by Goss, James
‘Really?’ said Ianto. ‘In what sense?’
Jack scratched the side of his head. ‘There’s still no overall pattern. But there is one exception. I’d initially discounted it as a blip. But it’s been a very constant blip. See this little mini-peak? It’s quite separate from the rest of the data. That’s still a random cloud of energy fuzz – but this one point, if you track it, over time, is fairly steady. Let’s just say, if it was a person, it appears to be mostly around the hotel by the train station.’
‘Except late afternoon,’ said Ianto, following the chart across the wall.
‘When our data peak appears to head across St Mary Street to The Hayes for a cup of tea.’
‘I’ll go start the SUV,’ said Ianto.
THE STRANGE ALIEN DEVICE IS
PLOTTING TO TAKE OVER FROM
JEREMY KYLE AFTER THIS
Emma pottered around the flat, checking the clock three times a minute. She’d dashed home from work, so many things to do to make herself ready for her date. She’d ignored the voice in her head, assuring her that she’d look amazing and that Rhys would be enormously attracted to her. She just pressed on – sipping on a slightly-too-hot cup-a-soup while she scribbled out a battle list, then managing to shower, do her hair, dry it, style it, do it again, and set it into place while skipping through six different outfits and working out a make-up style somewhere between Marcel Marceau and Jordan.
She suddenly had half an hour to kill. A dead half hour spent prowling round the flat, laughing at articles in Take A Break, or flicking through the music channels. She found herself unloading the dishwasher.
The doorbell rang. He was early! All excited she stumbled into her shoes, cursing, and threw open the door. Oh.
‘Hi,’ said Gwen. ‘I’m Gwen.’
‘Bloody hell, you’re the ex,’ hissed Emma, instantly at battle stations.
‘Well, er, yes, I suppose so,’ she replied, looking mildly annoyed at the admission. As well she might, the cow. ‘Look, it’s all tricky, but I was wondering if I can pop in for a chat. You know.’ A bright little smile.
‘A chat? You’re actually asking if you can come in, and sit opposite me, sipping on milky instant and talking away in a friendly manner? All girls together, is it?’
‘Well, yeah.’
‘And then Rhys turns up – and what’s he supposed to think of that little picture, eh?’
‘Oh, I’ll be long gone before that.’ Gwen nodded sympathetically.
‘Oh, I’m sure you won’t be. How’s he supposed to move on if you’re stalking him, Gwen, luv?’
The big, big smile vanished. ‘I’m not here for his benefit. I’m here for yours.’ She nudged forward a little.
Emma felt a something build up inside her – like a fire, or a fury, or the biggest sense of disappointment. This was how it always had been, always would be. She’d never get what she wanted. Everything would always fail. Everything would always go wrong. She’d finally meet someone like Rhys and there would be his ex. Ready to trip everything up – always there. Quiet drink in the Bay? Aw, that’s great, luv, and Gwen said she’d drop by, isn’t that lovely? An evening at the cinema? Let’s go see the new Bruce Willis, Gwen said it was dead good. And afterwards we can go to that new Italian place Gwen’s been raving about. She’ll be there, of course. What a pleasant surprise. Fancy seeing you here.
And suddenly Emma was in the kitchen, watching the kettle boil, finding some cups, spooning coffee into them and making small talk even she wasn’t listening to. She noticed limescale was building up around the sink and she thought, ‘Oh, I can really have a go at that this weekend,’ at some level admitting she wasn’t going to have anything better to do.
Somewhere in her head, life and love was about constantly wandering between the bedroom and the living room, about lying next to the man of your dreams in a constant laugh. And yet… Somehow she knew she wouldn’t be pottering round the Organic Farmer’s Market with Rhys any time soon. And all because of her. Gwen. Who’d clearly just asked her a question. She was sat there, expectantly. A slight pout on her face. A little look of…
‘I’m sorry, Gwen. I was miles and miles away.’
I bet you were, thought Gwen. She’d stared round the flat, which was all right in its own way. A bit of her had been praying it was full of empty bottles and cat hair, but it was actually rather neat and a bit stylish. A couple too many scatter cushions, but hey.
Up close, Emma seemed… OK. Gwen had been in the company of killers. Of psychos. Of giant, pure evil. And Emma was none of those things. Emma was just a very pretty woman who didn’t seem that sure of herself. ‘And what must I seem like?’ Gwen thought. ‘I must look like the most possessive ex ever.’ Which was in some ways a bloody good thing. ‘Let her fear me.’
‘I said, how did you meet Rhys?’
‘Oh,’ replied Emma, ‘it might sound really silly, but speed-dating. We had an instant connection.’
‘Oh, nice,’ said Gwen flatly. ‘He’s told me all about you.’
‘Has he?’ said Emma. ‘He was just so honest and straightforward, you know. So many of the men there… nothing to them. But Rhys – well, I just thought I’d like to see him again.’
‘Good,’ said Gwen.
‘Yes,’ said Emma.
There was a second’s silence.
‘Look, excuse me, but why are you here?’ asked Emma, eventually.
‘What? Me? Oh, just a friendly chat.’
‘It’s not normal, though, is it? How long is it since you two split up?’
‘Aw, well, ah… couple of months I guess.’
‘And you’ve moved on?’
‘Oh, yeah, totally. Yeah. History! Water flushed under the bridge. Whoosh. Still great mates and all, but… Over.’
‘It’s just that, Gwen, luv, here am I about to go on my first proper date with him, and you turn up.’
‘… Yes…’
‘That’s not normal, is it?’
‘Well, we’re great mates.’
‘Gwen, you should let go.’ Emma tilted her head to one side, and reached out a hand to pat her on the arm. ‘I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but I can tell you how it’ll seem to your great mate. He’ll think you’re sad, lonely and desperate.’ She sighed.
Gwen pulled back, puffing up like a bloater fish. ‘Hey! It’s not like that. It’s not like that! If you knew why I was here…’
Emma stood up. ‘Oh, Gwen, I know exactly why you’re here. There was a time when I was like you. When I was just a bit pathetic. But look at me now. I’ve moved on up. I’ve moved on out.’
‘And nothing’s going to stop you now?’ Gwen laughed, despite herself.
Emma smiled. ‘Yeah. OK. You got me.’ And then her smile froze. ‘And you’ve got a very distinctive laugh.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Gwen suddenly sensed danger.
Emma shook her head. ‘And I thought I was nuts – but you were there. You were literally at the speed-dating. Along with Rhys. Oh my god – that’s so lame. You’re actually a stalker. You were there. I remember you at the bar now. Oh, I pity you. Genuinely pity you. And it’s been ages since I’ve pitied anyone.’
‘Look,’ said Gwen, hotly. ‘The truth is—’
Emma didn’t listen. She didn’t care. She could see something wrong and broken. She could see a world with her and Rhys together – and she could imagine one without Gwen in it. She walked over to the window, quietly reaching for her handbag.
Yes! About bleedin’ time, gal!
‘Gwen, let me tell you about myself. I was lonely, I wasn’t happy. But I kidded myself that everything would be all right. That I didn’t have to change myself. That the world would change for me. That I’d find the ideal man without any effort. I was wrong. And I’ve been blessed with the ability to see all that. To make myself better. To make the world a little better. I’ve moved on. And I don’t have time for people like you any more. You have to understand, Gwen – I’ve
got a picture of an ideal world. And, no matter how lovely you are, you’re just not in that picture. Sorry.’
‘My god,’ thought Gwen, watching as Emma fiddled with her make-up compact. ‘This is strange. It’s like… megalomania or something. But if she’s as dangerous as we thought…’
Oh no, you’ve got it all wrong.
What?
She doesn’t want to rule the world… but I do :)
Gwen stood up, suddenly feeling – her head, oh her legs, that voice, that voice in her head. And Emma standing there, her back to her, laughing. Gwen stretched out a hand horrified to hear the cup falling from her grasp, falling through her arm.
Emma turned around, gave a little gasp and then giggled. Then she saw the mess from the spilt cup, and rushed off to get kitchen roll. She called through, ‘Gwen, luv. I’ve a friend. And this friend understands I don’t want you around to ruin my date with Rhys. So we’re painting you out of the picture.’ She was back, kneeling down and scrubbing at the wet patch of carpet. ‘I dunno – perhaps there’s a space for you in the world in the end. Perhaps there isn’t. But you see, my friend is very powerful – they can change things for the better. For MY better. And I just don’t want you around, not at the moment. So let’s not have you, eh?’
Gwen tried to run across to her, but only managed a couple of steps. Bringing her face to face with herself in the mirror. Only she wasn’t. There was no Gwen in the mirror. Gwen stopped.
Gwen stopped.
And then the doorbell rang.
‘Ah, Rhys!’
ROSS KIELTY IS MISTAKEN IN
HAPPINESS
‘I didn’t think…’ was all he could say.
The woman opposite him said nothing. She just smiled a little.
He sipped his tea and just looked at her.
‘I thought I’d lost you.’ He reached out, but she gently batted him away.
‘You’re not cross, are you?’ he asked. ‘I know I left you on that boat – but I panicked. There was flame, and horror and I knew they’d come for me. I thought they were after me and that they’d leave you alone and so I ran and never looked back and I knew that that was the right thing and I hoped they’d leave you alone and when you didn’t turn up I worried and worried and couldn’t reach you and worried some more, but then I see you and I knew I’d done the right thing and do you forgive me? It is all right isn’t it, Chris?’
The woman nodded, slowly and sadly.
‘I mean, I’m sat here and you come and sit next to me. And we must be all right again, mustn’t we? I know it’s all so strange at the moment – we had such a good thing going on, and I never dreamt they’d come and do all that. I can tell you, it’s been horrible without you to try and sort stuff out. The ferry company are furious.’ He laughed and ran a hand through his hair. ‘All that paperwork, stuff you wouldn’t believe. And so much fuss and the insurance and so on. And the people we were trying to cure – we can’t do that now, though. Unless…’ A sudden look in his eyes. ‘Do you have the machine? We can start again. We can cure more people… we can start over. That is… if you want to.’
She shook her head.
‘I didn’t think you had it,’ he said, sadly. ‘But… I still… you know. If you can bear the idea of me, I can very much bear the idea of you. We can do something simpler. When the insurance is all sorted out, we’ll have something. Just enough for you and me. I don’t think we’ll cure the world or anything like we planned – but perhaps we can get just enough for a bit of a life together. A nice little flat in town – not this town, of course, but somewhere nice. You and me and a mortgage. Who’d have thought it when we first met?’
She looked at him, and shrugged.
He babbled on, increasingly sad and desperate. ‘All that time ago, and here we are, like a couple of little kids all over again. But they’ve taken their revenge – perhaps they’ll leave us alone now, and we can carry on. Just the two of us. Adam and Eve got cast out of Eden and that must have been a bit of a blow. We’ve only been cast out of Cardiff. It’s not the same. I mean, I’ll miss the shopping, but there are some lovely places in Bath. Or Scotland. We could go there. The rain won’t be a surprise, and no one will know us there. We’ve a future there, haven’t we? Haven’t we, Chris? Oh, Christine… why won’t you speak to me?’
‘Because I don’t know how your wife sounded,’ said Ianto.
RHYS IS IN SO MUCH TROUBLE
It had been a long time since Rhys had felt like this. First-date nerves. He’d spent a long time in the shower. Ironed a shirt. Worried in case people still wore ties (‘No, no one still wears ties’), even rifled the dusty bathroom cabinet and found some breath-fresh spray. It’d been fun dancing round the flat to some good old Oasis while getting dressed – like going out on the lash a decade ago. All aggro and after-sport deodorant.
He stopped to look at himself in the hall mirror, and had to admit, ‘Looking good, mate.’ He walked over to Emma’s with a spring in his step. And, oddly, he didn’t think of Gwen at any point. Not when showering, not when trying to find matching socks (a job that normally required two cries for help). Not when walking over, not when stopping to buy a little bunch of flowers (tacky, but spur of the moment, and they were lovely blooms that smelt of freshness and excitement).
He looked round at Emma’s street and thought how she had such a nice little house on a street that was… definitely up and coming. He noticed how many places there were along the way to have a good fry-up, and he thought, ‘Well, that’s nice,’ and found himself looking forward to the morning.
He’d had a great day. He’d loved the way that people had quietly noticed how good he was looking at the moment. It made him feel great. It made him feel wonderful. He’d spent the whole day looking forward to this moment – to seeing Emma again, and making her happy. He hoped he could make her happy.
He buzzed and, after a few seconds, the door to her flat sprung open, and they smiled at each other. She looked even better than he remembered. There was something about her that said ‘home’. Something that said comfort and welcome and the best bits of childhood. But also something about her that said wildness and fun and watching the sun come up.
‘Ah, Rhys!’ she said.
He kissed her. Just slightly on the lips. And he loved how she smelled.
‘It’s good to see you,’ she said, and he glowed. ‘You’re just in time. Come in for a moment. We’ll have a glass of wine before we go out, shall we?’
And he noticed that she was carrying some kitchen roll and cleaning up, and he relaxed even more. She was human – she cleaned. She was perfection.
He noticed a slight burning smell too, and sniffed the air. She giggled. ‘Oh that must be the bread-maker. I’ve always got a loaf on, you know.’
And Rhys smiled even more. She took away the flowers, with much praise, and placed them in a vase on the coffee table. And Rhys didn’t even notice that she was tidying away two empty coffee cups. He just thought how right his flowers looked on her coffee table.
He settled back onto the sofa, and he was pleased that she sat down next to him, draping an arm around him. ‘Tonight’s going to be lovely, isn’t it?’ she said, kissing him gently on the cheek.
‘Oh, I hope so,’ he said honestly. ‘I’d hate to disappoint you. I can honestly say that you’re one of the most wonderful women I’ve ever met. And this is gorgeous wine.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, clinking their glasses with a laugh. ‘And it goes perfectly with your lovely eyes.’
‘Oh, my eyes, is it?’ said Rhys. ‘Is that all you like about me?’ Rhys put down his glass on the coffee table, pleased that she hadn’t even asked him to use a coaster. And he just looked at her. And then they kissed again, properly.
JACK IS SOFTLY, SOFTLY
CATCHEE MONKEY
People came and went across The Hayes. It was the centre of old Cardiff, in some ways. Known as the Hayes Island, a little cobbled area surrounded by department stores and endl
ess building works. In the middle of the Island was a snack bar, pumping out hot, sweet tea and bacon rolls and hot cross buns and cakes to people who were happy to sit in the wintry open air, shivering and blowing on their drinks and passing the time.
It was quiet today. A few lonely old couples sat comparing bargains found and lost. A comical Frenchman from Poland stood, trying to sell onions from the back of an old black bicycle. A tired-looking kid was handing out flyers about God.
Jack sipped his drink and watched the figures two tables away. There was Ianto, and there was Ross Kielty. They looked quiet. There’d been an initial blow-up and he’d thought about crossing over and interceding, but Ianto just averted it, laying a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder. And he’d fallen forward, crying. And Ianto had hugged him. And then they’d spoken for a bit. And now they were running out of things to say. And the man was crying again. Jack realised his drink had gone cold. He went over to the counter and asked for three more. And a Bakewell slice. He took them over to the table and sat down.
Ross sniffed miserably and looked up. ‘Who’s this?’
Ianto smiled. ‘This is my boss, Jack.’
‘Your boss?’
Jack shook his hand, Ross returning it without much enthusiasm. ‘Ianto is my Man Friday. Even at the moment. He keeps me honest and good.’
Ianto sipped his tea. Hot and milky and sweet. He noticed he was leaving a lipstick mark on the cardboard cup and thought, ‘I’m never going to get used to this, am I?’
Jack continued. ‘He was on that ferry because of me. I’m responsible for what’s happened to him. But I could, so easily, make you responsible. For all of it – for the deaths, the destruction, for what’s going on in Cardiff, even now. But really, that’s just routine. What I really want is to know what happened to Ianto, and how I get him back.’
Ianto smiled, and reached over, snapping off a chunk of Bakewell.
Jack gave him a glance. ‘You’ll put on weight.’
