Page 19 of Twisted Paths

Mrs Higgins gives Bernard’s lead a gentle tug. “Come on, lad. Let’s get you home before you have to be carried.”

Bernard makes no effort to stand.

Mrs Higgins sighs. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She leans down and somehow manages to haul him back to his feet. “Right, then. Enjoy your drink, you two.”

With that, she starts walking at a very reduced pace, dragging Bernard gently along.

Nancy and I watch them go. The second they turn a corner, Nancy exhales, hands on her hips. “This is great. If Mrs Higgins gets involved, we’ll have a proper turnout next time.”

I smile. “I don’t think anything can stop this woman from rounding up the troops.”

She grins. “Fine by me.”

Silence settles between us for a second.

She shifts slightly on her feet, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “So…”

I glance at her.

She clears her throat. “I know the whole pub at the end plan was supposed to be for the group, but…” She hesitates, her fingers brushing idly over the strap of her rucksack. “Do you fancy a drink? I mean… obviously, no pressure—”

Something about her tone surprises me.

Nancy isn’t shy. She’s confident, quick-witted, always on solid ground in conversation. But right now, there’s an uncharacteristic hesitance. Like she half-expects me to say no.

I don’t like crowds. I don’t like small talk. I don’t like forced socialising in public spaces.

And yet—

I glance at the pub, then back at her.

“…Yeah,” I say, exhaling slowly. “Alright.”

Nancy’s expression shifts as she processes my answer. A flicker of something light and pleased before she covers it with a small nod.

I roll my shoulders. “I’ll get the first round.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—” she tries to politely decline.

“Please. Let me. As a thank you for organising today,” I give her a small smile.

She blushes again and I like it. “Alright then.”

“Go grab us a table,” I suggest.

She glances around, eyes scanning the outdoor space next to the village green before nodding towards a wooden table near the low stone wall, just as the previous occupants start gathering their things. “That one’s clearing up. I’ll grab it before someone else does.”

“Good plan.”

Nancy slings her rucksack over her shoulder and heads towards the table. “I’ll have a shandy, please.”

I nod and step inside the pub.

The change from the bright afternoon to the dimly lit interior makes my eyes adjust for a second. It’s quiet in here—not empty, but the kind of steady where no one’s in a rush. Wooden beams stretch across the ceiling, the scent of old ale and polished wood settling into the warm air.

Behind the bar, a curvy woman in her forties wipes down the counter, her ginger hair pulled back into a ponytail. She glances up as I approach and offers a nod of greeting. “Alright, love? What can I get you?”

“Pint of shandy and a pint of bitter, please.”

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