He looked really happy to see her. Actually, he looked bloody stunning. It was ages since she’d seen him look this happy.
‘Come in, come in – I’ve got things to tell you. It’s about… Her!’
She wandered into his office, watching as he excitedly shut the cheap, thin door. She imagined Mandy on thundering tiptoe sneaking closer to eavesdrop on the other side. She clearly wasn’t alone in this – Rhys had dropped his voice to a spy movie whisper.
‘She! Phoned! Emma!’
‘When?’
‘Just now! Asking me out on a proper date!’ Rhys was actually rubbing his hands together.
‘Congratulations. You going to tell her you’re married?’
‘No! I’m going to go on the date.’
‘Rhys are you out of your tiny skull? For all we know that woman is a crazed killer. Look what she’s done to you already…’
Rhys looked down at himself and flashed her the same proud, silly smile he normally saved for when he let one off in the car. ‘Oh, I dunno. I don’t think it can be her. She’s so nice, love, but this is just careful eating.’
Gwen glanced bitterly at the half-eaten doughnut on a plate by the phone. ‘Bollocks. That woman is dangerous, she is manipulative, and she is after you. You are not going on that date.’
‘She’s hardly the black widow, is she?’
‘Rhys, wherever she goes, corpses turn up. She’s sliced through the dating scene in Cardiff. And now she’s sunk her claws into you. She is dangerous.’
‘And she’s expecting me to pick her up tonight at eight. And I’m going.’
‘What?’
Rhys’s stubborn streak was showing. ‘You want to find out more about her? You will. You can put a wire on me, you can all follow me. Dinner with her? She’ll open up to the Williams charm, tell me everything about her, and you can all listen in. If she is the Black Widow of the Bay, then you can arrest her. If she’s just a lonely gorgeous soul, then I’ll do my best to let her down gently.’
Let her down gently? ‘Oh, I’m sure she’ll cope.’
‘You are so jealous!’ Rhys appeared delighted at this. ‘It’s fine. Admit it, Gwen – I’m your best lead. And isn’t it just nicer to have a friendly chat over a bottle of wine than hosing her down in your cells? I won’t let anything happen to me. And at the slightest sound of danger, you and Jack can come crashing in like cowboys and save me.’
‘Too bloody right we will.’
‘Do I get a code word?’
‘Cocktail sausage. Work it into conversation however you will.’
‘Can’t it be saveloy?’
Gwen hugged him. ‘I love you, but I think this is really, really silly. I don’t want you coming to any harm.’
Rhys shook his head. ‘You always were a terrible judge of women. Emma’s a nice girl. And this is a first date. Nothing ever happens on a first date.’
Gwen stared at him, open-jawed. ‘If she doesn’t kill you, I will.’
EMMA WEBSTER IS DETERMINED
‘I will not end up a gin-addled spinster in a cat-soaked attic.’
She scanned down Facebook and noticed that her ex, Paul, had changed his relationship status. She felt cold and unhappy. She’d always thought that, you know, maybe at some point they’d get back together. But here he was ‘in a relationship with Helen Corrigan’. There was even a picture of the two of them out together. She looked bright and young and happy and a bit on the drunk side. He looked as good as he’d ever looked. And underneath it, he’d posted: ‘Hey babe! I can’t believe it – the one time I look better than you in a photo, and I’m SLAUGHTERED!!!’
Helen had commented: ‘LOL!’
Emma took against her purely on that basis.
I’m just – you know, grieving for what’s lost.
Emma watched as Vile Kate pottered across the office and perched on the edge of her desk, leaning over to talk to Susan. Her mouth was starting to swell up due to some ‘mystery allergy’. Despite her nastily swollen lips, she had a happy little smile on her face.
And… oh yes, a little belly. She’s ballooned already! I wonder if she’s noticed that everyone thinks she’s pregnant. They’re even getting up a card for her.
Kate finished talking to Susan about something to do with the laser printer and turned to Emma, wearing her ‘sad face’, even sadder due to her dramatically bloated lips that made her look like a goldfish dealing with terrible news. ‘Ooh. Sorry to see your ex has found someone else. Are you OK?’ She squeezed her shoulder, and Emma cursed that she’d been unable to think of a reason for declining Kate’s friendship request – which gave her instant access to a treasure trove of embarrassing facts and moments.
Emma nodded. ‘I’ve moved on.’
Kate slid her head onto one side, like she was listening for an approaching train. ‘Oh. I’m so pleased. I always think it’s tragic when we can’t move on. There’s no point in torturing yourself over your failures, pet.’ And she smiled again and walked away.
OWEN HARPER IS STILL DEAD
Jack sat on his own in the Boardroom, just listening to the sounds of Torchwood. It was never quiet, even here, several storeys below Cardiff Bay. There was always the rumble of traffic, and the thud of the waves, the not-quite-right ticking from their unique computer system, the occasional roar of a Weevil, and the angry hum of the Rift Manipulator, the only thing keeping Cardiff from being torn out of existence. Oh, plus, sometimes, he swore he could hear the chiming of a grandfather clock, but he’d never found it, or asked Ianto where it was.
This was his time, and he loved it. In his long lives, he’d only ever felt truly at home in Torchwood – the only place and time that suited him. All the noises comforted him – in an odd way, this creepy, dark place was his only friend. It let him think.
He heard a distant footfall. Ianto, he thought. He didn’t say anything until he came into the room.
‘Oh, hi,’ said Ianto, awkwardly. He was wearing his favourite suit back from when he’d been a man. And carrying a tray of coffee. He tried out a brave smile. ‘Normal service has been resumed.’ He set down the tray with a bang and waited. His smile faded as his look at Jack became desperate.
‘Oh, Ianto,’ Jack got up and walked over to his friend, gripping him by the shoulders. ‘You look ridiculous in those clothes.’
Ianto shrugged. ‘What every girl wants to hear. I just felt like a change. Hoping it would jog my memory.’ He poured milk into Jack’s cup, stirred it and handed it to him. Jack took it, brushing his hand against Ianto’s. Ianto held it, but snatched his away when Gwen came in in a waft of pastry flakes. She put down her sausage roll on the Boardroom desk, scattering more crumbs, and grabbed a coffee from the tray. Only then did she notice Ianto. She paused. ‘Hum. OK. It’s quite Marlene. I’ll give you that.’
‘Really?’ said Jack. ‘I think she’d be quite upset.’
‘Hey!’ protested Ianto, tugging unhappily at the suddenly overlong sleeves of his jacket.
