Free Almost Perfect by James Goss

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.’

JOE STERLING IS DUMPED
    Out in Penarth is an old Victorian pier that stretches out into the Bay. In summer it’s crowded with ice cream and hot dogs and fishermen and laughing children thundering up and down the old planks. But in winter it is a desolate iron ghost. Especially at night, creaking and cracking like a wrecked galleon.
    No one was on the pier that night. The rain was too heavy even for walking the dog. So, no one passed by the last little shelter on the pier. No one noticed the figure in the natty suit sat on the bench, staring out to sea, a sad expression on his still face, the tracks of tears frozen on his cheeks.
    The figure didn’t move, didn’t feel the cold, didn’t feel the rain which coiled up and down the pier.
    Gradually, the fine suit became wetter and wetter, soaked through to the skin, the bone and the bench beneath. And, as the storm poured on, the figure just washed away, a sodden ash that spread out across the boards, trickling down through the cracks and into the sea.
    Emma Webster is no longer listed as being in a relationship

SERGEANT PEPPER IS A
LONELY HEART’S CLUB BAND
    Jack swept into the Hub’s boardroom, eyes shining. ‘Ladies! Tonight we’re going speed-dating!’
    Ianto will bloody love this, thought Gwen. She looked across at him, all shining in his smart little woman’s business suit, the skirt stopping well above the knee. ‘Marvellous!’ she mouthed, while at the same time thinking, ‘Bit trampy, Ianto.’
    Jack coughed. ‘As I was saying. Tonight, according to Patrick Matthew’s Facebook group, his speed-dating group meets. Little Miss Death may well be there. Tonight might even be the night she meets him. So we should be there too.’
    Gwen snorted. ‘Come off it, Jack. Have you seen the kind of people who go on these things?’ She pointed towards the list of people who ‘may be attending’. ‘They’re not exactly conventionally attractive are they? I mean, there’s a few I wouldn’t kick out of bed, but you know, they all look a bit… normal.’
    Jack leaned over. ‘What are you saying, Mrs Williams ?’
    ‘Well, I hate to admit it…’ Gwen really hated to admit it. ‘But you and Ianto aren’t exactly speed-dating material. Ianto’s drop dead gorgeous, and you’re—’
    ‘Too good to be true?’ Jack smiled broadly. ‘It’s the twinkle in my