Free Desire Line by Gee Williams Page B

another near miss down among the seaside kitsch, but with fear sobering the mix, she was looking forward to it all being whisked away the instant Josh’s door opens and Eurwen dashes out to meet her—
    Instead, she gets frost in more senses than one.
    You have to sympathise. If Sara had been told what she calls autumn is actually another season, higan , the Japanese time for renewal, she might have come with a better attitude. Maybe got a better outcome. The leaves are gold, not gone. Fight depression! The temperature takes a dive? Quicken up! Here’s a chance to sweep your mistakes out over the threshold. Even sins. For this year’s higan my own house – flat – has been cleaned and all my wants printed on slips of rice paper. A shrine has been made ready. It’s just a small thing in a corner, an arrangement that Libby, Glenn or Tess couldn’t interpret anyway, if seen, a tumbler of fresh water, a wristwatch and book, a picture when the time comes, all meaningless to the uninformed. Now I can add an incomplete necklace, Eurwen’s discard. The ritual also needs a handful of orange leaves easily got from the Borough’s one intact greenhouse. Every leaf must be perfection, nothing sampled by insects and, trying for strict accuracy, I’ll be saving each day’s offerings for use at the very end. All this has to be on Tomiko’s advice because Tomiko is still the only Japanese I know. Growing up in Rhyl meant continually catching sight of a wiry, fawn-skinned kid in the plate glass and thinking Hey, Yori! Another one!
    Always me.
    Staring at girls, pulling a devil’s face behind my mother’s back, always me. It taught an important lesson, the need to keep an eye on what Yori was up to— sorry, two lessons. Never expect to recognise your own image nor the things it does.

Chapter 6
    Another day. Another evening. From halfway up the stairs, and with her blouse already in the process of unbuttoning, Sara called, ‘What sort of restaurant?’
    â€˜The May Quay does food. At the end of the road… or we can walk in over the bridge if you like.’
    She returned. ‘Into Rhyl? ’
    â€˜The May Quay it is then.’
    â€˜I won’t bother to change.’
    Josh’s bottle of Becks disappeared in one.
    The May Quay was the oversized, red-roofed mock cottage she had turned away from, driving into Avonside. It faced the road surrounded by vans and chalets in peeling pastels that blocked any possibility of a view even if the light had not been failing. Mud from the hidden harbour was pungent on the breeze in their faces though and by the time they reached the entrance Sara’s teeth chattered. ‘Weather’s on the turn,’ Josh conceded. Inside a wide choice of empty booths beckoned. She slid without friction across the port wine vinyl to the wall, a sensation of mal de mer giving yet another reason to request mineral water.
    Josh snapped, ‘Yeah, right.’
    â€˜It’s what I’d like, please.’
    Back with beer in a lettered goblet for himself: ‘So what’s the game now, Sara?’ He was positioned directly across from her, interrogation style. ‘How much have you had already?’
    â€˜Nothing.’ She was recompensed by actual doubt in his eyes.
    He leaned over and pinged her glass with a thumbnail. ‘Good for you.’
    â€˜I am stopping, Josh. I’ve practically stopped. Don’t— don’t say anything.’ She’d have put a finger to his lip but he seemed in a mood to slap it away. ‘I must. Eurwen… for when she does return. It’s what I have to do.’ Music blared out from the back of the building causing her to jump, but the refrain was one she recognised from everywhere and throughout the summer, You’re the girl! You’re the girl! Eurwen’s lips miming then, a third above, Eurwen’s sweet harmonies…
    Josh had no startle-reflex nor