Death is the Beginning - Chapter Ten
“Okay Jack, we are going to take this a little faster I think, see if we can’t get to the bottom of all this.”
Jack nodded. It was late afternoon and he was sat in the little back room of Grayson Master’s shop.
It had been a pretty good day, even though Ianto had spent most of the morning in meetings. He and Tosh were working on something for the government, a new project they where undertaking to help people who had gone missing only to show up mysteriously and very different to how they were before. Jack only knew the bare minimum about the project but knew that wherever these people had gone, they were not quite the same as before.
Ianto and Jack met for lunch on the Plass before spending the day walking around the city, seeing if anything else might trigger his memory.
It had been nice walking around, enjoying each other’s company but the closer they got to Jack’s next appointment with Grayson, he noticed Ianto becoming quieter changing the subject whenever Jack tried to talk to him about Roman and Margaret.
“I want to move along to the time when things started to go wrong for Roman and Margaret. Okay, the door is open, tell us what you see,”
Cardiff Wales, 1948
It was the night of Otto Kline’s party, one of his costume affairs and Roman didn’t want to go. Margaret was convinced something was wrong, he was distant and distracted but each time she asked, Roman would only say things where fine.
After greeting Otto, Margaret decided to mingle, leaving him and Roman alone.
While at the bar, someone tapped her on the shoulder. “Ah, Mr Hart, so good to see you. Still missing the war?”
“Matter of fact I do. So good to see you again Mrs Strauss.”
He was smoking again, it occurred to her she had yet to see the man with a cigarette out of his mouth.
“Is it really good for you to smoke so much, Mr Hart?”
“Not really, I thought I’d start rolling my own, maybe slow myself down.”
“And how has that worked?”
“Not great, I just started rolling them faster.”
She laughed as he took another drag of his cigarette.
“Well it’s cold, maybe we should head inside?”
“In a minute, tell me Margaret, how are things at home?”
“Hmm, writing gossip these days, Mr Hart? Seems like you really do miss the war.”
“Well you meet someone on their wedding day it’s only natural to be curious.”
His eyes seemed to burn straight through her.
“How are things, Margaret?”
“Things are...wonderful, they are just great.”
“You know Margaret, I can be a very good friend to you.”
She was suddenly feeling very uncomfortable but decided to still play along.
“And what makes you such a great friend?”
“Well I can talk rugby to a man and pay compliments to women, I’m very versatile.”
“Is that so Mr Hart? So tell me who is going to win the premiership this year?”
He laughed throwing his head down as he caught site of her anklet.
“Wow that’s one impressive piece of jewellery, may I?”
She nodded as he slid to one knee and lifted up her leg a little too high, causing the dress to hike up more that it should have. He held her leg close to his face inhaling her smell before he looked up to catch her eye.
“You know Margaret I really shouldn’t say this but from the first time I me...”
“Hello Margaret.”
Hart let go of her leg like he had been burned as Margaret straightened herself.
“Roman! Where have you been?”
“Ah, inside, with everyone else,” he answered, never taking his eyes off John Hart. When Hart offered his hand to Roman, he ignored it.
“I’m curious, Mr Hart, as to what exactly you were doing with my wife’s leg?
“Roman! Really there’s no need to be rude.”
“I’m sorry, Mr Strauss, I was just admiring the anklet and your wife appeared to need some company.”
Hart spoke the last word with a grin on his face, which quickly fell as Roman punched him and Margaret watched in horror as he fell backwards into the pool.
“Roman! What the hell?”
“We’re going home.” He grabbed her roughly by the arm and led her to the car.
Once they returned home, they fought.
“What did you think you were doing with him?”
“We were just talking Roman, nothing more.”
“Oh, so that’s why he was feeling you up?”
“What? No! He was just admiring the anklet that YOU asked me to wear so everyone could see how rich we are...or were.”
“Oh, so that’s it, is it? You blab to John Hart about how poor we are, how I can’t provide for you and how wonderful he is.”
“Roman, stop it please! I don’t care about John Hart, I care about you.”
Roman sank down on the couch, defeated.
“What happened to that man who told me we were two halves of the same person, the one who said nothing could part us?”
“He became a nobody.”
She bent down and lifted his head, cupping his chin and kissed his lips.
“Only in his own eyes, never in mine.”
Roman had a severe case of writers block and his new opera was not coming on as he had liked and it was causing a strain in their relationship. Margaret was also having problems with Suzette, Roman’s housekeeper, and her son. She swore the day before he had stolen some earrings and that very morning she had caught him in her room with the anklet in his hand claiming to have picked it up off the ground.
She’d tried talking to Roman about it, suggesting they dismiss them but Roman would have none of it, saying they had saved his life in the mountains while fleeing Germany which only led to a huge argument.
“I can’t fire these people Margaret, they saved my life after my wife died”
“Oh yes, the trip in the hills. Tell me again, Roman, why your wife would have taken such a trip with her bad heart?”
“What? If we had of stayed it would have been suicide.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you got all your money from your first wife?”
“Because it isn’t true Margaret, it would have been worse had we’d stayed...where is all this coming from?”
Margaret shook her head, bringing her thoughts back to the current argument. She was still upset at Roman and wanted desperately to make him understand that it was him she cared for.
“Ahh, well tell me Margaret, have I answered all of Mr Hart’s questions then?”
He strode to her writing bureau and pulled out a letter in Mr Hart’s untidy scrawl.
“I am your husband Margaret, I need you to trust me, not John Hart.” With that said, he walked away.
Later that night, Margaret was on the verge of sleep when she heard her name called. She opened her eyes to see a figure standing at the foot of the bed with the masquerade mask on that Roman had wore.”
“Roman?” she called.
“These are for YOU!!”
The figure raised his fist and in it was a pair of scissors held like a weapon above his head while the other peeled of the mask to reveal.......
“IANTO!” Jack screamed as he snapped out of the hypnosis, breathing heavy
Ianto went to him immediately, trying to calm him but Jack squirmed away from him shaking his head.
“It was you.....the man....the mask, it was you.” Jack stared at Ianto in horror.
“You we’re in the house, Roman and Margaret’s house.”
“You saw Mr Jones in the past?”
“He had a pair of scissors and he was going to kill me.”
“Oh come on, Jack,” Ianto exclaimed.
“No, Mr Jones, this is good, it means he’s started to come into the present.”
“Look, I’m on his mind that’s all.”
“Well I could always regress you, Mr Jones?”
“Oh no, I don’t think so.”
Jack sat silent, carefully watching Ianto.
“I could take you back years......back to Roman and Margaret’s time, I could...”
“I said, ‘No!’”
“It was you,” Jack said quietly, “you were going to kill me.....her....”
Ianto looked Jack in the eye, a fierce determination written on his face.
“I’m NOT ROMAN!” Jack flinched and Ianto grimaced, not wanting to intentionally freak out the older man any more than he already was.
Sighing, Ianto stood behind Jack, his hand resting on Jack’s shoulder thankful when Jack didn’t flinch under his touch.
“I think that’s enough for tonight, Mr Masters.”
The man nodded, blowing out the candle on the table.
“Come on Jack, let’s go home.” Jack nodded as Ianto gave his shoulder a squeeze, relieved when the older man followed him.
Chapter Eleven