Jackie Tyler / Ianto Jones / dust yourself off
Jacqueline Tyler was first and foremostly a mother. Regardless of what anybody on the estate might say about her just being a ditzy blond. So when she saw a young boy of about six or seven years old sitting alone on the ground in the park quietly glancing around and looking very confused the fact that she was supposed to be doing the shopping escaped her mind completely. She knew a lost child when she saw one and as a mother it was only right that she rushed over. It had nothing at all to do with a need for gossip.
"You alright?" she asked crouching down to the child's level. He was pale, although not alarmingly so, with startlingly blue eyes and dark brown, almost black, hair.
"No."
The boys face was sullen and his tone matched it well. He didn't seem at all alarmed by the fact that he was unaccompanied.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her instincts leading the way.
"My knees," the boy replied gesturing towards his ripped trousers and the holes in them though which bloody, although not severe, grazes were visible. Jackie was surprised to notice that not only was the child not one she was particularly familiar with from the on estate but from the sounds of his accent he wasn't at all local. He didn't even sound like he was from London.
"They aren't so bad," she remarked, lifting the child to his feet and straightening up so she had too look down at him, "Now dust yourself off because you've nothing to look so sulky over."
The boy just scowled at her.
"C'mon now, where are your parents?" she asked insistently, she was in no position to be bothering about the possibility people who left their children in parks and thought they'd be okay, "You can't be here by yourself."
"Can," the boy muttered firmly, pouting up at her.
"Oh," she said raising her eyebrows at him, "And how's that then?"
"Got on a train."
"To the Powel estate?"
"Got distracted. Went on a different train. And a bus."
"Where were you trying to go?" she asked bemusedly, noticing a hint of embarrassment on they boy's face as he averted his eyes in the direction of his shoes.
"The coast."
"The coast?" she asked, smiling at the silliness of it all, "Did you want to go on the beach and play in the sea?"
To her surprise the boy shook his head firmly, "No. Wanted to find sand snails."
Jackie raised her eyebrows, "Why? What's so good about snails?"
The boy shrugged, "We don't have sand snails in Newport. I wanted to put them in my pockets and show them to people who don't believe me that I went to the sea and caught sand snails."
Jackie was confused, "So you're going to find some sand snails so you can prove you've found sand snails – that doesn't make much sense to me."
To her annoyance and horror the small child rolled his eyes at her, "I need snails to show that I got to the place where the snails live. Nobody believes me that I can get on a train and go all the way to somewhere by myself but it's easy."
"Easy?"
"Yup. I took the money from my pocket money and I told the train people that my mummy and daddy had put me on the train and that my grandma was meeting me at the sea."
"Well London is a bit far from any beaches," she muttered, a little alarmed.
"But it's big and it has buses."
"Still," she said, "You're coming with me."
"Where?"
"The police station. Somebody needs to take you home."
"But my adventure's only just started."
"It's not safe to be wandering around. You already got hurt once didn't you," she insisted, "Now come along with me and we'll get this all sorted out."
The boy stood stock still and gazed up at her.
"I'm not allowed to go places with strangers."