Neither of them had been summoned but both felt an overriding obligation to attend, for no other reason than to hear the truth, as opposed to the inevitable rumours that would follow, and with it to be able to protect Thomas.
'I've lived here all my life and I've never had to attend an inquest,' Michael told Harry, as they drove the route that took them past the crash site that had long since been cleared.
Harry didn't respond. If he had it would have been to tell a lie, he was an expert when it came to inquests. Knowledge was everything, but it wasn't until they were listening to the coroner summing up at the end of the short inquest into the death of Thomas's mother, that he fully understood the significance of his behaviour and his constant need to ask him when he was coming home.
The respectful hum of voices, were stilled in an instant, as the coroner stood to speak. Thomas Robertson's birth certificate listed his father as unknown. Without evidence to prove or disprove it, the following statement would be recorded as an assumption not fact, as to reason that his mother had become reclusive and that apart from when he'd attended school, Thomas had spent no time with other children. Despite this, she'd obviously loved her son and she deserved to be remembered without criticism, because against all the odds and with what amounted to an illness, Thomas had been well looked after.
He then went on to explain that given the time of the crash, there was every indication that she had been late on that particular morning and that her elderly neighbour who employed her to do errands and odds and ends around the house had lent her the car to take Thomas to school. For reasons unknown the car had left the road, there was no proof of intension and again no assumptions should be made. It would be declared a tragic accident and her death be listed as misadventure.
'Having said that,' he concluded, 'the impact on her young son might well be long lasting, but I've been assured that he's being well looked after.'
Michael was shattered by the news, not understanding why Michael's mother hadn't appealed for help. Harry less so, he was just glad that it was over and they could go home, but before that they went in search of a cup of coffee. He knew only too well that if someone felt strongly enough in any situation, that the lengths to which they'd go to protect the ones that they loved were boundless. Whether they were terrorists with a cause or couples with a child, it was inherent in every human being. It was how he'd felt about his own children when they'd been young and now Thomas, and nothing would change that.
'Maybe, but how did we miss it?' was Michael's reference to the community and a question to which Harry didn't have an answer.
'It wasn't your fault Michael,' he heard himself saying, for once the pacifier rather than the guilt ridden. 'She must have believed that Thomas would have been taken away from her if she'd sought help, come on let's go home.'
'Fine,' said Harry, when Ruth asked him how his morning had gone, in a voice that suggested that he'd been on a shopping trip, as Thomas raced from the kitchen table where he'd been crayoning and handed Harry is latest work of art. In reality Harry felt anything but fine and could have done with a stiff drink, but it was homemade tomato soup or nothing and he needed to brush his concerns under the carpet until later, when he and Ruth were alone. With the patience of a much younger father, a comparison that would have been laughable during his time on the grid, Harry held Thomas high in the air in front of him and then plonked him onto his hip, following Ruth into the garden in pursuit of their lunch.
Free of his cast but far too daring for his own good bearing in mind his recent injuries, they sat back and watched as Thomas made a fruitless attempt to keep in step with a zig zagging butterfly. Boundaries needed to be set, but they needed to be set by him not them, as in essence he learnt how to fly. He clearly loved the outdoors and had learnt to play alone but they could remedy that by inviting his friends, although not just yet. He was their little boy, he needed time as did they and they were determined to do anything to make him happy. The changes needed to be gradual and they mustn't spoil him they knew that, but it wasn't going to be easy when they could offer him anything that he wanted.
With lunch over, it had turned into a glorious afternoon and after the morning that Harry had had he felt like some exercise, so suggested they go for a walk. As Thomas was still limited, rather than heading for the coastal path, which would have been the walk of their choice, they opted for the beach. Sticking to their and guns and determined that they wouldn't ask questions Ruth took Thomas by the hand and followed Harry down the same path that they had taken the twins and Robert. It seemed inconceivable that a six year old child who had lived all his life within miles of one of the most remote and beautiful coastlines that the UK could offer, had never walked on a beach. But it was a possibility, they had no idea. The remains of the fire that Harry had lit had been washed away since they had last been there, but there was an unspoken understanding that they'd do it again, when Harry nodded in the direction of the damp ashes.
'Come on let's button up that jacket,' wasn't of course directed at him, but was said with the voice of someone who had done this before, which Harry recognised, as Ruth tucked Thomas's trousers into his wellies.
The beach was deserted all bar them and without Robert as a companion to distract him, Harry found himself a sheltered spot and sat down. Just as she'd done with Rory and Maisie, Ruth had headed to the water's edge and started the 'I bet you can't catch me' game by splashing Thomas as the tide came in and then pretending to run away. Harry didn't analyse this was Ruth's forte, but this time he did. He was at peace within himself and his surroundings and everything that he had ever wanted was playing the most ridiculous of games within yards of where he was sitting. And then Thomas waved and with it Harry's heart stalled and it became his eureka moment. It was picture perfect, but it was more than that, he was free to enjoy it.
In the four weeks since Thomas had been with them, they'd restricted their intimacy to the evenings and when they'd been in bed, but it hadn't been easy and Harry in particular had been struggling. He'd had a stressful day and he needed to relax and they could continue this we need to buy Thomas some new clothes conversation in the morning.
'If Thomas is going to adapt to a normal family home life, then he needs to see how couples who love each other behave,' he suggested, going on the explain with a big grin on his face 'that he had no intention of throwing her over the kitchen table in front of him or inviting him into their bedroom during …..,' was cut off as Ruth kissed him, realising that she had got carried away as usual and that what Harry and she needed, was to relax.
'I'm sorry I was prattling,' she told him half an hour later when they were in bed and Harry had got his wish, but Harry was already asleep. In fact they were both asleep the following morning, when a certain six year old who had taken himself to the bathroom was shouting that he couldn't reach the toilet paper.
'That'll be me then,' said Ruth, as Harry groaned and turned over, a replay of the previous evening foiled.
Bum wiped and hands washed, Thomas followed Ruth into the kitchen.
'Yes he would like a cup of tea, if she was having one,' and 'no he couldn't have coffee like Harry,' saw them climbing the stairs together and into the bedroom.
Sitting on Harry's lap and talking to him had become one of Thomas's favourite pastimes and he wanted to do it now, but it was a cold morning and Harry was warm and very comfortable beneath the covers and didn't want to move. It was another step towards normality, as Thomas uninvited climbed up onto the bed snuggled in beside him, the ultimate condom.
As far as was possible with a six year old boy at their beck and call, they tried to stick to a routine. Meals that had been eaten at haphazard times, a throwback to their days on the grid, were in the main eaten at sensible times as was their diet. Thomas wasn't the only one that was benefitting from Ruth's home cooking, so was Harry. It might have been Scotland and heaven knows how many degrees cooler than when she'd been in Cyprus, but Thomas had never been on a picnic, it was one of his wishes that could easily be met, and with a view that surpassed almost all on the island, they ate outside in the evenings, especially at weekends.
Harry had spoken to Graham and their planned trip to Canada had been put on hold, 'until it was over' was how they described the approaching meeting. To take Thomas out of the country and to get him a passport, involved another trip to see Harry's least favourite social worker. She wanted to see Thomas as well, which again was protocol she told Harry, but he conceded understandable given the circumstances. It wasn't a subject that they had discussed with Thomas in case it came with disappointment, though Ruth had no doubts that Miss Harridan as Harry had nicknamed her would give it her rubber stamp, despite Harry feeling otherwise. The appointment had been arranged for the following morning which was a school free day for Ruth and in Thomas's case meant a morning off. Ruth was in the kitchen preparing their meal and Thomas had been playing in the garden. Bored and feeling hungry, he'd deserted his swing and walked into the study where Harry was having his once a week conversation with Alice. Tapping Harry's knee, the signal that he was going to climb onto Harry's lap, he stared in amazement at the small girl that was talking at the rate of knots.
Her Grandfather temporarily binned, 'who are you?' asked Alice.
At the same moment, Ruth stuck her head around the door, about to say hands washed please and to tell them that their meal was ready, but was prevented from saying so by Harry's finger across his lips. Keen to see what was happening, she walked to where Harry was sitting and leaned forward so that her chin was resting on his shoulder and her face next to Thomas.
'Hello Ruth,' said Alice.
'Thank goodness it's salad,' Ruth whispered in Harry's ear, with Thomas talking ten to the dozen at the computer screen.
Thomas's assessments and what they had come to realise were theirs as well, were held in a room with armchairs and a play area and today was no different. Miss Harrison's job was repetitive she had a script that she'd honed to perfection. But she also enjoyed a battle it brought interest to her day, where honours were usually even by the end of the meeting. Harry she thought of as a knight in shining armour, which of course he was in every sense of the word. She acknowledged that he was more than capable of holding his own but she liked him, despite his somewhat I'm more than a match for you manner. She'd done this job for twenty years, she was a reader of people and from the beginning she'd realised that he clearly cared deeply for Ruth and now Thomas.
'Before you say anything, you might like to read this,' she told him, in a voice that to Harry sounded worrying pleasant, handing him a single sheet of paper. Harry's mouth that had been open closed rapidly, his fist in the opposite direction.
Ruth was sitting on the floor in the play area holding her breath and waiting for an explosion, surrounded by a mountain of bricks that were being turned into a castle, as Harry read and then re-read the latest letter from Thomas's psychologist. Words and phrases like, a complete turn-around, satisfied, more than competent and a happy little boy blurred before his eyes as Miss Harrison poured them a coffee and suggested that Ruth and Thomas join them.
'Yes you can take him to Canada,' she confirmed again, 'and providing that your circumstances don't change, I don't need to see any of you for another year.'
'That's wonderful, thank you so much,' Harry heard himself saying.
'When can I tell Alice?' said a small voice for the back of the car on the drive home.
Alice had become an important part of Thomas's new life and at school had set him apart from the other children, now though for a positive reason. Art classes saw him drawing pictures of him and Alice together, Ruth had researched Canada, so was able to answer his questions and having shown him the Canadian flag, his attempt to draw a maple leaf was improving. He was also back to full fitness and his confidence had grown and that in itself made everyone's life easier, although at breakfast and bedtime more challenging as he became less dependent.
Four months later.
With a week to go before they flew to the mainland and then onwards to Canada, the house had been turned into what Harry thought to be chaos but what Ruth kept telling him was organised. The spare room was piled high with everything that they were taking with them, for every eventuality so it seemed, apart from some extra clothes for Thomas and a present for Alice.
'They do have shops in Canada,' Harry pleaded, as an evening visit into Stornoway which was almost a year to the day since he'd first arrived on the island, was turning into a Christmas shopping trip. They were going to miss the carol concert and the children's Christmas party but no one begrudged them that or the fact that there would be one less sheep. The outdoor pursuits shops all of which catered for all ages and all shapes and sizes, had Thomas getting his wish and Harry handing over his card to pay for a 'It's Christmas' jumper with a Santa on the front and a matching one for Alice, plus two pairs of fleece lined trousers and a new padded jacket.
It's only money mate,' said the delighted storekeeper, who up until then had been having a quiet evening. This newly invented Harry, refrained from telling him that he was not his mate.
An eleven hour flight with a six year old which included a stopover, had seen Harry rubbishing their 'we don't spoil Thomas policy', by booking first class seats. Besides which he'd always preferred comfort and a decent meal and at the end of the journey, he wanted to be able to feel his legs. Their flight from Glasgow was due to take off around midnight and Harry had long given up trying to explain to Thomas why he'd be meeting Alice at approximately the same time. Another dismal failure was to try and persuade him to stay awake in the hope that when they boarded the plane that he'd be tired and would sleep. Wired best described Thomas's demeanour when Michael returning one of many favours, dropped them off at the airport.
'Look after each other and God bless,' had been his last words as he'd shaken Harry's hand.
'Just promise me that you'll come back,' had been Rose's plea.
Glasgow airport was small by comparison to Heathrow or Gatwick, but none the less to a small child who was seeing it for the first time it was an alien and scary world, and the one thing that they hadn't considered. Only once before had they seen Thomas cry, it when he'd fallen over in the playground. This time it came with words that were almost incoherent as he held his arms up in front of Harry and demanded to be carried.
Christ thought Harry, now what, they had another three hours before they were due to board and their luggage had already gone through.
Ignoring the looks that they were being given from other travellers and with Ruth in charge of their carry on, they pushed their way through the crowd in search of somewhere quiet to sit and deal with the now howling Thomas, who to Harry was getting heavier by the minute. No he didn't need the toilet and no he wasn't hungry had them believing what had now become a real concern that perhaps he didn't want to fly.
The waves eventually parted in front of them, when a passing stewardess pointed them in the direction of a rest room near the departure lounge that was reserved for families with under nines. Why nine was significant they had no idea but they didn't care, it meant sanctuary and a chance to sort this out. As the door closed behind them and with it noise from the concourse moderated, Thomas's howls reduced to snivels as he calmed. With Ruth having told Harry that she fetch them a drink, it was left to Harry to talk to Thomas.
'Poor little mite, mine are always the same when we come here,' offered a well - wishing mother of two, whose under nines were fast asleep, 'it's the crowds and the noise that gets to them.'
'Noise,' repeated Thomas, as Harry mentally kicked himself for being so stupid and thanked their companion.
By the time that Ruth returned, Thomas had joined the other children in sleep and Harry was deep in conversation with their neighbour.
'Magic touch,' he said grinning at her as she kissed him on the cheek, before he confessed that it had nothing to do with him. 'Marion was just saying that Thomas looks just like you,' was said with an eyebrow raised, in an effort to get Ruth to get her to change the subject, in case Thomas woke up.
It still felt strange to be back in the real world where people assumed that you were like them and lead ordinary lives. They'd been cocooned on the island and free from intrusion and it was a stark reminder that they were far from adept at coping with it, unless they told lies. Ruth stuck to the truth and ended the current conversation, by telling Marion whatever her name was that they were fostering Thomas but were hoping to adopt him. It had been an unspoken subject up until now but something that they had both harboured. Adoption meant permanent and Harry smiled, Ruth had paved the way to a very happy Christmas.