Not only was Harry the last person she expected to see when she opened her front door, but she wasn't even sure if she wanted to see him, never mind let him in. That though was the Ruth who was hurting and was never going to win the battle with the Ruth who just wanted him to put his arms around her and tell her he was sorry and that he should have realised how worried she'd been.

Besides having not eaten since breakfast and that had only been a couple of slices of toast, she was hungry and here was Harry, turning up like a knight in shining armour, almost as if he'd known.

'I'll warm the plates, the cutleries in that drawer,' she told him, with a vague wave of her hand towards the dresser, after he'd hung up his coat on the hook next to hers and followed her down the hallway into her kitchen. Because at least when he was opening and closing drawers it was giving her time to get her thoughts into some sort of order. Thoughts which now that he was actually here in her house, were ranging between wanting to tell him the truth which would mean revisiting where he'd so recently been, or ignoring the fact that he'd just added to the number of people who he'd killed.

Only to hear him say, 'I am truly sorry Ruth,' which forced her to turn around and face him and when she did, to find that it was the way he was looking at her rather than what he'd said was causing her mind to head in an altogether different direction.

That he then produced what felt like a miniature bomb going off inside her, by introducing into the conversation the invitation from Ros's mother, after they'd finished their meal and had decamped into her sitting room with a second bottle of wine, put a stop to what would have been the first step to her telling him how if he hadn't changed his mind, that she did want them to have a relationship outside of work, but not one that involved saying I do.

'Only to hear herself say, 'is that the only reason you came over tonight?' Realising as soon as she'd said it that she'd done exactly what she'd intended to avoid. Because Harry had taken it as an invitation to vacate the chair where he'd been sitting and taken the two steps that were required to be sitting on the sofa with just a hair's breadth between them.

'It's what forced my arm, if that's what you mean. But I also knew I'd messed up big time and I wanted to apologise. I know this isn't very inventive but I need to know if you're alright?'

Not inventive my arse, so 'I'm fine,' she lied. Because how could she be fine when if she wasn't metaphorically sitting on her hands, they would have been all over him?

'Does that mean you'll come with me?'

'Yes.'

'Because you're curious? Or is it because we'll be spending the day together?'

'Because we need to talk Harry and it needs to be away from the grid.'

'We're not on the grid now Ruth.'

'Yes, I know that, but what I also know is that we're both very tired Harry,' was her last line of resistance. That or she'd weaken and now wasn't the time, even though her body was telling her otherwise.

As was Harrys, but he also wanted to make it clear that he hadn't given up on them. That he loved her with every fibre of his body and for the first time in his life it wasn't just about sex. Had it been, he'd have suggested that they take this conversation upstairs.

Instead, 'I'll see you on Sunday morning about nine,' he told her. But not before he'd kissed her on the cheek.

.

How to get through Saturday was Ruth's first thought when she woke up after what had been a restless night and walked into her bathroom. A night during which she must have slept but it didn't feel or did it look like it, because the face in the mirror reminded her of her beloved Fidget after he'd spent a night on the tiles. Primarily because she'd been wrestling between meeting Ros's mother and what her motive might be for wanting to meet them and sleeping with Harry. How if only she'd had the courage to follow her heart, she'd already know the answer to what she was now craving.

Harry was on the same roller coaster but his a brake on it. Not one that he was terribly proud of, but needs must he'd told himself when he was standing under the shower and relieving his craving, whilst imaging that it was Ruth who was bringing him to the inevitable release. Which given that he'd spent so long waiting for what had been so tantalisingly close, had him wondering how Sunday might evolve?

Not that he had long to wait, because within moments of him putting on the kettle intending to make himself a cup of coffee, his phone rang.

'I've been thinking and well it's called The Riverside Inn. Which is appropriate given that we both like rivers,' said Ruth.

What she didn't say, but was implied by what she said next was, 'I just thought that we ought to stop prevaricating and do something about it. It's close to Ely so if we went today rather than drive up there tomorrow, we won't have to spend the journey thinking about what Ros's mother is going to say.'

After which and during a pause the length of the Thames, Ruth who by now was wondering if she'd overstepped the mark asked Harry if he was still there?

He was, he was also stunned. But there was the not so small matter of finding out if The Riverside Inn had a vacant room. Which meant ringing them.

Only for her to tell him she already done that, so all he had to do was to call and confirm under the names of Harry and Ruth Richardson.

.

What to take for an overnight stay, was the next question that they were both faced with, which saw Ruth making herself another cup of tea and Harry who was still in shock, making himself the coffee that he'd been about to make when she'd called him.

Helped in his case by his daughter, who on one very bleak afternoon not long after Ruth had gone away, he'd confided in and then subsequently taken out. Not in a bloody suit had been her actual words, which meant that he wasn't short of smart casuals.

Unlike Ruth whose social life since she's come home has been confined to her imagination, other than one evening when Malcolm had taken her to the theatre and told her never to give up hope. That neither she or Harry were responsible for what had happened to George and even if she'd didn't believe it now, that they'd find a way back to each other. All of which had prompted her to buy what she calls her 'just in case dress'.

Only for them to lose Jo on her first day back on the grid, which has seen them tip towing around each other for reasons that no longer seem important. Thanks to a phone call from a woman who they have never met. That Harry might have handed her the ammunition by turning up the previous evening is one thing. But that she's been the one who instigated them spending a night in a country hotel in Cambridgeshire Ruth still can't quite believe, or can she help but smile when an hour later they're on their way.