The knock was gentle but she hadn't imagined it. She walked to the door and her breath caught at the sight as she opened it. Harry was stood on the doorstep with a blue bundle on his shoulder.

"He wouldn't sleep and so I took him for a drive and then he fell asleep, but I needed to talk to you so I just kept going and ended up here. Please say we can come in."

She stepped aside.

Harry gently lay James onto a chair and tucked the blue blanket back around him. A little mop of curls stuck out of the top. Ruth watched him and loved his gentleness.

"Thank you," he said.

"Drink?'

"A small one."

She turned to the kitchen and he followed.

"Ruth, I didn't…you know. What I said at Ros's funeral it wasn't a lie."

She looked at him and at any other time it should have been sufficient to silence him, but not tonight.

"I only found out that James existed on Wednesday."

She stopped halfway through pouring her glass of wine.

"Wednesday?"

"Yes, those people that came to the office, they were social services. They came to tell me that his mother had died and that she'd left my name and that I was to look after him."

"You didn't know she'd died?"

"No."

"Why not?"

There was a murmur and then a cry from next door and Harry turned away. Ruth tried to take in what he had told her.

"A nightmare," he said as he came back in, "He misses her, not surprisingly."

"Harry how long have you had him?"

"Since Sunday."

"Three days!"

He nodded.

"If you've just found out, how do you know he's yours?"

"I'm not stupid, Ruth, I had the test done, though I knew he was mine…he has my hair."

"Let's hope his lasts longer, then" she said and smiled.

He smiled and sighed, it was a relief to talk to her, even if she did insult him.

They sat at the kitchen table and raised their glasses.

"To fatherhood" she said, "it must be a shock."

"Like you wouldn't believe."

They sat quietly for a moment.

"So…his mother….you weren't in contact?" she had to know.

"No."

"Were you together long?"

He shook his head, looking at his glass.

"Did you love her?"

"I seem to remember asking that of you, about George, when you came back."

"You did."

"And you wouldn't answer me."

"This isn't about me, Harry."

"Isn't it?" he said locking eyes with her.

"Harry, we're talking about you."

"I wish we weren't."

"Tell me about her."

"I can't," his head hung again and Ruth knew he was about to tell her how much he had loved this other woman that wasn't her, and how he wanted her to tell him she'd loved George to help ease his own guilt.

"I can't, Ruth. I can't even remember what she looked like."

She said nothing. Harry thought her appalled at what he had said, in truth she was relieved.

"Tell me, Harry," she said and brushed her fingertips over the back of his hand.

"You'd gone. You were gone and….I missed you. Everyday.

I can't tell you the number of times my door opened and I expected it to be you and of course it never was. I thought it would get easier but it didn't, I didn't miss you any less.

One night I couldn't sleep, it was a year to the day that you'd gone. I went to the dock and sat and watched the boats come and go. None had the cargo that I wanted. It was cold, really cold, like that day and eventually I went in search of a drink. I started early and I didn't stop. I didn't stop for a very long time. There's not a lot I can tell you about the next two days, it was the proverbial lost weekend. The only thing I know is that I met James' mother, told her my real name and frighteningly god knows what else and stayed with her until I had sobered up."

His head was bowed, his elbows resting on his knees, not daring to face Ruth.

"I'm sorry, Ruth."

"You were lonely."

"Yes."

"Did it help?"

"No. It satisfied a need I suppose, to put it bluntly, but I felt guilty, I felt ashamed, I still do."

Ruth decided that she loved him more now than she ever had.

The kitchen door was nudged open and James, wondered in, he was wearing a pair of blue Thomas the Tank pyjamas and he rubbed his eye sleepily. He padded over to Harry, who's head was still bowed. He touched Harry's face. Harry seemed to see him for the first time and smiled. James reached both arms up and for a moment Harry didn't realise what he wanted, and then he did. He picked him up and cradled him in his arms. They both closed their eyes.

Ruth gazed at them.

"Have you eaten, Harry?"

"I made him something, but no I haven't?"

"Can I make you something?"

"It's late, Ruth."

"It doesn't matter."

"Thank you, yes, whatever."

'Scrambled eggs, then."

He smiled.

"Go and settle him down again and I'll get on."

He carried James from the kitchen.

Ruth made a fresh pot of tea and put the toast on. She poured a cup for Harry and went into the living room.

"Eggs won't be a …."

Harry was asleep on the sofa, his arm around James who was sleeping soundly, his thumb stuck firmly in his mouth.

Ruth pulled the blue blanket over them both and went to turn the toaster off.