This is the story of the relationship between Ianto and his older sister, Rhiannon, told in a series of snapshots of their lives. Each chapter is linked by a discussion/explanation between Rhiannon and Gwen Cooper.


Rhiannon's Story

Gwen and Rhiannon

The usual crowd of teenage boys were lounging on the solitary open green space as Gwen Cooper drove into the Cromwell Estate. She was pretty sure they never went to school and that she'd find them there, doing nothing, whatever time of day she came around. That was the lot of kids on this estate; poor schooling with unemployment awaiting them unless they were particularly self-motivated and managed to get out. Gwen had come across kids like it while she was with the police, petty thieves and muggers for the most part who increasingly carried knives and even the occasional gun. They either graduated to more serious crimes later and spent the rest of their lives in and out of prison or they opted for dead-end jobs and raised a brood of children that would follow in their footsteps. It was all such a waste, she thought, briefly rubbing her stomach which – disappointingly – was still flat.

Gwen pulled up outside number 25 and turned off the engine. Getting out, she locked the door and activated the alarm, remembered the loss of the SUV and hoped her car would be there when she came back out. The front door opened as she drew near and Johnny stood in the opening. He was a big lad and she faltered for a moment, hoping this was not going to descend into a slanging match, but he smiled and stepped aside.

"I'll just go and tell those sods not to mess with your motor," he said, heading for the teenaged youths. "She's in the lounge."

"Hello," called Gwen, from the hallway before pushing open the door into the one open-plan living room. "It's me, Gwen."

The room was in the same chaos she had seen before. Piles of laundry lay around, either waiting to be washed or possibly to be ironed. The sink and drainer were covered with dirty dishes – the breakfast ones as far as Gwen could see – and the counter top was covered with toaster, kettle and other appliances as well as bills, junk mail, magazines and kids' pictures and other precious items. Boxes of leaflets waiting to be folded and put in their envelopes were on the dining table and a small pink dressing gown – Mica's – was hanging off the back of a chair. Shoes of various sizes littered the floor near the far wall, trainers mostly. The television was on, showing a daytime soap, but the sound was mercifully turned down to a whisper. The three piece suite was rumpled and cushions were higgledy-piggledy and dented. A jumper was draped across the back of the sofa where sat the only occupant of the room.

Rhiannon looked up at her visitor. She had been lost in memories and it took her a moment to remember the face and put a name to it. "Oh, Gwen, hello. Want a cup of tea?" She put aside the album and stood up. "Christ, just look at this place. Bloody tip!" Reaching for the jumper she folded it tidily then stood holding it, her face crumpling.

"It's all right, sweetheart, I understand." Gwen hugged the woman she had known for just a few days. "Can I do anything to help?" she asked, releasing her.

"Could help with the washing up," said Rhiannon, replacing the jumper on the back of the sofa. "Nothing to drink out of otherwise!" She managed a smile and moved to the kitchen.

The two women spent half an hour clearing up. Gwen tackled the backlog of washing up while Rhiannon sorted the clothes and put a load on to wash. Those to be ironed she folded and put to one side intending to tackle them later before she cleared away some of the mess on the counters. This shared activity helped bridge the gap between the two women and they were comfortable with one another when they took their tea and sat on the sofa. With the television off and the rest of the house empty – Johnny had stayed outside – it was peaceful and they sipped the drinks quietly for a moment or two.

They had met three times in total, all in the last ten days. The first had been when Gwen had come with the awful news of Ianto's death and they'd been caught up in saving David and Mica, Rhiannon's children, and the rest of the kids who had been in the house at the time. Three days later, Gwen had returned to check the family was coping and to talk about funeral arrangements and then, just two days ago, had been the funeral itself. Not the best of times to forge a connection let alone a friendship. Gwen was here now at Rhiannon's request but still felt an outsider and ill at ease.

"How you feeling?" asked Rhiannon. "Still sick?"

"Yeah, every morning and most of the rest of the day too." Gwen grinned, glad she had this physical reminder of her pregnancy no matter how ill it made her feel.

"I had it too. Worse with Mica, funnily enough. But it's worth it."

"I know." Neither had to explain, both felt the need to protect their children – born and unborn – from all dangers, terrestrial and alien.

"I was looking through this." Rhiannon had the photograph album on her knee. "Not got many old snaps but there's a few. I wanted to show you, to explain about Ianto." Her voice wavered and she took a moment to recover her composure. "Why he …"

"We all do it, Rhiannon, we all make our backgrounds sound better than they really were." Gwen placed a hand on the other woman's arm and squeezed briefly. "I know I did."

"But you grew out of it. Like me, like everyone else. Only Ianto … kept doing it. Even when he was a man he couldn't accept what our family had been like. He was ashamed of us."

"No! I don't believe that!" asserted Gwen, putting her mug on the floor beside her. "He loved you."

Rhiannon laughed shortly. "You really don't … didn't know him." She paused. "I suppose he did love us, in his way. But we rarely saw him. Once, maybe twice a year. It was six months before I knew he was back in Cardiff! If he'd really cared he'd have called me at least."

Gwen bit her lip and resisted the urge to make excuses. Platitudes weren't appropriate and would be insulting. Instead she asked, "Why was he like that?"

"Who knows? Probably our tad. He was … unhappy in so many ways and made us kids suffer too." Rhiannon sighed. "Want to see some baby pictures? I've got one of Ianto."

"Course I do!" Gwen grinned.

"Here he is." Rhiannon opened the album and pointed to a faded colour photograph. It showed a baby in a blue romper suit and hand-knitted cardigan and booties lying on a chair. Beside him and leaning over him was a young girl. "And that's me. I was three and I really didn't want a brother, that's why I'm scowling." She smiled at the memory.

"He was gorgeous." Baby Ianto was staring in the direction of the camera and his solemn expression was very similar to one Gwen remembered well. "He had beautiful eyes even then."

"Took after Mam. I got Tad's brown ones." She turned a page. "This is him when's he a bit older, must have been five or thereabouts. I know it was just before he started school."

The photograph showed Ianto sitting in a old-fashioned pedal car grinning at the camera. The toy car was red but paint flaked from the wings and it had a dent in the roof. Regardless of these deficiencies, the boy's grin and the way he held himself simply oozed pride in his possession.

Gwen picked up her mug and took a sip while still looking at the photograph. "I bet he washed it every opportunity he could get. Kept it spick and span."

"He did. Until I destroyed it." Rhiannon remembered the day very well. It had been a hot day in the summer …

-ooOoo-

Rhiannon: Pedal Car, 1987

The sun was shining and it was the middle of the holidays. It should have been a happy day for Rhiannon Jones but instead of being able to play with her best friend Megan she had to watch her little brother. At that moment she hated him more than she'd hated anything in her seven years. On their own, the two girls would have been able to roam about the estate and explore the wasteland by the railway line but with Ianto to look after they had to stay in the garden.

"It's not so bad, Rhi," said Megan, trying to calm down her friend. "Let's play schools."

"It's our holidays, what do we want to play schools for?"

"I'm going to school after the holidays," piped up Ianto. He was dressed in immaculate blue shorts and T-shirt with matching blue socks and blue trimmed trainers. His hair was as smoothed down as he could get it. Curly hair was difficult to keep tidy and he wished and wished for straight hair but it never changed. "I'm five."

"Shut up!" snapped his sister. "Play with your cars. Over there." She pointed to a patch of bare earth near the fence.

She watched him go. That was the only good thing about him, he did as he was told. Rhiannon felt her anger building and ran off down to the end of the garden – barely four metres away – and then round and round in a large circle. If she didn't run she'd scream. This was always happening to her. She got lumbered with Ianto all the time now her mam was working mornings at Asda. It wasn't fair. Megan joined in the running. She caught her friend's hand and they pretended they were flying. If they tried hard enough, maybe they'd be able to fly away from this place to somewhere really exciting, like London.

The morning passed, as all mornings do, and Rhiannon's mood brightened. It was difficult to be angry when she was free of school and the studies she didn't understand. The day was all hers, to do with – almost – as she pleased. The garden was confining but there was enough room to run around. Megan had a good imagination, something her friend lacked, and the two girls were soon playing an elaborate game of princesses locked up in a castle with handsome princes coming to rescue them. They were lying on the grass, hands folded neatly across their chests as all good princesses do when they're waiting for their princes, when a shadow fell over Rhiannon.

"Are you dead?" asked Ianto, standing by his sister.

"No I'm not flipping dead! Go away!" She heard his sudden intake of breath and looked up at him from one half opened eye. He would tell, she knew it.

"You said a rude word." His scandalised tone was an exact mirror of their Auntie Muriel's, a crabby spinster who lived in Swansea and who disliked Rhiannon and everything she did.

"What if I did? You just keep your mouth shut, Ianto Jones, you hear me?" She sat up quickly and grabbed his arm, giving him a Chinese burn just as she'd learnt at school. He yelped and started to cry but she continued to twist her hands round on his arm.

"Let him go, Rhi," implored Megan, also sitting up and growing anxious as the boy's cries increased in volume.

"Not until he promises not to tell. Do you promise, Ianto?" She relaxed the pressure on his arm slightly.

"Yes," he wailed. "Please stop."

Rhiannon released him and he stood where he was, crying great tears as he held his sore arm. He gazed at her and she suddenly felt guilty for hurting him. It had been a mean trick. But he was such an irritating boy, even now she could feel her irritation levels rising as he refused to go away, just stood looking at her reproachfully. She didn't like the way he made her feel bad and so she pushed him away, not hard, just enough to get him to move and to stop gazing at her with his watery blue eyes.

"Go and play. Leave us alone." He stumbled backwards, regained his balance and turned away.

Rhiannon and Megan resumed their game but it wasn't the same. Besides, lying on the grass was boring after a while. The two girls decided to get onto the flat roof of the Jones' kitchen extension. Sitting up there they could see across half a dozen gardens and watch what people were doing. Rhiannon's mam called it spying and had forbidden it but she wasn't here and anyway the two girls liked the idea of being spies. To get onto the roof they had to stand on the top of Ianto's pedal car – one of his prized possessions – and then swing up using the fence that divided the garden from the Grants' next door. It was the neighbours' fence, put up after Rhiannon and her friends had kicked one too many balls into Mrs Grant's prize dahlias. Getting the pedal car meant taking it out of the shed at the bottom of the garden but that was the work of a moment.

Ianto, still holding his arm and sitting on the back doorstep, watched. When he saw his beloved pedal car being wheeled out he knew what Rhiannon planned and rushed to stop her. "No! You'll bend it again." His sister's weight had dented the roof of the cab and, while his tad had tried to put it right, the damage could still be seen.

"Get out of the way." Rhiannon left the car to Megan and held onto the boy. "You want one of those on your other arm?" she demanded.

He was in tears again. "No. Please, Rhi." He was crying again, not understanding her need to destroy everything he owned.

She was nearly swayed. In some corner of her heart she loved her little brother, it was just that he was a nuisance. And he cried too much and was a goody-goody, never doing anything naughty. "Leave off, Ianto. We need it."

"Come on, Rhi!" called Megan, in place and waiting. She knew better than to go up on the roof first, Rhiannon always had to be the leader.

The two girls positioned the pedal car just right and then Rhiannon climbed on top. The already weakened metal of the cab roof gave way under her weight and the girl tumbled through with a cry. Her leg was gashed on the exposed metal and blood poured from the wound. Megan screamed and threw her hands up in horror, rooted to the spot.

"Stop your row," snarled Rhiannon getting over her first shock. She gingerly pulled herself out of the remains of the car and surveyed her damaged leg. The blood was still coming out of the wound and the sight of it made her feel faint. She sat down abruptly.

Megan had stopped screaming but the sight of the jagged wound frightened her. She was a timid girl and decided that discretion was the better part of valour. "I'm going home," she announced, and disappeared down the side of the house. She left in the nick of time.

The back door opened and Huw Jones appeared, home early from his shift at Debenhams. He was hot and tired after walking from the bus stop and in no mood for his daughter's misbehaviour. "What's all this?" he demanded, standing over the girl. He took in the ruined pedal car and its position. "You climbing on the roof again? Will you never learn, girl?" He caught her arm and pulled her up roughly.

Huw Jones had an uncertain temper at the best of times and Rhiannon knew to tread warily around him. She got the worst of his anger, not Ianto; being older she got into more scrapes. She was too young to realise that her tad saw her unwillingness to conform as defiance and so often got a clout round the ear as a result.

"It was my fault, Tad," piped up Ianto. He came to stand beside Rhiannon, his gaze direct and innocent despite the evidence of his earlier tears. "She only went up to get my ball back." He held up the small red and white ball as evidence. "I asked her to do it. I'm sorry, Rhi." He turned to his sister and took her free hand.

"Stupid bloody kids!" He shook Rhiannon by the arm he was still holding. "Get indoors, both of you. And don't think you'll be getting another pedal car, boy. It's your fault it's ruined and I'm not wasting more money on you."

That night, when she was supposed to be getting ready for bed, Rhiannon crept into her brother's small bedroom where he had been confined all afternoon. Their tad had insisted on the punishment and their mam had gone along with it, unwilling to stand up to him. Ianto was in bed but not asleep. Rhiannon sat on the bed favouring her bandaged leg.

"Why did you do it? Why did you take the blame?" she asked. The question had been bugging her for hours.

"'Cause he'd have hit you."

"But you've lost your pedal car. And you've been stuck up here all afternoon," she persisted, unable to understand.

Ianto smiled at her, a smile of pure joy. "I like being here. I've been playing with my soldiers." He looked across at the mismatched group of toy soldiers lined up on the chest of drawers. Some were large others small, all were battered and most were second hand, passed down from an older cousin, but to Ianto they were the Coldstream and Grenadier Guards combined.

Rhiannon sat pondering her brother. He was weird. How could anyone want to be indoors on such a sunny day? Why wasn't he angry she'd broken his pedal car? Why had he taken the blame for her? Such selfless behaviour was new to her and totally alien to her own nature. She heard her mam come out of the kitchen on her way upstairs and knew she had to get back to her own room.

"Thanks," she muttered, touching his arm briefly where it was still sore for her earlier assault. "Sorry I did that." Impulsively she bent and kissed it.

Her mam's steps were almost at the stairs so Rhiannon scooted into her room and hastily dragged off her clothes. She was unusually quiet as her mam supervised as she washed her hands and face and brushed her teeth. Rhiannon Jones had a lot to think about.


My thanks to Orion Lyonesse for her help in brainstorming ideas for this story; sorry I kept you up so late!. More chapters coming soon …