Chapter 3
Aaron
The pub smells of wood smoke and gravy, the kind of scent that makes you hungry before you’ve even sat down. It’s early evening, the fire’s crackling in the corner, and the windows are fogged with heat and laughter.
Abby, Jon, Layla, and I have taken a big table near the fire. It’s the sort of place that feels lived in rather than decorated; full of chatter, clinking glasses, and damp coats drying by the door.
Layla is busy at the end of the table with one of those children’s placemats the waitress handed over, colouring a sheep bright purple with complete seriousness.
Abby checks her phone, smiling. “Nancy just texted. They’re on their way.”
“Good,” I say. “I’m glad they can make it.”
Jon gives me a curious look. “It was kind of you to invite them as well.”
I shrug. “You said Abby and her sister are close. Figured it might be nice to meet them. Helps me feel a bit less like the strange lodger from London.”
Abby laughs. “You’re not strange just because you decided to camp out in Yorkshire in January, Aaron.”
“Will would disagree,” I reply, grinning.
A few minutes later the door swings open and a cold gust of rain follows two people inside. A woman with blonde hair and a quick smile waves at Abby, and a tall man trails behind her, shaking off his coat with ease .
“There they are,” Abby says, standing to greet them. “Aaron, this is my sister, Nancy, and her partner, Luke. Nancy, Luke—this is Aaron. He’s staying with us for a few weeks.”
Luke shakes my hand, his grip firm and relaxed. “Nice to meet you, Aaron. Thanks for the invite. Always good to have an excuse to eat here.”
“Glad you could come,” I say.
Nancy slips out of her coat and leans over to give Abby a quick hug before taking the seat beside her. “So this is your latest stray, then?” she says with a grin. “You do love collecting people.”
Abby rolls her eyes. “He’s not a stray, Nancy. He’s a friend of Will’s.”
“Same difference,” Nancy says cheerfully. “You feed them, you house them, you make them family. Honestly, you should rebrand your business from a B&B to a shelter for lost souls.”
Jon chuckles. “Don’t give her ideas.”
Abby ignores them both with practiced skill. “I’ve already ordered roast dinners for you two, by the way. Saves you deciding.”
Nancy brightens immediately. “Perfect. There’s nothing else worth getting here anyway. Their roast potatoes should have their own award.”
Before anyone can reply, Layla looks up from her colouring mat, her expression all business. “If anyone doesn’t like their pigs in blankets,” she says sweetly, “I can help. I’ll swap you for carrots.”
Jon raises an eyebrow. “Carrots?”
“Well, I’m not giving away my roast potatoes,” she says, as if this is obvious.
Nancy bursts out laughing. “I like her thinking. She’s got her priorities sorted.”
Luke leans forward. “What if I like both?”
“Then you can keep them,” Layla says seriously, “but if you change your mind, I’m available.”
Jon groans. “See what I live with?”
I grin. “She’s got the right idea. You never know when you’ll need to trade for sausages.”
Nancy laughs again. “He’ll fit in fine.”
The fire pops beside us, and the noise around the table is warm and familiar, the kind that makes you forget there’s anywhere else to be.
Nancy takes a sip of her drink and turns to me. “So, Aaron, what’s the plan while you’re up here? Besides hiding from the rain, obviously.”
“I thought I’d do some walking,” I say. “Get some air, stretch my legs, that sort of thing.”
“You should join the Ramblers,” she says at once.
Before I can ask, Abby grins. “That’s her walking group. She started it a few months ago when she realised she could turn a hobby into an excuse to boss people around.”
Nancy shoots her a look. “It’s called organising, thank you. And it’s a very well-run group.”
Jon chuckles. “You can tell it’s hers. They start on time, stop for tea, and somehow always end up in a pub.”
Luke smiles. “That last bit was my contribution. Attendance went up immediately.”
I laugh. “Sounds effective. But I’m surprised you’re still running walks in January.”
Luke shakes his head, amused. “We tried pausing in December. Big mistake. You’d have thought we’d cancelled Christmas.”
Nancy nods. “We got so many messages from locals demanding to know when it was starting again that we had to put out an emergency walk between the holidays.”
Jon smirks. “You nearly lost three people in the fog that day.”
“Minor detail,” Nancy says, waving her hand. “They turned up eventually.”
Luke chuckles. “We’re heading out again tomorrow morning, actually. Ten o’clock start. Just a short loop this time, nothing too ambitious. The forecast’s dreadful, so we’ve already booked the pub for hot chocolate and apple crumble afterwards.”
“Now that’s the kind of hike I can get behind,” I say, smiling. “Count me in.”
Nancy grins. “Good answer. We’ll see you at the village green at ten sharp.”
“Ten sharp,” Luke echoes, smiling. “If it’s pouring, bring a waterproof and low expectations.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say, laughing just as the kitchen door swings open.
A woman steps out carrying a heavy tray, followed by two waiters. She’s tall and curvy, with bright ginger hair pulled into a neat twist, and a calm air that suggests she’s run this place long enough to know every regular by name.
Before she even reaches our table, Layla sits up straight and waves both hands. “Miss Alexandra! All the pigs in blankets to me, please!”
The whole table bursts out laughing.
Alexandra stops mid-stride, grinning. “All of them? That doesn’t seem very fair, does it?”
Layla shakes her head earnestly. “It’s okay. I’ll share. Maybe.”
Jon groans. “You’re going to get us banned, young lady.”
Nancy hides a laugh behind her napkin. “Oh, let her. She’s got good taste.”
Alexandra sets the plates down with practiced ease, still smiling. “I’ll see what I can do, sweetheart, but the chef guards those like gold.”
“That’s fine,” Layla says solemnly. “I’m good at finding gold.”
That sets everyone off again. Alexandra shakes her head, amused. “Enjoy your dinners, all of you,” she says before heading to another table.
Abby picks up her fork, still chuckling. “She’s obsessed with those sausages. Honestly, I don’t know where she gets it from.”
“I do,” Jon says. “You.”
Layla giggles, inspecting her plate. “I like food. It’s my favourite hobby.”
I take a sip of my pint, still smiling as Layla starts bargaining for extra gravy. Between the fire, the laughter, and the smell of roast potatoes, I can’t help thinking I’ve absolutely nailed this decision. Coming here was a bloody good idea.
By the time I reach the village green, the rain is coming down in sheets. Wind whips across the open space, slicing through the air with that particular Yorkshire enthusiasm that makes umbrellas useless.
I tug my hood tighter over my beanie and shove my hands into the pockets of my waterproof jacket. The matching trousers rustle with every step, and the only part of me that isn’t damp is probably my socks, though I wouldn’t put money on it.
A group of about a dozen people are already gathered near the old noticeboard, all bundled in bright waterproofs and chatting as if it’s a perfect summer morning. They look irritatingly cheerful for people standing in a storm.
Nancy spots me first. “There he is!” she calls, waving a gloved hand.
Luke grins as I join them. “You made it. I’ll be honest, I had money on you staying in bed.”
“Thought about it,” I admit, pushing back my hood. “Then I remembered there’s apple crumble involved.”
“That’s the spirit,” Nancy says. Her red jacket makes her stand out against the grey morning. “It’s only a short walk today, five miles, tops. We’ll warm up before the first hill.”
“Good to know,” I say, eyeing the horizon where the mist is sitting low and ominous. “Because I’m not sure I’ve got the local definition of ‘short’ worked out yet.”
Luke chuckles. “Don’t worry. If the weather gets worse, we’ll just walk faster.”
“Brilliant,” I mutter. “Nothing like a bit of windburn to start the weekend.”
Nancy laughs. “That’s the attitude we like. Come on then, brave man, let’s introduce you to the rest of the crew before we head off.”
She leads me towards the group, who are already exchanging jokes and adjusting walking poles, entirely undeterred by the weather.
Somewhere between the freezing rain and Nancy’s boundless enthusiasm, I realise I’m actually grinning.
I might regret it later, but for now, it feels good to be out here.