No wayyy! It's Romilda! What on earth is she doing here? I seem to remember her saying she lived in Manchester, and that there was this bomb that went off. She must be on holiday; Manchester's not too far away from here, after all. Still, what a coincidence, choosing this place to go on holiday to.
Aha! A guilty confession! Now I know for sure who threw the shoe. Although really, Megan, there's not exactly a surplus of culprits up here. That's what's so great about North Wales, it's not all crowded like... like Cardiff.
"Usually, throwing something away means you don't want it," I say, but I hand her shoe back before she has the idea to throw the other one. "So! Romi! You're here," I blurt out, before she can glower any more. "Enjoying your holiday?" I wonder where she's staying. There's some rented houses dotted around the place, but that doesn't seem her style. Hotels and swanky cities are what come to mind, truth be told. Her mum probably booked this holiday; she probably adores the countryside!