A Strange Way to Find Out Chapter 1

[arctic]

Spoilers for Season 8


Harry pushed the sleeve up on his new dressing gown as he scrambled the eggs in the pan. Half listening to the news in the background, he poured the boiled water into the coffee press and popped the bread into the toaster.

Now, where did the marmalade get to, he thought, checking the cupboards. He paused as he heard the news announcer discussing the recent return to politics of the newly cleared Nicholas Blake. That was one job to be proud of. He mentally patted himself on the back.

Harry’s mind drifted back to the difficult days following the removal of the former Home Secretary; trying to outthink Nightingale, discovering the bomb planned to provoke a mini Armageddon, standing at the bomb site waiting for news of Ros, Ruth waiting beside him, her arm around him. He remembered the moment they carried Ros’ broken body out on a stretcher. He remembered Ruth’s tears and Lucas’ cries. He remembered Ros’ broken body. She looked so small in death.

We’re starting to work our way back to some semblance of normal. Loss and gain, gain and loss – the price of serving your country.

As the toast popped, Harry reached over, the gold of his wedding ring catching his eye. Smiling, he was back at the Registry office. Saying “I do” was the easiest thing he’d ever done.

Harry loaded the toast and coffee onto the tray and carried it into his bedroom. He addressed himself to the lump of covers in the centre of the bed.

“Good morning, my Darling”

“Harry, why are you waking me up so early on a Saturday morning?” Ruth moaned sleepily.

“For Better, For Worse remember, my Darling. That’s what you promised.” he says with a smile.

“I suppose if the worst thing that happens in our marriage is to be awakened on a Saturday morning, we’ll be okay.” she smiled back at him.

“Now, tell me why”, she demanded.

“If you will recall, my Lovely Wife, this is the day we agreed to drive up and see Wes’ rugby game and bring him into London for the weekend.”

“You enjoy saying that, don’t you?”

“Saying what? Rugby?”

“My wife”

“Yes”

“I love you, Harry”

“I love you, too…now, shove over and let’s eat.”