“You know, Eirlys,” she said happily, “you always get the temperature of my soaking solution just right. With Penny, it’s so hot she must think my fingers are made of asbestos.”

“Hmm,” murmured Eirlys. “I’m glad it’s okay for you.” She glanced at the shelf of bright nail varnishes. “Have a little soak and while you’re doing that, I’ll just fetch two or three bottles for you to choose from.”

She walked over to the selection of nail polishes, and after a few moments pulled one, then two more. She returned to the treatment table and set them down. Mrs. Lloyd looked from one to the other, and then nodded at the one in the middle.

“That one looks nice; I’ll have it. Turn it over and let me see what it’s called.”

She squinted at the label and then smiled.

“Chicago Champagne Toast!” She shook her head. “Well, it’ll look nice for the bridge game tonight.” Her smile faded. “If there is one, that is. I’ll have to ring to find out. With these cold temperatures, all that rain we’ve had is freezing. When you get to my age, Eirlys, you can’t be too careful.” She peered over to admire the young manicurist’s work.

“Such a nice job you do choosing the colours for me, Eirlys love,” she said. “You know exactly what I like. What did you say the name of this polish is?”

Eirlys repeated it.

“I wonder. That gentleman I just met out there in the square. Harry Saunders, did he say his name is? From his accent, do you think he’s an American?”

“He might be. He sounded a bit like Penny, but she’s a Canadian.” Eirlys lowered her voice. “I find it really hard to spot the differences in those North American accents. They all sound the same to me.” She shrugged. “We don’t get too many Americans or Canadians, either, round here this time of year.”

“That’s true,” Mrs. Lloyd agreed. “Not like in the summer.” A comfortable silence fell between them as Eirlys applied two coats of polish and then a top coat. Mrs. Lloyd watched her intently, the way she always did, and then allowed her gaze to wander to the window.