The old men investigate

“I'm telling you, Arthur, I saw someone running through there without a stitch on!”

Amy went rigid.

Two elderly gentlemen were approaching along the park path. One was pushing himself along in a wheelchair, while his companion walked beside him, wearing a flat cap and a mildly sceptical expression.

“Well, you probably saw a squirrel, Bernard,” Arthur replied. “You know how quickly they dart about.”

“A squirrel? A six-foot squirrel?”

“Could have been a particularly large one.”

Bernard stopped beside the hedge.

“I'm sure I saw something.”

He peered towards the foliage.

Amy sank lower, her back close to the hedge, hands over her private area and praying that the leaves concealed everything.

Arthur looked towards a particularly attractive tree on the other side of the path.

“You know what? I fancy stretching my legs for a bit. I've been sitting down all morning.”

With some effort, he stood up, leaving his wheelchair beside the path.

Amy's eyes widened.

Arthur took a few leisurely steps towards the tree, apparently satisfied that his legs still worked perfectly well.

“Look at that, Bernard. Isn't that magnificent?”

Bernard turned to admire it.

“Oh, very nice. What sort is it?”

Amy stared at them through the leaves.

While the gentlemen began discussing the various birds nesting in the branches, Amy spotted her chance.

The men were still looking upwards, debating whether the bird they'd spotted was a blackbird or a thrush.

Amy: Right. Don't run. Don't panic.

She slipped out from behind the bushes and hurried along the path, keeping herself covered as best she could.