MORNING SERIAL

TO the left is the way to the sea, and also to the left today a big sign for the fair and that’s where Gwyn’s van goes, with Pigeon in it. The van goes left. It goes quick, and me and Cher are following slow.

On our bikes we follow the van round the corner to the fair. The short winter day has almost run out like a battery now, and I’m tired, breathing really hard. My legs are burning with all the effort of pedalling, and hunger’s making a big coil inside me.

When we reach it, the lights of the fair are like fluorescent pens already, although it’s only just getting dark. The lights scribble and shine as they whirl, and the rides make the worst noise. There’s people screaming everywhere like in ‘hell!’ up and down and round on the big rides. The screaming’s spooky, considering what we know about Gwyn. Shooting games are everywhere too, which feels a bit weird too, considering.

Me and Cher leave our bikes by the chip van, all tied up to a lampost, and then Cher holds my hand. Cher is stiff and cold against me, and she’s walking fast like when Efa stomps along in a mood. Cher takes this whole thing too serious.

We have to go round half the fair, feeling small between the people, the rides, the stalls, before we finally find Gwyn’s van parked above a steep grassy bank that goes down and down, like for perfect sledging even without snow. The van looks like EddieTheEagle at the top of that bank. For the fair they’ve put plastic barriers all round the top of the slope, in case people roll down the bank. Past the barriers, the dark hill goes all the way down to the road by the sea below. The sea’s turning black like the sky now, but you can still see the worm of the road below the fair, and the stripes of a zebra-crossing far below, and then the grey water stretching away into nothing.

Up here, the sign saying ‘Hufen Iâ Gwyn’s Ice Creams’ stands like a castle’s flag above the round heads of the people. A long tail of kids goes round to the slot in the van’s side, where Gwyn’s bristling face sticks out, smiling. He’s busy getting the kids ice creams in all the colours they want. He recognises me, and Cher too, and he waves, but he looks at me like I’m trouble.