To say that the three and a half hours between Harry leaving and phoning to say that he would be home in half an hour had felt interminable, was a fair assessment from Malcolm's point of view. As was his new found realisation as to the depth of Ruth's feelings, which had been clear from the moment that Harry had said 'he simply couldn't ignore Caroline's cry for help.' Which had they had plenty to do, might have taken the edge off the stress levels. But as it was, having moved his few belongings into the smallest of the three bedrooms, made up the bed in the second of the two doubles, sorted out another set of towels and had a general tidy up, apart from drinking copious amounts of tea and twisting a tea towel round and round in her hands, Ruth had disappeared behind an immovable curtain. Only reappearing to answer Harry's call. At which point she had burst into tears, before apologising and racing up the stairs, presumably he thought, to wash her face and prepare for his return.
Leaving him to consider what on his part had been ill advised bravado, by suggesting that she didn't need to worry because Harry was tough as old boots. Only for her to remind him of the time that Tom had shot him and for him to remind himself of the more recent image of Harry, lying on the floor with his head in a pool of blood, surrounded my Mani's hired help chanting obscenities at him. So, tears or not, Ruth was right and tough as old boots, metaphorically or otherwise, if Lucas did have some sort axe to grind with Harry, there was no outcome worthy of a safe bet as to who was going to win. Not that that he imagined for one moment it would prevent Harry from trying to change the odds in his favour.
With that and so much more on his mind, 'let me help you with that,' he told Caroline, after the introductions had been made,' helping her off with her coat before picking up her bag and then offering to show her where her room was. And when he was doing so, realising that in the space of a couple of days, not only had Ruth's house been turned into an offshoot of the grid, but had become a refuge for lost souls. The partial relief when he discovered that his diplomacy skills or lack of them would no longer be required when it came to mentioning Harry and Ruth in the same sentence, was when Caroline who was every inch an older version of Ros, looked him straight in the eye and said, 'I'm sorry if Ruth's been worrying about Harry, but I didn't know who else to call.'
Whilst in the kitchen and aware that he was on limited time before he and Ruth were disturbed, Harry had already decided that telling her that when he had pulled up outside Caroline's house that the security lighting had failed to come on was best kept until the morning. As was the feeling when he had walked towards the front door that he was being watched and again when they had driven away that there had been a figure lurking in the shadows. Only to have it confirmed when Caroline described her visitor as being tall, dark haired and with what she had described as an angular face. More worrying was that Lucas had rung in advance describing himself as a friend of her daughters, which up until the last few days, he himself had believed him to be. Only to find out that his real reason for calling, had been to pass on a message. Although why he would have driven all that way to say, I want you to tell Harry that I know where the bodies are buried, something which he himself had played down by telling Caroline it was just an expression, he has no idea. What he does know is that it had been thoughtless in the extreme, bearing in mind that Caroline had so recently lost her daughter and cowardly for Lucas to have taken advantage of her frailty by using her as a messenger.
Whereas now the only body that matters, is the one that is pressed against his, warm and comforting and relieved to have him home. No everything else will keep until the morning he tells himself, wishing it was bedtime but knowing that before the pleasure and the peace which that always brings them both, they have guests who need to be to fed.
.
As do they, but after what has been a long day for all of them, by mutual agreement they order a take out. In the interim and while Ruth lays the table and puts the plates in the oven to warm up, Harry opens a couple of bottles of wine and asks Malcolm 'to tell them more about his cottage by the sea and what he does with his time.'
Obliging as Malcolm always is, 'I moved to Winchelsea, which is a few miles from Rye in Sussex,' he says, without knowing the significance of the location or just how much time Harry expects him to fill? Because contrary to what he assumes Harry might think, one day is pretty much like the next and so on. That and wanting to steer the conversation away from that fact that spies constantly have to reinvent themselves and sometimes as has, leading an ordinary life again, hasn't been as easy as he'd previously imagined. Added to which he doesn't want to harp on about living on his own since losing his mum, or how the dark evenings mean that he's looking forward to the clocks going forward and the arrival of better weather. So, he strings it out for as long as he can by talking about his morning walks on the beach, reading and popping down to the pub on a Friday evening because they have a quiz night.
'I know how you feel,' says Caroline, surprising her hosts who of course had seen her house and garden when they visited. Presuming that in addition to them both being immaculate and not for their benefit, would involve a daily routine. And that when she had told them that she edited the Parish Magazine, had been co-opted onto the team that organises the flowers in the church on a weekly basis and the annual flower show, that up Ros had been killed, she had been quite content with her life away from London.
Now though when her response to what Malcolm has suggested are days in his case which are less than fulfilling, causes Harry to look in Ruth's direction and her him. And while their guests carry on chatting about their seemingly lonely lives, they who have taken steps to resolve what had been the same for them until recently, find that they cannot look away. Imagining a future which is far from mundane and despite the quiet, full of love and laughter. And as they do so and the seconds drag on, the real possibility of revisiting the moment when Harry had proposed. A proposal which had it come with a declaration of love, rather than his concern as to the number of people who would be attending their funerals, Ruth now acknowledges she would have said yes to. While Harry is vowing to avoid churchyards and find the right words.
.
The morning when it comes, with a breakfast combining not only the sum-total of what is left in Ruth's fridge, but the cereal and toast that she and Harry have come to enjoy at a leisurely pace, which means that someone needs to go shopping, is only interrupted by the arrival of a calm and ready to go Alec who Harry installs in the sitting room.
Leaving Ruth who is surplus to requirements, in that Harry is quite capable or making coffee and knowing that Caroline cannot be allowed to hear what they are going to discuss, to suggest that the two of them go for a walk.
Which leads Malcolm to ask Harry when he walks back into the kitchen having seen them off, 'are you sure they'll be alright?'
'I've told Ruth to make sure that they avoid the park and stick to places where there are plenty of people,' Harry tells him.
'Surely you mean you suggested, don't you? Because even with your charm, I find it hard to imagine Ruth responding well to being told what to do?'
'Shouldn't that kettle have boiled by now?' Harry asks him. Which without turning round, Malcolm knows has been said with a smile.
Only to find it is short lived when Alec announces that, 'like Tom and Adam before him, having checked all the evidence, he's concluded that Lucas is having some sort of breakdown. But in this case with far reaching consequences.'