Home Run - Chapter 11

[Tea Lady]

The penultimate chapter guys. I'm nearly home. Thanks again for the Beta JHyde.


Chapter 11

It is nearly one in the morning when they finally make their way up Harry’s stairs to bed. Surprisingly there is no tension and neither are showing signs of embarrassment, both having utterly enjoyed their evening together. The large amount of alcohol that has been consumed over the course of the evening seems to have facilitated their reaction to sleeping under the same roof for the first time. The resonance of their situation is not lost on either of them though. Perhaps it is due to the presence of a homely ambience rather than the stuffy, impersonal atmosphere of a Mayfair restaurant, which has enabled them to relax and just enjoy each other‘s company.

Harry guides Ruth into her bedroom on the first floor. Switching her bedside lamp on, Harry quickly turns and steps back towards the doorway. Laid out on the newly made bed is a navy blue t-shirt for Ruth to wear. Harry had earlier disappeared upstairs searching high and low for a garment that was soft enough for Ruth to sleep in and which was not starched to kingdom come. Also lying on the bed is a folded soft white towel and tooth brush still in its wrapper. There is always a spare toothbrush in Harry’s bathroom cabinet just in case he has an overnight guest. It has remained there for years, only now seeing the light outside the bathroom drawer.

Harry points towards the door across from Ruth‘s to get the domestic arrangements out of the way. “Erm…the bathroom is just through there, and if you need anything then…then just shout. I am just upstairs.” Harry has to place a hand on the doorframe to steady himself as he can feel himself swaying slightly.

Gathering up the belongings lying on the bed, Ruth feels the sudden need to have something occupy her hands. “Right. Thanks, Harry.”

“I will set my alarm for six thirty, Ruth. That should give you plenty of time to get to Jo’s.”

“Yes, Nico. That should be fine, Harry. Thank you.”

Then suddenly the atmosphere changes and both of them sense it as it comes nearer to them saying goodnight to each other and parting company, albeit for a few hours. Both are fixed to their various spots. Ruth in her room, Harry on the threshold, neither knowing what the next acceptable move is.

Both go to speak at the same time but it is Harry who feels the need more, to break the moment, before it spirals into something he believes Ruth does not want. The result is his words come out in rush, “I have to go and sort Scarlet out, so I will say goodnight.” And with that he swiftly turns, heads across the landing and down the stairs, not looking back.

Walking onto the landing Ruth quickly calls after him, “Night!” but he does not hear. She stops, just outside the bathroom door. His t-shirt, towel, and toothbrush are still in her hands. For a few minutes she just stands there, listening to him. Following his footsteps as he conducts his nightly bedtime routine downstairs. Unlocking a thought from the back of her mind, Ruth remembers that she once wished that this house could have been theirs. A home for her and Harry. The thought is painful even with the anaesthetic affect of all the alcohol she has consumed and it causes her to close her eyes for a moment.

Ruth spends ten minutes in the bathroom changing and cleaning her teeth before returning to her room. It is now quiet downstairs but Harry has still not retired upstairs to his bedroom. Pushing the bedroom door to, Ruth turns the bedside lamp off and jadedly climbs into the single bed. As she pulls the soft covers over her body, she unexpectedly feels a weight at her side and jumps slightly in the dark, at the feel of a foreign form next to her. “What on earth…Scarlet! What are you doing in here, girl?” Having sneaked in while Ruth was in the bathroom, Scarlet has staked her place on the soft quilt for the night.

There is a gentle knock on the door and as it opens a little, Ruth looks up as the light from the landing pours through into the darkened room.

“Sorry Ruth, I was on my way up and I heard you. She’s not allowed in here. Come on Scaret, out. NOW!” Harry slaps his thigh in instruction.

Ruth chuckles. “Oh Harry, leave her be. She’s comfortable and so am I, ” says Ruth as she strokes Scarlet‘s head, the little dog lying impassive by Ruth’s side, ignoring Harry. In a low voice, seemingly addressing Scarlet, Ruth continues, “It’s nice to have company, Harry.” But as she finishes her sentence, Ruth can not help but look up and she deliberately meets Harry‘s gaze.

Harry can feel his heart rate speed up as he tries to find the right words. Softly he says, “Yes, Ruth. It is nice to have company. It’s perfect to have your company.” In an instant, he finds himself in her room standing next to the bed, in violation of the parameters set by himself only hours before.

Before Ruth fully realises what is happening, his face is just an inch from hers, noses almost touching. Suddenly she feels her body tense at the expectation of his kiss, but then he seems to hesitate and what Ruth feels next is a fleeting brush of soft warm lips on her left cheek. Turning her head towards where she felt his touch she realises with alarm that he is no longer there. Ruth looks up to see the bedroom door closing behind him.

Stunned, she lies in bed propped up on one arm for a few minutes, the other arm round Scarlet. Did I imagine it? Was that an expression of desire I saw on Harry’s face in the half-light? Or was it just my friend kissing me goodnight? Confused, inebriated and exhausted, Ruth somehow manages to snuggle back down under the covers, and joins Scarlet in sleep.

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No, she has not imagined it. There is a scratching noise coming from somewhere in the room. Opening her eyes Ruth immediately spots Scarlet down at the bedroom door, trying, rather unsuccessfully, to open the door with her front paws. Climbing out of bed to help her overnight guest with her escape attempt, Ruth staggers a little, her head throbbing. The result of too much wine and too little sleep. As she pulls open the door Ruth looks back at the clock on the bedside table in the dim morning light. It is a little after six.

Ruth shuffles towards the bathroom with her belongings. She quickly changes out of her nightwear and throws a handful of cold water over her tired face and makes a pathetic attempt to rub off some of the black mascara which has pooled under her eyes during the night. Pausing at the sink she stares at her reflection in the wall mirror and a sober fuelled, guilty feeling unexpectedly starts to course through her. Sighing heavily, she knows now that she should not have stayed the night, or enjoyed the company of another man so much. There is also Nico and as Ruth is drying her face, she decides that she will leave now and collect him from Jo’s. She is feeling rueful for leaving him with a stranger for so long.

Gathering her belongings together and the bag that contains the precious identity documents which Harry handed over to her last night, she heads up the stairs to the top floor to say goodbye to Harry. Passing the study, Ruth hesitates as she reaches Harry’s bedroom. The door is wide open and she notices a heap of clothes lying scattered on the floor, at the side of the bed. There is the muffled sound of heavy breathing; Harry is patently still sleeping.

As Ruth creeps into the room she sees him lying there, fast asleep. He is on his side in a semi-foetal position, facing away from her. The bed sheets have bunched up over the lower half of his body, and one of his bare legs is poking out of the side. Taking a tentative step forward Ruth raises her hand to shake him awake but stops and leaves it hovering, just for a moment, over his naked back. He looks so restful and Ruth has the sudden thought that she should not be invading his private and personal space.

She leaves the room quickly and goes straight into the study across the hallway to leave Harry a note. The coward's way out maybe, but she no longer cares. She has the sudden urge to get away from him and back to her life with Nico. And George. Picking up a pencil which lies on the desk, Ruth searches for a piece of paper. She will just say thank you to Harry for a lovely evening, with the promise to phone him later. A pad of post-it-notes is on the desk but no paper.

Without thinking she pulls at the desk draw to her right as she seats herself on the swivel chair. She freezes. Lying in the drawer, resting on top of various bits of stationary and paperwork is a photograph which is very familiar to her. It is a photograph of her father. She has not seen his image for three years. As Ruth picks it up carefully, her eyes are immediately drawn to another photograph laying underneath. Pulling the desk drawer out further, Ruth lifts out a silver photo frame. It is her silver antique photo frame which used to sit on her mantelpiece. There is a different photograph in the frame now though. Someone has swapped it. Collapsing backwards into the chair, Ruth realises that not all her belongings were destroyed three years ago. Sitting there, clutching tightly the precious photograph of her father in one hand and the photo frame, containing her own image, in the other, she senses the presence of someone standing behind her.

“Ruth,” is all Harry manages to say. It is almost a whisper from his lips.

Looking up into Harry’s face Ruth can clearly see the panic there. Harry had felt her presence in his bedroom and woken. As he had climbed out of his bed he had heard the sound of desk drawers being opened and had fled into the study.

“Harry…what - what are you doing with these? This - this is a photograph of my father.” Ruth is clearly shocked at what she has found.

“I - I was going to return it to you when the time was right. I had kept it for you.”

“Kept it for me! Why, Harry? Did you expect me to come back? Come back to you?” Ruth cannot help but raise her voice slightly.

“I wanted to believe that I would see you again one day, so I kept it, Ruth, yes,” says Harry, stumbling over his words.

Taking a another look at the photograph of her father, Ruth then deftly slides it into her bag to take with her.

“And this, Harry?” She gestures towards him with the photo frame. "Why?”

Harry does not answer, cannot answer, and lowers his eyes to the floor. Clearly embarrassed he just stands there with one of his hands slowly scratching a none existent itch on his bare chest.

Ruth does not press him. Perhaps she already knows the answer. Standing, she picks up her bag and momentarily seems unsure as to what to do with the photo frame. Deciding that it is now Harry’s possession, she puts it down on the desk, carefully and walks out of the study.

“Ruth…” Harry tries again, to talk to her, but it is too late, she is across the landing and down the stairs. He does not follow. The sound of the front door slamming, echoes through the house a few moments later, immediately followed by the buzzing of Harry’s alarm clock.

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Having collected Nico from Jo’s, Ruth is on her way back to their safe house. The traffic is horrendous so they decide to stop off at a bakery on the way home for coffee and freshly baked muffins. As Ruth climbs back into the car her mobile phone beeps and she checks her new message before driving away. Surprisingly, it is from one of George’s close friends who works at the hospital back on Cyprus. It is informing Ruth that George is on a flight back to the UK and will land at Gatwick at 4pm that evening. Ruth immediately relays the information to Nico who is excited beyond belief at the prospect of having his father back, but Ruth feels her own heart sink slightly. As she starts the engine, Ruth wonders why George has not phoned or text her himself. Ruth’s well honed instincts tell her something is wrong.

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It is not until the afternoon that Harry makes an appearance on the Grid. He has spent most of the day at the Cabinet Office in a torturous meeting with senior civil servants trying not to think about Ruth. He felt embarrassed and foolish after Ruth had found the photograph in his desk; he still feels the heat of it creep across his face now, hours later. What must Ruth be thinking? That he is a desperate foolish old man, who is stuck in the past? Exhausted and a little hung-over, Harry is relieved it is Friday and plans to spend the entire weekend in bed.

Stomping through the Grid to his office, Harry notices Malcolm looking over towards him. Harry has worked with Malcolm for so long, he can recognise each and every expression Malcolm has. Something has alarmed Malcolm and Harry sits at his desk and instinctively waits for him to appear at his office door. Just seconds later, Malcolm is there, clutching a bunch of papers in his hands.

“What is it, Malcolm?” Harry can not help the irritation in his voice.

Malcolm has to take a deep breath as he quickly enters and stands in front of Harry‘s desk. “Harry, there is something you should know, but you won’t like. This afternoon I was looking through…”

“Malcolm! As succinctly as is possible. Please…”

“George is flying into Gatwick, Harry. His plane lands in half an hour's time.”

Harry is silent but senses from Malcolm’s demeanour that there is more to come. Of course he had expected George to return to the UK at some point, but receiving the news is somehow still a shock. Almost sighing the words Harry asks, “What else Malcolm?”

“Well… Harry, I took the liberty of checking the flight manifests for the rest of the week. George has booked three seats on a return flight to Cyprus.” Malcolm places some papers in front of Harry so he can see the evidence for himself.

“Christ!” Harry exclaims, as he abruptly stands and immediately turns away from Malcolm, facing the wall behind his desk. Malcolm barely hears the next words which fall from Harry’s mouth, they are said so solemnly. “When, Malcolm? When are they going back?”

“Harry, I am afraid they are scheduled to be flying back tomorrow morning. They're on the 6am flight to Paphos.”

TBC

[Beatriz]

Aw lovely chapter, at least the first part is so sweet

Love how Ruth stands hearing Harry "conduct his nightly bedtime routine". And the cheek kiss which Ruth thought was non-existent (reminded me of Pride and Prejudice with MM and KK, when he leaves her a letter).

How can Ruth be mad at Harry for having a picture of her, it's so endearing... I think she's upset because she doesn't want to admit the evident issues they must deal with...

No, Ruth can't go away now, George can't take her to Cyprus; I bet Harry will come up with something.


Looking forward to the next and final chapter

[Silktie]

Noooo! Don't go Ruth! You'll break Harry's heart, not to mention mine...

Love this chapter. I'm glad they didn't do something they would regret due to consuming too much alcohol. Oh, I loved how Ruth had almost forgotten about Nico until Harry reminded her with the alarm thing. I say send the moppet home with daddy, while you stay with Harry and Scarlet, Ruth. The fact that she left him the frame with her photo in it on his desk, must surely mean that she's beginning to realise she still loves him, right? Right?!

And hey, Harry's a powerful man, maybe he can close down the airport or something...

[A Cousin]

GO Harry go! Tell her how you really feel! Don't be afraid! The only thing to fear, is fear itself! Our doubts are traitors, and all that rot! Go, go, go!!!

Hopefully, Ruth will choose to not go back with George and Nico. I fear George will not be a happy camper! I hope he faces it with dignity.

[lwhite53]

Hmmm . . . did Harry plant Scarlet in Ruth's room? No, he's to honorable for that . . . isn't he?

C'mon, Harry -- it's now or never. Tell her how you feel!!!!

Good chap, TL.

[JHyde]

Did I tell you how much I liked the alarm clock going off after Ruth left? I love anticlimactic stuff like that.