By eight-thirty Catherine and Mark have left for their party, and so, apart from a sleeping Ellie, Ruth and Harry are alone in the house. They tuck into the turkey sandwiches Catherine had prepared for them, and Harry then opens their first bottle of wine.

"I'm not trying to get you inebriated," he says quietly, next to Ruth's ear, as he pours her a glass of pinot noir. "It's just that we're seeing in the new year together, and that makes it a special occasion."

Ruth takes a sip of her wine, glancing up at Harry over the rim of her glass. "Mmm, nice," she says.

Harry hopes her comment is not just about the wine.

He had turned on the TV, and muted the sound so that they can talk. "All we need is to see when Big Ben ticks over, and they set off the fireworks. We have no need for the commentary."

There is a gas fire in the sitting room, and the room is cosy. They curl up together at one end of the sofa. Both are dressed in jeans and thick jumpers, their overcoats left hanging on hooks in the front hallway, their shoes on the floor inside the front door. They each hold their glasses of wine in one hand, while they nestle against each other, Harry's arm curled around Ruth's shoulders.

They sit comfortably for some time, each watching the images on the TV, neither concerned that the sound is muted, and both thankful for something to distract them from each other.

"Being a grandparent suits you," Ruth says at last. "You seem …..."

"Comfortable?"

"Yes, that's the word. I would never have expected it."

"I'm enjoying her immensely. She's delightful."

"You're a natural, Harry."

"And I probably would have been an equally effective father had I valued the role back when my children came along."

Ruth turns her head to look at him, but he is smiling while he watches the moving images on the TV screen across the room. "Perhaps we have grandchildren so that we can correct the mistakes we made with our children," she says quietly.

This opens up a subject they have never discussed, at least with one another.

"Ruth …..."

"I know what you're about to say. You're about to ask me do I regret not having had children of my own."

Harry turns his head to look into her eyes, which are turned in his direction. "Do you?"

Ruth breaks eye contact before she answers quietly. "Sometimes. I regretted it tonight when I saw you with Ellie. It's just that no-one ever wanted children with me, and I was always busy with my career."

"Not all of that statement is true, Ruth."

"Which bit?"

"You know which bit. All you needed to have done was ask me."

Ruth shakes her head and looks away. "Harry, I know how you would have reacted had I come to you and said, `Oh, by the way, I'd like a child, and I've decided I want you to be the father.' You would have run a mile."

"You don't know that."

"You wouldn't have been happy. Without a relationship of intimacy between us, that would never have happened."

They sit in silence, each contemplating Ruth's words.

"I would have considered it a privilege had you asked me," Harry says quietly.

"I could never see anyone other than you being the father of my children."

"Then, why, Ruth? You knew how I felt about you back then. Why did you not return my advances?"

"I was just too scared to go that last little distance. In my head, I wanted it all, but the reality was just too confronting."

Harry sighs heavily, and reaches for the wine bottle, topping up their glasses. "It's not too late for us," he says, his voice little more than a whisper.

"In what way?"

"In every way. We can still have a child, Ruth."

"Harry …... I'm about to turn 45. I'm now ready to look for some work for myself which is safe, and won't demand that I leave the country to save the career of the man I love. Motherhood demands much more than I'm prepared to give, and anyway …... you make a wonderful grandfather. I'm not sure you'd feel as enthusiastic about a child who is in your house day and night, interrupting your sleep ..."

"Amongst other things."

Ruth looks up into his eyes, and again sees his desire for her. She quickly looks away.

"We should have had this conversation ten years ago," his says, his voice quiet, and full of regret.

"I think that maybe we're not meant to be parents together. It's something we just haven't managed to do. Surely to become parents, first we needed to have been in a relationship."

"Preferably, yes."

"And had you suggested it, I would have viewed your suggestion as just another devious attempt to get me into bed."

Harry throws his head back, and laughs throatily. He reaches down and kisses Ruth's cheek, and then extricates himself from her. "Snacks, Ruth? I'm hungry."

Ruth nods, and so Harry heads to the kitchen for a plate of crackers, cheese and olives which Mark had prepared and left for them.

It transpires that Ruth is the only one in the house who is awake when 2014 gives way to 2015. Ellie hasn't woken since she'd been sung to sleep, and less than a half hour before midnight, Harry had leaned back against a cushion, and nodded off. Once the countdown is over, and the fireworks have ended, Ruth leans across to kiss Harry on his jaw. He sighs loudly, but still sleeps, his arms folded across his chest. She could let him sleep, perhaps cover him with a blanket, and retire to the room next to Ellie's …... but she then discovers that she doesn't want that. She wants to go to bed with Harry …... not for sex, but to hear him breathing deeply in the bed beside her, to feel his warmth under the duvet, to rest her head against his shoulder, to feel his arms around her. Most of all, Ruth admits that she wants to watch him as he wakes. She wants the first pair of eyes she sees in the morning to be his.

Ruth lifts herself on to her knees, and leans over Harry to kiss him on the lips. He wakes gradually, and as he does, he returns her kiss with more and more fervour, as he unfolds his arms, and slides them around her. Eventually, she finds herself lying against the cushions at the opposite end of the sofa, with Harry lying across her, kissing her deeply, his hands under her jumper, seeking her skin. Of course, she is enjoying it, but if they are to share a bed, this is not the best thing to be doing just prior to bedtime.

"Harry ….." she says, pushing him gently with her hands against his shoulders.

"Mmm?"

"You've missed midnight."

Harry rolls away from her, and concentrates on her face, a small smile turning his lips up at the edges. "I didn't miss it, Ruth. I just slept through it."

"Let's go to bed."

Harry smiles broadly. "I've waited almost ten years to hear you say those words."