Apologies for plot heavy updated which is boring even me!
"So..." she said, clearing their empty breakfast plates, "... now that we are 'set up for the day', what next?"
"I'd suggest another cup of tea," he said, picking up the tea pot.
"And?"
"And wait."
He poured two more cups.
"We wait for the phone to ring. Wait for contact, whether it be from Coleman, or the grid. And in the meantime..." he carried her cup across to one end of the long sofa, "get comfy, put your feet up and relax."
She looked sceptical as he walked away towards the bedroom.
"Imagine it's a Sunday morning," he called back, returning a moment later and handing her the copy of L'Etranger that had been left on her bedside table.
"And what about you?" she smiled, taking it and finally sitting down.
This time Harry picked up his own cup and the broadsheet that he had discovered earlier outside their door. He plonked himself on the opposite end of the sofa, lifted his legs up and stretched out.
"You'll find me right here, doing likewise," and with that he flicked open the newspaper and disappeared behind it.
An hour and a half later and like two bookends facing one another, their feet almost meeting in the middle: both were asleep.
Him with the paper fallen to the floor beside him; she with her book resting on her chin.
And for once they were domestically in exactly the same space and time.
Both content. Both untroubled.
The telephone rang, loud and sharp. Startled, they woke suddenly. The phone stopped almost at once.
Groggily Harry picked up the paper and Ruth moved the book.
"Perhaps you didn't sleep quite as well as you thought last night," Ruth said.
"Perhaps not," he admitted.
"No..." she said, quietly, "me, neither."
They held their gaze for a long moment and both knew and understood the lie.
The phone rang again. Harry answered. It was Coleman.
"Jason ... Coleman?" Harry sounded unsure.
"Ah, yes, last night, I'm sorry, yes, of course we remember you. How are you Mr Coleman?"
He listened patiently to the answer, his eyes never leaving Ruth, both of them knowing the call was been routed via the grid and the trace was already in place. Ruth checked her watch.
"Indeed I'm always interested in business, Mr ... Jason, yes of course. What kind of business have you in mind, Jason?"
He listened as Coleman skilfully ducked the question and then Ruth saw the smallest of smiles start to form.
"Give me a moment and I'll just check my diary," Harry looked at his mobile just in case any prying eyes were watching through those long, large windows to the outside.
"That should be fine, actually could you do an hour later, then we would both be free? ... Good, good."
Ruth glanced back at her watch: they needed longer, her expression told Harry as much.
"Off James Street? Is that -"
But Coleman was seemingly in a hurry.
"Of course, yes, okay ... See you then."
The call was ended.
Ruth's mobile buzzed with a message.
"Not long enough," she read, "...no trace."
Harry sat down, his back to the windows.
"When?" she asked eagerly.
"Tomorrow at three."