"Nah, it's alright," said Rose, for she was already halfway up the stairs. She opened the door and let him in. The door opened straight into the cottage's main room, which seemed very crowded, with fishing gear, laundry, and other items suspended from lines just below the ceiling. Built into one wall was a bedstead, but the doors were closed. There was a door in the other wall, but it was closed as well. On the far end of the room, a kitchener filled the fireplace, and in the middle of the room stood a large table that was currently covered in oilskins and on which several buckets and baskets stood. Some of the buckets were filled with limpets and other mollusks. On a chair by the table sat a red-headed, chubby girl of about fifteen, who blushed a little when she saw the stranger. She was skaning flithers - removing the soft part of the mollusks from their shell for bait. "Hello." she said shyly.

"Ye might remember, Anne, though you'll hardly recognize her." Rose told Joe as she put her bucket beside the table and walked over to the kitchener. Or perhaps he didn't remember her at all, for Anne had been a shy and silent child, who was good at not being noticed. "Anne, this is Joe, me old friend from school. Do ye remember him?"

"Aye, I do now," said Anne. "Ye came to our place sometimes."