Almost Perfect

RHYS WILLIAMS IS COOKING UP A STORM

‘Can I do anything to help?’ Gwen shouted over the endless clattering of pans. A tea towel landed in her face.

‘Just dry those, would you, love?’ Rhys’s voice came from inside the oven.

The doorbell rang, making Rhys bang his head.

‘I’ll go and get that,’ said Gwen brightly, nipping off to get Ianto. She opened the door. Ianto stood there in the dress they’d picked out. Looking amazing.

Rhys came bounding up behind. ‘Hello, Ianto, mate,’ he said, his false bonhomie louder than Brian Blessed falling off Snowdon. Ianto stepped into the room, and Rhys saw him for the first time. ‘Holy crap you really are a woman! And, oh, Christ, you’re stunning!’

‘Isn’t he just?’ said Gwen, laughing. ‘I’ve not even changed yet. Showing me up, you are!’

‘I wasn’t complaining!’ protested Rhys. ‘It looks cracking on her. Doesn’t it, Gwen?’ Sensing the temperature plummet, he quickly added, ‘Not, er, not that you don’t look nice, too, love. When you make an effort.’

‘Er,’ said Ianto. He took another step into the room, wobbly on his heels. ‘… I brought a bottle.’

‘Oh, that’s lovely and you shouldn’t have. Why don’t I open this, and you sit down, and Gwen can get changed and that?’

‘Sure,’ said Gwen.

She smiled at Ianto and ran off to the bedroom, thinking ‘This is a terrible, terrible mistake.’

Rhys poured the wine out into two glasses, and then quickly stirred the saucepans.

‘So, ah, you’re a woman now, then?’

‘Yes.’

‘Been one long?’

‘No. Just this week.’

‘Oh. Is it permanent?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, it’s a change, I suppose.’

‘Yes, I suppose it is.’

‘Does it feel much different?’

‘Yes. A bit.’

‘I suppose it would. But you’re OK?’

‘As far as I can tell.’

‘Good. Good. I, ah, made risotto.’

‘Nice.’

‘You do still eat risotto, don’t you?’

‘Why wouldn’t I?’

‘No, sorry. You’re right. I just meant now that you’re, er-’

‘Rhys, I’m a woman, not an alien.’

‘No, no, of course not. And a very lovely woman at that.’

‘Um. Thank you.’

‘I mean, mate, no offence, but I’ve been dying to say – you’ve got a smashing pair of – ah, Gwen, love, wine?’

‘Yes please.’ Gwen entered the room, her voice as crisp as lettuce. ‘Oh, you got Pinot Grigio! How lovely.’

Gwen poured as much wine as the glass would take, and settled down to look at Ianto, who glanced away immediately, embarrassed. He mouthed ‘sorry’ to her, and she smiled back, tightly. Behind them, all Gwen could hear was Rhys loudly stirring a saucepan.

‘Nice flat,’ said Ianto, after a while.

‘You’ve been here before,’ said Gwen, more icily than she intended, but Ianto didn’t seem abashed.

‘I know, but normally in a crisis. You know – alien baby, dead body, or temporal paradox. Never really had a chance to take in the décor. It’s very nice.’

‘Thank you, mate!’ bellowed Rhys. ‘I did most of the work, you know. And the cleaning.’

‘It’s true,’ said Gwen, as Rhys started to spoon out food onto plates. ‘I’m all over the place with housework – but I blame it on the hours.’

‘And truth to tell,’ said Rhys, bringing over the plates, ‘it’s no hardship.’ He put Ianto’s food down in front of him. ‘But there’s no doubting who wears the trousers in this marriage.’

Gwen lashed out with her foot, but just missed Rhys’s shin. Ianto gazed emptily at his risotto.

‘Lovely,’ he said, quietly. ‘Thank you for going to so much trouble.’

‘Don’t mention it,’ said Rhys, settling down. ‘It’s a pleasure. We’re here for you. Really, mate. It must be a tough time for you.’

Gwen picked at her food. ‘What does that mean? It’s not so bad being a girl, you know.’

Rhys was starting to wear the stricken look of a hunted animal. ‘No. Ah. No, of course not. I just meant that it must be a shock. A bit of a change. You know – when you’ve got used to… well. You know.’ He then began a really ill-advised mime.

‘Bits,’ said Ianto quietly. Gwen dropped her fork. Rhys carried on digging. ‘Yes. Tackle. An inside leg.’

‘My father was a tailor,’ said Ianto.

‘Really? What does he think of your, ah, new outfit, eh?’ asked Rhys, helplessly.

‘I haven’t spoken to him,’ said Ianto. ‘He’s dead, really.’ He smiled a little.

Two hours later, Gwen closed the door with relief and sank down against it. Rhys came up behind her and wrapped his arms round her. She could feel him shaking with laughter.

She turned round and kissed him.

‘You’re in such deep, deep trouble, Mr Williams,’ she said.

‘Was that not the worst dinner party of all time?’ he asked.

‘Probably. We are never cooking for any of my work colleagues ever again.’

‘But you have to admit, my risotto was pretty bloody spectacular.’

‘It was. Oh, Rhys, never change.’

‘There’s precious little danger of that.’