Page 30 of Crossed Paths
“We’ll have to come up with something,” I say. “Maybe we do what Alex does at the pub—hire students. Flexible hours, local, probably cheaper.”
Her expression turns sour. “Speaking of which—I drove past the Running Horse on my way in. Garden was heaving. Packed with tourists already. We should be getting that footfall.”
“We’re not a pub, Silvia. It’s a different offer.”
“Still,” she says, eyes sharp. “We should think about how to attract that crowd. Lunch specials. Garden seating. Something. Not everyone wants to eat risotto under a linen napkin.”
I’ve heard this before. Different day, same snide tone.
“There’s enough business for both,” I say, flatly.
She gives me a little smirk. “Oh yes, I’m sure there is. Especially when your friend runs it.”
I stop.
“Don’t.”
She lifts her brows, all innocence. “What? I didn’t say anything.”
“This has nothing to do with Alexandra,” I say, voice colder now. “So let’s not make it personal.”
She opens her mouth—undoubtedly to make it personal—and I’m done.
I shake my head and walk away, boots crunching on the gravel.
Because I’ve got no time for power plays dressed up as business strategy. Not today. Not when I’ve got a mile of countryside to clear my head and one hell of a conversation to have with my best mate.
The Church of St Claire rises ahead, just past the old post office, its stone spire catching the morning light. The walking group’s already gathering in the churchyard, waterproofs and flasks and all.
Before I can fully scan the group, a heavy hand lands on my shoulder.
“Thought you’d bottled it,” Pete says with a grin, giving me a solid clap that jolts straight through my chest.
I force a smile, trying not to let it crack around the edges. “Late start. You know how Saturdays are.”
He nods, already looking past me to greet someone else. But I feel it, sharp and sudden—nerves crawling up the back of my neck. I told Alex I’d speak to him today. Promised her he’ll be fine. And I meant it.
But now, standing here next to him I’m not so sure anymore.
Peter’s my mate. Has been since forever. He was the one who dragged me to the pub after my grandfather died. The one who stole a cigarette from his mum so we could givesmoking a try. Something that caused the most hilarious coughing fits and a promise to each other that we would never do that again. We decided there and then, we were cool without cigarettes.
He is mybestfriend. And the one who also happens to be very much Alex’s brother.
How the hell do you open a conversation like that?
By the way, I’m sleeping with your sister... and planning to keep doing it, if that’s alright with you.
Before I can spiral any further, Nancy steps forward and raises her voice slightly to address the group.
“Alright everyone, listen in!”
The murmur dies down, heads turning.
“Today we’re heading up Wild Boar Fell,” she says, cheerfully firm. “It’s a bit more challenging than some of our recent routes, but nothing to worry about. We’ll set a steady, slow pace so everyone can stay together, and we’ll take small breaks on the way up. There’ll be a lunch stop once we reach the summit.”
A couple of people mutter approvingly. Someone adjusts their walking poles.
“I do want to remind everyone—especially our more energetic ramblers,” she says, glancing at a wiry bloke in neon Lycra, “that this isn’t a race. It’s a community outing. The walk itself is the goal, not who gets there first. So let’s stay together where possible and look after one another.”
