Two days earlier - Monday
Ruth was on the bus, it was raining.
She was not going home. She'd been there, done that.
Now she was travelling towards something she both anticipated and dreaded. Nervously she watched the street lights pass by, taking her closer and closer.
"Hi," she said to the surprised face before her.
"Hi," he said, wondering why she was here.
"I need to talk to you. May I?"
He stepped aside apologising for leaving her standing in the rain.
She glanced around as he led the way towards the kitchen. It was the first time she had been here. Somehow it felt very Harry. She liked it.
"What can I get you?" he asked, "tea or something stronger?"
"Tea," she smiled, "though I may need something stronger when I've finished."
He resisted the urge to make any comment and switched the kettle on whilst speculating on what she might be implying, be it for good or for bad.
"Sorry," he said, as the sound of the phone rang out from elsewhere.
Left to her own devices she glanced around the kitchen. Milk she could safely guess at, she peered into a semi lit fridge and found it. Instead of mugs she found plates. Instead of teabags she found a tin with a gun in it. Eventually she found the teabags. By the time he returned there were two mugs of tea which she was in the process of stirring.
"Sorry."
"I didn't know if you were having one, too?" she said offering him the cup.
"You tell me, Ruth?" he said, "Do I need something stronger?"
"You might do."
He sighed a soul deep sigh and she knew then that she had to say this and say it quickly.
"I was wrong, Harry."
"About the drink?"
"What? No."
He looked vaguely confused and then nodded towards the living room. She followed him reluctantly. He sat down and waited for her to do likewise but she felt the need to be stood.
"I was wrong." She repeated.
He waited. She put down her tea.
"You saved my life and all I did was berate you."
"I would do it again, Ruth."
"Harry, please don't say anything."
He grasped the tea in his hand and tried to focus on something other than what he feared was coming next.
"I'm sorry. Sorry for telling you you were wrong, sorry for doubting you over Albany, sorry for letting you go to Lucas without ever telling you…"
He looked up at her expectantly.
"Sorry for closing down and blocking you out. Sorry for everything really."
The mug was burning his hands but he hadn't noticed.
She didn't seem to be saying anything more. She picked up her tea.
"Can I say anything, yet?"
"Yes," she said.
"I think you better go now."
She looked at him, the cup paused halfway to her mouth.
"You want me to go?' she said quietly.
"No, but it would be the right thing to do."
He stood up, his eyes failing to meet hers.
"I don't want to do the right thing," she whispered, waiting for him to look at her, "I want to do what I came here to do."