James Goss - Almost Perfect

Gwen stopped.

And then the doorbell rang.

‘Ah, Rhys!’

‘I didn’t think…’ was all he could say.

The woman opposite him said nothing. She just smiled a little.

He sipped his tea and just looked at her.

‘I thought I’d lost you.’ He reached out, but she gently batted him away.

‘You’re not cross, are you?’ he asked. ‘I know I left you on that boat – but I panicked. There was flame, and horror and I knew they’d come for me. I thought they were after me and that they’d leave you alone and so I ran and never looked back and I knew that that was the right thing and I hoped they’d leave you alone and when you didn’t turn up I worried and worried and couldn’t reach you and worried some more, but then I see you and I knew I’d done the right thing and do you forgive me? It is all right isn’t it, Chris?’

The woman nodded, slowly and sadly.

‘I mean, I’m sat here and you come and sit next to me. And we must be all right again, mustn’t we? I know it’s all so strange at the moment – we had such a good thing going on, and I never dreamt they’d come and do all that. I can tell you, it’s been horrible without you to try and sort stuff out. The ferry company are furious.’ He laughed and ran a hand through his hair. ‘All that paperwork, stuff you wouldn’t believe. And so much fuss and the insurance and so on. And the people we were trying to cure – we can’t do that now, though. Unless…’ A sudden look in his eyes. ‘Do you have the machine? We can start again. We can cure more people… we can start over. That is… if you want to.’

She shook her head.

‘I didn’t think you had it,’ he said, sadly. ‘But… I still… you know. If you can bear the idea of me, I can very much bear the idea of you. We can do something simpler. When the insurance is all sorted out, we’ll have something. Just enough for you and me. I don’t think we’ll cure the world or anything like we planned – but perhaps we can get just enough for a bit of a life together. A nice little flat in town – not this town, of course, but somewhere nice. You and me and a mortgage. Who’d have thought it when we first met?’

She looked at him, and shrugged.

He babbled on, increasingly sad and desperate. ‘All that time ago, and here we are, like a couple of little kids all over again. But they’ve taken their revenge – perhaps they’ll leave us alone now, and we can carry on. Just the two of us. Adam and Eve got cast out of Eden and that must have been a bit of a blow. We’ve only been cast out of Cardiff. It’s not the same. I mean, I’ll miss the shopping, but there are some lovely places in Bath. Or Scotland. We could go there. The rain won’t be a surprise, and no one will know us there. We’ve a future there, haven’t we? Haven’t we, Chris? Oh, Christine… why won’t you speak to me?’

‘Because I don’t know how your wife sounded,’ said Ianto.

It had been a long time since Rhys had felt like this. First-date nerves. He’d spent a long time in the shower. Ironed a shirt. Worried in case people still wore ties (‘No, no one still wears ties’), even rifled the dusty bathroom cabinet and found some breath-fresh spray. It’d been fun dancing round the flat to some good old Oasis while getting dressed – like going out on the lash a decade ago. All aggro and after-sport deodorant.

He stopped to look at himself in the hall mirror, and had to admit, ‘Looking good, mate.’ He walked over to Emma’s with a spring in his step. And, oddly, he didn’t think of Gwen at any point. Not when showering, not when trying to find matching socks (a job that normally required two cries for help). Not when walking over, not when stopping to buy a little bunch of flowers (tacky, but spur of the moment, and they were lovely blooms that smelt of freshness and excitement).

He looked round at Emma’s street and thought how she had such a nice little house on a street that was… definitely up and coming. He noticed how many places there were along the way to have a good fry-up, and he thought, ‘Well, that’s nice,’ and found himself looking forward to the morning.

He’d had a great day. He’d loved the way that people had quietly noticed how good he was looking at the moment. It made him feel great. It made him feel wonderful. He’d spent the whole day looking forward to this moment – to seeing Emma again, and making her happy. He hoped he could make her happy.

He buzzed and, after a few seconds, the door to her flat sprung open, and they smiled at each other. She looked even better than he remembered. There was something about her that said ‘home’. Something that said comfort and welcome and the best bits of childhood. But also something about her that said wildness and fun and watching the sun come up.

‘Ah, Rhys!’ she said.

He kissed her. Just slightly on the lips. And he loved how she smelled.

‘It’s good to see you,’ she said, and he glowed. ‘You’re just in time. Come in for a moment. We’ll have a glass of wine before we go out, shall we?’

And he noticed that she was carrying some kitchen roll and cleaning up, and he relaxed even more. She was human – she cleaned. She was perfection.

He noticed a slight burning smell too, and sniffed the air. She giggled. ‘Oh that must be the bread-maker. I’ve always got a loaf on, you know.’

And Rhys smiled even more. She took away the flowers, with much praise, and placed them in a vase on the coffee table. And Rhys didn’t even notice that she was tidying away two empty coffee cups. He just thought how right his flowers looked on her coffee table.

He settled back onto the sofa, and he was pleased that she sat down next to him, draping an arm around him. ‘Tonight’s going to be lovely, isn’t it?’ she said, kissing him gently on the cheek.

‘Oh, I hope so,’ he said honestly. ‘I’d hate to disappoint you. I can honestly say that you’re one of the most wonderful women I’ve ever met. And this is gorgeous wine.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, clinking their glasses with a laugh. ‘And it goes perfectly with your lovely eyes.’

‘Oh, my eyes, is it?’ said Rhys. ‘Is that all you like about me?’ Rhys put down his glass on the coffee table, pleased that she hadn’t even asked him to use a coaster. And he just looked at her. And then they kissed again, properly.

People came and went across The Hayes. It was the centre of old Cardiff, in some ways. Known as the Hayes Island, a little cobbled area surrounded by department stores and endless building works. In the middle of the Island was a snack bar, pumping out hot, sweet tea and bacon rolls and hot cross buns and cakes to people who were happy to sit in the wintry open air, shivering and blowing on their drinks and passing the time.

It was quiet today. A few lonely old couples sat comparing bargains found and lost. A comical Frenchman from Poland stood, trying to sell onions from the back of an old black bicycle. A tired-looking kid was handing out flyers about God.

Jack sipped his drink and watched the figures two tables away. There was Ianto, and there was Ross Kielty. They looked quiet. There’d been an initial blow-up and he’d thought about crossing over and interceding, but Ianto just averted it, laying a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder. And he’d fallen forward, crying. And Ianto had hugged him. And then they’d spoken for a bit. And now they were running out of things to say. And the man was crying again. Jack realised his drink had gone cold. He went over to the counter and asked for three more. And a Bakewell slice. He took them over to the table and sat down.