A Few Days Away by Elin Gregory
The website for the White Horse in Weston Stanage proclaimed that it was “the quintessential English Pub”, its qualifications comprising a lovely view over the village green, a proudly independent selection of superb real ales, simple well-cooked food and quirky architecture. Including the exposed beams in the ceiling of the publican’s bedroom, of which Hugh had a sudden and unwanted view as Tom pushed himself up and stared, appalled, at the bedroom door.
It closed with a thump, making the mirror above the dresser rattle against the wall. “Sorry! Sorry, Tom, sorry, Hugh. I—erm—I’ll see you later then.” Footsteps retreated along the landing and rattled down the stairs.
“I thought,” Hugh hissed, “that you said your mum would be out for the day? Going to see
