Tori didn’t answer.
‘Maybe there’ll be steak and ale pie on the menu. I love steak and ale pie.’
Still nothing.
‘And I could murder a pint of something dark and hoppy. Since it looks like we won’t be driving anywhere tonight.’
She flinched at that, although he had no idea why.
Jasper sighed. This was going to be a very long night if Tori refused to talk to him altogether.
Maybe it was time to bring out the big guns. Apologising.
‘Look, I’m sorry I brought us along the moors road. You were right, it was too dangerous in the snow, and we should have kept to the main roads. Where we’d probably still be stuck in an epic traffic jam, arguing over which radio station to listen to, instead of heading towards what looks like a really nice inn and hopefully some steak and ale pie. But sorry, anyway.’
He could just about make out the inn through the snow. The sloping roof, the thick stone walls, and the warm yellow lights glowing out into the darkening sky. There was even a giant Christmas tree out front, strung with old-fashioned coloured lantern lights, the sort he remembered from his childhood.
It definitely looked like the sort of place that served steak and ale pie. And now he’d apologised, Tori would stop ignoring him and they could enjoy a nice evening together.
He turned to her, smiling—until he saw the sceptical glare on her face.
‘You honestly think that was a good apology, don’t you?’ she asked.
Jasper blinked away snowflakes, confused. ‘I mean, I said I’m sorry. So...yes?’
‘You said you were wrong and should have listened to me—and then told me why actually I was wrong and you’d made the right decision even now we’re stuck in the snow on the middle of the moors walking towards—’ She broke off suddenly, her gaze jerking away.
‘A...perfectly nice-looking inn?’ Jasper finished for her, more baffled than ever.
Tori sighed, hard enough that he saw her shoulders rise and fall even in her thick, woollen coat. ‘The Moorside Inn serves the best steak and ale pie in Yorkshire. Possibly the world. Henry, the cook, he won’t share the recipe with anyone. You’re going to love it.’
‘Great,’ Jasper replied. But he couldn’t find the enthusiasm for it that his hungry stomach had exhibited just moments earlier.
There was something about her voice. The slow, resigned monotone.
‘So, you know this place?’ Knew it well, he’d guess, given her words. And her reluctance to re-enter it.
Before he’d left Flaxstone, five years earlier, he’d believed he might actually be getting to know Tori Edwards at last. To see the real girl under the mask she put up for his father and everyone else.
Now, staring at her in the snow, outside a Yorkshire inn, he admitted to himself that he didn’t know her at all.
He didn’t know where she’d come from, or why. He didn’t know what had driven her away from her home the way he’d been driven away from his.
But he had a feeling that this might be the night he finally found out.
Tori didn’t answer his question, but then she didn’t need to. They were almost there, now, the windows of the inn changing from blurs of light in the distance into a clear vision of the cosy, wooden-beamed rooms inside.
And as they approached the heavy, wooden front door, it flew open, revealing an older woman in a Mrs Christmas apron, her bright red curls pinned back from her face, and a wide smile on her lips.
‘Welcome, weary travellers, to the Moorside Inn! I hope we can make your impromptu stop a little more comfor...’ Her words faltered mid-sentence, and so did her smile. She peered out into the snow, her gaze fixed on Tori’s blank expression. ‘Vicky?’
Tori sighed again, but at least managed a small smile this time. ‘Hello, Aunt Liz.’
Jasper looked between the two women. Yes, he was definitely going to find out more about Tori Edwards tonight. But the realisation only showed him just how very little he’d known about her to start with.
Maybe it was time to fix that.
CHAPTER THREE
THE MOORSIDE WAS just as she remembered it.
As Tori pulled away from the tentative, uncertain hug her aunt gave her, she took in the inn beyond. Same wooden beams. Same gleaming pumps, polished by Uncle Henry every night after he’d finished in the kitchen, ready to serve local ales to visitors. Same battered, rustic oak tables and mismatched chairs. Tyler’s paintings still on the walls. Same feeling of shame, guilt and of being a disappointment as she stood there.
‘We got snowed in on the road, about quarter of a mile away,’ Jasper said, looking with far too much interest between her and Aunt Liz. Tori curled in on herself, as much as she could when wearing so many layers. This place was her past, another life almost. She didn’t want to share it with anyone from her new life.
Especially not Jasper.
‘Of course, you must be freezing! Come on in.’ Aunt Liz ushered them both inside as if they were normal paying customers.
Jasper took the opportunity to raise his eyebrows at her and mouth, ‘Vicky?’ She ignored him. She supposed it was too much to hope for that he’d missed that use of her old, other nickname.
She was Tori now. That was all that mattered.
The things Vicky had done... She didn’t want to be that person any more. The person who’d caused Tyler’s death.
But family...they always remembered who you were, even once you’d become someone new. She’d always be Vicky to Aunt Liz and Uncle Henry, even if they weren’t actually blood family. They were the closest thing she’d had for an awful lot of years now.
They walked into the bar proper, the one she’d only glimpsed through windows in the door, and suddenly Tori noticed something that was different about the place.
It was packed. Every table, chair, bar stool and window seat was occupied. Tori was certain she’d never seen so many people within the walls of the Moorside Inn ever before.
‘I guess we weren’t the only ones to get stranded, then?’ Jasper said, and Aunt Liz laughed.
‘Not by a long shot! That road out there is treacherous in the snow.’ She shot Tori a look. ‘I would have thought you would’ve remembered that, Vicky.’
There it was. That not so subtle reminder of why she’d left. Well, no. Why she’d never come back.
She couldn’t bear to look at this place without Tyler in it. Couldn’t take the pain and the grief—and most of all the pity. Pity from people who should be hating her, blaming her, and only didn’t because she was too cowardly to tell them the whole truth.
Only now it seemed she had no choice but to be there.
‘That was my fault,’ Jasper jumped in. ‘Tori—Vicky—tried to tell me to stick to the main roa
ds, but I didn’t listen. Always thinking I know best, that’s my problem.’
He sounded so sincere, so disarmingly charming, that Tori could see Aunt Liz melting in front of her. Did he really believe that about himself? She doubted it. But he had at least taken the heat off her, which she appreciated. And it was worlds better than his first attempt at an apology outside in the snow.
‘Well, I hope you’ll know better next time,’ Aunt Liz said, as if she were letting a small child off the hook for something.
‘Definitely,’ Jasper agreed, nodding. ‘Now, I don’t suppose you have any of that steak and ale pie you’re famous for around here somewhere?’
Tori rolled her eyes. Thinking with his stomach. Why wasn’t she surprised?
‘Or perhaps we can help you get everyone here settled and sorted?’ she suggested. ‘I mean, unless you’ve changed things a lot around here I can probably still locate enough blankets and pillows for everyone.’ The Moorside only had a handful of bedrooms it hired out for guests, so people were definitely going to have to share. But if they set up a dormitory sort of arrangement in the restaurant part of the inn, there should just about be enough room for everyone. They’d done it before, Tori remembered vividly, on nights like tonight when the roads were closed by weather or accidents and people got stranded. Including, once, the national rugby team during a particularly violent storm, when their bus had broken down. If they’d all fitted in snugly, so would tonight’s guests.
‘And Jasper here can help Uncle Henry in the kitchens,’ Tori added. ‘Since he’s so concerned about the menu tonight.’
Of course, her altruistic plan also meant she could escape from close quarters with her family and her colleague, something she was sure they’d both noticed. Tori didn’t care. She needed some space—and that, she knew, was hard to come by in the community-spirited world of the Moorside Inn.
‘That would be very helpful,’ Aunt Liz said carefully. ‘Although you’re here tonight as a guest...’