Six months? Mr. Collins is going to freak out if I'm not back to work next week. I'm reading through some of the other posts now and they don't make very much sense. But it seems like this sort of thing happens a lot?
I'm in a cafe. I guess it's at [have an address!]. I don't particularly mind who comes. I haven't heard from Lizzie yet and if I need one of these amulets it sounds like a sooner-is-better-than-later sort of thing.