and a man who was scared that maybe there was something going wrong in his wife's head other than the effects of the stroke. Either way, by the time they finally pulled up at the small bed and breakfast, not too far from the Bay, the happy moment they'd shared was truly gone. They slept in silence.
FOUR
Even though the day outside was grey and overcast, the bright lights of the hospital dispersed any hint of the rain with no-nonsense professionalism. Peering through the small glass window of the door separating the corridor from the recreation room, Gwen studied the four witnesses. Where the rest of the chairs were in semi-circular rows aimed at the focal point of the television, or on either side of two small tables by the collection of board games, the singers had pulled theirs into a short line as close together as possible, so that the scratched and worn arm of each was touching the next.
Gwen frowned, two neat lines pulling in between her eyebrows and resting for a moment in the space where one day in the future they'd settle for good. Something about the way these people were sat reminded her of being a child and wanting to be as near to your best friend as you could be so you could giggle about boys and pass notes. But none of these four were children; in fact they were far from it.
A woman sat at the end of the row, her head hanging forward, her long blonde hair obscuring her features above the dressing gown that was pulled tightly around her slim figure. She was probably the youngest of the four, perhaps in her late twenties. Gwen thought through the descriptions she'd got from the scene of crime team and ticked the blonde off as Magaly East. Next to Magaly were two men, Paul Davies and John Geoghan, neither particularly striking in any way and both in their forties. Another woman bookended them, steely-haired although probably younger than she looked. She had to be Rhiannon Cave.
Gwen frowned. The TV was on, but none of the four seemed to be watching the daytime chat show on the screen. Two were just staring in silence at an area of wall just beyond it and, whilst their mouths were moving, it didn't look as if they were having a conversation together. Gwen breathed out, fogging the glass. They were strange, but at least they were awake.
Her foot tapped, impatient for Jack to come back with the nurse and the tray of teas. The nurse had described the mental state of all the singers as 'fragile' and said that they had disturbed the other patients on the ward with their rantings when they emerged from their catatonic states in the early hours of the morning. They knew they had been put in the recreation room to be interviewed by the police, and Gwen knew that the longer she waited the more agitated they would become, if they were as delicate as they seemed.
Glancing at her watch, Gwen sighed. Jack had been gone for much longer than it took to work a vending machine, even in an NHS hospital. The corridor yawned endlessly to her right, occupied only by a slim nurse, whose skirt rustled softly as she carefully filled pill boxes from a trolley of jars. She didn't look up.
Gwen bit her lip. There was no point in just hanging around like some constable waiting for the boss. She might as well get started on her own. The nurse had been quite pretty and it was obvious she'd fancied Jack and, as much as it wasn't like him to seriously flirt on the job, he may well have got distracted. She grinned slightly. Bloody Jack and his sex appeal. If only they could find some alien technology that could extract that, they could all retire early.
Leaving the pale green of the corridor behind, she pushed the door open and immediately the lines between her eyes re-formed. Phillip Schofield's pat laugh filled her head, and she glared at the machine in the corner. God, that television was turned up loud, not that the four witnesses seemed bothered by it.
Pulling a chair towards them, she smiled gently. 'Hi.' She spoke softly. 'I'm Gwen Cooper. I'd like to ask you some questions about last night if that's OK.'
The blonde woman on the end rocked steadily backwards and forwards, but lifted her head slightly so that her bloodshot tired eyes were fixed intently on Gwen.
This time both Schofield and his guest laughed together behind her, cutting a path between Gwen and the people opposite. 'Would it be all right if I turned that television off? It's very loud.'
As one, all four witnesses vigorously shook their heads. The older woman on the end, Rhiannon Cave, leaned forward. 'We want to hear it. We want the sound.' She spat the words out in an urgent hiss, and Gwen recoiled slightly. There was a dark defensiveness in the woman's eyes that hinted at the edge of madness. Her mouth twitched as she sat back in her chair, her jaw moving as she ground her teeth and stared defiantly at Gwen.
For a moment Gwen said nothing, reassessing the situation. They were obviously more disturbed by what they'd seen than she'd expected. Maybe she should have waited for Jack. She could see why the nurse had called them fragile. As far as Gwen could tell, they were beyond fragile. They were nearer broken.
Four sets of eyes stared at her and each of the witnesses held the hand of the person next to them so tightly that the whites of their knuckles seemed to be in danger of ripping through the skin. It was as if they were terrified someone was suddenly going to try to pull them apart. Watching them, Gwen had a moment of clarity. The aggression she'd seen in Rhiannon Cave's eyes was actually hiding an awful, deep-seated fear. Why else would they be clinging to each other like that?
Despite a vague sense of revulsion she couldn't understand, Gwen leaned forward a little. 'I know that this is very upsetting for you, but we need to try and understand what happened to Richard Greenwood.' Magaly East rocked a little harder, and Gwen wondered if her nails had pierced the soft palm of the man next to her. If they had, he didn't seem to notice.
'I just need you to tell me what you can remember about what happened in the church last night while you were rehearsing.'
None of the four spoke, but Gwen could feel their tension and anguish intensifying. It came off them in waves. She pushed on, lowering her own voice in an attempt to subconsciously calm them.
'If you could just give me some idea of what the man that did this to your friend looked liked, then it will help us catch him.'
Magaly East twitched and with her free hand tugged her thin white dressing gown around her a little tighter. Her eyes drifted to somewhere beyond Gwen.
'It came through the window.' Her voice sounded like smashed glass, as if it had encapsulated the memory. 'It was… it was…' Her mouth twitched and then she sobbed, curling over herself so that her head was almost resting on her knees as she cried.
Gwen looked at the other three, their faces distraught, expressions pulling their skin this way and that as they fought images in their minds. Despite wanting to leave them in peace, Gwen pressed on. She needed to know. Torchwood needed to know.
'It was what?'
The man next to the sobbing Magaly shook his head and frowned. 'I can't remember. I can't remember. I can't remember.'
Rhiannon Cave moaned, her mouth drifting open. 'There was this shape… this black shape.' She hesitated. 'More than black. It was awful. And then I felt… I felt…'
'I can't remember. I can't remember. I can't remember.' The man barked the sentences out, and Gwen flinched trying to hear past him to what Rhiannon Cave was trying to say. Magaly East's sobbing grew louder and the anguish in it carved into Gwen's heart. What had happened to these people? What was it they'd seen that could have this effect on them?'
'You felt what, Ms Cave?'
The man who hadn't spoken shook his head slightly. 'Desolate.'
Magaly Betts leaned over so that her head rested on the knee of the man beside her, all four huddling in tighter.
'It was silent.' The man frowned.
'As if there was no one else there. Ever.' Rhiannon Cave's free hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened. 'I want it out of my head.' She grabbed at Gwen. 'I want to forget. Please make it go away.'
Pushing her chair away, Gwen stood up, trying to gently but firmly extricate herself from the clutching hands. 'I'm sorry, I-' Her foot almost tripped backwards over a coffee table as she stumbled away. The noise in the room was rising, the crying and shouting merging into one.
