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 calledorganising, 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.
