Saturday morning dawned dark and gloomy, and Beth found she was in no mood to leave her bed. She and Ruth had both been lucky enough to be rostered off for the entire weekend, and as she lay quietly under the duvet she could hear her flatmate rummaging around in the kitchen, and she smiled to herself. Even on their days off, Ruth was always up early; no doubt the years of rising at first light had taken their toll, and left her unable to ignore the insistence of her own internal alarm clock. That had never been a problem for Beth, but then again, Beth had never had a proper job before. There was something so incredibly, blissfully indulgent about remaining in bed while someone else in the house was stirring, about willfully lingering amongst the sheets and pillows, knowing she had nowhere she needed to go, no one she needed to see. Beth fully intended to spend the entire day in her pajamas. She would order delivery for lunch and dinner both, stay up late, drink too much wine, and laze about tomorrow as well, if she could manage it. God, Beth loved the weekend.
She couldn't quite seem to get her eyes to close, though. Beth very much wanted to go back to sleep, but her mind was awake, and her bladder, too, apparently. Grumbling, she tumbled out of bed and shuffled off toward the bathroom, half-heartedly trying to convince herself that she could go back to sleep when she was finished. As soon as her feet touched the floor, she knew she was fighting a losing battle.
Ruth called out a cheery good morning, when she heard Beth's bedroom door open; Beth just grunted, and continued on her way. She decided that since she was in the bathroom anyway, she might as well have a shower, and just like that, her plans for a lazy day began to fade.
As she stood beneath the spray Beth found herself pondering a question that had been bothering for several weeks now. She needed to talk to Ruth about whether or not it was time to start looking for a flat of her own, and she was dreading it. Beth had been alone for most of her life, and up until now, she had quite enjoyed it. But living with Ruth had been so unexpectedly nice; Ruth offered companionship, and a friendly ear when Beth had a rough day, and a certain sense of security, too, knowing that no matter how bad things got, Beth would always have someone to count on. The thought of being once more adrift, of coming home to an empty flat and no Ruth cooking up a storm, no little cat whining for his dinner, left her feeling deeply saddened, as if she'd already lost her friend. She knew it was silly, knew that she and Ruth would still be there for each other, but it wouldn't be the same.
This isn't about you, Bailey, she reminded herself sternly. She was a big girl, and she needed to act like one. Ruth had bigger things to worry about than Beth's desire for a confidante.
So Beth toweled herself off, tugged on her bathrobe, and went to join Ruth in the kitchen.
A heavenly smell greeted her as she approached, and when she went to fix herself a cup of tea, she traced the smell to a tray of freshly-baked muffins, still too hot to eat. Ruth was sitting at the table, pecking away at her laptop, and so Beth joined her.
"Those muffins look amazing," she said as she took her seat.
Ruth smiled. "I thought you might like a nice home-cooked breakfast," she said.
I won't be getting too many of those, once I leave, Beth thought morosely.
"They're chocolate chip," Ruth added, and Beth nearly groaned aloud.
"You're going to be a wonderful mum, you know that?" she said instead. She wasn't being flippant, either; Ruth was so thoughtful, so kind, and (usually) so even tempered, and Beth was certain that the peanut would be lucky indeed, to have such a woman for a mother.
Ruth blushed and ducked her head. This woman needs to learn how to take a compliment, Beth thought.
"I take it everything went well, with the appointment yesterday?" Beth asked. She assumed it had done, since she'd come home to find Harry and Ruth sitting in this very kitchen with a slightly guilty air about them, as if she'd caught them shagging on the table instead of eating lasagna together.
Ruth nodded. "Doctor Peters says the peanut is doing fine, and we'll have the test results on Monday or Tuesday."
"And you'll find out the gender too, right? That's exciting."
Ruth smiled a small, mysterious smile. "It is. We were talking about names, yesterday. It will be easier to decide, once we know what to expect."
That's so sweet I may vomit. She could just picture Ruth making a whole long list of names and going over them one by one, crossing them out, chewing on the end of her pen the way she did when she was concentrating hard, with Harry watching her all the while, that besotted expression he reserved just for her painting his features. They really were well-suited, Beth had come to realize over the last few weeks, and it seemed to her that they both wanted the same thing, and maybe dinner last night had been the first of many small steps towards reconciliation for them. She desperately hoped it had been; they deserved some happiness, and the peanut deserved to have parents who actually spoke to on another. Not like Beth's parents, who slept in separate rooms and lived separate lives, never communicating, except to argue over money.
"Doctor Peters also said I can expect to feel the peanut start to move, sometime in the next month or so." Ruth seemed delighted at the prospect, and Beth was genuinely happy for her. Now seemed as good a time as any, to raise the question she'd been brooding about all morning, and so she did.
"Speaking of things to expect, I was wondering; should I start looking for a flat? I mean, I assume you'll need my room for the nursery."
"Actually, I've been meaning to talk to you about that." Before she continued, Ruth rose from her chair, and got them each a nice warm muffin. She handed one to Beth, and then dragged her laptop to the other side of the table, so she could sit next to Beth, and Beth could see what she'd been working on.
"I'm thinking about buying a house. I want to have a place where the peanut can grow up, with a little garden for him to play in, without having to worry about him waking the neighbors every time he cries. I've been looking this morning, and I've found several good options already. We have a few reputable estate agents on file, people we use when placing new agents, and I'm going to start making phone calls on Monday."
"That's wonderful!" Beth said enthusiastically; it made sense, for Ruth and for the peanut, and even if it made Beth sad, to know that she was going to have to set out on her own, she was determined to be happy for Ruth.
"When I do move, you should keep this flat. I don't own it anyway; the service does."
Beth had to raise an eyebrow at that. As far as she knew, no one else in Section D was living in a government-owned flat.
"Harry arranged it," Ruth said, gazing very hard at her muffin and refusing to meet Beth's eyes. "After I came back. The service wanted to compensate me, for what happened…to George, but I wouldn't take the money. The flat was Harry's idea. I'm sure we could make it so that you could stay here, if you'd like."
For the thousandth time Beth wondered what exactly had happened to the mysterious George; she'd never heard of the service offering compensation, for the lives of those lost in the field, but perhaps the rules were different, if the deceased was a civilian. She assumed he'd been a civilian, but it was all just conjecture, really. Ruth wasn't talking, and Beth wasn't about to ask.
"If that's possible, I would love to stay here," Beth said carefully.
"I hope you will. I know what it's like to be constantly on the move. You deserve to have a home. Now, tell me what you think about this place," she said, turning to her laptop. And so they spent the next hour or so looking at houses, oohing and ahhing over gardens and hardwood floors and local amenities. It was a rather pleasant way to pass the time.
It happened for the first time just before the Monday morning meeting. Ruth had made her way to her desk and was dutifully assembling the weekly threat assessment when she felt something…odd. Just a little flutter, really, the brush of a butterfly's wing inside her stomach, and when she realized what it was she very nearly cried out. Instead, she discretely pressed her hand to her belly, underneath the desk, and willed it to happen again. Come on peanut, she thought. Do it again. Do it for mummy.
And there it came, just as gentle this time as the first, but unmistakable and completely remarkable, all the same. She leapt to her feet, and rushed into Harry's office, sliding the door closed behind her as she went.
"Harry," she said excitedly, realizing too late that he was on the phone. He held up one finger, asking for silence as he continued to speak to whoever the hell was on the other end of the line and Ruth tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for him to finish. Stupid bloody man, she thought affectionately, this is important!
Finally, he hung up the phone and gave her his full attention. "Ruth. What is it?"
"He moved!"
Harry stared at her blankly. "Who did?"
"The peanut," she explained belatedly. "He moved, just now. I felt it."
Harry's face split into a wide grin. "Really?" He looked as excited as she felt, at the prospect of their child's first real movement, and she fell in love with him just a little bit more in that moment. He stepped out from behind his desk and was beside her in an instant, close enough for her to smell his cologne, close enough to send a shiver down her spine. It was still early in the day, and he had yet to raise the blinds in his office, and Ruth realized rather suddenly that they had as much privacy as they were ever going to get on the Grid. She was absurdly thankful for it, just then.
"Is he moving now?" Harry asked. God, but he could look so much like a schoolboy sometimes, when his face lit up like that, and all it made her want to do was kiss him senseless.
She shook her. "Not at the moment. I'm not sure you could feel it anyway; it wasn't a proper kick, but it's something, and I… wanted you to know."
Harry leaned towards her, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "I'm glad you told me," he said in a warm, low voice, the same voice that always turned her knees to butter.
"I'll let you know if it happens again," she promised him breathlessly. If she didn't leave, right this minute, she was going to kiss him, and as much as they both might enjoy it, she knew this was not the right place for that sort of behavior. She gave his arm a gentle little squeeze, and slipped out of his office regretfully.
Life on the Grid was blissfully quiet for the next day or so, for which Ruth was extraordinarily grateful. Chaos tended to come in little bursts, a thousand different things going wrong all at once for days on end, and then they'd receive a short reprieve, and Ruth had learned to make the most of those quiet moments. They were all sitting in a painfully dull meeting on Tuesday afternoon, discussing the rather bland surveillance of a few would-be bombers who didn't know the difference between ammonium nitrate and nitroglycerin when they were interrupted by the ringing of Ruth's mobile. She started to silence it, but then realized with some trepidation that it was Doctor Peters, no doubt calling about the test results.
"I have to take this," she said, meeting Harry's concerned gaze and giving him a reassuring little smile. She stepped out into the corridor just outside the meeting room, and answered.
"Hello?"
"Louisa, it's Doctor Peters. How are you doing today?"
Ruth fought the urge to stamp her foot in frustration. "Fine, thank you," she answered shortly.
"I'm just calling about the results from the amniocentesis."
The woman could just as bad as Tariq, when it came to dragging out the reveal of some important piece of information.
"Yes?"
"The tests all came back negative, your baby appears to be perfectly healthy."
Ruth breathed a sigh of relief. They'd been testing for genetic disorders, and she was grateful to know that she had one less thing to worry about, where the peanut was concerned.
"That's wonderful news, thank you."
"Would you like to know the baby's gender?" Doctor Peters asked kindly.
Ruth's heart started beating double time in her chest. Time to find out who won the wager, she thought.
"Yes, please."
"Congratulations, Louisa, you're going to have a little girl."
A girl. And just like that, every thought she ever had about the peanut changed from he to she, and Ruth fought the urge to cry as she suddenly envisioned a sweet-faced little girl with her father's curly blonde hair and his soft brown eyes. A girl.
"Louisa?" Doctor Peters sounded a bit concerned, and Ruth realized that she had waited entirely too long to respond.
"Yes, I'm here. Thank you so much, Doctor Peters. Henry will be thrilled."
"You're very welcome. I'll see you for your appointment next month."
Ruth bid her a warm farewell, and then leaned back against the corridor wall, smiling to herself. A girl.
I have to tell Harry.
She made her way back to the meeting room, but when she opened the door she did not step inside. Harry deserved to hear this news first, alone, without the rest of the team looking on with curious eyes.
"Harry? Could you come out here for a moment?"
He bolted to his feet, worry etched all over his face, so she gave him a watery little smile, trying to let him know everything was all right.
"What is it? What did the doctor say?" he asked as soon as the door closed behind him.
"The peanut's fine, she's absolutely fine."
That wasn't quite the way Ruth had intended to tell him, but it had the desired effect. It only took a moment for Harry to process what she'd said, and then he was grinning at her (a rather goofy grin, she thought).
"She?" he asked.
"She," Ruth confirmed.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him hard, chuckling just a little with the same relief, the same joy that had filled Ruth the moment she'd learned that the peanut was healthy. For once, she did not think about the consequences, and instead returned his embrace just as fiercely, clutching him tightly, her fingers digging into the soft material of his jacket.
After a moment he eased his grip just a little, just enough to be able to look into her eyes as he said, "We're going to have a daughter."
"We are," Ruth agreed, feeling slightly shell-shocked. We are, she thought. We.
He kissed her then, a warm, soft kiss that was entirely too fleeting for her taste, and entirely too intimate for the corridor outside the meeting room.
"Well, Miss Evershed," he said as he pulled away from her, "I believe this means you owe me dinner."
