Out in the streets of Aybourne the gusts were icy. Behind the silo, big grey clouds devoured the mountains and on the other side, sea, islands and sky were tossed together in a great gob of fog and froth. As I leant inwards and walked to the university, I felt the wind pierce every fibre in my clothing, felt sand and dirt gather in the corner of my eye. In the vestibule of Earth Sciences an excitable meteorology professor had hung up a note on the spring weather:

As always, the forecast is again partly cloudy, with a strong gale coming in from the west. This will shake the dust off those barometers!

Next to the blackboard hung an exhibition of old barometers and the broken arrows veered back and forth between STORM, RAIN and CHANGE, like an old seismograph at the start of an earthquake.

While Dr Spitlip lectured on evolutionary theory, Franziska whispered: ‘And then he threw himself at you?’

‘Like an animal.’ I illustrated with my hands like claws. ‘A MANimal.’

‘How gross! Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine, thanks. It was gross, but he’s just some desperate and pathetic loser.’ I smiled and Franziska laughed in her slow manner.

‘Was he the neighbour you talked about? The one that wrote about you?’

‘Pym, yeah.’

Franziska rolled her eyes. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t see!’

‘You didn’t exactly miss anything.’

With every word I told Franziska about Pym, he faded a little inside me.

‘I’m sorry that I probed you about Carral,’ she said suddenly.

‘That’s OK. There really isn’t anything between us, we just live together.’

Franziska nodded and smiled. ‘Good,’ she said, ‘because I saw her kissing someone … late, right before we left.’

‘Did you? I didn’t see that.’ I tried to smile.

‘Or … it might not have been her. It was dark. And she was with a big guy.’

‘Maybe that was Pym too.’

Franziska laughed, but I thought about Pym and Carral, that it probably had been them, and I wanted to tell Franziska about what I’d seen when I got home, but I didn’t quite know what to say, what words to use. Outside the house the world was dry and sharp and normal, and it didn’t quite correspond with what seemed to grow between the brewery walls: something moist, skinless and quiet.

When I got home Carral sat by the kitchen table. Pym was nowhere to be seen. She pulled her bathrobe close around her and yawned. Her body seemed to be endlessly far inside it.

‘Where did you go last night? I couldn’t find you when I was leaving,’ she said.

‘I was there, with Franziska. Same place. Where were you?’

My face was stiff from my walk through the cold wind, and I rubbed my cheeks.