But as she ventured downstairs, her stomach fluttered with nerves and she knew her old shyness had come upon her again. Her grandfather sat in a wooden rocking chair near to a homey stone-built fireplace. He had a patchwork quilt over his legs - was it Mags who made all these comfortable things? - and a book lay open in his lap. He looked up as Llandry entered the large, open-plan room. Mags stood at a large stone sink washing up the breakfast things; she threw Llandry a quick, encouraging smile before turning back to her work.
Her grandfather looked up, regarding her over a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.
‘Hello, Llandry,’ he said in his rough voice. He still didn’t smile.
‘Hello,’ she mumbled, almost inaudibly, busying herself with straightening her blouse. This stranger looked like her
