‘The cottage I bought is practically a ruin, there’s a man living in my willow tree, the only person under fifty thinks I’m an idiot, everyone else is barking mad and today they are having a Morris dancing competition on the village green.’

‘Actually, I like the sound of that. The Morris dancing, not the rest of it.’

Beth lowered her voice and took a step back from Leo so he wouldn’t hear what she said. ‘Between you and me I think I may have made a huge mistake with the cottage. I’m speaking to the solicitor tomorrow to see what options I have. I’ll keep you posted.’

The rest of the day was spent watching the Morris dancing and reading books in bed at the B&B. Beth tidied the small room for the second time that day. The stupid things I’ve brought from London and the important ones I haven’t, thought Beth as she picked up her glue gun and wished it was her hairdryer.

She pondered the day and hated the fact that Carly’s statement about Nick had dominated it. Everything was Nick’s fault. If Nick hadn’t refused point blank to leave the apartment they would still be in London. She missed London. She had choices in London; she could have any type of food she wanted, stay in a variety of hotels, shop for virtually anything. Here food was limited to the tearoom or the pub, there were no hotels and the handful of shops sold knick-knacks, souvenirs, and out-of-date noodles. If Nick hadn’t sounded so menacing when he said he would find her wherever she went then maybe she wouldn’t have ended up here.

Chapter Four

The solicitor confirmed what Beth had feared – that she was committed to the purchase of Willow Cottage, there were no get-out clauses not even with the dilapidated state of the property. All responsibility for investigating the property before purchase rested with the buyer and, as she hadn’t done any of that, it was entirely her own fault. The solicitor did impart what he felt was good news: that they were completing even sooner than they’d hoped and she could pick the keys up from their offices near Stow the next morning.

‘How would I go about putting it back up for auction?’ she asked, as a sigh escaped.

‘Oh, well, I could do that for you.’

‘You see, I think I may have made a mistake and I need to sell it quickly and get the money back.’

There was a long pause at the other end of the phone. ‘I think I should probably inform you that this was the third time this property has been presented at auction. It’s been looking for a buyer for seven months.’

‘Seven months?’ Beth flopped back onto the B&B single bed. It was bouncier than she’d noticed before as her body jiggled about involuntarily.

‘I’m afraid so.’

She closed her eyes and processed the information. Beth felt her plans had been thwarted, she was stuck here with no obvious escape or quick fix. She felt a sense of resignation. ‘Do you know any good local builders?’

The B&B landlady, Jean, was not doing a bad job of keeping Leo entertained, as it turned out her own grandchildren lived in Canada so having a child in the house was a novelty. It was a shame that Leo wasn’t able to see his own grandparents but, as they had been Nick’s first port of call when she left, they wouldn’t be seeing them for a while. At least it gave Beth precious time to ring a local building firm and set up a quote. She decided that if she could get away with doing the minimum required to make the cottage habitable maybe she could get it back on the market and then make good her escape. The plan had always been to buy somewhere, do it up and then move on and repeat the exercise until she felt that Nick had given up looking for her. It probably wasn’t the finest plan but it was what she had dreamed up when she had found herself staring at another mini-bar in another random London hotel.

Beth picked up the keys to the cottage from the solicitor as planned and with Jean showing Leo how to make fairy cakes she headed off to meet her first tradesman at Willow Cottage. As she walked down the side of the pub she could see the back of a white van that was parked in front of the cottage, which was a good start. However, seeing Ernie peering into the driver’s window was not. Beth’s mobile rang; she didn’t recognize the number so answered it but didn’t speak.

‘Hello? Hello, Ms Browne? This is Kyle from Glancey Construction. I’m at the property now but …’

Beth walked round to the passenger window. The young man inside was leaning away from the driver’s door as Ernie’s gnarled face loomed large. She tapped on the glass making the young man jump. ‘Hello,’ she said with a wave.

Kyle didn’t answer, he just pointed at Ernie.

‘Oh, that’s Ernie. It’s okay, he won’t hurt you, he’s not dangerous,’ said Beth into her mobile. She wasn’t entirely sure that was true but she needed Kyle to get out of the van. Kyle switched off the phone and scooted along the seats until he could climb out of the passenger door.

‘This way,’ said Beth, keen to ignore the Ernie situation.

‘Is he a bit …’ Kyle tapped his head to finish the sentence.

‘I’m not sure really, but he seems to fit in well here.’

Beth took Kyle round the back of the cottage and he was already sucking his teeth before he’d even seen the inside. Beth tried each key on the plastic cable tie that was keeping them together. Every key was old, some were rusty but none of them fitted. Kyle was busy poking at brickwork and shaking his head at the roof so she systematically tried each key again – no luck. As she stepped back she noticed another lock further down on the bottom half of the stable door.

‘I wonder,’ she muttered to herself as she crouched down. The third key she tried turned grudgingly in the lock and she was able to push open the bottom half of the reluctant door and it creaked in protest. ‘I’m in!’ she called to Kyle as, adopting an unattractive walking crouch position, she waddled inside.

It was dark and musty. Beth squinted and still she couldn’t see anything. Suddenly a beam of light blinded her and Kyle appeared carrying a large torch and doing the same odd crouching walk that she’d done. They stood up and dusted themselves down as Kyle shone the torch around to reveal that they were in a kitchen. That was if a ceramic butler-style sink and an elderly stove was enough to qualify it as such. A brief glance at the floor revealed chunky-looking floorboards, a much darker shade than they should be thanks to the dirt. Beth was aware of something where the window was despite it being boarded up so she pointed for Kyle to shine the torch in that direction.

It appeared that the plant that dominated the outside of the house was also doing a comprehensive job on the inside too. ‘Oh my God!’ said Beth, as she took in the expanse of the creeping vegetation and the maze of spider’s webs clinging to it.

Kyle strode out of the kitchen leaving Beth with only two choices – stay in the dark with the spiders or scuttle after him. In the dark she tripped up a small step that led out of the kitchen but thankfully the dark hid her blushes as she scooted after Kyle. There were two more rooms downstairs; one was completely empty and the other had an open fireplace with a large beam above it. From the glimpse she saw, it looked promising and definitely the sort of feature she could emphasize as a focal point. As Kyle headed upstairs the torch glinted off something on the grimy wall. Beth reached out to touch it before the light disappeared and the contact of her fingers sent it crashing to the ground.

‘Hang on, Kyle. Shine that torch this way would you, please.’

Kyle reappeared and shone the light in her face. With her eyes tight shut she pointed at the floor and the torch beam followed her finger. She opened her eyes to see a dusty photo frame in pieces at her feet. Beth bent down and, carefully sifting through the broken glass, she picked out the photograph.

Holding it in the light she could study the black and white picture. Its edges were tatty implying it hadn’t spent its life in the frame. There was a middle-aged woman, her hair pinned back in a style reminiscent of the war years. She was laughing and in front of her she was hugging a small boy who was beaming a smile at the camera. Beth felt herself smile. She turned it over and read the swirly writing on the back: ‘Dearest Frank/Daddy With all our love at Christmas time Elsie & Wilf (Christmas 1944)’.

Kyle coughed and the torchlight wobbled. ‘Do you want to stay down here while I take a look upstairs?’

‘No, I’ll come up, thanks.’ Beth put the photograph safely inside her T-shirt so that it didn’t get damaged. The smiling faces gave a little hope that once upon a time a family had been happy here. So perhaps she could restore it to somewhere liveable for another family in the future.

‘Best be careful. It may not be stable,’ said Kyle, pointing at the stairs. He proceeded to demonstrate his caution as he took each stair one at a time and tested it first with a stomp of his boot before putting his weight on it. Halfway up Beth huffed her frustration at the slow progress.

When they eventually reached the top, Beth could see they were on a small landing and a beautifully carved balustrade, with the odd missing spindle, which was protecting them from the stairwell. Kyle opened a door to reveal the grimmest-looking bathroom Beth had ever seen – even the spiders hadn’t settled in here. Its avocado bath and toilet mismatched with the pink sink and the curly-edged linoleum floor finished off the ghastly ensemble, which was all covered in a layer of grime. The last two rooms were the bedrooms; both were a good size but one was particularly attractive as it had a sloped ceiling on one side, even if it did have a large brown patch in the centre, and there was also a step down making it into two levels. She was pleased with the quirky nature of its layout and could see what a lovely room it would make for a child but the thought of the work required took her breath away. She gave herself a small shake; she had to think of this as a business venture, as a project to be managed. This wasn’t going to be their long-term home, she couldn’t afford to invest heavily in it right now and she didn’t need to lavish it with the same love and attention she would her own home. She just needed to do it up and get it sold.

Beth was deep in thought when a bang made her jump. Kyle swung round and aimed the torch beam at the stairs to reveal Ernie. He was clutching the handrail tightly and frowning deeply, only an arm’s reach away from Beth.

‘Out!’ he shouted, his voice deep and raspy.

Beth stood her ground although her pulse was racing. ‘Ernie, please don’t shout. Let’s go outside and I’ll explain.’

‘Out,’ he repeated, but with less ferocity as Beth gently guided him back down the stairs with Kyle erratically waving the torch above her head. When they reached the back door, Ernie stood back so that Beth could go first. She resumed her crouching position and shuffled out under the stable door.

She heard Ernie expertly wriggling a bolt on the top half of the door, it opened and he and Kyle walked out. Thanks a bunch, thought Beth as she dusted herself down.

‘Ernie. This is my house now.’

Ernie didn’t seem to understand as he was shaking his head. ‘No. Wilf’s house.’

Beth remembered the photograph. She retrieved it from under her T-shirt, at which Ernie looked a little alarmed.

‘Here,’ she offered him the photo, ‘Wilf.’

Ernie leaned forward to take a proper look and a grin spread quickly across his haggard face.

‘Wilf,’ he repeated.

Beth tried to pass him the photograph but he refused with a wave of his hand.

‘I’m going to live here with my son.’ Ernie looked confused again. ‘Like Elsie and Wilf did.’

‘Elsie?’ Ernie’s voice was soft and his eyes instantly welled with tears. Beth’s heart went out to him and she willed him to understand.

‘Yes. Leo and me. We’ll live here like Wilf and Elsie. Oh and,’ she checked the back of the photo. ‘Frank.’

Ernie wiped away a tear with his sweatshirt sleeve. ‘Not Frank.’

‘Oh, um.’ Beth didn’t know what to say and she could see that Kyle had finished jotting notes down with an exceptionally small pencil and was keen to get her attention.

‘Frank died,’ Ernie’s voice was shaky.

‘I’m sorry. Shall we …’ but she didn’t get to finish the sentence as Ernie was already scrambling back down the side of the house and he was gone.

‘What sort of budget are we looking at for this, then?’ asked Kyle, sucking his teeth again.

‘As cheap as possible. Could you send me the quote? I’m sorry, I need to go after him and make sure he’s all right.’ Ernie hadn’t gone far; a swift peek into the willow tree revealed his hunched form sitting on the ground.

‘Come on, Ernie. Let’s get a cup of tea and you can tell me all about Elsie and Wilf, okay?’

Ernie rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve like a child and gazed at her. Eventually he spoke. ‘Tea and cake?’

Beth laughed. ‘Yes, if you like.’ She held out a hand to help him up and he took it and held on to it with his thin bony fingers.

The tearoom was quiet so when Rhonda brought over their order she sat down too and Ernie smiled his greeting. Beth wasn’t sure if the smile was for the cake or Rhonda.

‘Hello again, I’m Rhonda.’

‘I’m Beth.’

‘I know. So you’ve bought Wilf’s old place, then?’ asked Rhonda, folding her arms and leaning forward. Beth was instantly uncomfortable with Rhonda’s over-friendly approach.

‘Like Elsie and Wilf,’ said Ernie through a mouthful of coffee and walnut cake.

‘Willow Cottage,’ said Beth, feeling that she needed to have her wits on high alert in order to not be tricked into giving away too much information.

‘Never heard it called that before. Must be the spin the estate agent put on it,’ said Rhonda, pulling a face to match her statement.

I’ve been had again, thought Beth.

‘Partner not with you?’ ventured Rhonda, eyeing Beth’s ringless fingers.

‘Er, no, I’m single.’

‘Holiday let or permanent?’

Beth was thinking. ‘Renovation project.’

‘Project to live in or sell?’

The quick-fire question round was making Beth exceedingly uncomfortable. ‘Sell.’

Rhonda looked disappointed. ‘What we need is new blood in the village. Young blood.’

Beth tried very hard not to think of vampire films as she looked at Rhonda’s pale face. Maureen snorted her derision from behind the counter, so she was clearly listening in.

‘The village school is struggling, I think it’s down to twenty-two children now.’

‘Per class?’ asked Beth. That was well below national average and would be a good place to ease Leo into the routine of a new school, even if he might only be there for one term.

‘No,’ chuckled Rhonda. ‘In total! They have to put them all together to make enough for one class. And that’s after trying to encourage them in from surrounding villages too.’

Ernie wiped his mouth with the serviette and got up to leave.

‘Oh, Ernie, are you going? You were going to tell me about Elsie and Wilf,’ said Beth.

Ernie looked teary again and he shook his head. He pointed at the now spotlessly clean plate that had once delivered his cake. ‘Thank you,’ he said and he left.

‘Poor old Ernie,’ said Rhonda. ‘Lived here all his life, never left the village.’

‘He seems quite attached to Willow Cottage.’

‘Ah, well, that was Wilf’s old place you see and he and Wilf were like brothers. Ernie’s mother was pregnant when they evacuated her from London during the bombing. Elsie took her in. She was on her own too, both waiting for men to come back from the war you see.’ Beth nodded her understanding, she was engrossed in the nostalgic story and was waiting for the happy ending. ‘Thing was, it was a difficult birth. Baby got stuck, which is why Ernie is the way he is. His mother died in labour so Elsie brought him up.’

Beth swallowed hard, she was still looking for the happy ending. ‘Was her husband okay with that when he came back from the war?’

‘Oh, Frank, he never came back; he was shot down. It was just Elsie and the boys. Ernie moved out some years ago and he lives in one of the new bungalows up the way,’ she pointed in a random direction. ‘But the cottage was always his home. He and Wilf were inseparable. You see, Wilf used to sort things out for Ernie. With Wilf dead, Ernie is pretty much alone in the world. I’d better get back to work.’ Rhonda smiled briefly, collected up the empty teacups and plate, and went behind the counter.

Beth felt near to tears. There was no happy ending to this story. She placed the photograph on the table and took in the faces again. They looked so cheerful.

Chapter Five

Carly was gabbling on the phone and it was difficult to interrupt.

‘Slow down, Carls, I’m only picking up every third word, it’s like trying to decipher a coded message,’ said Beth.

Carly took a deep breath and tried to quell the excitement that was bubbling up inside. ‘So, in summary – I think Fergus is going to propose! Eek!’

Beth pulled the phone away from her ear. ‘Now hang on, we’ve been here before. Do you remember the large Christmas present that sat under the tree for weeks and you convinced yourself that it was like a Russian doll full of smaller and smaller boxes until you got to a ring box?’

Carly made a non-committal noise as she bit her lip at the memory and winced. ‘But it could have been …’

‘And what was in the large box?’ Beth’s voice had gone all school teachery.

‘A new sleeping bag.’

‘Precisely. I’m just saying be careful. Don’t go getting your hopes up.’

Carly paused before the excitement grabbed her again. ‘But this time it’s different. He’s asked me to meet him under the statue of Eros in Piccadilly Circus! I mean how romantic is that?’

‘It’s on a busy traffic junction.’

‘Stop being a killjoy. Anyway, think about it. Piccadilly Circus is very close to the Ritz. Perhaps he’s taking me there for afternoon tea to propose.’ She emitted another more stifled eek. ‘Oh my God, I need to change!’

‘No, you don’t. You always dress pretty smart for work.’

Carly was staring down at her outfit and it all looked very different when she surveyed herself this way compared to how it did when she checked herself in the full-length mirror before leaving the flat each morning. ‘I’m wearing a dress but with flats!’ She didn’t give Beth a chance to respond. ‘And Tiffany’s is not far from the Ritz. Oh my God, Beth, I’ve got to go …’ The line went dead.

Beth groaned. She truly hoped that this time Carly had got the right end of the stick and that she wasn’t winding herself up into a frenzy of happiness only to have it peed all over.

Beth sat at the table in the B&B and studied the various quotes she’d received. It was not looking good. Number one priority was the electrics so she had no choice but to confirm the work for that, which was a sizeable chunk of money. Basically, everything needed something doing to it and it was going to cost more money than she had. Having walked out on a well-paid city job she only had a small amount of savings to rely on until she sold Willow Cottage and hopefully turned a profit. Beth was feeling at a loose end as Leo was watching some cartoons on the small television and Jean was dusting around them both.

‘Why don’t you go to the pub tonight? It’s quiz night,’ she suggested. Beth struggled to think of anything worse. Bingo, actually, bingo would have been worse.

‘They do bingo first, so if you go early you’ll catch that too.’

Beth openly sighed. ‘I think I’ll give it a miss, thanks.’

‘They are friendly, you know, folk round here. If you’re going to be here for a while it would do you well to make some friends. Just a bit of motherly advice,’ she chuckled as she whisked the plates into the kitchen. Beth didn’t want to make friends. This was a temporary thing; she didn’t need new friends. She had Carly and … she realized nobody else from her old life had been in touch but that was because nobody else had her new mobile number. She’d been too worried about it making its way into Nick’s hands.

Something else she could lay firmly at Nick’s door, not only had she left behind the life she’d built for herself in London, her job, her parents and pretty much everything she knew, she had also had to cut herself off from her friends. But if she thought about it she knew this hadn’t happened overnight. Hindsight was a wonderful thing. When she looked back she realized things with Nick were changing long before that fateful day. Nick’s apparent easy-going manner had been replaced over time by a persuasive argumentative one that manipulated Beth into doing what Nick wanted. The seemingly throwaway comments about the people Beth socialized with were all intended to drip-feed his messages of control and it had worked. Slowly Beth saw less and less of her friends until it was just Carly on a Wednesday night. Carly and Fergus were pretty much her only friends now but if she had them then that was all she needed.

It was the middle of the afternoon and, despite her mercy dash home to swap her shoes and redo her make-up and hair, Carly had been fifteen minutes early arriving at Eros’s statue. She hadn’t enough time to do a proper job but a quick go with the straighteners had spruced it up a treat. She got out her clear lip-gloss and applied another coat to make sure. She wanted to look and feel perfect when he proposed. Carly checked her watch again – only five minutes to go. Her stomach was doing all sorts of things; it felt like it was full of hungry caterpillars instead of butterflies.

Carly searched the busy streets for Fergus. He was tall, quite lanky really, so often was easy to spot in a crowd but there was no sign of him yet. The minutes ticked by as she watched the busy hum of London life around her: the Big Issue seller on one side and the young person with a large sign directing people to a new shoe shop on the other; it interested her that the Big Issue seller was a lot more enthusiastic than the sign holder.

Carly checked her watch again. Now Fergus was late. She had to keep moving out of the way for tourists to take photos of Eros, and photos of them pulling silly faces and kissing each other in front of the statue. It was starting to get annoying. She watched couples hand in hand heading into the Criterion restaurant looking all loved up and happy. People kissing each other good-bye as they piled out of taxis. Others sat on the steps of the statue watching the world go by.

Fergus was fifteen minutes late. Carly’s feet were starting to hurt. These heels looked fabulous but they weren’t designed for standing about in or walking any distance. She thought about texting him but he rarely felt the vibration of the phone so that was probably pointless, and right now she didn’t trust herself to text something that may spoil the mood of the ever-so-romantic proposal she was sure was about to materialize.

Carly spotted a mop of unruly black hair bobbing her way and instantly relaxed. It was Fergus, he was late but he was here. As the crowd parted she saw his grinning face. He looked particularly pleased with himself, which was a good sign. He was dressed which was definitely another plus but he was wearing jeans and a Star Wars T-shirt – not her first choice for the beautiful memory of his proposal but now was not the time to get picky, she thought.

Fergus kissed her. ‘Sorry I’m late.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘The blog chat ran over,’ he explained but Carly wasn’t really paying attention – that didn’t matter now.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

‘Wait and see.’ He took her hand and led her into the tube station. Immediately her spirits plummeted. She was wrong about the Ritz and Tiffany’s and she tried hard to erase the pictures of the stunning rings she’d seen in magazines. Her feet didn’t take kindly to the tube station steps but she was trying to stay positive.

A few sweaty minutes later they emerged at St Paul’s and Carly tried to think of nearby places that were ideal for a proposal. She was struggling to think of any; all that was nearby was the London Stock Exchange and St Paul’s Cathedral, its dramatic white dome visible above the grey office buildings. Fergus gave her a reassuring smile. Perhaps he could sense her anticipation, but did he realize how important this moment was to her?

Carly had been dreaming of the perfect proposal and perfect wedding ever since she was a girl and watched Monica and Chandler on Friends. He led her through the streets, past the front of St Paul’s and then into the magnificent cathedral by the sightseeing entrance. Carly had been here as a child but remembered little of its vastness and awe-inspiring interior; it did take your breath away.

Fergus pulled her close and hugged her. She held her breath. ‘This way.’

The steps at the Underground were nothing to the ones she was facing now. The sign told her it was 528 steps to the Golden Gallery. She gulped hard, pointed at the sign and then at her shoes.

‘It’s okay, we’re not going all the way to the top,’ Fergus told her with a cheeky smile.

At about the 150-step mark it got better because the burning feeling in her toes was replaced by a numb sensation, which was still painful but didn’t make her wince with every step. Fergus gave her reassuring glances every so often as he almost jogged up the steps in his well-worn trainers. Carly forced a grimace onto her face. Dear God, this had better be worth it, she thought.

She was about to admit defeat and resign herself to a life of spinsterhood when Fergus beckoned her up the last few steps and into the first gallery. They stood by the balustrade. The views in all directions were breath-taking and the ornate dome above them was resplendent in symmetrical perfection. Carly did her best to ignore the smug-looking faces peering down on her of those that had climbed all the way to the upper gallery. She was certain they would not have done it in heels like hers. She tried hard to ignore the throbbing in her feet and blanked out the thought of the descent that was yet to come.

Fergus guided her to the wooden seating that ran around the gallery walls.

‘This is the Whispering Gallery,’ he told her and she nodded. She had forgotten all about it until he said but now she could hear the echoes of a foreign language as another couple shared their messages into the architectural phenomenon. Fergus kissed her gently and then walked around to the other side of the gallery.

Some children appeared and proceeded to share obscenities around the walls until their parents emerged at the top of the steps and intervened. The walls echoed with the sound of their stifled giggles. Carly was glad of the sit-down and so were her feet. She so wanted to take off her shoes but she dare not remove them in case she couldn’t get them back on.

Eventually the gallery was silent. Fergus sat on the far side of the dome. Carly felt her heart rate quicken and she took a deep breath. Fergus gave her a little wave and she saw him put his face to the wall. This was it. She closed her eyes and listened to his melodic Irish accent magically emanating from the wall behind her.

‘I love you, Carly Wilson,’ he said and she felt a tear form. ‘And to prove it to you … I’m taking you away for a magical weekend in a treehouse.’

There was a very long pause. Carly didn’t want to open her eyes. She played the words around her head again but it didn’t matter – whatever she did, that was definitely not a proposal of marriage. She opened her eyes to see Fergus giving her a thumbs-up from the other side.

‘You utter tosser,’ she said with feeling into the wall and, for the first time, she was grateful that Fergus was deaf.

It was early evening and Leo was gently purring in his sleep. Beth looked around the small room with its ancient wardrobe, candlewick bedspreads and plastic framed scenic pictures on the wall. Jean was lovely but staying here was slowly draining the life from her. She needed a plan and she needed to take action. Perhaps a trip to the pub was exactly what she needed.

Jean was more than happy to babysit Leo and seemed thrilled that Beth was taking her advice, so Beth slung her bag on her shoulder and headed out. There was a breeze but it wasn’t cold. The sun was setting and Beth stopped for a moment to take it in. The colours were majestic; the soft orange hues melding with a deep yellow glow as the sun slowly melted into the silhouetted countryside. The only sounds were the light wind rippling through the trees and a few birds squabbling over where to roost for the night.

The scary pub sign was creaking gently and Beth pulled her eyes away. As she reached the pub, she could hear the welcoming chatter inside. She truly hoped it wouldn’t stop as soon as she entered like it did in all good horror films. The heavy old door took a bit of shoving and unbeknownst to her a large man inside the pub had seen her approaching and had got up to give it a pull just as she gave one more hard push. The door opened swiftly and as it disappeared from beneath her touch Beth stumbled inside with a clatter of heels on wooden floor but thankfully she managed to stay upright and avoided falling to her knees. The large man was awfully apologetic, as was Beth who had almost landed in his lap. Beth recovered quickly and realized that nobody was really watching, they were all thankfully engrossed in chatter.

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