‘It’s probably better that he doesn’t come. He’s not well; Anwen says it’s made him really bad-tempered.’

‘You’re just being kind now. You know, as well as I do, that if he did come he’d be obnoxious; he’d like to see hanging brought back for the likes of us.’

‘That’s too extreme, Dylan. Bryn is just a bit of a dinosaur.’

‘No – for all his union militancy, fighting for every worker’s cause under the sun, he never got his head around sexuality as a rights issue… and if it hadn’t been for Mam he’d have cut me off when I first came out.’ Dylan pierced the yolk of his egg with a toast soldier.

Eric savoured his coffee and then dipped his croissant into it. ‘Anwen will come with us when we take Medi to buy her dress for the wedding,’ he said, half question, half assertion.

‘She better had be coming with us,’ Dylan said, a trickle of free-range-yellow yolk on his chin. ‘I don’t know the first thing about dresses for little girls.’

Anwen came through from the kitchen. ‘I’ll get you some fish when I go down the market,’ she said. ‘A nice piece of yellow haddock, yes? You can put it in the micro in a bowl of milk. It’ll be lovely with some brown bread.’

Bryn ignored her. He threw the invitation into the grate and watched as the white card buckled and the gold calligraphy melted. Then the flames charred the affront of it all.

Copyright

Parthian, Cardigan SA43 1ED

©  2021

ISBN 9781913640460

Editor: Gwen Davies

Cover design: Syncopated Pandemonium

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