In another lifetime, long before Ruth Evershed had stumbled across Harry's path and into his heart, he would have done anything to remain at the coal face and one step ahead of his opponents. But that was then and this was now and he was grateful that Adam had given him the opportunity to take a step back and return to Oxford.
I'll see you soon,' he'd promised Ruth when he'd left her earlier, with very little hope of it happening, and yet here he was, less than half a day later, about to keep that promise.
Had he been concentrating rather than daydreaming, then he'd have spotted them a lot earlier, but it wasn't until he joined the traffic that was queuing to get onto the ring road, that he glanced in his mirror and realised that he was being followed – yet again. Now he had a dilemma. Should he turn back and take them on a wild goose chase, or did he follow his heart and continue to where he felt needed? Before that though there was the question as to whether or not there were others, and if so, had they seen him arrive in the helicopter with Adam? Which if they had, meant that there was a fairly good chance that they knew they'd been staying, bringing him to the horrifying conclusion that they knew where everyone that he and Adam cared about were.
Was the house secure and were Ruth and Jacob safe? And Wes, he'd completely forgotten that Wes was there. Surely Fiona would have sent a message to Adam if there'd been a problem?
Not usually one to panic, well certainly not on a personal level, he was gripped by an image that saw him stalling the car, while three cars back, the lights of the black Mercedes smiled at him like an avenging angel. He needed to think quickly, he needed to lose them. Not easily done, now that Malcolm, his guiding light when he was in trouble was at home and it was Zaf who was manning the grid. He couldn't use his phone and call Adam and he didn't have time to reach for the one that was kept for Ruth. Bracing himself against the seat to minimise the shock to his body, he turned on the engine and crept forward, waiting for a gap in the approaching traffic, unaware that his lips were pursed, and his fingers were strumming with an impatience that he'd managed to keep at bay for weeks. Go go go, someone was screaming in his head when he slammed the steering wheel a sharp right and spun the car, which saw horns blazing and fingers being raised. He didn't see them, all he saw were the other cars closing ranks on his pursuers. They were trapped, at least for long enough for him to enjoy the advantage. Now all he needed to do was to find an alternative route back to Oxford that would avoid the main roads, no matter how long it took him. Plus of course, arrive back at the house unscathed.
Had it been daylight, then he'd have probably enjoyed the numerous small villages that he was passing through, with their leaded windowed houses, thatched roofs and tidy gardens, each with a pub and those that were lucky, with a corner shop. Houses where the rich and famous lived, wanting a good rail link into London for their daily commute, to their money driven employment on the stock market or in the civil service. People who Harry was paid to protect as well as those that inhabited the less salubrious surroundings of the British inner cities, equally if not more important in Harry's mind.
On he drove, mile after mile on dimly lit roads with only his trusty sat nav and Classic FM for company, until on a quiet stretch of road, he took the risk and turned down a deserted and very bumpy farm track and turned off the engine. He desperately needed to relieve himself and he needed to wait, just long enough to ensure that he wasn't being followed. He hadn't eaten anything since he'd lost his breakfast, apart from some dry biscuits and a coffee that Malcolm had drummed up for him from the canteen and he was desperately hungry, as well as being cold and tired. Crazy, that's what this was. Standing on the edge of a deserted field in mid October, zipping up his flies. He was getting too old for this. He wanted home comforts he wanted warmth and he wanted Ruth. It was pitch dark and he could barely discern the screen, but it didn't matter, it only had one number, hers. He took a deep breath and hit dial.
Pure joy turned into mild panic as soon as he heard her voice.
'We're all fine, don't worry,' she told him, with just enough hesitance in her voice to alert him that maybe she wasn't. 'Fiona's saved you some dinner, we're just eating ours, I wish you were here, where are you?' Were said barely above a whisper.
Maybe the boys were within earshot or she was just being cautious? He wasn't prepared to believe that Fiona had told her what had happened to Belling. None the less he needed to reassure her and the only way to do that was to keep her on the line and to be honest.
'I'm fine too, I just needed to hear your voice. I'm standing on a dirt track in the middle of nowhere and taking a break.' It's chilly out here, I'm losing the will to live, he avoided, stamping his feet against the increasing cold and the need to pee again. 'The traffic was murder getting out of London so I decided to take the scenic route which is why I'm a bit late, but I'll be with you in less than an hour, I promise.'
'That's good,' was sufficient to make him feel better.
The fact that Fiona was mightily relieved to see Harry arrive, was disguised by Wes and Jacob, bombarding him with affection the moment that he walked through the door, after which he unashamedly walked straight over to Ruth and kissed her. She'd heard the car coming down the drive which meant that whoever it was had known the code to the gates or had managed to break in and she'd forbidden any of them to open the curtains and take a look, which had included Ruth. The responsibility of looking after Wes on her own she could just about cope with, she was used to it, but add Ruth and Jacob into the mix and it increased her concerns tenfold. Security or no security, with the increase in technology should you know how to use it, anyone could to break into any system. Malcolm was testament to that. At least her reckless darling was safe in Harry's house and with Zaf to keep an eye on him he'd be fine. She wasn't worried, well no more than she usually was.
'I'll get these two to bed and leave you to it,' she told Ruth, telling the boys to hurry up it was bedtime, as Harry came back from the cloakroom where he'd washed his hands and was eyeing his dinner that Ruth was dishing up. She needed to get to bed herself and to give Harry the privacy that he so clearly wanted with Ruth, added to which, the prospect of a good night's sleep with Wes snuggled up next to her was a comforting thought.
'There has to be a reason why Clive chose to send you a birthday card rather than a letter,' Ruth told Harry, once they'd tidied up the kitchen and retired to the sitting room, where they were stretched out together on the sofa in front of the fire. Him now warm and relaxed and wanting nothing more than to take her to bed, close his eyes and drift into oblivion, having been on the go since first thing, whereas Ruth who'd been shaken ridged by Fiona's talk of recklessness and lock downs, was wide awake and fully invested in getting the problem solved without delay.
If she'd been asked to choose one word to describe how she felt now that Harry was here with her, well apart from loved and in this case wanted, it would be safe, and it was all very well him trailing relentless kisses in an effort to get her to stop talking and go to bed, but they had Jacob in their room and it wouldn't be appropriate to do anything other than go to sleep. Harry might be tired, but she doubted she'd be able to sleep, when her mind was awash with new fears. Though where was the harm in letting him indulge himself for a few more moments and she get the benefit, no one would hear them? The result of which, was sex that amounted to a very different reckless.
It was midnight, wasn't that the witching hour? The house that had been alive with laughter that morning was so quiet and so dark, but somehow despite her fears, Ruth managed to rearrange her clothes, tidy herself up and find her way upstairs to check on Jacob. Fast asleep with his new Peter Rabbit teddy tucked tightly in his arms, he was sleeping peacefully, like the baby he still was, despite his three years. He looked adorable. How had it come to this was a question that she did know the answer to and he was also sleeping peacefully, downstairs on the sofa and covered with the throw from Fiona's father's favourite armchair. Heaven knows what he'd think, if he and his wife arrived back now and found people he'd never met camped out in his house. Well at least he knew Harry.
Padding quietly back downstairs, she couldn't resist another peep into the sitting room before she got to work. God how she loved this man, a mixture of a sinner and a saint she'd once kidded him when he'd been recalling his early years in the service. Well he was her sinner or saint and whatever happened she was in for the long haul, no matter where it took her. She needed him just as much as he apparently needed her, so she needed to be strong, not buckle and give him something else to worry about. Time to make a cuppa and get to work was unspoken, but before that she owed herself one more precious moment. She tiptoed across the room and kissed him gently on the lips. She could have sworn she felt him smile.
Asleep at her father's desk was where Fiona found Ruth the next morning and Harry asleep on the sofa. Well either they'd had a row, which she doubted, or more likely sex by the look of the rearranged cushions and Harry's discarded shirt? There were reams of notes on a pad next to Ruth's head, with names, places and jottings that meant nothing, except for a note with a question mark after one name.
Well she certainly didn't intend waking a partly clad Harry up, a strong cup of coffee and Ruth could do that, as she headed towards the kitchen in pursuit of the kettle and the boys, who were clambering for their breakfast. The result of which, was that twenty minutes later across the hall and at the other end of the house, Ruth and Harry who'd both woken up aching all over. Her wishing they'd gone to bed and Harry reliving their exploits of the previous evening, with the relish of a much younger man, with Fiona's prompting, had showered and changed and were currently enjoying breakfast away from the chaos of the kitchen. Tea and toast and a ' I don't know where do you get your appetite from?' which had resulted in one of Harry's you're kidding me smiles, and Ruth was champing at the bit to tell him what had taken her several hours, during which time she'd fallen asleep, only to wake up cold, but determined to see it through.
'He was an old asset of mine, years ago now, that went missing, just after he'd called and asked me to meet him. It was on a day that cost us dearly,' Harry told her, in response to her question, 'Do you know anyone called Barry Day?' Not the full story, that he'd been found three days later on the Norfolk marshes with a shotgun in his hand. A death which had been recorded as a suicide, as a long planned and complicated agreement with the CIA that he'd been working on with Juliet who'd been at six, had drifted into the never never. After which, Ruth carried on explaining how she'd cracked Clive's message, or at least she hoped she had.
'We've been making it far too complicated, when it's simple Harry,' he hadn't interrupted, despite wanting to say 'to you maybe,' as she sparkled in front of him. 'Once I got past the ridiculous names that people call their children these days and in a multitude of languages, there were still plenty to choose from. Although it took me ages to find one which left me sufficient letters to come up with what we've been searching for Harry, the location. Happy Birthday Harry, translates into Barry Day and the Royal Albert Hall, just look here. Once I abbreviated it to RAH, it was obvious. The date of your birthday relates to a row and seat number. Clive was a genius Harry, that's where he's hidden whatever he wants you to find.'
'What do you mean they've lost him Roy, how difficult can it be to follow someone who doesn't know they're being followed?' Juliet had screamed down the phone at Woodring the previous evening, her unless they could get to Harry's family before he did option gone.
It had all been going swimmingly and she'd been home and dry for nearly twenty years. They weren't in the business of murdering innocent civilians, although this was what this was all about. Barry Day, a name that had been dispatched along with dozens of others, that had been discarded and forgotten, until Clive bloody Mc Taggert, with nothing better to do in his retirement, had decided to spend was left of his time, rifling through files on unexplained deaths during unsuccessful missions, in an effort to find out what had gone wrong and to give their relatives a means of closure.
At the time, Harry had tried to prove that it had been murder and what he'd perceived to be an injustice, so him finding out now after so much time, would run a close second to setting free what had been a caged lion, or in her case, the one man that had the capability of bringing her down. South America or Australia with their sunshine, suddenly felt like very good options.