• The rooftops were a dancefloor one more, this was a different woman, much older; she must have been late nineties. She looked like she should be incapable of dancing, but she kept pace with the angel as well as a girl of sixteen. He sang a quiet song in a soft, musical tongue, it was his adopted language, and this was her last dance. As they finished she held him close, her age visibly creeping up on her again. "I knew it was time when the matrons found the dress I'd hidden laid out ready for me, not the most subtle of things, my love."

    He stroked her hair, smiling slightly. "I promised I'd see you one last time. You made me say it, remember? I felt it only fair to warn you." She nodded. "It's been a good life, and it's all down to you." She stopped him speaking. "I know you'll tell me it was my strength and courage, but I'm not a silly girl any more, what you said when we used to dance was when I started being strong and brave, and I'm not ashamed of that." He held her tighter, and she sighed. "You expect me to believe you've never heard that?" A short glance down to her, then his eyes returned to the stars. "No-one else ever made me swear to come back, I talked them all down. I'm glad you wouldn't take no for an answer, Dewy." She punched his face in a tomboyish manner. "I was young and pretty when anyone last called me that, you damned rogue." He laughed. "You wound me, my lady. You're still young, and you'll always be pretty. What's ninety years to me? What are wrinkles to that gleaming steel in your eyes?" He kissed her hand gently, and she sighed. "Was I your favourite, Dafydd?" He shrugged, the smile not leaving his face. "You know better than to ask that kind of question, Dewy." Nodding, she began to cry. "There's no answer you could give that would satisfy, I'd never be sure if you were lying. Will. . . will I see you after I die?" He shook his head. "One last time, you said. I promised you then, I can't promise you now. That's not my home any more, you'll be with better men than I, with sweeter voices and no lies to sour them. I gave you adventure for your life, and you lived with no regrets. Now you die, and you will have peace, and that I can never give."

    "I love you Dafydd, I always loved you." "And I you Dewy, and always will. You've raised a wonderful family, neither your daughters nor theirs will ever need angels, and that's the way it should be. Are you ready?" Dewi nodded, and leaned against him. "Twenty seconds left, do you need to say anything else?" Her tears stained his shirt as she spoke. "Thank you, Dafydd."

    She faded from his arms, and he stood there among the echoes of his own song. "'Angels can't cry, how wonderful that must be to never shed a tear,' mused the girl with the coffee." He kicked at a loose tile. "Jerry with the perfect smile looked up at her, and replied 'what a torture it would be, should they ever need to.'"

    He looked about him and suddenly laughed, breaking into song. "Men of Harlech stop your dreaming; see ye not their falchions gleaming?"