Paul Webster has come out the army after a twenty-two year stretch with a trick hip and no idea what to do with his life. He takes a few weeks walking along the Welsh coast to get his head on straight.<br><br>Kevin Davies is a veterinary nurse and an artist. He's getting lonelier and lonelier in his cottage on the edge of the sea, kept company by his cats and a friendly flock of crows.<br><br>What happens when the two men hunker down together to wait out a wild March gale?

As the Crows Fly

BACK IN THE KITCHEN, Webster was assiduously pretending not to have overheard all of that.


Kevin sighed. “He’s my ex,” he said. “He’s a bit...” over-protective, not really over it, slightly possessive, “you know,” he settled for, in the end, waving his hand vaguely.


Webster grinned at him, “Mysterious stranger, eh?” he said.


Kevin grinned back. “If the woolly hat fits,” he said. Then he nodded out the window. “Wind’s getting worse,” he said. “We should go and get your kit.”


Webster nodded. “Eat your toast, though,” he said. “I’ve buttered it, but I didn’t know whether you even liked Marmite.”


“Not much, actually. I think it’s left over from when Pete used to stay over.” He trailed off. “It doesn’t go off, does it?”


Web sniffed it. “Don’t think so. But why have it if you hate it?” He put the lid back on and thumped it down on the table decisively.


Chapter 7