Secrets I : Chapter 7 - 9

CHAPTER SEVEN


The rest of the day was spent in writing and polishing the speech for Sekoa to give day after tomorrow at three in the afternoon for the opening ceremonies. That, plus legend writing for Ros and Zaf, and research into all of the Summit delegates, kept Ruth very busy. She saw Harry only in passing, and never alone, but she found they fell back into their familiar routine on the Grid. She was doing what she loved, feeling useful. And before she knew it, it was 8 p.m. When she looked around, Harry was gone. His office was dark, and she hadn't even seen him leave.

Ruth hadn't known until the final briefing at the end of the day that Harry would be at the hotel for the full four days of the Summit. By that time, she had already made a request of Adam that she be stationed on the Grid with Malcolm rather than liaising with him from the hotel. She and Malcolm had felt it would be too disjointed, and that there were so many people to keep track of, it would be best to have four eyes on the work. Malcolm wanted Ruth because she thought the way he did, and he trusted her.

Although it was late, a full crew was still working. Adam was on the Grid, as were Ros and Jo. Malcolm was at the hotel with Zaf and a technical team, setting up surveillance cameras and microphones. Of course, she couldn't ask anyone about Harry, and she was done with her work, so she packed up her things and put on her coat.

"Right. Night all," she called out as she made her way to the pods. The plan was that they would all show up on the Grid tomorrow morning for a final check, and then those who were staying at the hotel would go in the early afternoon to check in, along with all of the delegates. Ruth was tired, and ready to kick her shoes off to have a cuddle with the fluffy girls at home.

She stepped out into the fresh night air and breathed it in, enjoying the chill feel of it after artificial air all day. She walked the fifteen minutes to the bus stop, and sat on the bench, waiting. It was dark, and she couldn't read her book, so she closed her eyes for a moment to rest them.

"Can I give you a lift, Miss?"

Ruth smiled, keeping her eyes closed. "As long as you're not some weirdo."

Harry laughed and took her hand. "Can't promise that. Hurry, before someone sees us. My car is just around the corner."

Pulling her coat collar up so that it covered part of her face, Ruth looked at Harry, who chuckled and did the same. They walked, arm in arm, close together, looking very much like two people pretending to be spies. And doing it badly.

When they got to the car, Harry fumbled with his keys and hit the alarm button instead of unlocking the doors, and his car burst into a number of extremely loud and conspicuous sounds until he was able to push the button again to silence it. Ruth got her coat caught on the door as she tried to get in too fast and ended up pulling it almost over her head before she wrestled it into the seat.

By the time they got in, they were both laughing so uncontrollably that neither could function. "Shhhhhhh … oh, cripes, very smooth, Harry. What did you say you did for a living?" Ruth was still trying to unhook her arm from the sleeve of her coat, which was now in a knot.

"Demolition, I think, something very noisy. Why do you ask?" Harry was working to get his seatbelt on at the same time he tried to put the keys in the ignition. He managed finally to get the car started, put it into gear, and got them safely on their way. They were only able to go seconds at a time without laughing, and then would start up again.

Harry looked over at Ruth, his eyes glistening, "Well, I think that went well. Don't you?"

"Absolutely by the book. Perfect spy-craft. No one suspected a thing, Harry. Ooh, my stomach hurts, please say something to make me stop laughing."

"Sorry. Can't. Helpless. Oh, I haven't laughed like this in a while, Ruth." Harry reached over and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "Doing all sorts of new things with you lately. What's next? Bungee jumping? Now's the time. I'll try practically anything."

"How about a glass of wine? My place. I promise to kick you out chaste and covered in cat fuzz. But I think I'm short on bungees."

"Brilliant. Wine and cat fuzz it is, then." Harry turned toward Ruth's house, and they finally quieted.

Companionable silence, Ruth thought. She had always listed it as one of her requirements for a good relationship, and they were already quite good at it.

---

Ruth got down the glasses while Harry uncorked the bottle. They sat on the sofa that faced the fireplace, and although it would be nice, neither had the energy to make a fire. It had been a long day for both of them.

Harry had his arm around Ruth, and she nestled on his chest. She could hear his heart, steady, rhythmic, and his breathing, so reassuring and sound. When he spoke it vibrated through her. "So I understand you're not to be at the hotel? Why is that?"

"Nothing sinister, Harry. Just that Malcolm and I thought it would be best. I think I can do more on the Grid."

"Not avoiding me, then?"

Ruth sat up, smiling at him. "Harry. Do you think we're not up to maintaining our professional distance at Havensworth?"

He smiled too. "Well, I'm not the one who asked to be reassigned, am I?" Harry took a sip of wine to cover his slight awkwardness. "And I may have looked forward to a little sneaking about. I can admit that."

Ruth laughed. "Sneaking about? At Havensworth?" She moved around and curled her legs under her so she could face him. "Harry, do you have any idea of the amount of surveillance currently installed in that hotel? We'd be lucky if we could have a dirty thought without them monitoring it."

Harry sniffed. "Actually, I don't know about the surveillance, as whilst Malcolm was giving his fascinating talk, I was busy plotting how to get you back here tonight. I really can't understand a word he says anyway, Ruth." He smiled at her over the rim of his glass.

"Ah, then you might have paid a bit more attention. Everyone will be tracked through their mobiles and pagers, including you, Harry." Ruth suddenly got a knowing look on her face. "Which means … I will know, along with Malcolm, exactly where you are at any given time." She leant over and kissed him on the neck, whispering, "Be aware, Harry. Be very aware."

Harry tightened his arm around Ruth's neck and she struggled, laughing, as he drew her to him. "All right, where are the cameras located? I can get it out of you, you know. I have electrodes in the car." He brought his lips to hers and kissed her, long and deeply, as she relaxed into him, giving up the struggle. The taste of wine was on both of their mouths, and both felt deliciously light-headed.

They moved in tiny increments, until they were in danger of reclining sideways on to the sofa. Harry's hand had moved by inches from Ruth's face to her neck, then to the space just above her collar, and he was unconsciously trailing a finger lower as he kissed her. Ruth put her hand over his, gently, and he pulled back, sighing.

His voice was thick, soft, and full of emotion. "You see, Ruth? We're not to be trusted."

"Mmmmm, I know. But, God, this feels good, Harry." She snuggled back into his neck. "I was humming this morning. The cats think I've gone round the bend."

Harry laughed, and kissed her forehead. Then her cheek. And her lips. And they were at it again, until he broke away abruptly, and said, "Right. I either need to go home, or we need to talk about rugby or something equally anti-erotic." He held her at arms-length, as if she might bite him at any moment.

Ruth laughed. "You know I can't abide sports, Harry, but I think in this state I could make even rugby erotic." She put her hands on his and removed them from her shoulders. "But don't go home just yet. Can't we just talk?"

Harry kissed her on the nose and stood up. "Only if I sit over here." He moved over to the chair next to the couch, taking his wine with him. Ruth sat back and stretched her legs out in front of her on the sofa, one arm draped across the back. She picked up her wine glass and took a sip.

Harry sighed as he watched her. "However, I hadn't bargained on how good you would look from here. I may need to go home after all."

"No! Okay, I'll make it worth your while to stay. You can ask me any question, and I'll answer honestly. Does that sweeten the pot?"

"Ah, yes, true confessions. Only fair, as you've already had your turn at interrogating me about Juliet." He sipped his wine thoughtfully. And then he rubbed his finger around the rim of the glass, slowly, thinking.

"Well?" Ruth hadn't thought it would take this long for him to come up with something. Now she was getting worried about what his question would be. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"Oh, patience, Ruth." He smiled slyly across at her. "You know, this is emerging as quite a problem for you. I had no idea you were so impulsive in areas of the heart." He took another sip, maddeningly slowly. "The issue is that I have two questions right now, and I'm trying to decide."

She couldn't stand it any longer. "All right, what's the first? Then I'll decide if you can have another."

"Good." He sat up and leant forward. "After the EERIE exercise, I walked out of my office, and you said, 'you bastard.' Firstly, not very ladylike, Ruth, but … and you must answer this honestly … what was in your mind at that moment?"

Ruth sputtered a bit, becoming almost as angry as she was that day. "Well, I think that should be fairly obvious, Harry. We'd all been thinking it was the end of the bloody world, and out you stride, telling us what good little spooks we were!"

Harry didn't flinch. "Yes, that is the obvious answer. And your righteous indignation was duly noted. But what else, Ruth?"

She simply stared at him for a very long moment and then lowered her eyes to her wine glass. She swirled the chardonnay slowly around and took a breath before answering softly. "I thought you were dead, or … or … dying. Alone in your office, quoting St. Paul. Sick, going mad, and alone." Ruth swallowed, and Harry realised she had gone suddenly very serious.

She looked up, stricken. "I almost came in, Harry. I took the keys from Tom when he wasn't looking, and stood at your door." Ruth closed her eyes, remembering. "I was so close to unlocking it and coming in to you." Now her eyes opened, and they were shiny with tears. "What would that have meant to you? That I was willing to give my life in order for you to have some peace and comfort as you died? And then, after … after … who would have been with me?"

"I still will stay with thee … " Harry whispered the words that came unbidden, from Romeo's death scene. Moved beyond expression, he went quickly back to Ruth on the sofa, never imagining his question would cause this. He'd thought that she would only admit that she was worried about him, but this was so much more. He held her, and felt her shuddering, and realised she was crying. Harry tried to be sorry that he had asked the question, but her answer was such a gift to him that he couldn't regret it. "Oh, Ruth. I had no idea. Shh …. Shhhhh … I didn't think … "

She put her arms around him, and her tears fell hot on his starched shirt. "But I didn't Harry. I didn't come in. And what does that say?"

He held her, stroking her hair. "It says you're a woman who loves life, Ruth. And that you considered it at all is absolutely the most unselfish thing anyone has ever thought of doing for me. It touches me more than I can say." Harry pulled her gently away and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. Another tear, just about to fall, he kissed.

"Oh, Harry, I've thought about that day so many times since then. I've imagined myself at worst a coward or at best, a realist. One who, as you say, loves life. But my heart hurt, physically, to think of you in there alone. And when you walked out I was so grateful that you were well, and so angry at you that I was ready to kill you myself." Now Harry held her, and the shuddering was relief, a form of releasing laughter from both of them.

She looked up at him, tear stained and, Harry thought, more beautiful than he had ever seen her. "Forgive me, Harry? I need to hear it from you. Tell me I didn't abandon you."

He held her so tightly now, he was afraid he might hurt her. "There's nothing to forgive, Ruth, but I will if it eases your mind. And I will keep the gift you've given me tonight, close, always. I'll take it out when I need to remember what I'm worth. You'll remind me of that."

~~~~~

CHAPTER EIGHT

Ruth's heart sank. His blinds were open this morning, but the light was out, and it looked as if no one was inside.

She sat, feeling the loss of the ritual, and so wanting to see him. And then she chastised herself for it. Needy girl, she said to herself, Harry's an important man, with important things to do, and here you sit moping because you can't look at him.

Fully contrite, Ruth entered her password and logged in to see what her tasks were for the day. When she looked up, Jo was at the front of her desk, breathless. "Ruth, what are you working on right now?"

"Well, not much at the moment. I know I need to update the Weekly Report, flag the level of possible threats for the Summit and such, but that's not due till end of day. What's up?"

Jo was frazzled. "Well, I'm buried. Malcolm has me running this new face recognition software for Havensworth, and it's giving me hell, and now Harry calls from hospital … "

"What? Why is Harry in hospital?" Nice one, Ruth, very subtle. "I mean," she backed off significantly, "everything okay?"

"Sure, he's fine. Walked in this morning, got a call from Juliet, and walked back out. But walked back out without the report he needs for his meeting with the Home Secretary, which he will go to directly after holding Juliet's hand … " This last bit was said with a large portion of sarcasm. "God, what that woman has on him is beyond me … " Jo looked down at Ruth and saw her face, and immediately regretted she'd said it. "Oh, Ruth, sorry, just it's been a bitch of a morning, the couriers are all taken, and now I'm supposed to just pop over and give this to him ... "

Ruth knew she needed to recover, and quickly. "Jo. I'm happy to take it. I've got a light load today, no bother at all." She started to gather up her purse again, and looked across her desk at Jo. "And there's no need to be sorry, Jo." In her steady gaze there was the clear message: There's nothing between Harry and me.

Jo's gratitude was effusive. "Oh, Ruth, you're such a pal to do this. I'm knackered, and it's not even bloody nine o'clock." She was already on her way back to her station. "Thanks, really," she said as she sat down and began the struggle with her computer again.

"No worries, Jo. Tell Malcolm where I've gone if he asks, he can reach me on my mobile. Back soon."

With that, Ruth was out through the pods and on her way to hospital. She could take the bus, and then Harry might be able to drop her back on his way to see the Home Secretary. She could still get her work done, and she'd get a short time with him alone. No downside, she thought, smiling to herself.

Well, almost no downside. Juliet. Jo's words came back to Ruth like a cold gust on her neck. "Holding Juliet's hand … What that woman has on him is beyond me … " The cold moved from Ruth's neck to her stomach, and she recognised it for what it was. Jealous, am I? He told you there was nothing between them. Am I suspicious of the man who held me last night, who shows me he loves me with every word, every action? Ah, yes, but then why hasn't he said it?

Oh, I don't know, Ruth, perhaps because it's been all of a week and a half since you showed up on his doorstep in the middle of the night? Bloody hell, how fast is the man expected to be? And as both of you know, this has been going on for much longer than a week and a half, so why haven't YOU said it?

The tennis match in Ruth's mind was giving her a throbbing headache. She stopped and took stock of the last few days, the last few years. And two words came clearly to her. Trust him. Ruth looked out the window of the bus, and traced a small heart on the fog there. She whispered so softly that she could barely hear her voice over the noise of the engines. "You're a good man, Harry. I know that."

---

Harry entered the room quietly. Juliet was propped up on the hospital bed, and appeared to be asleep. She looked much better to him than she had the last time he saw her, scratches healed, no horrible hospital gown. Instead she wore a purplish jacket, soft around her neck. A flush at the cheeks, natural or not, lent her more youth than she'd had when they had their last conversation.

He was sure that Juliet had no idea what she'd started. "That's one to ponder" had led to a dinner invitation, which led to Harry now believing the future to be a wonderful destination. He smiled at the thought, and sent up a grateful prayer for Juliet's usually annoying straightforward manner.

Would he have done it anyway? Perhaps, but probably not. Hearing Juliet say, "Ruth is in love with you" gave Harry the small assurance he needed to risk the embarrassment and hurt of rejection. But what he realised he had been most afraid of was the loss of the status quo with Ruth. They may not have had love, but they had something, and he wasn't ready to risk losing even that by overstepping.

Juliet stirred, but Harry realised with a profound sadness, she only stirred from her shoulders. There was an unnatural pose to her, turned as she was slightly to the side, but from the waist down faced perfectly to the ceiling. No one deserves this, he thought.

His life with Juliet, so long ago, was held in a box, like one of the boxes that held all the legends of every agent at MI5. He could take it out and look at it now, but it wasn't real to him. That time in Paris had been so new, so exciting to him. His marriage to Jane started out badly, and Harry was aware that it had been a mistake, earlier than he would even admit to himself.

Juliet had been as exciting as the work. Slightly older than he, quite beautiful, and dangerous. A lethal combination. They had made love at times stupidly, when there was extreme risk, revelling in the power of it. Harry was young, and that young man belonged in the box too. Harry hardly knew him anymore.

But paralysed. God, he had trouble even getting his mind around it. For anyone, paralysis is a devastation. For Juliet, it had to be close to death. The woman who could stride across an office and strike fear in anyone who watched, who could stand her ground stubbornly even until it made no sense anymore, who sat with legs crossed just so, to remind any antagonist that she was still, and finally, a woman. This Juliet would spend the rest of her life in a motorised chair. It horrified him beyond belief.

"Harry." Juliet's eyes were open, and she looked at him across the room. He went to her and sat on the bed as he had before, being careful not to put any pressure on her legs. She can't feel it, but I can.

"I got the message that you needed to see me. They said it was an emergency? How are you, Juliet?" Harry's voice was softer than Juliet remembered, and there was a new tone to it. She couldn't know that it was a direct result of Ruth opening his heart a few notches. Harry wasn't even aware of it, only that he sat feeling a sting of compassion for Juliet. He was actually feeling quite overcome, by Harry standards.

"I'll never walk again, Harry. It's certain now. I needed a friendly face to tell that to. As you know, no one likes me, and I have no friends. You're the closest thing I have." Harry realised in horror that Juliet was about to cry. Yelling, abuse, torture, he could stand, but oh, God, not Juliet crying. He had never seen her cry, never even heard the emotion in her voice that would lead to tears. Harry Pearce, intrepid Head of MI5, was terrified beyond speech.

"Oh … Juliet … oh, well. I'm … I'm so sorry …" He had barely gotten the word out when he knew it was a mistake. Sympathy put her over the edge, and the tears began slipping, one after the other, down the sides of her face and into her hair. She closed her eyes, and the purplish jacket began to shudder as she let out small, racking sobs. Her hand was on the bed at her side, and all he could think of to do was to pick it up and pat it, saying, "Now, maybe there's someone else, second opinion, yes?"

"I've had twelve of them, Harry!" Thank God, now she's shouting. But it was short lived, as she descended even further into tears. Her hand was now squeezing his, pulling him closer. He scooted up the bed and she grabbed his jacket. "Please, Harry. I can't stand this. We had something once, didn't we? Do you ever think about Paris?"

Harry knew that compassion is one thing, misleading is quite another. "Juliet, I feel for you, I truly do. This is more than anyone should have to bear. But I can't let you think that I … I took your advice, Juliet, and … " Juliet wasn't listening. She seemed to be in the throes of some nightmare. With surprising strength in her upper body, she pulled herself toward him by gripping his coat with both hands, and she kissed him.

Harry was so taken aback that he didn't move for just a split second, and she pressed her advantage. Putting her arms around him in a vice grip, Juliet kissed him harder, until Harry was actually having some difficulty breathing. He reached up and took both of her hands, prying them off his neck. Compassion be damned. This had to end.

"Juliet, I'm in love with Ruth!" Harry shouted.

---

She'd been watching for much longer than she should have, really ever since Harry had taken Juliet's hand. But she couldn't seem to move. Standing outside the window, Ruth only heard the muffled sounds inside, but she did hear Harry shout.

And what she heard was, "Juliet, I'm in love with you."

Ruth, ever the good spook, checked the file in her hands to be certain it had no "Eyes Only" documents. Once she was sure of it, she walked to the nurses' station and calmly said, "Excuse me. There is a Mr. Pearce in Room 324 with Juliet Shaw? Would you mind awfully giving him this file? He'll need it when he leaves."

~~~~~

CHAPTER NINE

She hadn't cried yet. Really, it was a bit like a sleepwalk. Back on the bus, upstairs as usual. Sit in the same seat. But the memory that always came was scattered this time, like a cracked plate. And now, as her senses began to return to her, it was almost as if this was the reality, the truth, and the last ten days was the dream. Had she just dreamt it? If it was a dream, what a good imagination she had, because she could still feel his lips on hers, hear his heartbeat full in her ear as she snuggled on his chest, and remember how he smelled of soap and shaving cream and something sweet, like chocolate. Like Harry.

As she sat on the bus and it jostled her, she loved him more than she could ever imagine loving another human being. Her heart was full to bursting of him. And she knew it was over. She would go back to her life with her two cats. Back to her life on the Grid, if she could bear it. And she would watch "The Red Shoes" every night if she had to, to feel better again. But this time would be harder, because this time she would know. She would know what it was like to be held, and kissed, and feel cherished by him. I have to find a way to live with this. People like me don't really have that kind of love anyway. It must have been a dream.

For now, she was grateful she had a job to do. She was needed. She would go back to the Grid and begin her work with Malcolm. She would watch the tiny red square that was Harry Pearce as it moved up and down the hallways of the Havensworth Hotel, saving Britain. She would do what she had to do, and she would try to bear it.

---

Harry's talk with the doctor was very illuminating. They had given Juliet a sedative to calm her after giving her the news, and she had been typically resistant. This did not surprise Harry. The problem was that the sedative had the opposite effect on Juliet, and she needed something much stronger, which they had given her as soon as Harry rang the nurses' station.

A file was given to him, which had been delivered by a young woman, the elderly nurse said, and Harry was grateful that Jo had been able to get away from the Grid after all.

Leaving Juliet sleeping peacefully, Harry went off to meet with the Home Secretary. He would then make his way up to the hotel. On the way, he would call Ruth. After what he'd just been through with Juliet, he needed to hear her voice, feel her calm presence. Her voice always soothed him. He knew she would be cross with him because he was calling her at work, and she would be suitably adorable about it. He didn't care, Harry thought with a smile. He needed her.

---

As the security guards were going through Ruth's bags, her mobile rang. Her heart jumped for a moment, but when she looked, it was Adam's name on the screen.

"Yes, Adam?"

"Ruth, slight change of plans. I want Jo to work with Malcolm on the Grid, and I want you at the hotel."

Oh, please, no. She had been moving through this up till now, but that would be too much. "That's not a slight change of plans, Adam. Why?"

"Because you also have organising abilities, so we can have you multi-task. We just don't have enough people."

"Adam, please don't ask me to do this. I want … I wish … Adam, can I please work with Malcolm and have Jo come and organise. Please."

Adam was clearly in a hurry. "Look, this is non-negotiable, Ruth, and I don't have time to debate it. Go to the Grid, give Malcolm any information he needs, go home, pack a bag, and get yourself up to the hotel to meet with Harry. He'll tell you where you need to be."

As she pressed the button on her phone, the security guard held out Ruth's bag and she practically ripped it out of his hands. Bloody marvellous.

Ruth stood at the lift and felt tears beginning to well up. She realised she was feeling sorry for herself. Well, that won't do, will it, Ruth? Are you going to pool into a ruddy puddle now? She pulled herself up to her full height and took a deep breath. By the time she stepped into the lift, she had controlled her tears and increased her anger. That was going to be the way for her to get through this.

She stepped on to the Grid and made her way back to Malcolm's surveillance station.

" Adam wants me at Havensworth."

Malcolm turned to look at her, surprised. "I thought you asked not to go?"

"I did … um … but I was overruled."

Malcolm turned back to the screen. "I apologise if I was insensitive before. What goes on between you and Harry is none of my business." Malcolm was using his psychic powers again, Ruth thought. But what would have been a hard answer to make just a few hours ago was very easy for Ruth now.

"Nothing's going on."

Malcolm turned, hearing the sadness, to see the anger. And he was thinking there was certainly something going on, and it wasn't something small. Time will tell, Malcolm thought. It always does.

---

Her mobile had rung five times. All Harry. She had been a coward four times, and finally answered. It was easy to simulate a bad connection, simply by opening the window of the car. He'd tried to make a joke about getting a room with an interior door, but she cut him off, saying she couldn't hear him. She could tell he didn't quite believe her, and the last words she heard before she switched off were, "Ruth, is everything all right? I've tried to reach you … "

The tears threatened again as she shoved the phone back in her purse, but she shook them off.

She arrived at the hotel and came through the front entrance, and Malcolm and Jo watched on the surveillance camera as she dropped the stub for the car park on the stairs, and bent to pick it up. By this time, Ruth was on a sort of remote control. Her only goal in life was to get checked in to a room and have the most self-absorbed, self-pitying, deluge of a cry she had ever had. It felt as if she was holding back every drop of water in the Thames behind her eyelids, and she didn't know how much longer she could last.

Of course, because this was the way her day was going, the first person she saw as she crossed the lobby was Harry. Harry, my love. How will I get through this? Every memory of the last few days flooded her, and she actually felt a bit faint. She knew every line on his face, the feel of him, and it stabbed her all over again, threatening the tears that wanted so much to come. Harry seemed anxious with the tension of the day and what was expected of him. And Ruth suddenly felt a desire to comfort him, help him, make it easier on him, still. Even now.

"Hello." He spoke with the understanding that they were surrounded by people, and, in truth, he still was puzzling why she had been so distant on the phone. Better to keep it simple, and find out later. "I'm glad you're here. We need your organisational skills on this operation." He reached into his jacket pocket. "I've got your pass."

"Um, do I need to organise a room?" It was all she could think of. He was right there, next to her, so close. She had to make a concentrated effort to push the vision of that same face, those same hands from last night out of her mind. I have to get behind a closed door, to privacy, before I break down completely.

"No, it's all arranged." Ruth looked at him. He had a strange smile on his face, and she realised with a sudden start that although her world had turned upside down, he still didn't know that she'd seen him with Juliet. How could he know? He was acting on the basis of who they were together last night, or the night before, or Saturday.

Ruth saw through the formality he had to use in the lobby of this crowded hotel. She saw him, her Harry, still there. Oh, no, Harry, you didn't, she thought, not the room with the adjoining door. He read exactly that in her look, and quickly said, "Your room. It's your own room."

Ruth answered hastily, "Of course." Please let this be over. Please let me just go to the room. I can't bear this. Please.

Blessedly, Harry's mobile rang, and Ruth knew the conversation was finished. "Right."

Harry looked disappointed to have to let her go, but he knew there would be time later. Then he amended that in his mind, he hoped there would be time later. He was so attuned to Ruth now, and he felt something from her, something that couldn't be pinned down. He could only imagine it was the tension of being in a hotel and talking about hotel rooms. Although that wasn't an easy answer, because they had talked about it last night with no tension whatsoever.

A dread started in Harry. An amorphous anxiety of the sort that he'd felt when an op was about to go terribly wrong. His mobile maddeningly rang again. "I'll have to take this. Do you want to … " He pointed toward the reservation desk.

"Sure." It was over. Ruth knew that this was the hardest part, or at least she hoped it was. But as she walked to the hotel desk, she couldn't stop herself from looking back. He was standing in the middle of the crowded lobby, his phone to his ear, and he was looking at her.

The look on Harry's face was unspeakably sad, as if he knew something had changed, and felt powerless to make it right. Ruth didn't know that Jo was on the line.

She watched him speak, and suddenly wished she could read lips. If she could, she would have seen Harry thank Jo for the file she brought to him at the hospital. And if she could hear the other side of the conversation, she would have heard Jo say that Ruth had brought it.

Ruth stood stock still in the lobby across from him as he closed his mobile and held it, slack, at his side. People passed between them in the cavernous space, and the echo reminded her of the church they'd visited on Saturday. She'd never seen Harry look like this before, even through all the deaths and the impossible decisions. This look was different. This was a look of the heart, and if she didn't know better, she would think it had broken. Again, she wanted to go to him, to comfort him, to tell him everything would be all right.

But between them, on the magnificent marble floor of the hotel, Ruth imagined Juliet materialising, and heard again the words she knew would never leave her. "Juliet, I'm in love with you."

Harry started to walk toward her, and Ruth's heart began hammering. Then his mobile rung again. He stopped and held it up to look at the screen. Still with that look of utter despair, Harry shrugged his shoulders and opened his phone. From the distance between them, she could hear him say, resigned, "Yes, Foreign Secretary, I'm here … "

Ruth turned toward the desk. The tears were so close, she thought now she might not make it, but she blinked them back and started walking.

~~~~~