Amy Evans retained all her life the squat nose of her childhood, stubbed on to her face like a plasticine afterthought, a chin too long for any practical purpose, and eyes so close together that it seemed the sole function of the bridge of her nose was to keep them apart. For comfort she would go down to the beach, where the breeze from the sea blew into her face her share of the beauty to which her brother had so liberally helped himself. The gulls would wait for her to leave, no matter how long she stayed, for they were real gentlemen—the only gentlemen she was ever to meet in her life. Now in her late fifties, Amy faces a struggle on two fronts. Loneliness looms large as the chance of finding love grows more remote. Survival depends on the outcome of her search for a love object, and this tale, set in Porthcawl on the coast of South Wales, tells the moving and unsentimental story of Amy’s bold play for happiness—and her dangerous success.