Free Desire Line by Gee Williams

till now never met. To me she was magnetic and I lingered over them afterwards, Sara’s screentest. Her smallness and occasional stillness gives cover in a sparse crowd. Unconscious of being important to anyone, she’s playing a nobody! Gets knocked off- course by a blubbery woman half as big again as Libby Jenkinson but she doesn’t retaliate. Forced into the gutter, her palm’s raised – an apology as if in the wrong herself, misjudging the strength of Rhyl’s currents. I’ve picked her up at the base of SkyTower only to lose her as a coach party’s put down, then have her resurface, static and staring. She takes her bearings and makes for tidy, well-populated Queen Street and I tag along, high on the thrill of a successful stalk that even guilt can’t spoil.
    â€˜Well?’
    Josh refused to acknowledge the fraught one word when he came in at six. Dropping his tie and wallet on a clean bit of work surface, then a check of both trouser pockets all had to be done until finally he looked at her, abashed, (surely he could not be surprised to find her still there, cooking for them?) and managed, ‘No.’
    The steel platter of sugared citrus on the worktop awaiting the grill was a triumph, each peeled segment testifying to her steady hand, courtesy of wine. Sara stroked the Chianti’s neck and then splashed a few ccs onto the pan of scarlet sauce. ‘Have some of that if you like,’ she could tell him, loftily. Her own glass was washed, dried and back in a cupboard.
    â€˜I won’t. Might need to go out again.’
    She fetched herself a glass, a different one for some reason, and made it ruby to the brim.
    â€˜Come and sit down,’ he suggested.
    â€˜I’ll need to—’
    â€˜Yeah.’ Impatiently, he swept the bottle up himself but once next door, seated across from her, undid each shirt cuff slowly, fumbling even, setting her teeth on edge as the crumpled cotton was rolled to the elbow; a series of bruises were exposed beneath the tan.
    â€˜Always sporting a badge of your office,’ she prompted.
    â€˜Nope. Helping somebody with their fence.’
    â€˜Your daughter is missing but you won’t let that stand in the way of a good deed.’ (Drink! Now! Don’t say any more!) ‘You had something to tell me?’
    Josh, though, prevaricated, possibly the first time she had ever witnessed it. ‘Did Eurwen mention what she’s been up to… while she’s been here?’
    â€˜What do you think? I’ve had long chatty letters?’ There was no camouflaging the rawness. ‘I’ve texted, I’ve emailed, trying to keep it light. When I rang her number often she wouldn’t even answer. And you must have heard how she spoke to me on your phone. No. Yes. I’m getting on with some revision. All lies, I suppose?’
    â€˜If you think I was doing any better, I wasn’t. She even tried the Miss Shouty-Pouty act. Realised that wouldn’t work! You know Eurwen. It suited her, so then it’s trying to keep me on side.’ The smile he was tempting her with was almost reflected but she held back. ‘That’s something else she’s been up to since she could talk.’
    Though not with me, she refrained from saying, not for… how long? ‘So what has she been doing?’
    â€˜Horse riding. Helping out at some stables. Missed it , she claimed. Fine , I said. She’d been when she stayed last year. To the same place. Decent enough people run it. They’d had their trailer nicked out of the yard is how I knew them… Upton… they’re called.’
    â€˜A couple?’
    â€˜A man and his daughter.’
    â€˜Naturally.’
    He was not going to rise: ‘It’s impressive, the way kids make this life for themselves you know nothing about. Took her less than a month up here…’ In mid-June Eurwen’s sudden manifestation had come as a shock.