Jason and Emily walked in silence through the village, past the store, the smithy, and houses and cottages almost all looking Christmassy. The sky was darkening and it was feeling even colder than earlier. They held gloved hands.
‘That was such bullshit, that horrible old farmer,’ Jason said. ‘About no one living beyond forty. The Penze-Weedells are both well north of the big Four Zero, so screw you, Mr Interbred Local Miserableguts.’
‘Three couples from our estate killed in accidents?’ Emily said. ‘All in the past few months? What’s that about?’
‘Em, I don’t know. Just a freak of statistics?’
‘Or a jinx or a curse? Are all of us cursed? What have we moved into?’
‘Our beautiful dream home, where we are going to be very happy.’
‘Dream on.’
‘Hey!’ He put his arm around her and hugged her tightly, trying to put out of his mind the people he had seen in the house opposite and the woman who had come into his studio, trying – and almost succeeding – to dismiss them as figments of his overworked, tired brain. ‘We are not jinxed, there is no hex, or whatever, OK?’
They walked on in silence.
‘Hexes are . . .’ he began before falling silent again, trying to frame what he wanted to say.
‘What did he mean?’ Emily said. ‘About no one in the old house ever living beyond forty?’
‘He was talking about the past,’ Jason replied. ‘Life expectancy in the nineteenth century was about forty for a male and I think about forty-two for women. But that took into account infant mortality, death in childbirth, wars. It’s very different now. The Penze-Weedells – I rest my case.’
‘He gave me the creeps.’
‘Just a miserable old git who doesn’t like change. Reminds me of that Oscar Wilde line in one of his plays. Poor daddy’s like a pot plant abandoned in a dark corner, wondering where the sunshine has gone.’
She squeezed his hand, smiling. ‘I like that.’
‘Wouldn’t it be amazing if we had snow,’ he said, changing the subject as they approached the pillars with the wyverns on top.
‘Amazing,’ she echoed but without any enthusiasm. Then she said, ‘I just cannot believe the cheek of those people. I was so looking forward to a nice quiet lunch with you, on our own. “Eyyyy don’t suppose yew’d find it an imposition if we joined yewwwww?”’
‘They’re both well past forty – I’d put him mid-fifties.’
‘She’s no spring chicken, for sure.’
‘We need to set some boundaries with them, PDQ.’
‘Barbed wire down the middle of the road?’
‘Trenches.’
‘A moat with a drawbridge? I went to a medium once, in my teens. He said he could see me living in a house with a moat and a drawbridge.’
‘Sounds like he might have been prophetic.’
‘He also said he could see me with four children.’
They walked on for some moments in painful silence.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
He put an arm around her. ‘Did you ever see that cheesy old movie, Love Story?’
She shook her head.
‘There was a line in it – which became the catchphrase for the movie. “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”’
As they walked in through the gates and along the pavement to the left of the short dual carriageway, she said, ‘Nice, it’s kind of true.’
They stopped and kissed. Then he looked into her eyes. ‘I never want to have to say sorry to you, for anything.’
‘So I’ve noticed.’
‘Hey!’
There was a tease in her eyes. ‘Joking!’
He kissed her again. ‘You know, despite that old dickhead in the pub – and the eccentrics across the road – I feel immensely happy here. I’ve a feeling next year is going to be brilliant. I love my studio – I know I’m going to be able to work well there.’
‘And I love my kitchen, and my catering space in the garage. And I agree with you, I’m really happy here too. I love the village, and actually the tuna salad wasn’t bad. It would have tasted even better without the P-Ws. Did you hear he called her “High Command” when she was in the loo? Hilarious!’
‘But now we have something to really look forward to. Boxing Day prosecco at their house.’
‘Can you imagine what it’s like inside?’ she said.
‘It’s probably full of those wedding presents we hated and gave to the charity shop! Like that porcelain donkey with the sombrero on its head and the quartz clock in its belly that my aunt gave us.’
‘Shame on you for giving away what might one day become a priceless antique.’
‘One that’ll turn up on the Antiques Roadshow?’
‘Some years after Hell has frozen over.’
He laughed and hugged her. ‘God, I love you so much.’
She looked into his eyes, smiling. ‘It’s going to happen, a baby will come along. If it doesn’t, we’ll try IVF and whatever else is going. And if that doesn’t happen, we have each other. Right?’
They hugged again. ‘Right,’ he whispered into her ear.
‘Right.’
As they walked on, turning into Lakeview Drive, passing the shells of houses under construction, Emily said, ‘What about that other weird old boy, what did he mean when he said, “Ask anyone, they’ll know about the digger”?’
‘Blind reindeer.’
‘What?’
‘No eye deer!’
She punched him. ‘That is terrible, that’s your worst pun ever – and you stole it!’
‘Sorry.’
‘Didn’t you just say something about never having to say sorry?’ She looked at him quizzically.