30 - Jack

Ianto has come home better. Wherever he went, he has that skip in his step again and he is openly smiling, not pretending. Something has comforted him and I would like to know what… or who but don't want to sound like a jilted lover.

"Aunty Marta has eyes like me" Jessie tells me with those chocolate drops so wide, staring at me with a little hand on my knee "but her teeth are bigger."

"Because she's a grownup" Ianto says as he flops into a chair and hooks the child to remove his shoes "Aunty Martha is older than me ya know. By almost two years. Growing up we were more like siblings than cousins. My Granddaddy married again after Grammy died and had more kids, then they had kids… so … Martha is… er… quarter white? I don't know. She is a Jones, that side of the family is cool. Uncle Clive was always just Uncle Clive. I didn't even now there was something weird about it until school and kids asking why me and Martha were both Joneses. Yeah. I have a black family."

OK. I did NOT know that.

Hang on.

"Idris… Idris Jones?" I ask slowly, that man a known kingpin in the underground and I watch Ianto's face change for a second before he places Jessie down and kisses his cheek without answering me. "Ianto? Are you telling me…"

"Idris is another cousin yes. His father Warren is Clive's brother, my father's step-brother. He is ten year solder than Da. They live side by side, the brothers. Idris, Martha, Tish and me the white weirdo." Ianto nods "Tish is younger. She is… a year younger than me. Sweet girl."

"Black. You are of a mixed race family" I find myself repeating myself like a stupid git. Then Jessie leans on my knee again.

"Of course he is. WE are." He tells me like I am thick and all I can do is laugh. Yes, he's right. WE are a mixed race family too. Our little chocolate Button. Cheeky little brat, I scoop him up and growl as I kiss his neck, pretending to chew on it.

Later I find him in the back garden and I approach "So. Idris Jones is family. He was at the wedding?"

"The handsome black man who looked like a black James Bond, or one of Bond's arch enemies maybe. Didn't say much, helped the DJ out." Ianto says and I think. Fuck. I thought that was security or something, that man was huge. Built and handsome. Huh. There ya go. Ianto did not hide him, I just hadn't noticed.

"OK… I remember him now. A nice suit."

"Yes, he does dress to impress. I wanted to see them when it was not a funeral or something. Like a lot of big disjointed families, we didn't see each other much outside of important things" Ianto reaches up to pluck an apple.

"Why didn't you go to them? After"

Ianto turns to me and shrugs "They were not allowed us. Da kicked up and said he didn't want his kids raised Black. Can you believe that? His own half and steps and he said that about them. What a wanker"

"He should not have had any say after what happened!" I find myself bristling now as I know Ianto is telling the truth. Back then it was all to the satisfaction of the parent, the child's welfare didn't really seem to matter. Why child abuse was so rampant. "So. How are they?"

"Good. Aunty Francine is feeling her arthritis with the cooler nights bit still spry. Idris' father is the oldest of that wing of the family, he is almost blind now. Idris will not let him go into care though. He will care for him." Ianto settles on a seat and lets his head fall back to let the sun on his face. God, he is so handsome.

And relaxed.

"I am glad you had a good time. Jessie certainly can only benefit in seeing different cultures, colours and lifestyles. A well rounded view of the world will make him a well rounded man." I say as I sit next to him "they got kids? Anyone his age?"

"Martha's big brother has a little toddler. Marcus, hadn't thought about that. Yeah. A little girl. I should check on that, good idea. Three? I should include her more, let Jessie see the kids all joining in."

I can see that he wants the conversation to be over, wants me to accept it and move on without fussing so I then add "we just need a Ginger to finish off the education of cultural variation."

Ianto rolls his head to look at me "Red heads are not a different race."

"No?" I ask with a sniff "They are a weird breed."

The growl as he attacks me deep, the tickle fest making me squeal tells me he knows full well that I am only joking. My own Granny was a redhead ya know.

Where my temper comes from.

A red headed Scott.