harry was the victim, which meant she had to be careful not defend Harry and hand Jane even more ammunition.
'He's obliged to,' she answered, 'I'm his solicitor,' she told Jane, in a voice that she hoped sounded convincing.
'Well that's more than he did with me,' and Ruth decided that she quite liked Jane Townsend, particularly when she went on to tell her that Harry hadn't told her that he worked for the Security Services until after they'd signed the register.
It was one nil to her, even though she'd had to force it out of him, but Jane wasn't finished yet. Polishing off the second glass of wine that Harry had paid for, she lent in and smiled.
'I see you've taken Catherine's advice and not before time,' she told an embarrassed Harry and an even more confused Ruth, before with a wave of a hand and 'have fun you two,' she was off.
'Christ she's changed she was never that confident, I think I've caught your headache?' Harry told her, as the doors to the bar continued to swing back and forth at an alarming rate.
'I liked her, despite her succeeding in winding you up,' Ruth told him, watching his eyes widen and a response of 'women.'
'What now?' she asked him, hoping that he didn't have to go back to work.
'Dinner later,' he suggested, taking a deep breath of relief and with a barely controlled twinkle in his eye. Their destination already planned and booked.