As she always did on days when they were blessed with sunshine, Ruth had walked to school, taking in the view and breathing in the crystal clear air. Marvelling at the completeness that she now felt and that at the end of the day Harry would be there, a safe harbour to come home to and telling her that he loved her. Those precious first few moments when they woke after a night's sleep which had always been special, had become the bedrock of each and every day as they'd grown into and developed their relationship. She'd never been this happy and a day never passed when she didn't acknowledge it.
Now though, needing to compose herself and change into something more comfortable than her work clothes, she had briefly popped home. Relieved beyond anything else to have escaped the stricken faces, but safe in the knowledge that Michael, despite the awfulness of the news that he had to impart would find the words that none other than someone with his training could find, she let out a breath that up until now she hadn't realised she'd been holding.
'Any time day or night,' she'd heard him say to the latest of the parents who had arrived to collect their offspring, offering himself as a lifeline should they need one, to deal with the inevitable questions which up to now they didn't have answers.
The drive across the headland on such a beautiful spring morning would normally have filled her with joy at the promise of things to come, but driving a car that she'd never driven, knowing that before she reached the main road that she'd be diverted to avoid the crash scene, she felt anything but joyous. She felt sad, she felt disorientated and almost angry with herself that she was still alive. She needed Harry.
'Where are you?' she pleaded into her phone.
She tried the radio, no it wasn't a glorious day across Scotland it was a mind-blowingly awful one. She turned it off, she needed to concentrate. She'd be no use to him if she was like this.
'Where is he?' she almost spat as she finally reached the front of the queue, fighting the urge to scream such was her frustration at finding the car park full and then having being kept waiting. 'No I'm not a relative, I wouldn't be here if he had any, I'm his teacher,' she emphasised, brandishing the short letter that Michael had written. She'd never been the subject of a 'To whom it might concern letter,' and she wished to God that she wasn't now. But he needed someone that he could rely on he'd told her, apologising that Rose couldn't go with her but that she needed to stay at home to look after their own.
Walking as fast as her now trembling legs would carry her, she stumbled along a maze of bland corridors until she finally found it, deep in the heart of the hospital. It was divided into a dozen or so cubicles, sterile to the point where even the outside of the windows appeared to be gleaming in the morning sunshine. The nurses one on one with their patients, floated in an ethereal world like silent angels, walking between their work stations and the beds where the machines and medicines were keeping their recipients alive. Terrified as to what she was going to find, she brandished her letter for a second time and was ushered the short distance to where Thomas was lying, her eyes instantly drawn to the tiny card in its holder at the head of his bed. Thomas Robertson, aged six, and where it should have said next of kin none, only the contact number of the vicarage. It was stark in its bluntness, but it said everything about this tiny mite, that only four months ago had been so full of life when he'd been dressed as a sheep, his Mum so proud of him.
'Hold his hand if you want to,' the nurse who introduced herself as Isabel told her, as Ruth stood hesitantly beside his bed. 'I'll fetch you a drink of water and then we'll sit and chat about how he is.'
Harry had driven into Stornoway early. He still preferred the early morning to any other time of day and today he was on a mission. His soul aim was to find the still illusive birthday present for Ruth, knowing that once the school broke up that he'd have little chance of her not being with him. He wished he hadn't left it until the last minute and as always he wished he was better when it came to making romantic gestures. He was also on the search for a restaurant, but more than that he was still dithering. Ruth wasn't someone that enjoyed fuss, she almost ran from it, so if he bought what he wanted to, then he knew he'd have to ask her in advance of the evening. Get on with it Catherine had told him and with her due to arrive the day after Ruth's birthday, he'd be able to avoid a tongue lashing if he had.
Looking at his watch, purely because he was feeling hungry, he temporarily delayed his shopping and instead went in search of a late breakfast and with it the opportunity to have a word with Ruth and convince her that he was still in the DIY store. It was close to eleven so she'd be on her morning break and as such would be sitting in her office. Thinking nothing of the fact that he'd left his phone turned off, he was horrified to see that he had three messages, one from Ruth 'Harry, please pick up I need you,' the rest a variation of 'please ring me, it's urgent,' from Michael.'
To him that meant only one thing, that something dreadful had happened to Ruth. Abandoning the idea of breakfast, he fairly fled from the café and dialled.
Less emotionally involved and far more used to dealing with persons who fell into the I'm in charge here category, who in this case was the forty something bespectacled receptionist who had given Ruth a hard time, he was called sir and pointed in the direction of ICU without argument.
'My wife's with him,' had tripped off his tongue as easily as breathing.
Apart from Robert, Rory and Maisie, the remainder of Ruth's little flock as she called them were an unknown, and he'd barely seen any of them other than at the Christmas Party. But he knew without a doubt that each and every one of them she thought special and that what had happened would be devastating.
'She's over there,' said Isabel, pointing to a bed in the corner, as Harry's eyes scanned to room in search of Ruth and the latest heart rending situation in which she now found herself. 'I'll give you a few moments with them and then I'll have to interrupt you I'm afraid, I need to do Thomas's latest obs.'
Ruth had no idea that Michael had contacted Harry, but suddenly he was there, calm and protective and so much more capable than she was feeling as he pulled up a chair and sat next to her.
'He's so tiny,' was all she managed before the tears came.
For two interminably long days and nights, Harry offered his love and unyielding support as Ruth sat by Thomas's bedside, or slept in one of the small rooms attached to paediatrics, steadfastly refusing to leave her post and determined to be there when he woke up. He needed to see a face that he recognised they'd been told and she was going to be it. School was closed, she had nowhere else to be, she was determined and Harry made no attempt to stop her.
Thomas was a remarkably lucky child the consultant had told them and they'd been too weary to argue, although lucky wasn't the word that they would have used. Had the impact of the accident been anything other than head on, he wouldn't have survived. His injuries apart from broken leg and numerous bruises were superficial, but the reason that they were keeping him sedated was because his small body had been shaken like a rag doll and they needed to reduce his pain, before they woke him up. The long term prognosis was promising, but in the short term when he first went home, he would need special and constant care as well as being seen by a child psychologist.
Harry knew that this situation almost mirrored Ruth's experience with Nico and that both frightened and consoled him, but it fuelled into an idea that grew as the days turned into a week. It all came to a head, when with Michael in attendance they met with a social worker who announced that when Thomas came out of hospital and until he was assessed, he would be taken into care.
Had it not been for Michael's quick and calm intervention and Harry supportive hand on Ruth's back that was tapping out a message telling her not to worry and to leave this to him, who knows what might have happened, instead of which she waited as Michael responded.
'He's six, he was born in our village and he's never been off the island. He attends the village school which has twenty pupils, one of which is my son Rory, his best friend,' she heard Michael saying. 'You cannot possibly be suggesting that he be parcelled off to the mainland, it's inhumane?'
The air froze even further as the social worker ploughed on.
'His age is irrelevant and inhumane is not a word I'd use, besides which it's protocol,' was the outnumbered woman's mistake.
Protocol was a word that had dogged Harry's life and he'd rarely adhered to. Protocol when it came to a six year old child who up to now didn't know that he was an orphan amounted to bollocks and brought Harry, who had been biding his time and one step ahead since the beginning of the meeting, into the conversation.
'Tell me,' he asked, in a voice that Ruth had heard before on endless occasions and demanded an answer, 'what do you proposed to do with Thomas after the assessment?'
'Well after he's been assessed, he'll be put out to foster parents,' sounded more as though she was talking about a pet cat than a child, as Harry felt Ruth wince which was the final straw as he steeled himself against what he felt like saying, which would have seen Thomas on the next ferry.
Would having Thomas come to live with them change their lives, of course it would, would it be easy to adapt to having a small child around, of course it wouldn't, but then when had they ever done anything that was easy? In the last few months when he'd been re organising and redecorating the house, he'd spent hours talking to Alice and as a result had thought about little else other than them having a baby of their own. But he was a realist and given his age it was less likely that it would happen, so why not put this wretched woman in a position where she'd be hard pressed to refuse his request?
'Like us?' wasn't put as a question that could be avoided, as Harry's arm moved from behind Ruth's back to around her shoulders, acknowledged as Ruth moved closer to him and by Michael's encouraging smile.
There was a long pause, during which time Ms whatever her name was shuffled some papers and Harry braced himself for some legitimate reason for her to say no, and with it his but more crucially for Ruth, a rejection.
'That depends?' turned into a conversation that ended with the agreement that provided they met the criteria that was required when they went for the interview, which would require two references, then she didn't see why not and yes she would be on the panel.
Harry again resisted saying what he thought about that, and smiled at her in a way that given the circumstances, was close to his best.
Ruth didn't have the birthday or the present that Harry had planned. There was no proposal and no ring, they were far too busy. Their interview on the mainland had come and gone with some trepidation and with no decision on the day. Up until then, they'd had no documentation that verified who they were and they certainly hadn't lived in Scotland for long enough to be considered local. A reference from Michael and the fact that he was the local vicar, plus a letter from the still Home Secretary William Towers had come with a glowing reference, in which he confirmed that he had known Harry Pearce and Ruth Evershed for many years, that they had been part of his administrative team and were trustworthy to a fault.
There was a certain amount of pressure on the authorities because Thomas was due to be discharged from the hospital in less than a week and as a small child, they needed to be absolutely certain that he understood what was happening. What was actually going through his mind or how much he remembered about the accident still wasn't clear, but yes he really liked Ruth was born out by the way that he clung to her, when Michael accompanied by the same social worker, told him that he was going to live with her and Harry.
Michael and Rose had been to Thomas's house and collected his things and with a couple of days to go before he was due to be discharged from hospital had helped Harry and Ruth sort out his bedroom and to shop for their new arrival.
Rory was recruited to become part of discharge day as a distraction from the real situation. He was happy that his best friend was going to be living on his doorstep rather than three miles away, it was D Day minus one and Harry and Ruth were in bed, very early.
'I suppose there's no hope of anything more than a cuddle,' Harry tried, knowing full well that an emotionally and physically knackered Ruth, who was already dropping off to sleep, needed to do just that, as she asked him if he had set the alarm and then disappeared into dreamland. Harry was equally tired but his mind couldn't shut off. Counting sheep, despite the fact that the field outside the window was now filled with lambs as well as their mothers was a pointless exercise, he'd already tried it. When he'd first made the decision about Thomas it had been primarily for Ruth's sake, but that had changed as the days had gone by and he was now equally excited. He'd spoken to both Graham and Catherine and they had their blessing, not that they needed it they'd both emphasised.
Rory had never been to a hospital and asked a hundred and one questions during the journey. His mum had told him that Thomas was still poorly and that he had to behave himself for Harry and Ruth, but that hadn't diluted his vivid imagination and with it his ability, to keep both Harry and Ruth entertained and their minds occupied, rather than worry. They didn't need to call at reception, this time there was no harridan baring their way as with Rory walking between them with his hands grasped tightly in their own, they opened the door to paediatrics. It was the first time since the accident that they had seen Thomas smile, it was the massive first step and they both acknowledged it.
'Wow, what's that and can I have a ride later?' Were just two of the questions that just kept on coming, as Harry pushed the wheelchair along the corridor and out into the car park to load their charges and the luggage. The smallest crutches that Ruth had ever seen, a wheelchair and his friend's leg that was in a cast, with love and kisses from the staff were just a few of the questions that came like a barrage from the irrepressible Rory. As Thomas continued to warm to the situation on the drive home, Harry thanked whoever was out there to listen to him, that Ruth looked so happy.
A chapter that is in every sense of the word is fiction, but I hope will evoke a lot of smiles from those of you who know that I would never kill Harry.