Torchwood: Exodus Code by Carole E. Barrowman, John Barrowman Page B

that her temper had been riding close to the surface for a few weeks now. Since the terrible final days with Jack, she’d been seeing red a lot, but, shit, this poor woman was so obviously ill and that big tool of a bloke had just wheeled Anwen – her daughter, and at the rate she and Rhys were drifting apart it may be her only daughter, ever – without her permission, and here she was only trying to help, trying to be a good citizen, a helpful neighbour. No one appreciated her efforts at anything any more. This woman needed her help. She did. And when was the last time anyone had needed her help for something important? Hell, when was the last time she’d done anything meaningful other than play with wooden blocks and watch bloody CBeebies all bloody day.
    ‘The police are on their way.’ The manager pushed passed Gwen and reached for the cowering woman’s arm.
    And that was all it took. Gwen grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm up behind him, flipping him to his knees and banging his head against the shelves. ‘I know they’re on the way. I frickin’ called them!’ Gwen was swimming in red. ‘And this mess isn’t mine, you bloody idiot. It’s hers.’
    Gwen’s sudden violent reaction, stunned the security guard who froze in place for a beat, then came to his senses enough to wrestle his boss from Gwen’s grip, pushing Gwen closer to the woman, who was rocking and mumbling more aggressively on the floor.
    The guard had completed his training only two days before, and he had learned that you do not touch a customer unless you absolutely have to. Did this count as one of those times? He stared at Gwen. This woman looked really pissed off. He looked to his manager for some guidance, but his boss had backed up against the shelves, trying to regain some of his dignity, and holding his mobile in front of him like a weapon.
    ‘I’m filming you,’ he yelled at Gwen, ‘so… so you’d better back away.’
    Gwen ripped the phone from his hands and dropkicked it into the dairy section. Then she pivoted and faced the guard, who instinctively raised his hands in surrender, taking two steps back.
    Behind the guard, Gwen could see customers’ arms stretched in the air and mobiles flashing pictures. Beyond the crowd outside in the parking lot she could see the lights of an ambulance and a panda car, but worst of all she could see a look of sheer terror on Anwen’s face. God, what am I doing? Gwen inhaled and exhaled and the red at the edges of her vision began to fade, the crunch of the cereal at her feet softened, the lights above her seemed to flicker and dim.
    Holding her hand out to the manager, she said, ‘I am so, so sorry. I… I felt… I thought you were going to hurt her. This woman needs help.’
    The manager slapped Gwen’s hand away.
    ‘And so do you, missus.’
    Anwen started to cry again.
    ‘Sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me,’ Gwen said, lowering her voice and her hand. ‘I was just protecting the woman. She’s obviously having some kind of seizure and you just didn’t seem to care.’
    Gwen could feel the anger churning in her stomach. She felt sick.
    Ennobled by the sight of the police entering the shop, the manager puffed out his chest and poked Gwen’s shoulder. ‘I want you arrested.’
    ‘Mummee!’ screamed Anwen. ‘Uppie!’ Then Anwen threw the box of puffs at the guard’s head, who turned and took a step towards her.
    ‘Don’t you bloody dare,’ shouted Gwen, her blood boiling again. She slammed her chest into the guard, who fell against the trolley, causing Anwen to scream even more.
    ‘I want you out of my shop this minute,’ hissed the manager, pushing the guard towards the entrance. ‘Go get the police!’
    ‘Fine… that’s fine,’ said Gwen, catching her breath and unclipping Anwen from the trolley. ‘Please, let’s at least take care of this woman first. She really is in bad shape.’
    The security guard turned and glared at Gwen while