[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger’s tray was empty of food. She stood at a distance from the table Cook had set her to serve and nodded her head in a satisfied manner. The Hobbits who had been working on the cottage were tucking into their heaping plates of food with the great gusto of men who have worked hard all day. Only a few short phrases passed between them, the words slurred slightly round mouthfuls of food. ‘Taters, please!’ And ‘Jam, here, mate!’ Those asking for thirds already, she could see easing undone the top button of their waistbands.

Ferdy’s eyes were on his plate as she glanced toward him. A smile came unbidden to her lips as she recalled him standing up to help her unload the platters of food from the serving tray. She’d thanked him politely and he’d mumbled some response. The eyes of the other lads slid from him to her in a knowing way, and the two nearest him had nudged him none too discretely as he sat back down. She’d almost giggled, but her glance had caught the considering look that Andwise was giving her. She gasped a bit, then red faced at his perusal of her, turned and made her way back toward the kitchen.

Cook was just coming out to the Common Room and Ginger raised her empty tray to her and nodded at the kitchen door. She only pushed the door open a slight bit when she heard someone’s soft, sad voice whisper a few words.

‘Everyone leaves me . . .’ It was the Innkeeper, her cheeks ruddy, a single tear hanging precipitously from her jaw. Ginger backed out and closed the door softly, but not before she heard Aman say aloud, ‘Stop being stupid, you silly girl . . .’ Uncertain what to do, Ginger backed away further and found herself at the bar. She put her serving tray atop it, and looked about, perplexed.

Aman came sailing through the door, then, and into the Common Room. Plate of food in one hand, mug of tea in the other. And a smile pasted on her face which did not reach out to enliven the rest of her features.

Ginger spied Cook, just handing over the care of a lodger wanting to be shown her room to one of the servers. Sidling up near to where Cook stood, Ginger waited for her to finish with the lodger and turn her attention to her.

Cook turned her broad face to the girl with a questioning look. ‘Well . . . problems?’

‘Oh not with me, Miz Bunce,’ Ginger said shaking her head. ‘But I think there’s something wrong going on with Miz Aman.’ She nodded her head toward where the Innkeeper sat, pushing her food about on her plate with her fork. The scene she had witnessed just moments before came spilling out.

‘Is there something we should do?’