Disclaimer: Torchwood belongs to BBC and I make no money from this story.
Author's notes: So sorry about the delay is uploading this chapter. My computer broke shortly after the move and it's taken a while to recover a back-up of the story, re-do all the editing I lost and convert everything to a different format. Plus, I admit, I've been more focused on editing my novel and writing the sequel, so HoL has unfortunately been put on the back burner. A lovely review from Lady Emma Wentworth was the kick up the backside I needed. While my muse is a fickle thing and the period leading up to Christmas very busy, I will try to get back into a more regular uploading routine. (And yes, I'm conscious that I've said that before…)
Also, the next chapter will be called Foundations.
13 Age Old Wisdom, Ageless Beauty
"Okay, thanks for letting me know, Tosh. We'll give you a call when we're on our way back to the Hub to pick you guys up. If you can get all the gear ready and moved to the garage to wait for us, that would be a big help. I'll see you later."
Jack disconnected the call and adjusted the comms unit in his ear. He flashed a smile at Ianto, who was sitting next to him. "Tosh said that she's got as far in calibrating our equipment as she can without being at the house. She's pretty impatient to get there, but she did mention that she had to go through the data collected by all the sensors at the house overnight."
"That does sound like Tosh." Ianto chuckled. "We better make this visit to Mrs Rosalie Gilbert as short as possible, otherwise Tosh may implode from impatience."
Jack laughed. "And we couldn't have hat, now could we?"
"Of course not, I know you love Tosh as much as I do."
"To be honest, I was more thinking that it wouldn't be fun for you to have to clean up afterwards. Getting brain matter out of keyboards is a pain."
"And you know this how?"
"Pure conjecture. Obviously."
"Obviously." Ianto rolled his eyes, fighting to keep a straight face. "I can see how that might be your primary concern, Sir."
"I just want what's best for you," Jack said with mock seriousness.
"The rest of the team be damned," Ianto completed the statement.
They both stared at the road ahead, lips trembling. Ianto's composure cracked first and he began chuckling. Jack joined in and soon they were both laughing out loud.
Struggling to catch his breath, Ianto grinned at Jack. "I hope you really did disconnect your comms, because if Tosh heard that, she'll kill you."
"I did and I'm not too worried about death anyway," Jack replied with a wry smile.
"But don't forget that Tosh is clever. She'll be able to think of plenty of fates worse than death for you."
Jack looked uncomfortable. "Right, now you have me worried. We best make sure we don't spend too long on this endeavour."
"Sounds like a plan."
"Besides," Jack added," how long can talking to one old lady possibly take?"
The door was opened by a diminutive woman in her early eighties by Jack's best estimate. Her long, silver grey hair was on a tight braid and a shrewd pair of brown eyes watched them through a narrow glasses. There was an air of ageless beauty about her that no amount of time could erase. She wore a long white summer dress adorned with embroidered corn flowers and simple white sandals.
"Mrs Gilbert?" Jack flashed her his most dashing smile.
"I am indeed," she confirmed with a chuckle. "And whatever it is you're selling I'll happily buy. It's been a long while since I've had such handsome visitors."
Ianto felt a grin forming on his face at her direct, no nonsense manner. He found he liked her straight away.
"My name is Captain Jack Harkness and I have recently inherited Oaken Home from its previous owner. I'm hoping to find out more about the house and I was told that if anyone knows its full history, it'll be you."
"Been talking to David, have you?" When Jack nodded, she let out a short bark of delighted laugh. "Thought so. That's his way of saying that I'm a nosy old biddy."
Ianto opened his mouth of protest, but she was quicker. "Oh, don't fret, young man! He means no offence and I take none."
"Very well," Ianto agreed with a nod.
She fixed him with a piercing look. "Now, your dashing partner here introduced himself, but who might you be, my dear?"
"Ianto Jones, ma'am." He offered her his hand and was surprised by the strength of her grip.
"None of that ma'am rubbish!" She shook her head. "Makes me feel old and I'm not old until the day they bury me. My name is Rosalie, or Rosie for short."
"Pleased to meet you, Rosie," Ianto corrected himself with a warm smile.
"That's much better. Now, the threshold is no place to discuss local history. Come on in and through the house. We can sit in the shade in the garden and enjoy the sunny weather for as long as it lasts. We're in Wales after all, so we should make the most of it. I'll pop the kettle on. You're here just in time for lunch too."
"We don't want to cause you any inconvenience," Ianto hurried to say, but once again he was overridden.
"Nonsense. If fixing lunch inconvenienced me, I wouldn't be offering to do so. Now shush. You walk on down the hall and through the kitchen. There's a shaded patio at the bottom of the garden. Make yourselves comfortable there and I'll be out in a tick."
"Thank you very much, Rosie," Jack murmured and captured her hand for a brief kiss.
"Oh my, it's like being seventeen again," she tittered, flush creeping across her high cheekbones. "I definitely haven't had visitors like you in far too long."
"We brought you these." Ianto offered her a paper bag from a local chocolate shop.
"Chocolate truffles!" she exclaimed with glee. "You really have been talking to David, haven't you? You needn't have brought anything, of course, but thank you very much."
Ianto winked at her. "Ah, but it would be impolite to show up at someone's house unannounced and empty handed."
"I can't imagine anyone ever accusing you of being impolite," Rosie mused. "From what I've seen so far, both of you have impeccable manners."
"I do my best to keep him in line." Ianto grinned.
At the same time, Jack said, "I've learned from the best."
Rosie laughed, the sound one of pure joy. "I do believe this is going to be a wonderful afternoon. Now, would you please come in?"
She ushered them in and closed the door. They followed her directions through the house and out into a meticulous garden. The well kept lawn was bordered by perennials and small shrubs flowering in various shades of red, purple, orange and yellow. The winding path leading through the garden was made of white shingles, almost too bright in the noonday sun. At the bottom of the garden was a patio area surrounded by walls of living bamboo. Four cushioned chairs and a cast iron table sat in the dappled shade of a roof woven of flowering creeper plants.
"Beautiful," Ianto murmured, pausing to admire the view from the back door. A soft chuckle behind him indicated that Rosie had heard him.
"That garden is my life," she said as she filled a kettle and switched it on. "I can't do as much as I used to because of arthritis, but on warm dry days like this I feel almost normal. When my joints are acting up, my nephew, who lives just a few miles away, comes to give me a hand with the bigger tasks, like mowing the lawn and trimming the hedges. And dear David and his wife often come round to offer their help, bless their cotton socks."
Ianto smiled. "It's clear that the garden is a labour of love."
"It is indeed." Rosie filled a tray with cups, saucers, spoons, a jug of milk and finally a large teapot. "Nothing brings me more joy than being out there, surrounded by beautiful flowers and bird song. Now be a dear and take this tray to the table. Unload it there and bring it back, as I will need it for lunch."
Ianto took the heavy tray from her and did as he was told. Jack had already settled in one of the chairs and it was clear that he too enjoyed the serenity of the garden. They exchanged a fond smile while Ianto unloaded the train. He then returned to the kitchen with it.
"My husband died many years ago," Rosie continued chattering, while she prepared a large bowl of salad, "and since then it's just been me and Tiberius living in this house." She glanced at Ianto with a knowing smile. "I know, Tiberius is a rather pretentious name for a cat, but then again, they tend to be arrogant creatures, so it seemed fitting. No doubt he is somewhere inspecting his kingdom as we speak."
She placed the salad bowl, cutlery and plates on the tray Ianto was holding and began cutting thick slices off the roast chicken she had pulled out of her fridge.
"My children keep telling me to downsize and move somewhere more manageable, but I love this house. I watched it being built, I gave birth to my children under this roof and I have decades' worth of memories from this house. I'm not going to sell my home and move into some small box in the city centre for the sake of something as silly as practicality. I'm going to live in this house until the day I die, and leave being practical and sensible to my children. Besides," Rosie paused to wink at Ianto, "I think it's high time I give them the occasional head ache. Seems only fair after all the worrying over them I've had to do over the years."
"Seems reasonable to me," Ianto agreed with a grin.
Rosie shook her head, matching Ianto's grin. "Shame I didn't meet you a few decades earlier. My husband would have been mighty jealous of you and that would have been a very amusing sight."
"That's a very wicked thing to say," Ianto admonished her, but his eyes were full of mirth.
"I'm old enough for the occasional wickedness too," she was quick to respond and Ianto found himself smiling broadly at her.
"How many children have you got?" he asked as he watched her take two avocados out of her fruit bowl and test their ripeness with her thumb.
"Three, and seven grandchildren. Unfortunately none of them live in Cardiff. My eldest daughter is the closest, and she, her husband and their three children live in Tywyn. So I don't see any of them anywhere near as often as I'd like. But when you get to my age, getting around isn't as easy as it used to be."
"I'm sorry," Ianto offered, but Rosie waved a hand in his direction.
"What on earth are you apologising for? It's hardly your fault."
Rosie peeled and sliced the avocados with practised ease. She transferred the slices onto a plate, added a dash of lime juice and some black pepper, and then placed the plates with the avocado and the chicken onto the tray. Having got the spread out of the fridge, she set a new loaf of bread, the butter and a knife on a bread board and indicated to Ianto that they were ready.
As they approached Jack on the patio area, Ianto was struck by how comfortable the silence between them was, considering that they had only just met. He liked Rosie a great deal indeed.
"I hope roast chicken and avocado sandwiches are to your taste, as that's what we're having for lunch."
"How did you know that's my favourite?" Jack asked, eyebrow raised in surprise.
"I didn't know." Rosie shrugged with a smile. "Just a happy accident."
"Very happy indeed." Jack began cutting slices of bread for everyone. While he was thus occupied, Ianto poured them each a cup of tea from the tea pot. Rosie seemed content to sit back for a moment and simply watch her two guests.
When everyone had a sandwich and a generous helping of salad on their plates, she finally spoke, "So. If you inherited Oaken Home from its previous owner, that must mean that Alexander Hills is dead."
"I'm afraid so," Jack confirmed and his eyes softened into empathy at the flash of sadness on her face.
"Poor Alexander, although it may be better this way." Her words were barely above whisper an a solitary tear rolled down her cheek. She brushed it away with her thumb.
"What makes you say that?" Jack asked. "If you don't mind my asking, that is?"
"Will's death hit him hard. The cancer took its toll on both of them. Alexander fought by his side every step of the way, and whether it was the modern science or the strength of their bond, but they beat the cancer. Will was in remission and they began making plans for the future once more. Then, one beautiful summer afternoon, Will was resting in his favourite spot the garden and simply slipped away. Alexander was devastated."
"I can imagine," Jack whispered.
"They were so good together, Alexander and Will," Rosie spoke, her eyes unfocused as she cast her thoughts back through old memories. "They were good for each other and they were good for this street. The first gay couple to have lived in what is really a rather conservative neighbourhood. There were all sorts of ugly mutterings from some of the stuffy old fools around, but Alexander and Will soon changed their minds. The way they treated each other was an example to quite a few of the heterosexual couples around here. And they were never anything less than courteous, helpful and considerate, even towards the more homophobic members of the community. They treated everyone in exactly the same fashion and that was all they asked for in return. And would you believe it, in time that's exactly what they got."
Rosie took a sip of her tea and focused on the men before her once more. "They were good people, and that's all that mattered."
"What happened to Alexander after Will passed away?" Ianto queried, casting a careful glance in Jack's direction. He got a small smile in return.
"As I said, he was devastated. He was in mourning for over a year. But the strange thing is, throughout it all, there was a note of hope in his grief. It sounds a little peculiar, perhaps, but I got the impression from him that no matter how much he missed Will, he was also able to treasure the moments they had shared and the memories they had made together. Right after Will's death I was worried that he might do something to himself, but he appeared to emerge from his mourning a stronger man."
Taking a bite of her sandwich, Rosie chewed it thoughtfully as she considered her next words. "As luck would have it, however, almost as soon as he had recovered from Will's passing, he went to Canada on a skiing holiday and had an accident on the slopes. It is my understanding that he was hospitalised there for over a month before it was safe for him to return to Wales. He spent many more months in a hospital here, so almost half a year passed without any of us seeing him. He had called of course, both me and David, so we knew to keep an eye on the house and water the plants."
"You didn't go see him at the hospital once he was back in Cardiff?" Ianto's tone conveyed his surprise.
"He was in a specialist hospital in Swansea first, but even after he was transferred to Cardiff, he would not let us go visit him. We offered, of course we did, time and time again, but the answer was always the same. He preferred his solitude. We loved him enough to respect his wishes."
"Did you ever see him again?" It was Jack's turn to question their host.
"He did return to Springwood Lane, but only briefly. And he was a changed man. The moment I saw him I knew that the accident had broken the spirit I had been sure nothing could tame. He couldn't stay here, but we were all surprised when he refused to sell the house or even taken in tenants. We lost touch soon after that. I tried my best to reconnect with him, as I know did several other residents around here, but he seemed to want to cut all ties to his past. In the end we had no choice but to accept his decision.
"But I never stopped worrying about him, nor have I ever forgotten about the two handsome men who would visit me on a regular basis. Bryn, my husband, was jealous at first, until he realised Alexander and Will only had eyes for each other. After that, all four of us were good friends."
Another tear slid down Rosie's cheek and Ianto leant forward to offer his handkerchief to her. She took it with a grateful, albeit a little watery, smile and dabbed her eyes with it.
They all finished their first sandwiches in silence to give her time to regain her composure. While Jack and Ianto had seconds, Rosie topped up everyone's tea cups.
"It seems a little like we've come a full circle now, what with there being another handsome couple occupying the House of Leaves," she remarked, waiting for their reactions with shrewd intensity.
"Umm, we're…" Ianto began to speak, but Jack interrupted him:
"I thought the house was called Oaken Home."
"Nice try, Captain Harkness, but if you have inherited the house from Alexander, you already know what its real name is." Her rebuke was gentle, but it made it clear to both men that she was no fool.
"Fair point," Jack admitted with tiny nod. "Yes, we have ascertained that it is indeed called the House of Leaves rather than Oaken Home. We've also found that there's far more to the house than meets the eyes."
"You're right about that. Which is why, I imagine, you've come to me?"
"Correct. David said that you've lived here since these houses were built and I wondered if you might therefore be able to tell us more about all the stories connected to the House of Leaves."
Rosie's expression grew guarded as she regarded Jack. "Many would be concerned about the stories of the house being haunted. So concerned even that they might consider selling it to the property developers who are always circling this area like vultures."
Jack made sure there was nothing but sincerity in his eyes as he responded to Rosie's unspoken query. "I'm not worried about ghost stories. And even if I was, Alexander asked me in a letter of wishes to keep the house safe and out of the developers' reach, and I have no intention of going against his wishes."
The tension in Rosie's shoulder eased a great deal as she nodded. "Good."
"In any case," Jack said, choosing to take a gamble, "from what little time I've spent in the House of Leaves so far, it doesn't feel like a haunted house to me."
The shrewd look was back in Rosie's eyes as she considered Jack's words. "It would appear you are a wise man, in more ways than one. But you are correct, the house is not haunted."
"So what is going on with the house?" Ianto asked, sipping his tea.
"I'm not entirely certain," Rosie confessed, looking troubled, "or at least, I don't know on a level that would allow me to express my understanding in coherent words. But I know the house, I can feel the house. Trust me, it is not haunted."
Jack leant forward to make a third sandwich. "What can you tell me about the origins of it?"
Rosie set her fork down and settled more comfortably into her chair. "It was the last house along the road to be built and as you can see, it's nothing like the others. The plot of land was bought by a Finnish architect, Jaakko Ojanen, who designed the house and built much of it himself.
"There was something curious about the house already then, beyond its unusual style and layout, that is. The construction was finished ahead of schedule and there was never any trouble with the local builders working on it. In fact, I never heard any shouting or arguing at all. The only word that describes the atmosphere is peaceful. And that peace still lingers in the house and on the grounds."
Ianto nodded to confirm Rosie's statement.
"I never spoke much with Jaakko, who was a taciturn man, but I did befriend his daughter, Marjaana. She spoke very little English when they first moved here, but just a year later she was fluent and was also learning some rudimentary Welsh. Bryn and I had only been married a year at that stage and since he worked for the Navy, I saw very little of him during the early years of our marriage. It was nice to have a friend close to my own age as company during the months I was by myself."
"Did you spend much time inside the House of Leaves?"
Rosie tilted her head to direct her response at Ianto. "Oh yes, once the construction was finished. Marjaana had free reins over the garden and it was from her that I learned my love of gardening, as well as many of the techniques I still use today. Every part of that garden was designed and shaped by us with love and affection."
"And I can still feel it today," Ianto murmured.
"You too, eh?" Rosie looked surprised. "I thought I was the only one who felt that."
Ianto sat up a little straighter. "And the leaves, do you hear them whisper?"
"The melody in the garden?" she clarified and Ianto nodded. "Yes, yes I do. All these years, I've loved spending time in that garden because of the music in the air. Alexander and Will never minded my coming and going, and I must admit I have taken full advantage of the house being empty."
"You shouldn't let my having inherited the house stop you from continuing to do so. The garden is open to you whenever you wish to spend time there," Jack promised.
"Thank you, Jack. I very much appreciate that." Rosie smiled her thanks.
"Where was I?" Rosie spoke mostly to herself. She then fixed Jack with a pointed look. "I have a sneaking suspicion that you already know far more about the hauntings than you let on. And if that's the case, you know the reports cover the usual things; power surges causing lights to flicker on their own accord, strange noises coming from the loft room, when all the occupants of the house are downstairs, and figures spotted looking out of the windows, when the house is supposed to be empty."
"I've heard all that," Jack acknowledged. "Any truth behind the rumours?"
"Are they caused by ghosts? No. Is there something strange going on in the house? Absolutely. But there's nothing malevolent about it, no evil spirits or other such rubbish. The house is a place of peace. There are other emotions entwined with that, but I predominantly feel at peace when I'm in the house or its vicinity."
Rosie finished her second cup of tea and shook her head with a rueful smile. "I desperately wanted to own that house after Marjaana and the rest of her family moved back to Finland. But even being able to afford this one stretched our finances to the limits, so the House of Leaves was always far too expensive for us. And now it would be too much for me to cope with, even if it was to be put up for sale."
"Why did the Finns sell the house so soon after it was built?" Jack asked. "It must have been a big project to complete, but I understand they only lived there for about five years."
"Your understanding is correct. Jaakko and his wife Eila were both homesick. They settled into their life here well enough, but their homeland was a pull they were unable to resist. Eila's parents fell seriously ill and that was all the incentive they needed. Marjaana and her older brother Timo were less keen to move back to Finland, but they weren't objecting to it much either."
"Did you stay in touch with Marj..Marjaana?" Jack faltered slightly over the unfamiliar name.
"I did. In fact, I still correspond with her on a regular basis and I've been to Finland several times over the years to visit her and her family."
"How did the Finnish family react to the strange occurrences within the house?" Ianto jumped in. "I'm assuming they began as soon as the house was finished?"
"You're right, they did." Rosie nodded. "And it's funny you should ask that, because their reaction always puzzled me. Or rather, their lack of reaction, because it was almost as if they were expecting the so called hauntings. Another thing that was a little off was the loft room. Jaakko took a great deal of time and care to build the room, but then it was never used for anything."
Ianto's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Did you ever ask about any of that?"
"I did," replied Rosie with a small smile. "I was a curious young woman and Marjaana's evasive answers only fuelled my curiosity. But the only thing I could ever get out of her was that it had something to do with the foundations of the house. What I don't know is whether she meant the physical foundations of the house or the reasons behind Jaakko building it the way he did. She never did elaborate on that point."
The glance Jack and Ianto exchanged did not escape Rosie's sharp eyes.
"But of course in all of this we are rather avoiding the large elephant in the proverbial and literal house," she remarked with a casual air.
Jack turned his attention back to her. "What do you mean?"
"The leaves, my dear, the leaves," she replied with a roll of her eyes. "We're talking about the House of Leaves and yet for whatever reason the leaves have been conspicuously absent from this conversation."
Ianto inclined his head to acknowledge her astuteness. "And what do you know about the leaves?"
"They're not real leaves." At her simple statement Jack and Ianto shared another look, this one conveying surprise and unease.
When neither man said anything, Rosie continued, "You'll find that out sooner or later for yourself. For all intents and purposes they appear to be real leaves, but they're not. Tell me, have you tried to get rid of them in any way?"
Both men shook their head.
"You can't. People have tried to burn them, put them through a leaf cutter, throw them out, but nothing works. The leaves are indestructible. And they always find their way back into the house."
"How is that even possible?" Ianto questioned her.
"That I can't answer. But if you look at them, if you really look at them, you'll see that none of them have tears or blemishes of any kind. Each one is a perfect leaf. That alone is impossible. Then there's the fact that more of them appear every day. Even in the height of summer, when the trees outside are lush and green, dry, autumnal leaves float through the house and gather in the corners. And each owner gathers the leaves with great care and deposits them in a room that no one has ever used for anything else. If I was inclined to speculate, I might even go as far as wondering whether the loft room wasn't built specifically to house the leaves. I mentioned the possibility to Bryn once and he told me it was impossible, but I'm not quite so sure."
"If Jaakko anticipated the other strange things happening in the house, it is not beyond the realm of possibilities that he might also have foreseen that he would need somewhere for the leaves," Ianto reasoned, each word slow and thoughtful.
"I like your thinking, Ianto," Rosie praised him. "You're not afraid to consider the impossible, or should I say improbable."
Jack offered him a warm smile, while Ianto ducked his head at the compliment.
"The final odd thing about the leaves," Rosie relented and moved the conversation along, "is the voices in them."
Ianto's head snapped back up. "You can hear them?"
"Only vaguely," she said with a hint of sadness. "Some of them are clearer and I can almost make out words, others are just faint emotions."
"That's a rare ability indeed," Jack murmured, looking astonished.
"Bryn always said I was over-sensitive," she explained. "But it came in handy at times. Perhaps that's why the house and the garden have always appealed to me a great deal. No one, except Marjaana all those years ago, could understand how or why I found such tranquillity under the oak trees. But I feel the peace of the place and I love the house all the more for it. I wonder if that is why Will died in the garden; it's possible he too felt something of the house."
"That same thought had occurred to us too," Ianto revealed, unafraid to trust the remarkable woman before them.
"Oh good, it's not just the wild speculations of an old woman then."
"I thought you said you weren't old until the day they buried you," Ianto corrected her with a smile.
Rosie laughed. "Very good, my dear. You don't miss much, do you?"
"I try not to," Ianto agreed with a smile.
"Good man. Now, I do believe our cups are empty and the tea in the pot has gone cold. Why don't you clear the table, love, while I got put the kettle on again? I have some lemon drizzle cake in the fridge, which will make a lovely spot of dessert."
Ianto nodded his agreement and Rosie got up, leaving the table. Jack watched her go, her steps fast and steady for someone of her age. "I like her," he said in a soft voice.
"Me too," Ianto agreed. "She reminds me of my grandmother, except that Rosie is far sharper and wittier."
"She knows and has deduced a lot about the House of Leaves. I suspect if we told her there were aliens involved, she would not be the slightest bit surprised."
"I imagine you're right." Ianto did not look up from stacking the empty plates on the tray.
"I don't think there is any call to use retcon with her."
Now Ianto did look up. "I agree. In her age the effects of the drug might be unpredictable, and besides, there's no harm in her remembering this conversation. We haven't mentioned aliens and she's known for decades that the House of Leaves is not an ordinary house. She has not made a big thing out of it so far and I sincerely doubt she's going to start doing so now. Besides, she's wise and genuinely seems to understand."
"You're right," Jack agreed. "That's what I thought, and I don't mind admitting that I don't want to retcon her."
"I'm glad we're in agreement then." Ianto picked up the tray and headed back to the house with it.
Rosie was busy cutting the cake as Ianto stepped through the back door and set the tray down on the counter. He began unloaded it out of habit.
"Thank you, dear." Rosie transferred the slices of cake to plates and added a cake fork on each. "He's a lovely man, your Jack."
"Umm, he's not…I mean, it's…Mine is a…I don't know," Ianto stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing.
"Oh dear, I didn't mean to stick my nose in where it's not needed," Rosie apologised with a hint of smile. "Sometimes it takes time to get to a stage where you are comfortable with things out in the open, rather than just in private. But it's clear as day to anyone who sees the two of you together that you care a great deal about one another. Take time to be comfortable in yourself first, the rest will then slot into place. You'll get there."
"Umm, thank you."
Rosie added the cake plates to the now empty tray and refilled the tea pot with boiling water. "Come on then, Ianto. Let's go see if we can't make Jack blush too!"
Ianto was left blinking in astonishment as Rosie bustled out of the house, her rich laugh echoing in her wake. With a quick shake of his head and a small smile, he hurried after her.
An hour later Jack and Ianto made their excuses, citing work and stomach capacity as reasons why they had to leave. Ianto insisted on doing the washing up, despite Rosie's vehement protests. He also wrote down his mobile number and extracted a promise from her that she would not hesitate to call him if she ever needed anything. They in turn promised to turn the visit into a regular occurrence.
"Thank you again for your hospitality and for taking the time to talk to us at such length," Jack said as he opened the front door and stepped through it. Ianto added in his thanks, following Jack and then turning to face Rosie.
"It was my pleasure, of course it was. An afternoon spent in the company of charming young men, what more could a woman possibly want?" She flashed them a mischievous grin. "Your looks didn't hurt either."
"I'm glad you found our company diverting," Jack replied with a slight bow. "We are in your debt."
"Nonsense! I hope you settle in the House of Leaves well, it really is a fabulous house to live in." She hesitated for a moment, but then continued with a knowing twinkle in her eyes, "Springwood Lane is in a pretty safe area anyway, but I'd be lying if I said that having Torchwood living a few houses down from me didn't make me sleep through the nights just that little bit better."
With those parting words she closed the door, leaving both Jack and Ianto standing on the front step with their mouths hanging open.