"How much further into dept are you going to drive us before you give this up?" he growls as she walks into the kitchen.
"They're my sister's children, Tim, I can't just abandon them," she snaps back at him, tired of this conversation, one they've had a few too many times the past few weeks.
"The creditors are startin' to call, Ruth," he snarls, waving a bunch of unpaid bills under her nose.
"The Chief Inspector called earlier," she states, turning away from him to fill the sink with hot, soapy water. "They think they have a lead. A woman matching Georgia's description was seen in a market near Westminster Abby."
"Hate to break it to you, but there are a lot of women with brown hair and eyes," he replies in a surly tone of voice.
"How many of them communicate using hand gestures and whistles?" she asks, looking over her shoulder at him.
"Bloody hell," he whispers, the shock of the news stunning him for a moment. "Do they really think it's her?"
"They aren't positive, but they have a lot of video of her in the area," she answers as she starts to wash the dishes from dinner. "Finch brought me printouts of the pictures taken and it sure looks like her though she's wearing a wig and dark glasses."
"So, where is she?" he questions harshly.
"They don't know," she sighs. "She went down an alleyway and never came out. The bobby that was following them couldn't figure out where they went."
"Them?" he questions.
"She was with an old man," she tells him, rinsing a glass and putting it in the drying rack. "And before you ask, I haven't the foggiest idea who he was. The boys don't think it's the guy that killed their dad."
"Even if they do find her, there's no guarantee they'll let her go back to raisin' the twins," he warns her quietly.
"I know," she sighs. "But right now it's the only hope that we've got. I just wish there was a way for this to be over and our lives could go back to normal."
"Hopes and wishes don't pay the piper," he snorts. "We still have to figure out how to pay these bills."
"I know, Tim, I know," she replies wearily. "Let's not fight about it tonight. The twins are still awake."
"What the bloody hell are they still doing up?" he demands.
"They've practically been bouncing off of the walls since the Inspector came to visit," she responds. "This is better proof that she's alive than the emails. They're checking their Good Boys every few minutes to see if she's emailed them again. I doubt they're going to be getting much sleep tonight."
"Not only are these two going to eat us out of house and home, but we can't even have sex," he nearly yells. "When the bloody hell is this going to end?"
"They probably heard that," she points out as she rinses a plate.
"I don't bloody well care!" he shouts before storming out of the kitchen.
She takes a slow ragged breath as she continues washing the dishes, ignoring the fact that the tears make it very hard to see what she's doing.
"So, what da ya think?" she asks nervously as a black form looms up behind her.
"Vague enough to give nothing away, but at the same time gives the Inspector something to mull over," he replies a few moments later. "Was it really necessary to add that entire bit about your feelings for them? It's not like you're really their mother."
"V, if you ever decide to go to a convention of adoptive parents, I want to be there," she states, turning in her seat to scowl up at him.
"Why?" he asks, perplexed.
"So I can watch them tear you limb from limb," she growls, glaring up at him. "One doesn't have to give birth to a child to love it."
"You do realize that I cannot allow you to go back to pretending to be their mother," he calmly states.
"Tell meh, V, when did ya become such a cold and heartless bastard or were ya just born that way?" she demands just before abruptly standing up, shoving her chair back into him and storming out of the room.
He calmly watches her go before reaching over and clicking the 'send' button on the computer. Once he's done, he calmly returns to the main part of the Gallery and easily finds her in the kitchen furiously chopping up some of the fresh vegetables that they purchased earlier in the day. He looks at her face and is surprised to fine tears coursing down her cheeks. After a moment, he realizes that they aren't tears of fear or sadness, but of anger. The woman is furious and unfortunately for the food, she's taking it out on their dinner.
"Perhaps I should do that," he suggests as he steps towards her and comes up short when the knife she's holding is suddenly pointed at his person. "I will thank you to point that somewhere else."
"How dare ya," she hisses.
"Beg pardon?" he questions, a bit confused.
"How dare ya come in, screw up my already messed up life even more and then tell meh that the one thang that made my life worth livin' I can never have again," she snarls, the knife never wavering. "Give meh one good reason why I shouldn't gut you right now and take my chances with the Nose."
"I believe I've created a monster," he chuckles, moving no closer to her, but not backing down either. "There is still the little matter of Shire Stables is looking for you. And how do you plan on getting out of here? The locks require codes to get in or out."
"Ah'm neither blind nor am Ah stupid, V," she snaps. "Ah watched what you did to get out of here. As for Shire Stables, there's enough food in here to last meh a while. Enough time for the Nose to take care of them Ah would think, especially if Ah have the boys just have Finch contact me directly. Ah imagine ya've got some sort of surveillance room around here somewhere. I could tell them exactly where those low life sons of bitches are hidin'."
"And what would you do after that?" he asks. "Inspector Finch knows you're not Georgia Jones."
"Money talks, it always has," she answers simply. "I'm sure there are quite a few art collectors out there that would pay a pretty penny for some of the stuff you have down here."
"Everything down here is considered objectionable material," he points out. "How do you intend to sell it?"
"Ruth and Tim know people who know people," she tells him. "She told me once that they just barely escaped bein' bagged by Creedy's men because of Michael."
"Very cleaver, a bit mercenary, but cleaver," he admits, nodding his head in approval. "There is one thing that you've overlooked, I'm afraid."
"What's that?" she demands, eyes narrowing.
Before her brain can register him moving, she's pinned between him and the sink and he has a very painful grip of her wrist. The knife slips out of her nerveless fingers and clatters on the floor as she gasps in pain, but she refuses to give him the pleasure of hearing her cry out. Too many years of taking beatings in silence have taught her to do that.
"You still haven't learned to defend yourself," he growls softly in her ear before stepping back and roughly pushing her towards the door. "Go take a bath. Your muscles are probably already starting to stiffen up. I will finish making dinner."
"What if I don't want to take a bath?" she challenges, sounding a bit like a petulant child.
"Then don't," he replies with an indifferent shrug. "But I doubt your muscles will be thanking you in the morning."
With that, he turns his back on her and bends over to pick up the dropped knife, presenting a very tempting target of his well shaped backside. Resisting the urge to give him a well deserved swift kick in the ass; she turns and returns to her room. When he comes to tell her that dinner is ready, he finds her sound asleep on her bed and still fully clothed. He covers her with a blanket, turns off the light and leaves her to her well earned rest while he goes to plan more mayhem.
She finishes cleaning up in the kitchen and with a resigned sigh, hangs the dishtowel up to dry before turning out the light. She steps out into the family room and sees Tim watching the telly in the darkened room, the light flickering from the set gives the only light by which to see. He's slouched down on the couch, his arms crossed over his chest and anger radiating off of him in waves.
She knows there's no point in trying to talk to him until after he's calmed down. It doesn't help that they can't afford for him to go down to the local pub and get a pint to help him relax and their sex life is almost non-existent since the twins moved in. She feels like she's being pulled in three different directions at once and it's killing her inside.
On the one hand, she wants everything to be as it was, but she knows that's impossible. She wishes there was a way to prove that her sister is dead, but with no evidence, that's also nothing more than a pipe dream. Her only hope now is that they find this woman, who's essentially a stranger and hope that they let her go back to raising the boys.
With a tired sigh that she feels down in her soul, she heads for her bedroom. She idly wonders if Tim will join her tonight or if he'll fall asleep on the couch again. She sees the light on in the boy's room and is about to tell them to turn it off when the sound of them yelling makes her jump a couple of inches off of the ground.
"Aunt Ruth! Aunt Ruth!" they yell as they tumble out of their room, slamming into the wall across from the door in their haste to get out of the room.
"What is it?" she wearily asks.
"It's Mum," Philip excitedly answers.
"She sent us an email," Charles continues.
"It was her," Philip adds.
"What was her?" she questions.
"The lady in the market," Charles clarifies.
"Those pictures we saw were of her," Philip states as he hands his Good Boy over to her.
Ruth looks down at the small device in her hand and a wave of dizziness makes her lean against the wall as she reads.
My dearest loves,
I had the most wonderful time today. For the first time in a month I felt the sun on my face. I never realized how good it felt to just let it warm my skin until this afternoon. The Man was nice enough to let a friend of his take me to the market and buy vegetables. I still have no idea where I am since nothing looked familiar, but even the smell of coach exhaust is better than the stale air of being stuck indoors all of the time. The Man says that since I was so good that he's willing to let me go out more often.
I've asked him when he'll let me come home to you, but he won't give me an answer. I'm not sure why I'm still here. I think sometimes that he's lonely and at other times I think he's a bit loony. He's probably a bit of both. I know you must be wondering why I didn't try to escape today, but he's promised to hurt you two if I ever tried. I would sooner suffer a thousand deaths than let anything bad happen to either of you if I can help it.
I must go now. I love you both with all of my heart and miss you more than you can possibly know. Take care and be good for Aunt Ruth and Uncle Tim.
Love,
Mum
"Have you forwarded this to the Inspector?" she quietly asks as she hands the Good Boy back to its owner.
"I just did while you were reading it," Charles tells her.
"Good, now we'll let the police handle it," she tells them. "Go to bed you two. You've got school in the morning and you'll not be doing' anyone any favors by staying' up all night."
"But aren't we gonna to do something?" Philip demands.
"We have," she answers. "We've let the Inspector know that it was your mum that was spotted."
"But we could go there…," Philip starts to argue.
"And do what?" she asks. "Boys, the man who killed your father is a very dangerous man. He told your mum that he'd hurt the two of you if she disobeyed him. What do you think he'd do to her if you tried anything' foolish?"
"What about the Finger?" Philip suggests.
"Why would the Finger get involved in a kidnapping case?" she questions. "We'll just have to rely on Inspector Finch and his men. Now, please, go to bed."
There's some minor grumbling from the twins, but they return to their room and quietly shut the door behind them. She doesn't have to turn around to know that Tim's behind her and she pushes herself away from the wall. She starts to walk away and he follows her into their bedroom, silently shutting the door behind him.
"You really think the Inspector can find her?" he softly asks as she starts to get ready for bed.
"He's the only hope we've got," she tells him in a hushed voice. "I don't care to think what would happen to her if the Finger got involved. Or to us."
"You'd really think they'd hurt her," he states.
"She's not their real mother," she quietly points out. "Knowing' the Fingermen's methods, they'd figure that out right quick and then where would we be? With our luck they'd then suddenly claim the estate was evidence and we'd be left high and dry while the money from Michael's bank account disappeared into Sutler's or Creedy's."
"You're probably right," he sighs as he sits on the edge of the bed. "I wish there was something we could do."
"I know, but we're just going to have to trust Finch to find her and for him to let her go back to being their mum," she replies as she starts to strip.
"That's not what I was talkin' about," he whispers as he comes to stand next to her. "The government…"
"Shhhh!" she hisses, quickly turning to face him. "You know the walls have ears now. Be careful. If they take us, even just one of us, then where would the boys be?"
"It's always about the boys," he grumbles, starting to turn away from her.
"Where would I be without you?" she asks, gently touching his arm.
He turns to look down at her and she gazes back at him with sad eyes. He reaches up and gently caresses her face and when a tear rolls down her cheek he brushes it away with his thumb. She takes a ragged breath and he gathers her into his arms, quietly holding her as she cries all of her stress and worries out onto his shoulder. When she's cried out, he leads her to their bed where they spend a good amount of time gently loving each other.
Bleary eyed, Dominic Stone stares at his monitor watching the surveillance tape of a mystery woman who may or may not be their missing slave. He's watched the tape so many times he'll probably be having nightmares about it for weeks to come. With a sigh, he closes his eyes and rubs his face, trying to stay awake and figure out where the woman and her elderly escort disappeared to.
"Bloody hell," Dominic moans. "I can't figure out how they got out of that alley. How can we be sure it was even her?"
"Oh, I'm pretty sure," Finch replies with a bit of a smile playing on his lips as he spins his monitor around for Dominic to see the email forwarded to him.
"Our boy's pretty brazen isn't he?" Dominic snorts. "Cheeky bastard."
"Sooner or later, he's going to make a mistake and when he does, we'll be waiting for him," Finch states confidently.
"And when we do, what then?" Dominic asks. "What do we do with her?"
"I'm not sure," Finch sighs. "With her help, we could close Shire Stables down for good."
"But to do that, we'll have to reveal that she's not Georgia Jones," Dominic reminds her. "Any clue where she's from originally?"
"No, but I'm guessing she's not from around here," Finch says as he turns his monitor to face him again. "This is just one big headache. If we let her go back to pretending to being the kid's mum, we can't close down Shire Stables and who knows how many others continue their lives as slaves. If we use her as our witness to close them down, the kids lose their mum and she'll probably disappear into one of Creedy's bags. Either way, someone's life is going to be totally ruined."
"Damned if we do and damned if we don't," Dominic grumbles.
"Exactly," Finch agrees with a sad nod as he sits back in his chair. "One way or another, someone's going to get the short end of the stick. The question is: who?"