Thirteen:
Taking Responsibility

Malcolm had poured them all a drink in Harry's absence, and Sarah had gotten home from work and was scrounging around in the kitchen, oblivious to any friction between the men. "Welcome home, Harry," she said as she came out of the fridge with some goat cheese and crumpets – which might have been all that was left. "You want a snack?"

"No," Harry said, looking around the room at Malcolm – ever so calm and collected – and Graham – whose face could have peeled paint off the walls. And he thought about the so very many ways he'd failed people. He vowed that Portia would not be one of those failures, and he exhaled a sigh. "So… I have news."

"So do I, but yours sounds much more ominous," Sarah commented, sitting down at the table.

"Not ominous, just… complicated."

Sarah smiled a little. "Well, mine is happy and simple… you're going to be a granddad again."

Harry paused, caught between glee and dismay. "Oh, congratulations, you two," he finally settled on saying. "I – I'm pleased, I am. Does this mean you'll be getting married or -?"

"Maybe," Graham said. "I thought I'd ask your approval first, but seeing as how you've gone and done god only knows what while you were on vacation…"

Harry sighed and toyed with his wedding band. "You know I approve of Sarah," he said, "and it will be an honor to add her to the family." He looked up at Sarah, and smiled. "You're too good for him, you know."

"I know," Sarah replied, "but I love him, even when he's being stupid." She nudged Graham and said, "You know that, right?"

"I do," Graham agreed, giving her a light kiss on the lips.

"Okay, so… I've gotten married," Harry said, thinking that that might be the easiest way to go about things – just plunge straight into the thick of it. "Her name is Janet Williams."

Sarah paused, her crumpet stopping midway to her mouth. "What? Did she marry you for your bloody money or what, because… wait, why didn't you tell anyone? Did you run out to see Cate and get hitched to a hooker on the side or something? What the hell, Harry?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Graham said. "The hell were you thinking, dad? You can't just – married and taking somebody's kid and calling it your own –"

"Wait, what kid?" Sarah said.

Harry sighed. "I said it was complicated."

"No one said anything about a kid," Sarah said emphatically.

"Maybe you should start at the beginning," Malcolm advised Harry quietly.

"Maybe I should," Harry agreed with a sigh. "I told you about Ruth, didn't I?" he asked Graham very quietly.

"The murderer who drowned herself in the Thames that you were head over heels in love with? Yeah," Graham muttered.

Harry felt a muscle in his cheek twitch. "She worked for me," he said, "at Five, in Section D. She didn't kill herself; we staged her death to prevent something terrible happening. And then she went into exile and no one heard from her after that." He looked up at Graham and said, "I went to Los Angeles to visit your sister and found the love of my life living next door, complete with a child who was the right age and the right look to be mine. Turns out, she is. And Ruth and I are still as much in love as we were when she left. So we got married. Yes, it's messy and dirty and awful, but what's important is that I love her and I love that little girl upstairs more than I ever thought I was capable of." He exhaled and rubbed his face with his hands. "Ruth goes by the name of Janet Williams now. So she's Lady Janet Pearce."

"Oh," Sarah sighed, "how terribly, horribly romantic…"

"You're such a girl," Graham muttered. "It's very sordid, dad, you getting some random woman pregnant and not knowing –"

"She was never random," Harry said firmly. "Not ever."

Malcolm nodded. "Your father took years to pursue her in the first place," he commented dryly. "And then I went and mucked it up."

"You didn't," Harry assured him. "It's… complicated."

"So you've got a kid," Sarah said. "What's its name?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "Her name is Portia, and she's almost eleven years old."

"Eleven is a good age," Sarah said. "She understands what's going on?"

"She understands that she went from having no one but her mother to having a sister, a brother, and nieces," Harry said. "And a father, but I'm already making a shambles of that, apparently."

"No, you're not," Malcolm said. "Ruth is just being her usual self – stubborn and combative when the ball isn't firmly in her hand."

Harry exhaled a sigh. "Yes, well… everyone in this room is sworn to secrecy about her identity. You cannot reveal it. All of her records have been changed to fit her alias already – she's done it herself, Malcolm, so it's solid."

Malcolm nodded and sighed. "So she's Janet forever more, then."

"Yes. Janet Williams is a legend created by an American identity forger. There is a social security number, British and American passports – as she is meant to be the child of a split household – and she's rock-solid," Harry said. "Good thing, as she's about to become one of the most influential women in the world, working at Joe Gregory's side."

"Bloody hell, could she get me a job?" Sarah asked, licking cheese off her thumb. "I'm about to get my arse handed to me at the shop when I start looking up the duff… they only want size two people, and that's my full-time job."

"Five minutes ago, you were going to ream me a new arsehole for marrying her, and now you want her to give you a job?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"I'm fickle – blame the hormones," Sarah said.

Harry looked over at Graham. "Are you still pissed at me?"

"You could've warned me – you could've told me what was going on instead of just showing up with some kid and –"

Portia came into the room, rubbing her eyes. "Daddy, I'm thirsty," she said. "And there wasn't a cup for me in the bathroom."

Harry was going to get up, but Sarah did it first. She went to the cupboard and grabbed a clear plastic glass with flowers on it. "Is this okay, love?" she asked, holding it up. "It can be all yours."

Portia came forward and got the cup. "Are you Sarah?" she asked.

Sarah nodded and smiled. "And you're Portia, aren't you? Your dad's just been telling us about you."

Portia nodded and went to the sink to get some water. "Dad, I can't go to sleep," she admitted quietly.

"Okay," Harry said, "would you like to sit with us?"

Portia shook her head and looked nervously at Graham. "No, I'll go back upstairs," she said very quietly.

"Oh, come on, love," Sarah said. "Graham won't bite – his bark is much worse than. Come on – I've got biscuits," she encouraged.

"Biscuits are cookies," Harry said gently, trying to encourage Portia to stay.

"I like cookies," Portia murmured, coming over to the table and sitting down as close to Harry as she possibly could without sitting on his lap.

"Good," Sarah replied with a smile. "I love them, too – so we've always got them." She whipped up a plate with a bunch of biscuits on it and set it down on the table. "Harry says you're almost eleven," she said. "When's your birthday?"

"October 14th," Portia said, getting a Jaffa Cake and taking a bite. "Oh, yum!"

Harry chuckled and ruffled her hair. "We'll have to have a party for you, then… invite all of your friends and –"

"Charlie and Gracie are the only girls who like me," Portia said very quietly. "I don't have any other friends."

"I find that hard to believe," Harry said, feeling suddenly very sorry for his daughter. "You're a very smart young woman and –"

"That's why nobody likes me," Portia said, "because I have all the answers and I play clarinet good and I speak three languages… everybody hates me."

"I don't hate you," Sarah spoke up quickly, "and I highly doubt your dad does, either. I'll be your friend, Portia."

Graham sighed and said, "And I'm your big brother, so if anyone pushes you around, you tell me and I'll – I'll – call their parents and give them a sound talking to."

Harry bit back an almost-laugh. "You've got friends, Portia," he said softly. "Maybe not many, but one true friend is worth fifty of the wishy-washy type."

Portia grabbed another biscuit and curled up in her chair, leaning against Harry. He found the warmth of her small body, the smell of her, comforting – something he hadn't really felt since Catherine and Graham were very small. He felt guilty, having caused them all so much pain, and he knew that lavishing love on Portia would only serve to make them envious, but she was the culmination of his absolute love and devotion to Ruth, and he could only love her.

"Daddy?" Portia said quietly.

"Hmm?"

"I like your house," she said. "It's nice."

Harry kissed the top of her head and said, "I like it, too – but it's much nicer with you, Graham, and Sarah here."

Portia smiled up at him and continued nibbling on her biscuit.

Two days passed before Harry got a call from Ruth. He hesitated answering it, but then picked up. "Hello."

Her voice was shaking. "Hello," she whispered. "I didn't mean to go off the deep end like that –"

"I understand that you're frightened," he said, "but it's no excuse to terrify our child into thinking that you're randomly going to show up and tear her away from me. Malcolm, Graham, and Sarah all know and have pledged their secrecy on the matter. Graham has taken rather a shine to our Portia… as has my dog."

Ruth laughed a little. "Are you very terribly cross?" she asked.

"I was at the time. I'm not now. I understand your reasoning, the blind panic that's dictating your actions. And I'm sorry that I caused it." He drummed his fingertips on the desk. "By the way, my annual physical came back and I'm in better health than last year. My cardiologist won't see me until next week, so I'm thinking about booking the train and going up to Stokesley to call on my father. I think he'll be pleased to meet our Portia."

"You should," Ruth murmured. "I think she'll enjoy knowing she has a grandfather." She fell very quiet, and then she said, "I've been so worried you hate me now."

"Never," he said softly. "I love you. I've been worried you'd call me out on telling you to calm your tits – I don't even know where that came from. We used it in the day, but…"

"You were angry and rightfully so," she murmured. "How is our girl?"

"She's got Sarah wrapped round her little finger," Harry said. "She's fine – loves bangers and mash, eats like it's going out of style, and is the happiest I've seen her since we met."

"Can she come to the phone?" Ruth asked.

"She's actually out for a grocery run with Sarah," he said. "They're going through biscuits like crazy women."

"I hope she's eating real food, too," Ruth said softly. "All biscuits can't be good for her –"

"She especially loves fish and chips," he said with a chuckle. "She misses you something fierce, though."

"She can't possibly miss me more than I miss her," Ruth confessed sadly. "Or more than I miss you."

"Just a bit longer, then you'll be getting off at Gatwick and we'll be reunited," he promised. "Just another 12 days, my love."

"12 days is 12 days too long," she sighed. "I love my job, I do, but I can't sleep without you. Not anymore. I hate it. I love you and I hate being alone."

"If it makes you feel any better, Portia's been having a hard time sleeping, too," Harry said. "She winds up in bed with me after a spell. Poor mite."

Ruth sighed. "12 days, and then I'll be in London for ten days, then Paris for three, and Berlin for three, and back to Los Angeles."

"Do you want to meet my father?" Harry asked, changing the subject abruptly. "Only, when I called to tell him I was coming up, I might have told him I'd gotten remarried and wanted him to meet his granddaughter. He asked why I wasn't bringing you."

"I'd like to meet him," Ruth said softly. "Maybe on the weekend when I'm here? Does he want to meet me?"

"I told him you're a lovely, wonderful woman – of course he wants to meet you," Harry said with a sigh. "And we're meeting your mum for tea this afternoon. I'll let you know how that goes."

"Tell her… my mum… tell her I love her," Ruth said quietly. "Tell her that I'm sorry I couldn't just ring her and tell her what was what and where I was, and that I want to see her. I do."

"I will," he promised. "Now, you better get some sleep, my love."

"I'm beyond knackered –"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you the good news," Harry said.

"Good news?"

"Graham and Sarah are having a baby."

"Oh, that's – that's fantastic for them!" Ruth exclaimed. "I'm thrilled for them –"

"You don't fancy being a grandmum again?" Harry asked.

"No, it's not that – it's just, I know you were worried about them making ends meet before, and now they'll have a little one," Ruth murmured. "It takes a lot of money and time and… everything… raising kids."

"Well, of course, I'll help them financially," Harry said. "I've got a fair stash laid away for a rainy day. And when my dad dies, there will be more. Much more. And when I die, all that's left will go to Graham, of course."

"Of course," she said.

"It's all right," Harry assured her quietly. "Things will work out. Go get some sleep, my love, and we'll talk later, okay? Try to rest – 12 more days, and then we'll sleep very well, indeed."

"I love you," she murmured.

"I love you, too, my Ruth," he whispered. "Go to bed."

"All right." With that, the call ended.

Elizabeth came over and sat down at the table in the little café. "Oh, Harry, it's good to see you," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "How are you?"

"I'm quite well," Harry said with a smile. "I've just got back from a trip to America."

"Oh, to see your Catherine?" Elizabeth asked. "How is she? How are your granddaughters?"

Portia came back from the loo and slid into her seat. "Sorry, I had to go really bad," she said.

"Did you wash your hands, love?" Harry asked.

"Of course!" Portia exclaimed indignantly. "Can I get hot chocolate, dad? I don't like tea."

Elizabeth blinked, then said, "And who's this, then?"

Harry cleared his throat. "This is my daughter, Portia," he said. He wasn't trying to be deliberately obstructive, but he needed to gauge Elizabeth's reaction before telling her that her daughter was alive and well. "She's… she's – well, her mum is my wife."

Portia nodded and smiled. "Are you my mom's mom?" she asked. "Dad said we'd be meeting you for tea, but I don't like tea, so may I have hot chocolate instead?"

Elizabeth blinked once, twice, then three times, staring blankly at Harry. "Are you telling me you've –"

"Found her? Yes," Harry said. "And married her. And brought our daughter home with me, while Janet is traveling for work."

"Are you my grandma?" Portia asked. "You look an awful lot like my mom –"

"Yes," Elizabeth finally said. "I suppose that I am…"

"She wanted me to tell you that she loves you and wants to see you when she's in London," Harry said. "And that she's sorry she couldn't just ring and tell you herself. Because of… all of the reasons she can't."

Elizabeth paused, then nodded. "Of course," she said. "Where is she now?"

"Sydney, Australia – she's traveling for work, but she'll be in the UK in 12 days."

Portia frowned. "12 whole days, dad? That's not fair –"

"Hot chocolate and biscuits for you," Harry said cheerfully. "Just till your mum gets here, then we have to be good again – she'll be cross at the number of biscuits you're eating." He ruffled her hair and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Tea was very lively, what with Elizabeth and Portia learning about one another. Elizabeth, of course, was enchanted with the little girl, and Harry couldn't blame her in the slightest. Ruth had done a remarkable job with raising her.

He could only hope that his father would be just as accepting.

END PART THIRTEEN