Dev looks tired. It doesn’t help he’s unshaven, the dark stubble on his jaw catching the light when he tilts his head. Still handsome, though. I want to reach out, trace my fingers along his cheek. Instead, I settle for ‘Sorry about being a bit grumpy at the weekend.’
Surprise flits across his face. ‘Don’t be sorry. You were knackered and feeling like crap and … I get it.’
‘I shouldn’t have gone on about the ticket. I know you meant well. It’s just that it seemed like a waste to spend on a prize draw, that’s all.’
‘I know. Don’t go getting mad all over again.’ He laughs, and when we stop at the lights, his hand finds mine. ‘Am I forgiven now?’
‘Yeah, course,’ I say, and this time my smile comes a little easier.
The road stretches ahead of us. The sky is cloudy and the weather unusually cool for the end of July.
I still feel an ache from seeing the girl on the bus, but it’s fading now. Like it always does.
When we turn off the main road, the side-streets are already lined with parked cars as people arrive home from work. The smell of Dev’s car wraps around me. The faint scent of pine from a dried-out air freshener softened by gentle heat from the vents is oddly comforting.
‘So, what do you fancy doing this weekend?’ he asks. I know this is his way of lightening things up, keeping me in a better mood even though it’s only Monday.
I lean my head back against the seat. ‘Something that’s cheap. Free, ideally. We’re down to the last few pounds of this month’s budget, remember?’
‘Idoremember. How can I forget?’ he says glumly. ‘I checked the weather and it’s going to brighten up again, so how about we have a ride out to Wollaton Hall? Fresh air and acres of green stuff. We can stretch our legs after being cooped up at work all week.’
I think of it. Masses of natural parkland. The trees, the quiet rustle of leaves underfoot, it’s one of my favourite places and we haven’t been for ages. Why do we tend to turn from nature, hide ourselves away when we feel the most troubled? It’s the perfect balm. ‘Sounds good,’ I say.
‘Good. We can even feed the ducks. On the cheap, of course, using only stale bread from the cupboard,’ Dev adds, with a cheeky wink. ‘We’ll take a flask of coffee to save buying some.’ He grimaces. ‘Oops. I broke the flask last year. Scrap that.’
Despite myself, I laugh, the sound seeming to soothe the tension in me. ‘Maybe we can share a coffee.’
‘I like your radical thinking, Ms Harris.’ He grins.
‘You’re ridiculous.’
‘Guilty as charged,’ he says breezily. ‘But, hey, we don’t need much money to have fun. Agreed?’
I nod, trying not to look downhearted. I wish I had Dev’s optimism. His easy belief that things will work out, no matter what. All day long, whether I’m at work or at home, my mind constantly circles back to crunching the numbers, working out how to pay the bills that keep coming at a rate of knots.
I’m so sick of feeling we’re just treading water, always one step away from sinking.
‘Things will get better, Merri. I promise.’ Dev’s voice cuts into my thoughts, quiet but determined.
‘You always say that.’
‘Well, then, you should believe it because it’s true.’ Eyes pinned to the road, Dev squeezes my hand again, his warm fingers steady against mine. ‘We’re best friends, remember? We can talk to each other about anything and everything. Lots of couples aren’t that lucky.’
I look out of the window. I love that Dev is a glass-half-full type person while I’m the opposite. It’s so ‘him’ to get the ridiculous idea to enter a prize draw on the spur of the moment. He’s the yin to my yang, and even when I’m mad at him, I don’t know what I’d do without him. Which is why I can never be an open book to Dev.Especiallyto Dev.
‘No parking space outside our house again,’ I grumble, keen to change the subject.
Dev drives slowly up the street, the familiar row of small semis slipping into view. Maybe he’s right, I think. Maybe this is just a rough patch and we’ll emerge from it stronger and better off.
The car jolts – a sudden, sharp lurch that sends my heart plummeting.
‘What the –’ Dev’s hands tighten on the wheel as he pulls in sharply to the kerb. The engine coughs and sputters, then dies, leaving a heavy, suffocating silence.
‘What happened?’ I ask, alarmed.
‘I don’t know.’ He gets out of the car and pops the bonnet. I follow, wrapping my thin jacket tighter around me.
‘Did any warning lights come on?’ I peer over his shoulder. He doesn’t answer straight away, just stares forlornly at the dark tangle of metal and wires.
