Almost Perfect

Joe helped her take off her coat and slid her chair in for her as she sat down. He bent over and kissed her, before sitting down and grasping her hand over the table. He sat and smiled at her.

‘What are you thinking about?’ she asked him.

‘Nothing,’ he replied and she believed him. He continued to gaze at her.

She opened the menu. He did the same.

A waitress appeared and asked what they’d like to drink.

Joe demurred. ‘What would you like, Emma?’

‘I don’t know. Red or white. I really don’t mind. You decide.’

Joe shook his head. ‘No, you decide. I’m happy with what you want.’

Emma frowned, just slightly. ‘A bottle of house pink, then.’

‘That’ll be lovely,’ agreed Joe.

The waitress smiled, and went away.

They looked at the menu, Emma delighted to see that there was squid as a starter, and giant yorkshires as a main. Joe was equally happy.

‘Seen anything you like?’ she asked.

‘Yeah. So much to choose from,’ he sighed. ‘I’m trying to decide between the salmon or the soup, and maybe the duck. Or a steak. I dunno.’

‘Have whatever you fancy,’ she assured him.

The waiter came over. Emma ordered squid and the yorkshire pudding. And Joe did the same.

When the wine came, she poured herself a large glass, and went out onto the balcony to smoke.

He got up to follow her out but she shook her head, and he stayed at the table, smiling peacefully at her, staring into the candle.

Oh my god. This is a disaster! What have I done?

You’re not happy, I can tell.

Not happy? This is like hell. What? What have I done wrong?

He’s like a bloody zombie.

But haven’t I done everything you wanted? I changed everything about him that you didn’t like.

I know. I know. But it’s like you’ve gone too far. Changed too much. Made him too pliant. It’s not like he likes me, or loves me – he literally worships me. It’s no fun.

Not even a little?

Well, it’s great in bed, I’ll give you that. But it’s just not much fun the rest of the time. It feels wrong – like I haven’t done anything to earn his love. It makes me… hate myself. He just sits there, looking at me, holding me, smiling at me, and I feel horrible. I don’t deserve it. Every time he kisses me, I shrink away. I just… I don’t know what to do. Is it something wrong with me, or him? Can you change the bit in me that doesn’t like him?

No. That’s you. I’m fairly stuck with that.

What about him?

Umph. No. That’s kind of what you’ll get – I’ve had to make some fairly drastic changes to him. If I unpick that, he’ll… well, fall apart.

Oh god. Well, then maybe I’ll just have to put up with it.

Not necessarily.

Really?

I can take care of him. You’ll never have to see him again.

You can?

Yeah, no worries. Let’s chalk this one up as a practice go. I went a bit far – I can ease back on the next one.

You’re sure? And you’re not cross with me?

Not a bit. This is my job, remember? I want you to be perfectly happy. And, just as we brought him into your life, so we can send him away again.

Will he be OK?

Absolutely. He’ll vanish from your life like a bad dream.

And we’ll find another one, someone who’ll love me for me?

Of course we can. With just a couple of teensy-weensy little tweaks. But nothing big.

Promise?

Oh yeah. Don’t forget – you’re gorgeous. Who wouldn’t want a slice of the Emma pie?

Cool. That’s making me feel a whole lot better.

I can tell. But babe, you’ve got to keep up your side. Don’t get freaked out just cos someone loves you. You’re no longer a bit dumpy, a bit plain and a bit dull. You are fabulous, girl. You deserve happiness and success. You are loved because you are lovely.

To know me is to love me is to know me? Oh, Cheryl.

OK. Maybe I went a little far there. But you know what I mean. You are worth it, girlfriend, so work it. Now get back inside, you’re squid’s turned up. And enjoy your last meal with Joe.

Emma stubbed out her cigarette and opened the door. She paused for a second, cold in the wind from the Bay.

‘Sorry, Joe,’ she said.

RHYS WILLIAMS IS COOKING UP A STORM

‘Can I do anything to help?’ Gwen shouted over the endless clattering of pans. A tea towel landed in her face.

‘Just dry those, would you, love?’ Rhys’s voice came from inside the oven.

The doorbell rang, making Rhys bang his head.

‘I’ll go and get that,’ said Gwen brightly, nipping off to get Ianto. She opened the door. Ianto stood there in the dress they’d picked out. Looking amazing.

Rhys came bounding up behind. ‘Hello, Ianto, mate,’ he said, his false bonhomie louder than Brian Blessed falling off Snowdon. Ianto stepped into the room, and Rhys saw him for the first time. ‘Holy crap you really are a woman! And, oh, Christ, you’re stunning!’

‘Isn’t he just?’ said Gwen, laughing. ‘I’ve not even changed yet. Showing me up, you are!’

‘I wasn’t complaining!’ protested Rhys. ‘It looks cracking on her. Doesn’t it, Gwen?’ Sensing the temperature plummet, he quickly added, ‘Not, er, not that you don’t look nice, too, love. When you make an effort.’

‘Er,’ said Ianto. He took another step into the room, wobbly on his heels. ‘… I brought a bottle.’

‘Oh, that’s lovely and you shouldn’t have. Why don’t I open this, and you sit down, and Gwen can get changed and that?’

‘Sure,’ said Gwen.

She smiled at Ianto and ran off to the bedroom, thinking ‘This is a terrible, terrible mistake.’

Rhys poured the wine out into two glasses, and then quickly stirred the saucepans.

‘So, ah, you’re a woman now, then?’

‘Yes.’

‘Been one long?’

‘No. Just this week.’

‘Oh. Is it permanent?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, it’s a change, I suppose.’

‘Yes, I suppose it is.’

‘Does it feel much different?’