‘In that case it would be rude not to get a bit closer,’ I reasoned, pleased to feel a flicker of excitement deep inside. ‘What do you reckon?’
‘Can’t bear rudeness,’ he replied. ‘Let’s go and wish them a Merry Christmas.’
We made our way around the outside of the house, catching up on our lives, the awkward shyness that hovered between us slipping away as Dev told me all the things about his life I already knew and he listened to my stories for the first time, again. The grounds were completely deserted. It was very obvious we weren’t supposed to be there but politely walking around with a tiny dog who hadn’t set so much as a paw on the floor hardly felt like the crime of the century. No self-respecting burglar would bring Pari as a guard dog. She was about as threatening as a feather duster.
‘It always makes me feel like I’m in an Austen adaptation,’ I said, choosing to ignore the fact Elizabeth Bennet would never have slipped in a pile of sheep excrementin front of Mr Darcy. ‘Of course they didn’t have waterproof coats and trainers back then. Might have lived longer if they had.’
‘You wouldn’t have lived this long in Austen’s time no matter the outerwear situation,’ Dev replied. ‘I’d give you six weeks at most.’
‘And why’s that?’
‘No TV, no films, extremely limited access to books, you can’t sing, you can’t play an instrument to save your life and if you didn’t drop dead from boredom, you’d probably choke on your tongue from biting it so often.’ He acknowledged my expression of outrage with a comically outsized shrug. ‘Am I wrong though?’
‘Imagine spending every waking hour trapped in a room with my sister, waiting for a distant cousin to show up unannounced and propose,’ I said with a shudder. ‘Forget romance, those books are horror stories. I wouldn’t need to bite off my tongue, I’d have already drowned myself in the lake.’
‘There you go,’ Dev grinned. ‘Although it wasn’t always a cousin who proposed, was it? Sometimes it was a family friend, a dashing neighbour.’
He gave a theatrical wink and I replied with a hollow laugh. If he’d made a joke like that when we were sixteen, it would have killed me on the spot. I simply would have ceased to exist.
‘You wouldn’t have fared any better than me,’ I said. ‘No computer games, no comics, you cannot dance to save your life and don’t forget I’ve heard you play guitar. Neither of us would have been first choice to entertain our parents’ guests after an eighteen-course dinner of freshly shot grouse and fourteen different kinds of jelly.’
‘That’s the one thing I’d be into,’ he said, licking his lips and rubbing his belly. ‘They were always eating jelly, weren’t they? We don’t eat it enough these days.’
‘Speak for yourself. I always have jelly in the cupboard. You’ve got to get the proper cubes though, the powder isn’t the same.’
Dev pressed his hands against his stomach, a hangdog expression on his stupidly good-looking face. ‘God, what I’d give for a massive bowl of jelly and ice cream. Orange, no, strawberry, with an entire tub of vanilla ice cream. None of the fancy stuff, proper milk, sugar and stomach-ache after.’
‘Sounds amazing,’ I admitted. ‘I wonder if Mum’s got any jelly in the pantry.’
Right behind the Mini Rolls and the explosives.
‘I’ve as much chance of getting any jelly as I have of my mother making a life-sized replica of Buckingham Palace out of cheese,’ he replied, perking up more than a little. ‘Actually, that sounds amazing.’
‘With little water crackers for the windows,’ I suggested, my own stomach rumbling at the thought. ‘What cheese would you use? I’m thinking a nice solid mature cheddar, maybe a bit of red Leicester. Nothing too soft or crumby, you wouldn’t get far with a Wensleydale.’
‘Stop it, I’m starving,’ he laughed. ‘I’d even settle for an igloo made out of Babybels right now. Mum and Dad are off sugar and dairy so I’ve no hope. If it’s not a potato, we’re probably not having it.’
Pari barked to be put down and I watched as she raced away in front of us, smiling as the sun caught the salt and pepper in Dev’s hair. He looked over and caught my eye, and I switched my gaze to the house behind him, my cheeks turning pink.
‘I bet it’s gorgeous inside,’ I said, walking half a step faster and nodding towards the lights that twinkled through the windows. ‘Have you ever been when it’s all decorated?’
‘Not since I was a kid,’ he replied. ‘You?’
I shook my head. ‘I’ve always wanted to. I was supposed to go a couple of years ago, but I couldn’t get tickets. My boyfriend didn’t really want to anyway, this isn’t his sort of thing.’
‘Ah, the boyfriend. My mum said he’s a dentist?’ Dev said with a smile. ‘But she has been known to be wrong before. Once. Before I was born. So the legends say.’
I tried for a casual laugh but failed. ‘Ex-boyfriend and I’d rather not talk about him. Not worth the waste of oxygen.’
I was still too angry to get into it, too disappointed in Michael and myself. Plus, there was something else woven through my feelings, keeping them all tightly bound together, but I couldn’t quite pull on the right thread to work out what it was.
‘Got it.’
He tapped his fingers against his temple in a brief salute. He never was one to push too hard and I was grateful. Instead, he stopped underneath one of the windows, a golden glow shining softly through the glass.
‘Want to have a look inside?’ he asked.
‘More than anything but I’m too much of a short arse,’ I replied, jumping up and down. ‘Maybe we should give them a knock and see if they’ll let us in, you know, since we’re locals and everything.’