Quickly tuning it, he ran up and down a few scales to judge the sound and then launched into some music. Suddenly, he stopped. Had someone come into t...e dressing room? He could smell the faint lingering of a woman’s perfume. It was the same scent that Rosa had worn. He looked at the picture on the dressing table. The only tangible proof he had that just over a year ago she had lived. He closed his eyes and once more started to play, letting his fingers find the familiar notes. Again, he could. ‘For fucks sake, will you get out of my bleeding sun?’ I eventually said, pushing the newspaper aside so I could see who’d invaded my private world. I might add, that my free hand had surreptitiously slid beneath the sand and made contact with the eighteen-inch length of galvanised iron gas pipe that always lay hidden there, just in case it was required. There were some cheeky little shits, who sometimes hung around in the dunes, and who – on occasion – had been known to think that they were. More

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