Page 11 of Twisted Paths

I look between them, eyes narrowing slightly. Nancy seems… on edge. Like she knows where this is going.

And then, suddenly, I do too.

Oh.

Oh no.

This isn’t just small talk.

This is subtle matchmaking.

I shift my weight, watching Mrs Higgins carefully. “I keep busy,” I say.

“Oh, I’m sure you do, love.” She smiles, ever so mild. “But a bit of companionship never hurt, does it? I just told this lovely single lady that—”

Nancy visibly flinches. “Shall we go?”

I glance at her. “Are you alright?”

She lets out a high-pitched, too cheerful laugh. “Me? Absolutely fine! Just very keen to start walking before we stand here all morning!”

I press my lips together, resisting the urge to smirk.

Mrs Higgins pats my arm, nodding like she’s confirming something to herself. “Well, I suppose we should get going, shouldn’t we?”

Nancy clears her throat, looking anywhere but at me. There’s a slight pink tinge creeping up her neck, and I don’t know if it’s from embarrassment or the sheer willpower it’s taking to ignore Mrs Higgins.

“So,” she says briskly, clearly desperate to move things along, “I thought we’d start with a nice, steady two-hour circular walk. Nothing too intense.”

Mrs Higgins nods approvingly. “Very sensible.”

Nancy gestures towards the path ahead. “We’ll stop halfway for sandwiches and, if people are up for it, maybe have a drink at the pub when we’re done.” She points into the distance, where the village pub sits neatly nestled among the rooftops. “So, that’s the plan.”

I follow her gaze.

The pub.

Not happening.

I’m already mentally planning my escape. Ideally, the second we return to the starting point. Slip away unnoticed before anyone suggests a ‘quick drink’. Two hours is more than enough forced socialising for one day.

“Sounds good,” I say anyway. No need to raise suspicions.

Mrs Higgins clasps her hands together. “Lovely. I do enjoy a walk with a purpose.”

Bernard sighs heavily, as if the mere concept of a two-hour walk has personally offended him.

Nancy claps her hands together. “Right, shall we—”

Another deep, ominous sound cuts through the air.

A slow, rolling, apocalyptic release of gas.

The smell follows immediately.

Mrs Higgins coughs, waving a hand in front of her nose. “Oh, Bernard, really.”

Nancy lets out a strangled noise. “How—how does it get worse?”

---