Howard watches their bags and waits, trying not to think too hard about what's ahead of them. He doesn't want to get his hopes up - he knows that if someone came up to him and introduced themselves as their future grandkid, he'd probably freak out, strangeness of his day-to-day life notwithstanding. And even if he forms a connection with them, what will it matter? He'll still live in England.

So instead he counts in his head, hums a snatch of Whole Lotta Love to himself, and he's drumming out the beat on his thigh when Barbara returns.