Torchwood: Exodus Code

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    ‘Don’t yell at me!’
    ‘I’m sorry… I’m sorry,’ said Gwen, raising her hands in the air. The woman backed herself against the corner of the shelves at the end of the aisle, tucked her head between her knees and tugged her jacket up over her head.
    ‘Listen, I’m calling someone for you,’ said Gwen, cereal crunching under her feet. ‘I’ll wait here with you until they come. OK?’
    The woman let out a long sad moan. Gwen took the sound for a yes and put her phone to her ear, quickly calling 999. While she patiently explained the situation, Anwen steadily covered herself in a rain of cereal.
    Meanwhile the woman was thumping her feet against the shelves behind her, but she was no longer shouting or even moaning, she was humming, not a tune as much as a chord of peculiar-sounding notes that slowly became a low chant in Welsh of ‘Distaw! Distaw!’
    ‘Thanks,’ Gwen said and slipped her mobile into her pocket. She knelt in front of the woman. ‘It’ll be ok, luv, someone’s coming to help you. I’m sure they’ll make the noises stop.’

19
    THE SHOP MANAGER and a security guard charged down the cereal aisle, taking in the piles of crushed grains, the empty boxes scattered on the floor, a toddler in a trolley eating from a ripped-open box like some kind of wild animal, and two women crouched on the floor, one of them hidden under a jacket, singing and rocking on the balls of her feet.
    ‘Oi! What are you doing?’ the manager yelled, pointing angrily at Anwen. Blissfully unaware of her surroundings, she dug into her puffed oats. ‘Christ, you’ll have to pay for this mess you know. This isn’t a… a play school,’ he blustered, nodding to the security guard, who pushed Gwen’s trolley off to the side, blocking her passage back down the aisle to the front of the shop.
    At both ends of the aisle, small crowd of shoppers were gathering, some taking pictures of the bizarre scene with their mobiles.
    Gwen tried to squelch the rage she could feel rising in her chest as she stood and faced the manager. She clenched and unclenched her fists, banging them against her legs, taking deep breaths and hearing Rhys’s voice in her head before he left for work that morning.
    ‘Please don’t pick any more fights, Gwen. We already can ’t go to Boots or to the butcher’s and you’re getting a bit of a rep at the Cwm Deri bakery, and it’s not for your taste in muffins. Try to stay calm. Please. Keep Mrs Angry in check.’
    Gwen forced Rhys out of her head. ‘Mrs Angry’. Who the hell did he think he was talking to? Anwen? I’m in control. I’m always in control. She could feel her chest tightening and she could hear the manager speaking into his mobile and for a brief moment she thought she could see his words, pink and opaque, floating across her field of vision then exploding into a test card of white noise.
    Really, Gwen, get a grip.
    She started to count to ten. Rhys was right. This was the closest supermarket to home. Gwen was aware 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