Slow Decay - By Andy Lane Page 0,44

joined in,’ Rhys added. His hand was fondling her buttocks through her jeans. She tightened the muscles to give him a little more encouragement.

Gwen was about to make a comment about Rhys and food, but bit the words off before she could say them. Partly it was because she desperately didn’t want to start another row, even in the absence of the alien technology, but also it was because she realised with some surprise that Rhys’s T-shirt wasn’t being stretched by his incipient beer gut any more. It was almost flat. Almost strokable, in fact.

‘You’re looking good,’ she said. ‘I can see why muggers would be scared of you.’

Rhys beamed. ‘I’ll make that a large glass of wine and a mug of tea,’ he said, and swaggered off into the kitchen.

‘How are you feeling?’ Gwen said as she slid onto the sofa opposite Lucy.

‘Shaky. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.’ She winced. ‘You must hear that all the time, in your job.’

‘And I take it seriously every time. Don’t worry – you’re not a statistic. You’re a friend.’ Of Rhys’s, she almost added, but decided it wouldn’t be tactful.

‘Your colleague didn’t seem particularly interested.’

‘Don’t let Andy fool you. He’s a really good police officer. Did you give him a description of the man who attacked you?’

Lucy nodded. ‘As far as I was able. I didn’t really get a good look. It all happened so fast.’ Her face clenched suddenly, convulsively. ‘Listen to me – I’m just talking in clichés!’ Her face relaxed into a forlorn expression. ‘I’m hungry,’ she said plaintively.

‘It’s shock,’ Gwen reassured her. ‘It’ll pass away. A good night’s sleep will do you the world of good.’ And I’m talking in clichés too, she thought.

‘He was taller than me. Tea’s brewing, by the way.’ Rhys entered from the kitchen carrying two tumblers of wine. He passed one to Gwen and was about to hand the other one to Lucy when he noticed Gwen shaking her head. ‘Shock?’ he mouthed. Gwen nodded, and he smoothly took a drink from the tumbler as if it was what he had intended all along.

‘You know these are whisky tumblers?’

‘Don’t get pernickety just because we have a guest.’

Gwen turned her attention back to Lucy. ‘So, this man: taller than you?’

‘And thinner, the bastard,’ Rhys continued. ‘And close-shaven around the scalp area.’

‘How was he dressed?’

‘You realise this isn’t your case? You don’t need to start an interrogation.’ He smiled, taking the sting out of the words as he slipped onto the sofa beside Gwen. ‘He was wearing those things that men wear that aren’t culottes.’

‘Cargo pants?’

‘Yeah, I think that’s it.’

‘How do you know about culottes but not cargo pants?’

‘Because you’ve got three pairs of culottes in your wardrobe that you haven’t worn for years.’

‘You go through the stuff in my wardrobe?’

‘I don’t go through it – I just know what’s there.’

‘You don’t by any chance wear any of it, do you?’

Rhys shook his head. ‘It wouldn’t fit. Yet.’ He stroked his stomach lovingly. ‘Give it time.’

Lucy was looking back and forth between the two of them.

‘Sorry,’ Gwen said. ‘Look, I know this is awkward for you, but Rhys has mentioned some of your history. Do you think this could be linked to your boyfriend?’

Lucy shrugged forlornly. ‘I can’t see Ricky getting it together for long enough to make a phone call, let alone arrange a kidnapping. And he’s called in all his favours already to get more smack. I just don’t see how he could be involved.’

‘What about his friends?’

‘He hasn’t got any friends. Just people he knows. People he shoots up with. People he buys from.’

‘Might they want to hurt you? Maybe use you to get Ricky to pay some of the money he owes them?’

Her expression crumbled. ‘He wouldn’t notice. He wouldn’t care.’

Gwen was about to ask something else when her mobile bleeped. She reached for it with heavy foreboding.

‘Torchwood?’ Rhys asked, face and tone neutral.

‘What’s Torchwood?’ Lucy asked.

‘I’m guessing it’s some kind of elite police group working in counter-terrorism,’ Rhys went on. ‘Something like that. Am I right?’

‘Close enough,’ Gwen said, picking up the mobile. The display just had the word Torchwood, followed by a postcode. Somehow, despite the fact that the LCD screen only had one font, Torchwood looked heavier, more menacing. ‘Rhys – I…’

‘I know.’ He reached out and touched her hand. ‘Go. Go and come back safely.’

‘Thanks. I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

She got up and walked out, not even bothering to change her blouse,