Almost Perfect Part 8

'Yes please.' Gwen entered the room, her voice as crisp as lettuce. 'Oh, you got Pinot Grigio! How lovely.'

Gwen poured as much wine as the gla.s.s would take, and settled down to look at Ianto, who glanced away immediately, embarra.s.sed. He mouthed 'sorry' to her, and she smiled back, tightly. Behind them, all Gwen could hear was Rhys loudly stirring a saucepan.

'Nice flat,' said Ianto, after a while.

'You've been here before,' said Gwen, more icily than she intended, but Ianto didn't seem abashed.

'I know, but normally in a crisis. You know alien baby, dead body, or temporal paradox. Never really had a chance to take in the decor. It's very nice.'

'Thank you, mate!' bellowed Rhys. 'I did most of the work, you know. And the cleaning.'

'It's true,' said Gwen, as Rhys started to spoon out food onto plates. 'I'm all over the place with housework but I blame it on the hours.'

'And truth to tell,' said Rhys, bringing over the plates, 'it's no hards.h.i.+p.' He put Ianto's food down in front of him. 'But there's no doubting who wears the trousers in this marriage.'

Gwen lashed out with her foot, but just missed Rhys's s.h.i.+n. Ianto gazed emptily at his risotto.

'Lovely,' he said, quietly. 'Thank you for going to so much trouble.'

'Don't mention it,' said Rhys, settling down. 'It's a pleasure. We're here for you. Really, mate. It must be a tough time for you.'

Gwen picked at her food. 'What does that mean? It's not so bad being a girl, you know.'

Rhys was starting to wear the stricken look of a hunted animal. 'No. Ah. No, of course not. I just meant that it must be a shock. A bit of a change. You know when you've got used to... well. You know.' He then began a really ill-advised mime.

'Bits,' said Ianto quietly. Gwen dropped her fork. Rhys carried on digging. 'Yes. Tackle. An inside leg.'

'My father was a tailor,' said Ianto.

'Really? What does he think of your, ah, new outfit, eh?' asked Rhys, helplessly.

'I haven't spoken to him,' said Ianto. 'He's dead, really.' He smiled a little.

Two hours later, Gwen closed the door with relief and sank down against it. Rhys came up behind her and wrapped his arms round her. She could feel him shaking with laughter.

She turned round and kissed him.

'You're in such deep, deep trouble, Mr Williams,' she said.

'Was that not the worst dinner party of all time?' he asked.

'Probably. We are never cooking for any of my work colleagues ever again.'

'But you have to admit, my risotto was pretty b.l.o.o.d.y spectacular.'

'It was. Oh, Rhys, never change.'

'There's precious little danger of that.'

JOE STERLING IS DUMPED.

Out in Penarth is an old Victorian pier that stretches out into the Bay. In summer it's crowded with ice cream and hot dogs and fishermen and laughing children thundering up and down the old planks. But in winter it is a desolate iron ghost. Especially at night, creaking and cracking like a wrecked galleon.

No one was on the pier that night. The rain was too heavy even for walking the dog. So, no one pa.s.sed by the last little shelter on the pier. No one noticed the figure in the natty suit sat on the bench, staring out to sea, a sad expression on his still face, the tracks of tears frozen on his cheeks.

The figure didn't move, didn't feel the cold, didn't feel the rain which coiled up and down the pier.

Gradually, the fine suit became wetter and wetter, soaked through to the skin, the bone and the bench beneath. And, as the storm poured on, the figure just washed away, a sodden ash that spread out across the boards, trickling down through the cracks and into the sea.

Emma Webster is no longer listed as being in a relations.h.i.+p

SERGEANT PEPPER IS A.

LONELY HEART'S CLUB BAND Jack swept into the Hub's boardroom, eyes s.h.i.+ning. 'Ladies! Tonight we're going speed-dating!'

Ianto will b.l.o.o.d.y love this, thought Gwen. She looked across at him, all s.h.i.+ning in his smart little woman's business suit, the skirt stopping well above the knee. 'Marvellous!' she mouthed, while at the same time thinking, 'Bit trampy, Ianto.'

Jack coughed. 'As I was saying. Tonight, according to Patrick Matthew's Facebook group, his speed-dating group meets. Little Miss Death may well be there. Tonight might even be the night she meets him. So we should be there too.'

Gwen snorted. 'Come off it, Jack. Have you seen the kind of people who go on these things?' She pointed towards the list of people who 'may be attending'. 'They're not exactly conventionally attractive are they? I mean, there's a few I wouldn't kick out of bed, but you know, they all look a bit... normal.'

Jack leaned over. 'What are you saying, Mrs Williams Mrs Williams?'

'Well, I hate to admit it...' Gwen really hated to admit it. 'But you and Ianto aren't exactly speed-dating material. Ianto's drop dead gorgeous, and you're-'

'Too good to be true?' Jack smiled broadly. 'It's the twinkle in my eye.'

'Not exactly, no,' said Gwen, carefully. 'I just don't think you'd do your best work.'

'Are you kidding? I'd be brilliant.'

'I'm sure you would, Jack,' said Gwen patiently. 'But I don't think we'd learn anything. You'd just walk out of there with a pile of phone numbers, some broken hearts and a hickey.'

'That would be from Ianto,' sighed Jack. 'Too much of the teeth.'

Gwen gently stirred her coffee and idly wondered how often the two of them actually had s.e.x. She suspected that most of the time they just stood in a room naked, hands on hips, pouting at each other.

Ianto just looked deeply embarra.s.sed. 'I think Gwen's right.'

'Great,' said Gwen. 'I'll pop home and change.'

EMMA WEBSTER IS SELECTING.

HER NEXT VICTIM.

Hi, I'm Martin. My friends call me Marty.

OK. Now, I'm gonna pa.s.s based purely on the dress sense.

h.e.l.lo. Hi. I'm Selwyn. I've never done this before. I'm with the Hmm. Can we give him better is it teeth? Or hair? I dunno.

Hi, I'm William. My friends call me Bill, and I hope you will too.

We can't fix t.o.s.s.e.r, can we?

Hi, I'm Harry. I'm Oh. He looks amazing. Can we make him just a little taller?

Greetings!

No.

Hi, I'm Rhys. I work in haulage.

Yes!

GWEN IS LOSING THE.

ARGUMENT.

Gwen let herself very quietly into the flat. It was a move she'd practised from back in the days when she still went out, taking her shoes off on the stairs and sneaking in giggling, trying not to wake up Rhys, who'd almost always be sat on the sofa, waiting up for her, pa.s.sed out among a jungle of pizza and beer bottles. Once she'd even found him and Banana Boat, stretched out, game controls in their hands, as riderless cars zoomed round and round on the screen. How long ago was that? It had been ages. Honestly, you turn thirty, you get married, you vow the party won't stop, but- 'Love?' Rhys was wandering through from the bedroom. Gwen froze, caught quivering on the step. She switched on her best smile. 'Hiiiiiiii...' she managed. It never failed.

'Right,' said Rhys, folding his arms. d.a.m.n.

'What're you doing home? I thought you were working tonight.'

'I am,' Gwen tried stretching the smile a tiny little bit further, but Rhys just walked closer.

'You are up to something.'

'Uh-huh,' said Gwen, pottering through to the kitchen. He followed her. Bad sign. She turned. 'Look, it's undercover work. Nothing dangerous, but I'm just popping in for a change of clothes. You know. Don't want to stick out.'

Rhys's gaze continued to stare, pitiless and unblinking, at her jeans, T-s.h.i.+rt and leather jacket. It was at times like this he reminded her of her dad Gwen could wrap him round her finger, unless he wheeled out the hard stare. Gwen sometimes wondered if Dad had taught it to Rhys.

She took a couple of steps towards the fridge, took out a can, opened it, and started to drink. All the while Rhys stared on.

'Oh,' she said, toughing it out, brightly, 'I don't suppose the immersion's on is it? I've just got time for a shower, and then I can be all out of your way.'

Rhys tilted his head to one side and smiled. It was a dangerous smile. 'Normally, if it's Torchwood, an evening out involves you running through muddy tunnels. Suddenly you're coming home for new clothes and a shower. Now, I don't believe Jack's got cla.s.sier, has he, love?'

'Well, no,' Gwen admitted. 'Look I just don't want you worrying.'

'I worry every time you go to work in the morning.' Rhys's voice was rising a little. 'I worry every time I try and call you and I can't get through. I worry about you, full stop.'

Aww, bless, thought Gwen, and nearly kissed him. 'Look, it's really easy, Rhys. Something's killing people. Remember the corpse I found at the restaurant? It's not the only one. Several men have died on dates in the last week. So... I'm going speed-dating.' She finished, quickly and bravely.

Rhys moved smoothly towards the kettle and pulled down two mugs before she could blink.

'Speed-dating, is it?' he said. 'Not even married a few months,' he sighed, stirring the tea bags and pouring in milk. With a practised move, the bags were flipped into the bin and the mugs carried smoothly across the living room towards the coffee table.

Oh G.o.d, thought Gwen, we're going to have a rational conversation. Sometimes, I miss the rows.

A few minutes later, they were having a very good-sized row. Gwen was shouting. 'No! Rhys! No! I am not having you come along!'

Rhys roared back. 'What, are you frightened I might get more attention than you?'

'No, of course not!'

'Thanks very much, pet.'

'No! You know what I mean this isn't fair. I can't spend the evening worrying about you.'

'Then don't. I've been on dates with mental girls before. I've even married one, and it's going b.l.o.o.d.y well, thank you very much.'

Gwen marvelled at how determined Rhys's jaw had got. She suddenly saw a glimpse of him as a child really, really wanting a toy fire engine. She spoke, gently. 'I see. And how will you know if it's the suspect you're talking to?'

'Well, I'm a.s.suming two things will happen. One, she'll try and kill me, two, you'll come down on her like a ton of bricks.'

'Ten points to Gryffindor,' said Gwen.

'Admit it you're looking for a woman. You going along is a bit pointless. What'll you be looking for?'

'I don't know desperation, anxiety, hunger.'

'I see. You've not been out with single women for a while, have you? Good luck spotting the difference there, pet.'

'Rhys how many single women do you have throwing themselves at you?'

Rhys shrugged. 'Company Christmas Do, they hurl themselves at me like Blu-Tack.'

Gwen couldn't help but laugh. 'b.o.l.l.o.c.ks.'

Rhys placed a placating hand on her arm. 'Now don't fret, love. I may possess a raw animal magnetism, but I swear I've only ever used my powers for good.'