Having taken Catherine's advice, on an evening that had run on into the early hours, Beth had rung Malcolm and had enlisted his help.

'A genius fixer, he'll be able to pull strings that we can't,' Catherine had told her, 'and not only that he'll be thrilled, I know he will. He's Dad's best friend so I'm guessing he'll also know Ruth, and providing that he likes her, he'll help, at least I hope so. Let's face it we don't really have any other option, do we?' Had produced the answers that they needed, that only left the how, which they'd practised until Beth had passed out, ending up sleeping on Catherine's sofa.

'Perhaps I'm just being mean and she really is ill?' Ruth thought, watching as Beth disappeared for the umpteenth time in the direction of the ladies, having seen the caller was Catherine, confirming that the arm twisting had worked and she'd persuaded her father to come out with her for the evening, rather than spend the time on the grid, with a bottle of whisky for company as he'd planned.

She'd already told him that they'd run out of coffee and could he pop out and get another jar. While she rifled through his wardrobe to find something earth shattering that would curl Ruth's toes, she'd kept to herself and was the reason he was missing. Well that, and another misread failing to look up at him by Ruth, when he'd lent over her shoulder in an attempt to break the ice, by asking her how she was, when she'd been listening to a transcript and hadn't heard him.

'How's it going at your end,' Catherine asked her, only to be told that if she could work her magic, not only on her hangover but on a ridiculously stubborn Ruth, whose only excuses were pathetic, in that she didn't have anything to wear and she didn't feel like going out, then she was more than willing to let her give it a go.

With less than eight hours to go before the countdown, by which time all being well, Ruth would have surrendered to Harry's overtures and be in for the night of her life, the atmosphere on the grid was still the same, if not worse, and best avoided unless absolutely necessary. Alec, Dimitri and Tariq had been successfully keeping their distance, by making countless inventive attempts to find reasons to be elsewhere. Harry thought them to be industrious considering that they were building up to the New Year, which in Adam and Zaf's time had always been an excuse for merriment, whereas Beth thought them to be downright traitorous, and fully intended telling them so if they ever came back.

By six she was desperate, as both Harry and Ruth remained glued to their desks, presumably as they did every evening when she was usually long gone. She'd put so much effort into the evening and short of somehow getting Ruth to go into Harry's office and then lock them in there until they surrendered, she was running out of ideas. Added to which she'd made so many visits to the ladies over the course of the day to talk to Catherine, that Harry had been forced to ask her if she was unwell and wanted to go home? She did. She wanted to peel Ruth out of her dowdy work clothes and into what approximated sexy.

'Dad, where are you, we're due to go out in a couple of hours?' was the message that arrived on Harry's phone and put Beth out of her misery and increased Ruth's.

One down one to go thought Beth, as an obviously reluctant Harry stood up and donned his coat. Loss before lust Beth hoped, staying on the side lines and watching her colleagues dancing to what she imagined was the same tune they danced too every evening, as Harry wandered over to Ruth's desk to say goodnight. It was torturous in its beauty, the way that they were looking at each other as he stood there with Ruth seemingly unable to move or say anything, compounded by the fact that Dimitri, Alec and Tariq chose that precise moment to walk back in, causing Harry to clear his throat and make a hasty exit and Ruth to disappear even further into her despair.

Three hours later.

Dressed in grey trousers with a dark red sweater and 'definitely no tie,' Catherine had told him, with a less formal coat than he wore to work, Harry had accepted his fate and was walking with his daughter's arm tucked in his, in the direction of the same restaurant where she and Beth had eaten a few evenings ago. Except that this evening, it was the London Eye that Catherine was heading for, before all things being equal, she'd leave him. Approaching from the opposite direction, Beth had finally persuaded a reluctant Ruth, that anything had to be better than spending New Year's Eve on her own and if they were going to go out, then why not make an effort and dress up.

'Who knows we might even meet someone we like,' had received a definite, 'no thanks.'

'You always used to watch the fireworks on the roof terrace at work, didn't you?' brought the same reaction from Harry, with a soulful, 'that was then,' as she slipped a note into his pocket, designed to be opened later. She was just the side kick in all this, it was Beth that had done all the hard work and she wanted to make sure that her Dad appreciated that. She glanced across at him, stoic and resigned to his fate as he always was. As Dad's go, he was lovely and she so wanted him to be happy.

Dad,

You have Beth to thank for this, it was her idea. She'll be staying at mine again tonight, so until I'm invited to meet Ruth, I'll be staying put.

Malcolm sends his apologies for breaking into your house, but I'm sure you'll think it worth it.

Please don't mess this up Dad, we all know that you love each other.

See you next year,

Love you,

Catherine. xx

The crowd had been building for hours, so it was as well that they'd already planned where Beth and Ruth would be standing, otherwise Catherine would never have been able to spot them. She wanted to take a good look at Ruth before she met her, the woman that her father had been in love with for ever and she'd never known about. Beth had certainly worked her magic if what she'd said was true, although on first sight, she suspected that her Dad would have loved Ruth whatever she'd been wearing. It was a cold evening and guarding herself against the cold, Ruth had turned the collar or her coat up, surrounding it by a bright blue scarf, matching her astonishingly blue eyes. Whatever Catherine had imagined, had she been able to remember what that was, in a bizarre sort of way, as they got nearer and she got a closer look at Ruth, she began to understand why her Dad had held onto his dream for so long.

Hell bent on getting to where Ruth and Beth were standing and then making a quick getaway before the crowd closed in and trapped her, she grabbed her father's hand and pressed on. It was ten minutes before midnight and she and Beth planned to escape to a vantage point to watch the fireworks, away from those who were determined to kiss each other, which she hoped would include her Dad and Ruth. At least tonight, there would be nowhere for them to run.

There was always an however and had it not been for some burly youth who should have known better, bumping into Harry's back and pushing him up hard against Ruth, giving him no option other than to grab her in case she slammed against the railings, then who knows how long it would have taken them to get past anything other than 'Harry' followed by 'Ruth'.

There seemed to be cameras everywhere ready to take a picture as the countdown started, and had either Catherine or Beth been able to see them, then theirs would have been amongst them. But by then they'd made their escape and were hanging onto a monument to give themselves a better vantage point, praying that they'd done the right thing.

Buried in the huge crowd and each other, with no concerns that they'd be recognised and even if they were, it didn't matter, what should have happened as long ago as when Adam and Zaf had been alive and as the fireworks flew into the night sky, Harry kissed Ruth and Ruth kissed Harry. Neither of them knew or cared who'd moved first.

'I'm really - happy?' suggested Harry, knowing that Ruth was about to say sorry, as they stopped in the centre of the bridge, having walked hand in hand, back in the direction of Harry's car that was parked at Thames House. On impulse he'd brought them a bag of chips to share and he'd been teasing her that she was picking out the largest. Ruth's hands were not only greasy but cold, so he'd blown on them and then plunged them into his pockets, forcing her to face him again so that he could kiss her, which was when she found Catherine's letter.

'Do you, and don't you dare say do I what?' Ruth asked him, seeing Catherine's message that told him that he loved her, her eyes holding his, oblivious to the people that were passing them in both directions on their way home. There was no, unlikely, possibly or probably, there was only certainty, but Harry had been planning on saving that particular declaration until they got home, where another note sat waiting.

Harry,

Assuming that you've come to your senses and Ruth's there with you, I don't want to delay you further, other than to say, I couldn't be happier. Miss Bailey was to say the least persuasive and should be congratulated, as should Catherine, although as you can probably guess, it didn't take much persuading to get me involved.

I'm currently enjoying a glass of malt in a small hotel on the West Coast of Scotland, overlooking the Isle of Mull. It's like chalk is to cheese compared to London. You should both try it sometime, the hotel that is.

My Best Wishes to you both for the New Year.

Malcolm.

Alongside Malcolm's note was a bottle of bubbly, a huge bunch of spring flowers and another note that directed them to the fridge. Whether they ate what he'd left for them, which amounted to either a very late supper or breakfast, really wasn't up for debate, despite Harry's sudden lack of decisiveness at finally being able to take what he'd craved for so long. In answer to Ruth's question, yes of course he loved her. He loved her with a passion and gentleness in equal measure, but when he told her, he wanted it to be savoured not rushed, which meant that he didn't need a drink, he needed to stay completely sober.

'I could really do with a cup of tea,' was Ruth's suggestion and marginally eased the tension that had been building, as Harry turned away from her in search of the cups and a packet of biscuits, while a now equally tense Ruth filled the kettle.

It was surprising how quickly you could drink a cup of tea when part of you wanted it to last forever, whilst the other part of you wished you'd never made it. It was just delaying tactics and they both knew it, which was ridiculous given that they'd known each other forever. Not that that was helping.

'I bet Adam and Ros never drank this much tea,' said a desperate Ruth, who in all honesty was beginning to wonder if Harry intended sitting there all night. Harry didn't, but he'd found another thing to panic about. The state of his bedroom and how he'd left it. But then of course Catherine had seen to that as well and she'd put fresh sheets on the bed and hidden the pyjamas that he usually wore.

Please god, don't suggest we wash the cups and saucers, thought Ruth, when Harry finally stood up and said 'shall we?'

Compared to Ruth's bedroom which was always a mishmash of clothes outnumbered by books, Harry's looked like a hotel, right down to the sumptuous bed that stood ready and waiting, as he suggested that she use his en-suite and then get into bed and that he wouldn't be long, he'd use the bathroom.

Tired, coiled like a couple of springs that should they unwind too quickly, could cause some serious damage, a naked Harry walked back in and took the only option open to him, and climbed into bed at breakneck speed, causing Ruth to giggle. Certainly not at what she'd seen, but by the speed at which Harry had moved. The outcome of which, was that everything that should have happened immediately stalled, if only for a few moments. Until hallelujah, across the largest void known to man, hazel held blue and flesh moved towards flesh.

Despite the arrows that were shooting through Harry's body and the primeval urge to take what he'd always wanted, he took the slower and what he thought to be the wiser route and held back, just for a moment. This was Ruth, his forever if the gods were kind to him and as they discussed much later, he hadn't wanted to rush her and it be over too quickly. People rarely got it right the first time, whatever right was and there was always the morning to try again.

'But it's already morning Harry,' Ruth had told him, with a smile on her face that had been hidden for far too long, just wanting an equally satisfied Harry to stop talking and make love to her again.