Ben lay on the top bench, his head cradled in his hands; he felt the sweat trickle into his armpits. Except for the second Friday of the month, his slot on the duty rota of the gay line in Bangor, he spent every Friday evening at The Steamworks. The by-pass around Y Felinheli and the ludicrously fast A55 meant that he could get there from his remote hillside cottage in just over an hour. As the sauna’s heat eased the tightness of the knots in his shoulders and soothed the pain of his rheumaticky hands, his preoccupation with the sex education workshop earlier that day, and Catrin’s comments about answering personal questions, gave way to thoughts of sexual desire and gratification.

Some of the regulars were already there: Tony, the boy from ‘parks and gardens’, Gwyn and Iolo, the vicar and the GP who always came together, Eddy, who taught at the university in Bangor and Stan, the chip shop owner from Llandudno. Ben didn’t knowingly have sex with any of this group, though in the steam room it wasn’t always easy to know who was who; these were the men he sat around with and talked to about politics and travel, gardening and DIY. It was still early, but there were a couple of strangers that excited him; this was how Ben had grown to like it – anonymous sex was so uncomplicated. This way he could be certain, when he left The Steamworks, that no one would be likely to turn up on his door step or phone him at school… and he could be sure that he wouldn’t become emotionally involved.

It wasn’t that somewhere deep inside him he didn’t yearn for one man to love and share his life with. A long time ago, nearly sixteen years, he’d made a choice to return to Gwynedd and immerse himself in Welsh life. Though Manchester had seemed tempting, since the gay scene had come into its own, offering freedoms and choices that would be out of reach in Meirionnydd, the chance to teach science in a new Welsh-medium school and to live his everyday life in his mother tongue touched him at his identity’s core. He knew well enough that such a choice would demand that his gayness remain in the closet, but Ben Pasgen was neither disappointed nor dissatisfied with his life. Just like the peppered moth, the example he always cited to his GCSE class when explaining the theory of natural selection, he had adapted successfully to a potentially hostile environment.