Jack pressed on.
‘Now, sit down. Ianto, drink some of your excellent coffee, and listen. I’ve got some news. News about what made you the man you are today.’
He pushed a key, and documents managed to drift onto the Boardroom computer screen. As he waved his hands in the air, various ones floated forward to fill the wall.
‘This was an active file of Owen’s. He was monitoring various news reports about revolutionary gene therapy. Apparently this was a therapy that wasn’t available on the NHS – the makers said they’d been told by various hospitals that it was too costly. But they were claiming some success with all the usual suspects – the big C, the big A, the even bigger A, and even baldness and wrinkles. So far – so normal. There are a dozen of these stories every week in the papers. Breakthrough press releases that are never heard from again, or turn out to be flawed studies. But you know how it is – everyone wants to be perfect, to be cured. And we know that a couple of these stories have turned out to be worth Torchwood’s time. And so, they’re flagged.
‘This one – there was something that grabbed Owen’s attention. It was partly the deliberately low-key nature of the reports. As though the people behind it wanted the public to know about it, but didn’t want anyone to take it seriously. Then it turns out that…’ He paused. A long document floated past in very small print. ‘… This is the report from the NHS trust that was supposed to have looked into this treatment. It’s a fake – no one has even considered using this. It’s not even been through basic testing – that’s all faked too. This treatment is a fake. Which isn’t necessarily a problem – only there are all of these testimonies to its success. And they read wrong – they’re not showing up like the fluke cures you get from placebo trials. Nor do they read like faked testimonials. No “Mrs N of Stoke-on-Trent” – these are the real things. Names, addresses, photos. All over the last two months, appearing in papers across the country, but all claiming to have received treatment in Wales. Owen thought that this was a fake cure that accidentally worked. So, we flagged it. And then, on the night you disappeared, Gwen and I were out hunting Weevils, and here you were. Alone. Cleaning the coffee filter. Same old Saturday night. And then the file noticed this, and sent you an alert.’
A small newspaper article floated to fill the screen:
‘Oh my god!’ said Gwen. ‘The ferry!’
The headline swum slowly across the wall.
Gwen shook her head. ‘But… No one mentioned anything strange. They just seemed shocked. They literally didn’t know what hit them. Everything seemed OK.’
Jack looked at her. ‘Read on…’
‘
There were several photographs accompanying the article. A picture of the ferry and a few shots of passengers. They started to drift into close-up on the screen as Jack continued his narrative.
‘So, the system notices this article, and flags it as being on our very doorstep. And so, as the only person in the Hub, you print out a timetable and head out. And that’s not all. Look…’
Gwen gasped. There, at the very back of a crowd of a picture from over a week ago, was a woman who looked exactly like Ianto.
‘I don’t remember, I don’t remember,’ said Ianto very quietly.
IANTO CAN RIDE A HORSE ACROSS A BEACH WITHOUT FEAR OR SHAME
‘You OK?’ asked Jack. Ianto was in the tourist office, diligently tidying away leaflets in the carousel. He hadn’t exactly run out of the Boardroom, but it hadn’t been a slow saunter either.
‘No, Jack,’ sighed Ianto. ‘I’m really, really scared, and I don’t remember a thing about that ferry. If that’s not me, who is it?’
‘Ianto, relax.’ Jack’s voice was soothing. ‘Come on. Let’s talk about this. See what we can sort out.’
‘No,’ said Ianto. ‘I can’t relax. My breasts really ache.’ He popped down a small pile of postcards of interesting Welsh political buildings and rubbed at his left breast. ‘It’s really sore.’
‘Would you like me to rub it better?’ Jack was always smooth.
Ianto glanced sharply at him. ‘Jack, it really itches. Maybe it’s this top. I swear it’s a poly-cotton mix, but the label says no. But then what kind of fool trusts a label? “Dry clean only”! I wasn’t born yesterday.’
‘You are such a princess.’
‘Well yes, obviously.’ Ianto was lost in thought. ‘Geranium leaves are supposed to be good. But that’s for when you’re lactating, I think.’
‘Are you lactating?’ Jack wore an expression of dangerous interest.
‘I assure you, you would be the last person to know if I was.’ Ianto moved into a corner.
‘Is that what’s been different about the coffee?’ Jack laughed.
Ianto snapped the elastic band off of a new batch of leaflets about an organic jam activity centre. He pinged the band expertly at Jack’s ear. The Captain clapped his hands over the ear and gave Ianto a pout.
‘God, you’re moody these days – you’re not… at that time of the month, are you?’
Ianto stared at him, horrified. ‘Oh. I hope not. Am I? How can I tell?’
‘Wikipedia,’ Jack tutted. ‘Wikipedia.’
‘It’s just… Look, can we sort this out before I have to find out?’
Jack reached across the desk and took Ianto’s hand. He led him gently back into the Hub. ‘Come on. Ianto – that ferry. What if you were on it? Gwen’s going through the files, seeing if there’s any reference to you. Think. Has it triggered anything? Is that little pill working?’
Ianto shrugged. ‘Not really. Well, it is, kind of. I’ve been remembering working at a supermarket while I was at university. I can remember the prices of everything. From tinned peas to cereals. Every single brand. It’s not terribly helpful, but it’s allowed me to work out the true rate of inflation.’
‘Can you remember anything more? Think. Ferry. Ever been on the ferry before?’
Ianto shook his head. ‘No. The only time I took the Irish ferry was from Swansea when I was a kid. Mum drank two pints of Guinness on the way over and was sick and she clipped me over the ear when I laughed.’
‘Thank you. That’s charming, but not entirely helpful.’
‘It was cold and windy, and they only had Panda Cola and I wanted a slush puppy.’ Ianto’s face took on a wistful glaze. ‘And… ah.’ His face lit up. ‘The full range of alcopops and a quite unbelievable offer on cocktail jugs. But I’m travelling on my own, and I don’t like saying the names out loud.’ He stole a glance at Jack. ‘Some of them are quite frank, you know.’
‘That they are. People who order Sex On A Beach have clearly never done it.’ Jack cupped a hand to Ianto’s
