Friday, 2nd April 2018 – Harry's Place
"Let me get that for you," she says, startling him.
"Christ, Ruth!"
"Sorry. I thought you'd clocked me when you got out the car," she explains, taking his house keys from his unresisting fingers and unlocking the front door for him.
"No," he murmurs, feeling suddenly worried. He's so exhausted now that his spying skills are clearly suffering for it. Perhaps refusing his driver's help had not been the best plan, though since Ruth's here, it's probably just as well.
"Good job I was here to make sure the coast was clear then, isn't it?" She smiles, easing the door open for him and following him into the house.
He walks over to his alarm and punches in the numbers before starting to struggle with his coat while Ruth closes and locks the door behind them before hanging up her own coat and handbag.
"Here," she says, moving closer. "Let me help." And she quickly unfastens the buttons and pulls it off his shoulders, hanging it up and turning back to him just in time to steady him as he sways on his feet. "Jesus, Harry. You okay?"
"A little dizzy," he replies, his self-control finally failing him. He's been holding himself together through sheer power of will, but he can no longer hide how exhausted he is and how desperately he needs to lie down and sleep.
"Come on," she says firmly, slipping around him to his right side and draping his right arm over her shoulders. "Let's get you to the sofa, shall we? I don't think we can manage the stairs, unless you have a bed on the ground floor?"
"No," he replies, recollecting suddenly that this is the first time Ruth's ever been in his home. He stares down at her in disbelief, overcome by emotion.
"What?"
"You've never been here before," he murmurs.
"No, so you might want to tell me which door we're aiming for," she suggests as practical as ever.
"First on the right," he replies, allowing her to guide him to it.
She switches on the light and they make their way towards the sofa, but he redirects her to his armchair instead. "Reclining," is all the explanation he gives, too exhausted to form many words.
She doesn't argue, just helps him sit, saying, "Easy does it, Harry. Try not to strain your shoulder."
Somehow or other they succeed with minimal discomfort and he leans back with a sigh of relief, closing his eyes.
He feels her cool hand on his forehead and hears her say, "No temperature. That's good. I'll make us a cup tea, shall I?"
He hums, slowly drifting into sleep, barely managing to utter one word, "Scarlet," before he loses consciousness, happy in the knowledge that Ruth's here and she will take care of everything. Never before has he felt so good about having another person around, in his home, in his space, watching over him.
"Poor love," she murmurs softly. "Sleep. I'll take care of everything." She lifts the lever on the side of the armchair and pushes the back down until it's as horizontal as possible, then removes his shoes and unfastens the button of his trousers and the front of his braces to make him more comfortable, before going in search of some covers for him.
She makes her way upstairs, discovering his office, a guest room, loo – which she uses quickly – his bedroom, and beyond it, an en suite. It's all so Spartan, she can't help thinking, as she crosses his bedroom and pulls the duvet off the bed, pausing by his chest of drawers, impulsively pulling open a few of them, looking for some warm, woollen socks she can put on his feet to help him sleep better. Then armed with these things, she goes back downstairs, replacing the socks on his feet and covering him well with the duvet before pressing a soft kiss against his forehead and going in search of the kitchen. He might be out like a light, but she's hungry, and she suspects, so is Scarlet.
She hears her growl the moment she approaches the room, and had she not met her before this, she'd probably have felt rather apprehensive about venturing any further. Knowing how friendly a dog she is, however, she has no qualms about opening the door and letting her out of the kitchen.
She barks once in greeting before rushing to the front room, clearly looking for Harry. She smiles after her, such a smart, devoted creature, and turns towards the kitchen, again surprised by how organised and soulless it seems. There aren't many things in Harry's home that would betray the tastes of its owner, and she wonders at that as she goes about opening cupboards and the fridge in search of food, both for herself and Scarlet. He clearly doesn't spend much time here, but she suspects that he's also trained himself not to become attached to things, to only have those which are functional and essential. Nothing is superfluous as far as she can see. No magnets on the fridge, nothing that betrays his character. She's sure that, if she looks closely, she'll find something, perhaps an old photo album, a few pictures of his children, a CD collection and some books that tell the story of who Harry Pearce is, of what are his tastes, what gives him pleasure, but she doesn't want to snoop. He didn't invite her here and it doesn't feel right to take advantage.
So she makes herself a cup of tea and some cheese on toast, feeds Scarlet and lets her out into the back garden briefly before making sure the house is locked up and going back upstairs to retrieve a pillow and duvet from the guest room and a shirt of Harry's to sleep in. She takes everything back down to the living room, ready to camp out on the sofa while Harry still sleeps in the armchair, Scarlet having jumped up on his lap, worming her way under the covers until only her little face is visible, resting on the arm of the chair next to Harry's hand, watching her.
She's so adorable that she can't help it, running back upstairs to retrieve Harry's camera that she'd seen lying on a shelf in his office, wanting to capture such a sweet scene for him to see later. Then she sets aside the camera and switches off the light before bedding down on the sofa for the night, feeling content to be near him in case he needs her, the shirt she's borrowed smelling deliciously of him and blanketing her heart with peace.