was just so different, so
Owen smiled. ‘Australia. We were in Hyde Park, August Bank Holiday, and it was pissing down. And we decided that you can’t get further away than Australia.’
She made an exasperated sound at him. ‘You might as well have been in Australia after we split up. After you left.’
‘I didn’t think you’d want a postcard,’ he replied. No, that sounded too hard, too dismissive. ‘It was all bullshit, you’re right. I didn’t get as far as Sydney. Not much further than Sidcup, come to think of it.’
‘Sidcup? So much for “I want to be the real me”, Owen. Remember? That was your piss-poor excuse for running away.’ Megan’s started to chuckle at this, and her head bobbed up and down. Owen grinned too, until he saw that her face was starting to crumple. She was sucking in little sudden breaths, her eyes squeezed tight, and the laughter was turning into sobs. He set down his glass immediately, and reached for her. She mumbled an incoherent sound, and waved him away. He tried once more, and she gestured again. Got up and left Owen alone in the room.
After a few seconds, he followed her out. Off to his right, her bedroom door snapped shut with a final click. ‘Oh, shit,’ he muttered under his breath. Well, his recruitment effort was going right down the crapper. Which reminded him… the sound of the rain seemed to be having an effect on him.
He had a languorous pee in the little bathroom. He lifted the lid, tried not to splash around the edge of the ugly avocado-coloured bowl, and flushed. There was no soap on the basin, so he looked in the little mirror-fronted cabinet above. Found a fresh bar next to a packet of triphasic contraceptives
— a familiar combination of ethinyloestradiol and levonorgestrel. As he rinsed his hands, he noted there was just one bath towel. A solitary splayed toothbrush. No evidence of aftershave in the cabinet or on the windowsill.
The bedroom door was still shut when he came out. Owen half-considered knocking. He even put his ear to the jamb in case he could hear anything, but the noise of the rain from the front door drowned out anything else. So he was surprised to find Megan was sitting on the sofa again as he returned to the living room. She’d brought through a small box of tissues. Her eyes were still reddened, but she had stopped crying.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘Just now?’ she asked. ‘Or back in Balham.’
He didn’t reply.
‘I heard you rummaging about in the bathroom cabinet,’ she said. ‘Maybe you are like the police, after all.’
Owen walked over to the dining table, aware that he didn’t want to crowd her. ‘This isn’t an investigation, Megan. And before you say it again, it’s not just an attempt to get a shag for old times’ sake.’
‘Not
‘Be serious. I do want you to join us in Torchwood.’ Her face was blank now, or wary at best. Owen tapped the computer screen with his finger. ‘I recognised you in Second Reality after you used a few familiar phrases. You know, “safe of taxis”, that kind of stuff. But even before that, I recognised something else. You just
He watched her reaction now. Moved across to the sofa and sat down beside her again. ‘So imagine, Megan, having that excitement for
Megan stared right into his eyes, like she’d made a decision. ‘Come on! I’m sitting here not sure whether to throw you out or call you a psychiatrist. What happened to you, Owen?’
‘So why aren’t you throwing me out then,’ he insisted, ‘right now? Or why aren’t you making some excuse about how you’ve got another date to go to tonight, or you’re due back on shift, or you have to feed the neighbour’s cat…?’
‘My shift does start soon. About an hour and a half…’
Owen leaned closer to her. ‘And here I am. Still. Why? What are you thinking? What suddenly started to make sense?’
Megan pulled her hand away from him, uncertain. The window panes across the room rattled in the violence of the storm outside. ‘Listen to that racket,’ she said. ‘Before you got here, they were saying on
Owen said nothing. Urged her on with his eyes.
‘That thing you said when you arrived,’ she continued. ‘The vampire thing. I thought you were joking. But you were serious, weren’t you? I mean, really serious.’
He smiled, nodded at her.
She stared at him. ‘No, this can’t make sense! You’re actually offering me a job with this Torchwood. “Save the world from alien infestation. Competitive salary, plus dental”?’
Now he grinned at her. He slipped the Bekaran tool from his pocket. By twisting the central section, he folded it out to display a screen as wide as a pocket calculator. ‘State-of-the-art equipment. Look at this.’
He ran the scanner over her outstretched arm. The display showed the ribbed beige surface of her jumper.
‘Digital camera, very nice,’ she observed.
He shushed her, and adjusted the resolution. As they both watched, the ribbing pattern slowly faded away, and they could see Megan’s pale, freckled forearm. Owen tugged her arm gently, getting her to stand, and then he turned them both to face the mirror above the sofa. He stood behind Megan so that they could see themselves reflected in the octagonal mirror. He moved the Bekaran device over her forearm again, up above her bicep, across her shoulder blade, and then over her breast. The material of her white bra showed in the display, reflected back to them. Owen thumbed the resolution further, and the bra melted away to reveal the skin of her breast and, comically flattened, one nipple surrounded by the pale brown areola.
‘I can’t believe it,’ Megan said. ‘Who made that? Where’s it from?’
‘It’s Bekaran,’ said Owen from behind her, his lips close to her ear. ‘We don’t know where they come from. Ugly things they are. But they have some pretty neat gadgets.’
In the display, Megan’s nipple was now erect. ‘Can it go further?’ Megan giggled. ‘I mean, can it scan deeper? Show the lactiferous ducts? Or as far as the pectoralis muscles?’
Owen thumbed the device and the skin disappeared as the scan displayed a subcutaneous layer, but quickly flicked it back again. ‘I’d rather not.’
Megan turned to face him, eager to see the device for herself. He showed her how to adjust it, the touch- sensitive plates at its rear that looked and felt so unlike any human design. ‘I can show you more,’ he urged her. ‘I can take you to Torchwood now, show you everything.’
‘Steady on, Owen,’ she told him, ‘I’m on duty again in an hour. Let’s see how this thing works, then…’
She ran the device over his jacket. Owen could see the display reflected in the mirror, over her shoulder. He helped her position her palm and fingers on the device, holding the back of her hand like a caress.
After a few false starts, Megan was able to adjust the scan. Owen watched his jacket dissolve in the display, then his crumpled shirt. She focused on his nipple with its little halo of short dark hairs. He felt her hand move down, until he could no longer see the display reflected. He could feel the device pressed lightly against his body. Slowly down his midriff. Over his navel. Below his belt now, pressing against his crotch.
Megan smiled as she studied the display. ‘I see this thing has a zoom facility.’
Owen raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘I didn’t know the scanner could do that.’
‘I wasn’t talking about the scanner,’ said Megan.
Owen lifted up her hand and took the Bekaran device from her. ‘When does your shift start?’
‘About an hour,’ said Megan, and took his free hand in hers. Guided it over her breast. ‘So we still have time for a shag. For old times’ sake.’
