London – Monday 12th August, 2013:
"I need Calum, and I need him now – preferably sooner," Harry barks as he walks on to the Grid and towards his office. On the way he is met by his Section Chief, Erin Watts, who is somewhat confronted by his early morning attitude. Erin prefers Harry when he's quiet and gentle, which he has been these past few months.
"He rang around twenty minutes ago to say he'd be late, He had an errand to run. I think it was in relation to those two men being watched by Malcolm Wynn-Jones."
Harry is already in his office, and only hears the first sentence spoken by Erin. He's feeling unnaturally irritated, and he knows that his irritation has nothing to do with Calum. He has no idea why he is feeling disturbed, although at his daughter's prompting, he is considering retirement once he turns 60 in a little less than three months. The only thing holding him back is the gaping chasm of time which will lie ahead of him, and which it will be his job to fill with something useful, and hopefully enjoyable. He longs to retire from the service, and dreads retirement in equal measure. Had Ruth lived …... Harry shakes his head, and opens his email program.
"What do you want us to do?" Catherine is the one to speak first. She has a production meeting at 10, and can't be late for it, even in the face of this crisis.
"I have no idea," Malcolm replies, his voice barely more than a whisper. He is sure he has barely moved since 5.30 am, when he'd first checked the images on his monitor.
Catherine looks at Calum, and sees that he is as stunned as Malcolm. "Shouldn't Dad be the first person to speak to about this? After all, he is the one most invested in this information being correct."
"I'm confident the information is correct, Catherine. I just thought that each of you, knowing Harry as you do, and being privy to his relationship with Roxanne Waterfield …... I thought you might know where we should head next."
"Are you suggesting we tell Roxy?" These are Calum's first words since he'd sat on a chair in Malcolm's cramped office just off his kitchen. "I know her rather well, but I'm not sure -"
"I'm not suggesting that, but there will come a time when she will need to know, and perhaps then it will be Harry's responsibility to tell her."
"We don't even know for sure whether the image is of Ruth," Calum barrels on, doing his usual impression of a bull in a china shop.
"I know the image is authentic. There is a moving image, and it's definitely her. Her walk is quite ….. distinctive."
"Perhaps we need to make contact with her …... just in case," Calum suggests.
"Just in case what?" Catherine turns towards Calum, her voice curt.
"She might be on some kind of operation. Why else would she be living on the Kent coast?"
"Because she likes it?" Catherine does not bother to hide the sarcasm.
Calum and Catherine first met soon after Ruth's funeral, and Malcolm had noticed the frisson between them, even on their first meeting. It appears to him that they rub one another the wrong way.
Malcolm sighs rather heavily, and shifts in his chair. "Someone has to tell Harry," he says, "and it should either be me or you, Catherine."
Catherine takes a big breath before speaking. "I think we should not tell him anything, at least not yet."
"He'll hate us for it should he discover that Ruth is in the UK and we knew and didn't tell him."
"I know, Calum, but he's been seeing Roxy for a number of months, and they seem ….."
"Resigned to being together?" Calum smirks as he speaks. His own relationship history is as chequered as is Harry's.
"I was about to say they seem quite settled, and for the first time since Ruth died, Dad appears happy. He may not want to see Ruth …. not after all this time. After all, it appears that she hasn't contacted him."
"But surely he'd be happier were he to know Ruth is alive, even if he'd rather stay with Roxanne." Malcolm is so often the voice of reason when others flounder under the weight of indecision. The other two sit quietly, contemplating his words, until it is Calum who speaks first.
"I have an idea," he begins.
"Those are the most ambitious four words in the English language," Catherine interrupts, "and the least wise."
"No. Hear me out. What if you two – Catherine and Malcolm – arrange to meet Harry in the next few days. Just make it a casual encounter, like a drink at the pub, Malcolm, or Catherine, you can drop in on Harry, just for a natter."
"Dad and I don't natter, Calum. We only ever discuss matters of national and international importance. Our usual topic of conversation is how best we can save the world, followed closely by unsubtle questions pertaining to my love life."
"Whatever. Drop in on Harry with a message from your brother. Anything. Then just drop a question into the conversation."
When Malcolm raises both his hands, Catherine and Calum halt their discussion. "This idea won't work. It sounds like a fishing expedition."
"Which in a way it is," Calum answers.
"That kind of …. careful approach …... it won't work. You both know what Harry's like. He'll smell a rat."
"You're right, of course," Calum concedes.
"I think we should go to Dad's house – tonight after work -"
"I can't do it tonight or tomorrow night" Malcolm cuts in, "but I'm free Wednesday night."
"I'm not," says Calum.
"I think it best if it's just Catherine and me," Malcolm says quietly. "We've known him the longest, and I'm sure he trusts us. It's important that he believes us."
"I suppose so."
"I know so, Calum. Right now, Harry feels betrayed by life itself. It's important that he is open to accepting the truth."
London – Wednesday 14th August, 2013:
Despite Catherine having rung her father the night before to check that he'd be home after work the next day, she and Malcolm wait almost an hour, sitting outside in Malcolm's car, until Harry arrives home.
"Sorry I'm late," he says, unlocking the front door to let them in. "I was visiting Ruth's grave. I hadn't been for a while, and I …. needed to."
"How long is a while?" Malcolm asks as they sit at Harry's kitchen table while he makes them all a coffee.
"Over a month. I used to visit religiously each week, but since I've been seeing Roxy …..."
"You've forgotten about Ruth?" Catherine asks, her voice laced with judgement. As much as she likes and approves of Roxy, she prefers the idea of a long-term love affair, one conducted in and around the workplace. She'd never met Ruth, but she'd enjoyed the idea of her father having loved this woman for years with a steadfast and enduring love. It appealled to the romantic idealist in her.
"Of course not, Catherine. It's just that I've been so busy, and I haven't had the time." Harry sips his coffee, which is a little hot, so he then looks across the table to where his daughter and his former colleague sit, both appearing a little uncomfortable. "So …..." he says, wanting to hurry the evening along, so that he can settle in his chair with a whisky and talk to Roxy on the phone. "It's a while since I've seen either of you. To what do I owe this honour?"
Malcolm glances quickly at Catherine, and she nods at him. There's no way she's going to be the one to tell him. This is a job for Malcolm.
"There's no other way for me to say this," Malcolm begins, "so here goes …... I have evidence which shows that Ruth is alive …... visual evidence."
Harry's expression barely changes. He takes a moment to absorb Malcolm's words, takes a couple of deep breaths, and then he simply stares down at his mug of coffee, the fingers of one hand caressing the handle of the mug. It is almost a full minute before he speaks.
"I'm assuming you have brought with you ample evidence in support of your claims." His voice is deep, and his speech carefully controlled, each word clearly articulated.
Malcolm shuffles through the file he'd brought with him, wishing that he'd brought his electronic tablet, so that he could just pass it across the table, and allow Harry to look through the images on the screen. At last he finds the hard copies of the best of the still images from outside the coffee shop in Birchington-on-Sea, and he very carefully pushes them across the table towards Harry, who lays them out in front of him. Both Malcolm and Catherine watch Harry's face for any kind of emotional response, but there is none that they can see. They both know him well enough to recognise that he is using every one of his many techniques honed over a long career of having to hide his emotions from others.
After a couple of minutes spent staring at the four images on the table in front of him, Harry reaches out with one hand and draws each image closer. Sitting beside her, Malcolm feels very contained, but to Catherine, her father is balancing on a knife edge. She knows from past experience that when Harry is this calm, he is holding in a volcano of emotion. Another two minutes pass without a word being spoken. Harry still stares at the photographs, but this time he traces his fingertip over the face of the woman in each image. He does that with each image, and then when he has done it with the whole four, he goes back to the first one, and his finger traces the shape of her whole body. Then he sits back in his chair, his hands in his lap, his eyes never leaving the images on the table in front of him.
Around eight minutes have passed while Harry has wordlessly examined the evidence that Ruth Evershed is alive and well, and living in the south of England. Then he stands, pushing his chair back, and promptly leaves the room. Catherine and Malcolm look at one another helplessly as they hear Harry climb the stairs.