Natalya had stumbled to a halt when she entered the Plover. The warmth was almost a wall to hold you up after ducking through the cold rain.
May Conklin had decorated the Brass Plover like a British pub. Comfortably battered booths lined the walls. Tables small enough to be easily dragged into larger groupings were scattered over most of the floor in a pleasantly disorderly jumble. The walls were covered with pictures of the Queen, the royal family, British Navy ships, beautiful coastlines, and a whole section dedicated to the princes—especially William: in his military helicopter, with Kate, and with the kids. Princess Di was also prominent, though Charles was rightly nearly invisible and Camilla nonexistent.
The lights were set low enough to give the feel of oil lamps without quite tip
