James Goss - Almost Perfect

He wrapped his arms around her. ‘Well, I’ve got used to you already,’ he breathed as he nuzzled her, and she felt the slight stubble brush across her shoulder and giggled.

‘Oh, Joe,’ she said. ‘It’s only been a few hours.’

‘Yeah, I know.’ Joe grinned wickedly. ‘But I’ve never felt this way about a girl before. And I’ve certainly never… well, not in a car. You’re wicked! And you’re special.’

‘Am I?’

‘Yeah, you’re perfect.’ He kissed her again, wrapping his arms around her. ‘You’re perfect and you’re mine.’

She sighed happily.

‘I want you to meet my friends,’ said Joe. ‘They’ll love you.’

‘I’m sure they will,’ sighed Emma again. She reached across for the ash tray and lit a cigarette. She offered a drag to Joe, but he shook his head. ‘You know I’ve given up for you, babes.’

She looked at him as she dragged on her cigarette.

He sometimes wished he knew what was going on in her perfect head. He wished he could read her thoughts so that he could make her life even better. She had everything – and she wanted him. He knew he had to try very hard to live up to her. To be worthy of her.

She ran a hand through her hair. ‘What’s your favourite film?’ she asked.

He tutted. ‘You know better than to ask a bloke that. There are so many – and several of them just jostling for a place in the Top Ten. Indiana Jones , Ghostbusters , Proper Star Wars , the Die Hards … You know what it’s like. What’s yours?’

She considered. ‘ Breakfast At Tiffany’s .’

Joe nodded. ‘Oh yeah. That’s in the list. In fact it’s my favourite, pretty much.’

She laughed, delighted, and kissed him. ‘You’re so funny!’

He looked at her, puzzled. ‘No, it really is. Have I said something wrong?’

Emma’s laugh died, but she continued to look at him.

He felt suddenly tired and wanted to go back to bed. ‘I feel suddenly tired and want to go back to bed,’ he said, and did.

Thank you.

Jack had insisted they go shopping.

‘Just wear something natural,’ Gwen had urged. Ianto had looked at her, slightly worried, and then gone off, very solemnly. Ianto emerged wearing… oh god. A tight pair of jeans, the same T-shirt as Gwen and a pretty close match for her leather jacket.

‘What do you think?’ he asked.

‘Yeees,’ said Gwen. ‘You look very good. Really good. But it’s not you. It’s me.’ Plus, if you wear that, I will have to kill you.

‘But it looks so good on you,’ said Ianto. Bless.

‘Wear what you want. Surely you’re more suits and skirts? Look around you. Really express yourself. Go crazy. And nothing orange.’

Ianto nodded, a bit panicked, and wandered off.

After three quarters of an hour they both gave up and bought him a little black dress, a sensible grey business suit and some blouses. ‘I got it a size up,’ explained Ianto to Gwen as they headed for the tills, ‘After all, hopefully I won’t be a woman for long. And then I thought you could have my clothes.’

Right, thought Gwen.

‘Now,’ said Ianto, smiling bravely, ‘perhaps you can explain about bras.’

It was at this point that Jack called.

Jack was waiting for them in the park, holding balloons. Gwen laughed at the sight.

‘Morning, girls!’ he said, winking and handing them each a balloon.

Gwen took the pink one, happily. ‘Jack, is there a reason for this?’

‘There’s always a reason, Gwen,’ said Jack. ‘No day is all bad if it’s got balloons in it.’

Ianto looked at his, glumly. ‘Mine has Mickey Mouse on it. Not a problem.’

‘Cheer up,’ said Jack, rubbing his balloon enthusiastically on his sleeve. ‘It’s time for a practical demonstration. I tell you there’s a building field of static electricity around Cardiff, and what do you do?’ He let go of his balloon. It started to drift up. ‘You laugh.’

The balloon reached three metres above their heads. And exploded.

‘Not funny any more is it?’ said Jack.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Gwen. ‘Surely that’s-’ ‘Oh, pretty much impossible, yup,’ said Jack. ‘But there’s an energy current flowing around Cardiff. It’s been building up gently for two months. It spikes on Sunday night. Same night something strange happens to the ferry. And now little things are changing. Surge in static electricity, elevated levels of background radiation. Skeletons in bars. Ianto. Anything else?’

‘Hmm,’ said Gwen. ‘Rhys and I have been sleeping really badly all week. Is that part of it?’

Jack nodded, excited. ‘Me too! And hey, I don’t sleep. Plus, I’m getting spots. And that never happens. Something’s wrong with the atmosphere. So, spots, energy cloud and terrible sleep patterns. Anything else?’

Gwen let her balloon go. It floated away into the sky. ‘I didn’t charge it,’ she said. ‘Just checking.’

‘Ah, an inquiring mind,’ beamed Jack. ‘Ianto, you want a go?’ Ianto gazed forlornly at his balloon. ‘I don’t want Mickey Mouse to die,’ he said.

Jack patted him on the shoulder. ‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘He doesn’t have to. I just didn’t want you not to have a balloon. Let’s go and look at something else. It’s extraordinary.’

They stood in the car park. Jack was grinning. ‘Touch a car. Any car.’

Gwen picked a BMW. She’d never liked them. Jack nodded at her, approvingly. It was black, and shiny, and very new, quite expensive and – she touched it. There was the tiniest static shock. The car crumbled away.

‘Oh,’ said Ianto.

They looked aghast at the pile of BMW dust blowing away in the breeze.

‘Quite,’ said Jack. ‘Just like those skeletons. Now, Tosh,’ he said, tapping away at his wrist pad, as a couple of elementary maps popped up, ‘Tosh would have loved this. I’ve managed to track the energy cloud. It built up between 2am and 3am, concentrating on this car park in Bute Park. Curious, huh?’

‘CCTV?’ asked Ianto.

Jack shook his head. ‘The cameras are powder.’

Gwen chuckled. ‘Well, there’ll be witnesses. Bute car park? Dogging central! Some couple making out will have seen something happen.’

‘Ah,’ said Jack, shaking his head indicating several more cars marked off with Police Incident tape. ‘That’s why I brought you balloons. Something nice first.’

Sadly, they headed over to the cars.

The doorbell rang, and Emma tried not to let her heart sink. She threw open the door, and there was Joe – tall, tanned and lithe in a very expensive suit and a nice, crisp shirt. He smelled of vanilla and sandalwood, he was clean-shaven and, as he smiled, neat teeth gleaming.

She grinned, despite herself, and let him kiss her. ‘You make me feel so good,’ he breathed in her ear. ‘I’ve booked us a table,’ he said. ‘In your favourite restaurant.’

‘In our favourite restaurant,’ she said, with a note of challenge.

‘Of course,’ he said, squeezing her tighter. ‘Our favourite restaurant.’

She looked round the flat, almost desperately, until she caught a glimpse of their reflections in the mirror. They made, she had to admit, quite the perfect couple. They both looked stunning and successful, and the kind of people that others were just the tiniest bit jealous of.

She knew that when she met Joe’s friends they would love her. Of course, she’d make them love her. But she liked to think that they would love her anyway.

They walked down the stairs to the taxi, Joe wrapping a protective arm around her. The taxi driver smiled at them both, proud to have such nice people in his cab. His smile was only beaten by the manager of the restaurant, so clearly happy to have them both dining that he gave them the best table, one which put them broadly on display.