EIGHTEEN
Beside the lemon beach hut, and then inside the lemon beach hut; quiz night starts, hoorah, and who ate all the bananas?
Snail sat on the freezing stone paving, dangling his feet over the rolled concrete promenade edge, looking out to where he knew the sea to be; it was dark, the invisible surf could be heard crashing, sucking and pushing at the shingle, an infinite inky black aural tableau. The raw cold penetrated his bones and he enjoyed the sensation. He sensed a presence, heard a clank, looked to his side, and saw only an image of his daughter placing a four pack of special brew. He reached out and the vision disappeared as quickly as it had materialised. It was God taunting him, his pal Joe Moss had said as much. Joe always said God was here and now, in us and around us. We
