Quick update. Possibly this should be subtitled Jane keeps putting her foot in it.
Harry's House 2.00 am
Once through the front door Harry carefully ushered Jane into his sitting room. After the darkness of the car journey she jumped, startled by the sudden wash of electric light. While Harry busied himself setting the security code and checking the answering machine she took the opportunity to survey her surroundings for lifestyle clues. Tidy she would have expected, Harry's time in the military had engrained orderly habits. She'd complained about many things during their marriage but having to play the role of 'Dirty Sock Fairy' hadn't been one of them. A sofa and chairs that invited you to sink into them plus an expensive sound system suggested that this was a room for relaxing although the fine film of dust that was discernible over the shiner surfaces implied that the occupant was rarely home to indulge in such frivolous activity. 'Still a workaholic so no change there then.' Judging by the placement of a whisky decanter and crystal glasses on a small table in direct eye line to the door Harry's habit of grabbing a drink the minute he came in from a hard day hadn't altered either. 'What about women?' Catherine hadn't mentioned anything but then no one knew better than Jane how just secretive Harry could be, and during their marriage he'd certainly had plenty to be secret about. Nothing in the decor hinted at a regular relationship but Harry's penchant for casual shags had usually involved hotel rooms and fake id's. If he'd been hopeless at monogamy it was a fair bet that he was even more useless at celibacy.
Her reverie was interrupted by Harry's reappearance reminding her that really his private life was none of her business, she was here by mischance and wouldn't relish him trespassing into her secret territory, especially not....well he'd just mock or even worse sympathise. As Harry crossed the room to draw the curtains she realised that she was still rooted to the spot he'd left her in a few moments before. The sight his suit/vest combo stirred Jane into action. As she moved her arm to unbutton his coat she felt a sharp pain stabbing through her shoulder and gripped her lip to avoid crying out. Harry must have noted the movement from the corner of his eye and he swirled around. Watching her struggle he said, "Here you really don't want to strain that shoulder." Without waiting for her to reply he moved in front of her and swiftly unfastened the coat, pulling it gently down her arms. Despite the central heating the cold air hitting her bare legs made her shiver. Harry felt the shudder and assumed that it was a reaction to his slight contact with her shoulder.
"Sorry Jane – I didn't mean to touch you."
If she'd felt self conscious about standing in front of Harry semi naked in the hospital that was nothing compared with the embarrassment she was now experiencing as she stood in front of him clothed in his crumpled shirt, her thighs on display and hair powdered in concrete without benefit of makeup. Jane wasn't a particularly vain woman and in theory her discomfort was ridiculous given that he had seen her wearing far less; but that had been more than twenty five years ago under somewhat less clinical circumstances. To laugh off the feeling she commented, "Losing your touch with the ladies then?"
Jane hadn't intended to sound snide but realised too late the effect of the words emerging from her mouth. She could have bitten her tongue off as she waited for the sarcastic rejoinder that never came. Fury flared in Harry's face for a brief moment but he remained silent as he turned away from her. Leaning over the sofa he scooped up a woollen throw which he handed to her saying brusquely,"Here wrap this around yourself, it should keep you warm." Shamed by his failure to snap back at her Jane did as he requested, relinquishing the coat to him.
"I'll just go and hang this up – sit down Jane. Take the weight off that ankle." The words were uttered in a toneless voice as Harry retreated into the entrance hall.
Jane followed his advice flopping onto the very comfortable sofa she'd spied earlier. As she did so she marvelled at how easily Harry had managed, after all his neglect when they were married, to make her feel like a total bitch. What was worse was that Jane strongly suspected that Harry was more worried about the fate of their missing daughter than he was admitting too, but whereas he'd reverted to officer and gentleman mode to cope she'd reverted to her default setting of educated shrew. Jane knew she should apologise, but would doing so place her at a disadvantage in future arguments? Confused didn't even touch on how she felt at present.
As Harry came back into the room with set lips she decided to humble herself.
"Harry I'm sorry .. I didn't mean..." Every syllable was heavy with genuine contrition as she stumbled her way towards an apology but the rest of her words were lost as Harry responded wearily, "Jane I do understand how difficult you're finding this but would you please remember that it isn't exactly easy for me either. As I said earlier we do need to focus on Catherine and not our private disputes."
"I know but since I want to apologise please let me."
"You don't need to."
"Oh yes I ...what on earth are you smirking at?"
"Us –if you can avoid misinterpreting the word - rowing over apologising to each other - perhaps we should move on."
With his unsolicited reference to their daughter she assumed that the inevitable interrogation was upon her. She was therefore surprised when Harry, instead of beginning to bark questions at her, pulled the packet of medication out of his pocket and began to examine it. "Hmm strong painkillers - they'd knock out a horse. Two dressings for your shoulder, we'll have to acquire some more as you'll need to keep it covered for at least ten days - and a note for your GP – not sure when you'll see him or her but I'll get my doctor to examine you if necessary." Dropping the medication on the coffee table he turned to her. Here it came, the endless questions, constant requests to recall details she couldn't remember.
"Okay Jane you know that I have to talk to you about the explosion but I really think the first priority should be to make you comfortable. A bath followed by hot milk sound okay. Wait here for a few minutes while I go and run one for you." Without waiting for an answer he exited the room yet again.
Jane was becoming accustomed to seeing Harry vanishing like the Cheshire cat and he was gone before she could protest that she'd prefer a shower. She heard him run up the stairs, a sound quickly followed by that of running water. Once more she was mentally kicking herself, she'd been so self absorbed that it hadn't occurred to her that Harry might be as unnerved as she was by the situation they found themselves in. Time certainly seemed to have rammed some degree of sensitivity into him. His temper was under better control as well. Within a few minutes he reappeared at the door having, she noticed, replaced his jacket with a casual shirt and held out his arm.
"Jane will you let me help you up the stairs? The less weight you put on that ankle the better."
She took the proffered support and painfully winced her way up to the landing as her ankle began to throb in earnest. She could identify the bathroom from the steam escaping through the closed door. Harry opened it and moved to allow her to pass through. She looked around, two large fluffy bath towels had been placed on the rail and a small shower spray had been attached to the taps. A further glance revealed a conveniently placed bottle of shampoo on the edge of the bath. As a gloriously spicy smell arose with the steam Jane sniffed the air wondering what he'd put in the bath water, somehow she'd never taped Harry as a devotee of aromatherapy.
Harry heard her sniffle and hastened to explain, "Muscle relaxant, works wonders on aches and pains. I'm sorry but the shampoo will smell a little masculine. Can you sit down for a moment?" With a gesture he indicated the only seat available.
As she settled herself on the closed toilet lid she felt a slight tinge of alarm when Harry knelt down in front of her and eased the damaged foot into his hand.
"Don't worry I've not developed a foot fetish in my old age, but you don't want to soak the bed with wet strapping. I'll re-do it for you when you get out."
As she stood up on a now unsupported ankle she staggered, lost her balance and nearly crashed into Harry. He managed to catch her in his arms, steadied her and then held her at arm's length. As she swayed he asked in a studiously neutral voice, "Can you manage to get into the bath or ...do you need help?"
"You wish ... my hair's too short to be a latter day Lady Godiva, thanks." The spark in his eyes and tell tale muscle in his jaw told her that this misplaced attempt at humour had backfired although all Harry actually said was, "Okay if I promise not act out the role of Peeping Tom will you promise to leave the door unlocked and shout if you feel dizzy.. I'll be across the passageway making up the spare bed." For the second time in the evening Jane was forced to watch him disappear while lashing herself for her crassness.
With a heavy sigh she unfastened his shirt, removed the underwear that also looked the worse for the bomb blast and climbed awkwardly into the bath wondering if she was ever going to achieve anything approaching a normal conversation with Harry. Try as she might every word she uttered seemed to be tainted with an undertow of bitterness which, over the past few hours at least, he'd done nothing to deserve. The past was a foreign country it seemed impossible to escape from, for her anyway.
In the spare bedroom Harry was breathing deeply as he reminded himself that Jane knew nothing of the demons that haunted him without hope of exorcism. He wasn't entirely sure that this knowledge would have stilled her tongue but Jane while a formidable opponent in an argument was not, if memory served, actively malicious. He had begun to believe that after the past few months he'd finally achieved, if not acceptance, at least some degree of equilibrium but the sight of Jane in his house, shortly to be sleeping under his roof had proved that thought to be a chimera. Her unguarded remarks a piercing reminder of events he could never forget and a cruel reminder of lost hopes. Harry knew that he couldn't claim to have lead a very virtuous life, but the God he didn't believe in must really hate him. Yet another enemy to line up with the CIA, the Russians, at least half of his supposed colleagues, his ex. 'Stop it. Harry concentrate. You have to find out about Catherine'. He could only hope that Jane would begin to mellow as he wasn't sure how much sarcasm he could take from her before he really snapped.
The sound of the bathroom door opening pulled him back into the present as Jane emerged swathed in a blue towel looking a little less wrecked. Chastened by guilt and in a determined effort to build bridges she remarked, "That's good stuff, the aches are definitely easier. Once my hair's dry I'll start feeling vaguely human again."
"Sorry but you'll have to air dry it."
Eyeing Harry's scalp Jane succumbed to temptation, "Yes well I don't suppose you have much need for a hair dryer these days."
To her relief Harry simply chuckled saying, "Ten out of ten for observation Miss," as he waved a hand towards a few clothes lying on the bed. "One shirt to sleep in and I've put a new one out for tomorrow with a pair of joggers."
"No need for me to commander a brand new shirt."
"Oh yes there is – you're smelling of male shampoo and bath foam, add one shirt smelling of aftershave plus my joggers – you'll have everyone thinking that marriage to me was so awful you decided to bat for the other side, just think of my reputation a little." It difficult being jocular but if Jane was going to try to be pleasant it behoved him to reciprocate.
"Just tell them I've had two children and remarried."
"I've dirt on at least three MP's who could say the same but...Official secret at least until the tabloids catch up with them." She laughed outright at that, which was not exactly good news for her cracked ribs. Feeling that she was on a roll Jane ignored the pain as she innocently enquired,
"You're still dangerous to know then?"
Clang! It was as if a shutter had slammed down: once again his face suddenly displayed the frozen mask she'd seen in the car, expressionless with blank eyes and a stillness that made her feel like a trespasser. 'Oh God I've done it again.' Covering the awkward pause she hurried on "Actually I'm more worried over comments about the joggers falling down, given that you have expanded slightly around the waist."
The frozen mask dissolved into an amused grin as Harry replied, "Rather more than slightly I'm afraid, comes of sitting behind a desk all day. Okay you make yourself respectable and I'll bring you up some hot milk and re-do that strapping."
Once she heard his footsteps descending the stairs Jane hastily stripped off the towel and grabbed the shirt he'd left her. To her great relief it was slightly longer than the one he'd loaned her in the hospital. She sat on the bed grateful to feel crisp sheets and possessed of a great longing to collapse onto the welcoming pillow. Jane heard the distant sound of the microwave pinging followed a few minutes later by Harry reappearing with two mugs. Positioning himself cautiously in a chair at the end of the bed he indicated to her to hold out her ankle which he carefully and expertly rebound. She assumed that this skill was a legacy from his many injuries. Lying back she took hold of the hot mug suddenly realising how thirsty she was. Harry sipped his drink and allowed her a few minutes respite before saying gently, "Jane I don't want to hound you but I really would like an answer to my question at the hospital. What are you doing here?"
"Oh – visiting Catherine. It was a bit spur of the moment."
"Why?"
"Why not?"
"In the middle of term – didn't your school object?"
"Of course you didn't know I changed jobs –long story." He raised his eyebrows slightly at that but kept silent as she continued, "but I've got some part time commissions that mean I have to visit London, hotels cost a fortune and I have a key to Catherine's. I do usually warn her but... "
"So she didn't know you were coming. I know it's distressing but can you give me some details as to what happened when you arrived?"
Jane closed her eyes as she pictured the events of the evening in her mind. "I took a taxi from the station – black cab. When I arrived I paid him and he drove off. I went to the door, put my bags down, got out my key, put it in the door. I'd only half turned it when I heard footsteps coming down the street. I thought it might be Catherine so I moved from the front door towards the pavement and that's when..." She stopped shuddering at the memory before continuing, "I remember wood and bits of stone flying to me, I went down onto the pavement, hit my head and after that it's a bit of a blur."
"Understandably so. Okay did you hear anything?"
"I don't think so – I've a vague memory of something driving off but I don't know if it was before or after the blast. All I do remember is every car alarm in the street going off and wondering if I'd ever be unglued from the tarmac."
"So did you expect Catherine to be in?"
"Come on Harry you know what she's like – just as bad as you at keeping things close to her chest. As far as I know she is fixed in London at present, but some contact or source for a film and she's off at once and damn the consequences."
Tiredness seemed to lace into Jane's worried voice as she uttered these last words. The hot milk, warmth from the bath and sheer exhaustion were beginning to kick in. Harry had other questions to ask but as Jane yawned he glanced at his watch and realised that it was close to three in the morning. Tomorrow, or rather today, was lining up to be difficult and he supposed he should try for a couple of hours sleep at least. Standing up he held out his hand to take Jane's empty mug.
"Okay – we'll have to give you an official debrief in Thames House in the morning but for tonight do try to rest."
"Given the state of my underwear it'll definitely be debrief so I'm not going anywhere until I know your joggers are secured around the waist. I draw the line at borrowing your boxers."
"I'll sort something out. Try to sleep. I've put a light duvet on the bed so hopefully it won't weigh heavy on your injuries."
With that he departed leaving her with a great deal to consider. So too did Harry who had realised, with some astonishment, that during their last conversation he'd felt vaguely relaxed for the first time in months: and with Jane of all people! Trying to work out why this should be so he could only conclude that although Jane's ignorance of recent events had made her trample inadvertently over his most secret emotions at least she wasn't invested with an aura of pity whenever she spoke to him. Pity was the last thing he wanted and he could depend on Jane not to provide any. To her he remained Harry the womaniser, failed husband and arch liar. In her ignorance of the pain she was inflicting he found relief, 'Oh God' he thought, 'I'll be sounding like one the psychoanalytical morons at Tring next. Just go with the mood swings and remember that by tomorrow Jane be restored by sleep to her delightfully acid self.'
Following his by now habitual cure for introspection he sought action in collecting Jane's abandoned clothing from the bathroom and realised, as he stuffed them into the washing machine, that she hadn't been joking about her need for replacement underwear.
Heading upstairs he knocked on her bedroom door and stuck his head around it in response to her sleepy, "Yes Harry?"
"Sorry Jane – quick question – er are you still the same dress size?"
"Yes but ..."
"Lucky woman. Okay just wondering. Goodnight"
With that Harry softly closed the door and headed to his own bed. Just before he hit the mattress he sent Erin a text which, when she opened it the next morning, contained what was undoubtedly the most bizarre request she had ever received from her boss.
Can I borrow of pair of your knickers? Courier them to my home. Thanks Harry.
Will Harry manage to keep his temper with Jane? How will Jane put her foot in it next? Also will they begin to find out what happened to Catherine?