A/N: Apologies for the delay in posting this update. Sadly some interior decorating and DIY got in the way of my writing time. I'm happy to say that they are complete now, so expect quick updates again. I had hoped to finish this before Book 11 of Ruth Galloway comes out today, but I've failed. I guess reading that will be my reward for when this fic is finished! Thanks for reading and for all your reviews. Cheers, S.C.

Ruth Galloway

"I thought you'd like to know that I took your advice," Ruth Evershed says into the phone after a momentary lull in the conversation.

It had been a pleasant surprise to answer it and hear her voice. She's been having one of those days where nothing goes according to plan, so to hear a friendly voice had been just what the doctor ordered and she's feeling a whole lot better now.

Ruth had began the conversation without a greeting, merely saying, "You didn't tell me you were a published author, Ruth!" the moment she'd picked up the phone with a tired hello.

It had taken her a moment to place her voice and teasingly reply, "I'm sorry. Who is this?"

"Oh gosh! Sorry. It's Ruth. Ruth Evershed. Hi! Sorry. How are you?"

She'd laughed at the flustered way in which it had been said, feeling her exhaustion drain away and her body begin to relax. Then she had assured her that she was fine and that she knew who it was really, was pleased she'd called, and asked her how she was too.

Ruth Evershed had quickly replied that she was fine before promptly moving onto discussing her book, which apparently she'd read in a day and had loved, and couldn't stop talking about how amazing it is that so much can be gleaned from a few very old bones. If she didn't know any better, she'd have thought Ruth Evershed had been converted to archaeology! Though, somehow, even with all her knowledge, thirst for learning, enthusiasm, innate patience, and being an extremely capable person, she doubts Ruth would take to the field. She'd hate the digs – hours outdoors, painstakingly removing layers of earth, cataloguing finds, the mud, the muck, the cold rain or scorching sunshine. Nevertheless, it had warmed her heart to hear her enthusiasm on the subject and she'd ended up inviting her to Norfolk to show her some of her finds, an invitation that Ruth had accepted with delight.

"Maybe I can convince Harry to come too," she'd said. "He was a bit sceptical about your conclusions and how much information can really be deduced from bones that old."

"He's read my book too?" she'd asked in bewilderment. People she meets outside her field so rarely do...

"No. I'm not sure he has the time. But I sometimes go into his office at the end of the day and we talk about things."

"And he'll discuss an obscure archaeology book with you, without complaint?!" she'd asked rather incredulously.

"Yes. He'll talk about anything I want to, really," Ruth had replied, pausing for a moment before adding, "I've never really considered how remarkable that is before."

"Remarkable is right," she'd agreed. "Most men I know will only talk about sport or whatever subject they know well and can show off about."

But Ruth Evershed had clearly not wanted to talk about Harry Pearce because she'd changed the subject quite neatly then, asking, "How's Kate?" and so she'd not pressed her to reveal more and simply switched to talking about her daughter, a subject she loves as much as archaeology now.

And that is how they find themselves here, a good half hour after their conversation had began.

"What advice is that?" she asks, not really remembering offering her any.

"About getting out of my own way," Ruth replies quietly. "Harry's coming round to dinner in a bit."

"That's great," she replies, pleased for her new friend.

"Yes. Yes, it is." There's something in her voice.

"What? You're not pleased about it?"

"No, I am," Ruth replies. "It's just... I'm nervous, I suppose. I'd forgotten what it's like – the waiting, the anticipation, the worry and anxiety over... everything."

She smiles and sighs in sympathy. "Yes," she says. "It's probably just the anticipation though. You'll be fine once he arrives."

She hears Ruth exhale abruptly. "God, I hope so. Last time it only got worse."

She doesn't say anything, not at all sure what to tell her, really. She's never felt that kind of anxiety with Nelson – the others don't count since she hadn't been in love with them. She wonders if she would, were Nelson single and available. Probably not, she concludes. Not at this point, at any rate. They have Kate after all.

"But it's different now," Ruth Evershed says, almost as if giving herself a pep talk. "You're right. He's Harry and I... I'll just start talking about something interesting and relax and everything will be fine."

"Not archaeology though. It tends to kill the mood in my experience."

Ruth laughs and she smiles. "Good advise. I'll try to remember. Thanks."

"Any time."

"I'm glad we met, Ruth," Ruth says after a short silence.

"Yes. Me too," she whole heartily agrees.

"Listen, I'd better go and get ready. Thanks for listening to me and give a kiss to Kate from me."

"Will do. Good luck tonight. I'll try not to be jealous."

Ruth Evershed laughs. "Take care, Ruth."

"You too. Bye now," and with that, they each end the call. She smiles, thinking about Ruth Evershed, and really hopes that things work out for her and her Harry. She tries not to think of Nelson. It's a good job she's never called him anything but Nelson really, or every time Ruth talks about Harry Pearce, Nelson would fill her thoughts and he does enough of that already. She'll always call him Nelson, she suddenly decides, even if by some miracle Michelle does throw him out and things change between them.

It would be nice though, to have Ruth Evershed visit. Kate would love it too, after she got over her disappointment that she brought Harry Pearce with her instead of Harold, the cat. She could show them around, perhaps. Certainly, she could show them the local archaeological sites. Then again, if they visit Norfolk together, perhaps all they'll be interested in is strolling around hand in hand and the bed in their hotel room.

"Stop it," she tells herself and gets up to refill her wine glass.