‘Wakey, wakey, rise and shine!’ Dev sets the tray on the bedside table and pulls the blinds open wider. Light spills into the room, chasing the shadows away.
Merri sits up slowly, her gaze darting to the window, then back to him. ‘I feel like I’m in a goldfish bowl, with the blinds wide open,’ she complains. Her voice sounds small, brittle. ‘I can’t rest, knowing whoever vandalized the windows and posted those photos could be out there.’
The unhelpful realization hits Dev that the culprit could be two completely different people. Maybe there was more than one loser who was out to scare them off.
He sits on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He reaches for her hand, his fingers warm against her cool skin.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ he says cautiously, keeping his tone light. ‘The weather’s supposed to be nice this weekend. What if we had a few people over? Just Jack and Sarah, Simon and Tilda. Nothing fancy, just a few drinks and nibbles.’
Merri makes a noise of alarm. ‘Are you serious? When one of them could be the –’
‘Hear me out!’ He holds up his hands. ‘Getting together might give us a chance to flush out the culprit, or it could put our minds at rest. At the very least it will show people we’re not rattled.’
Merri pulls her hand away from his. ‘I don’t like the idea.’
He stands up and lifts the tray on to the bed next to her. ‘We owe Simon and Tilda an invite back anyway, don’t we?And Jack and Sarah appear to have been really supportive. It’s just a few drinks, nothing more. The worst thing we can do is let whoever did this think they’ve succeeded in getting to us.’
Merri chews the inside of her cheek, her gaze drifting back to the window. The trees sway gently in the breeze as if they’re whispering secrets.
‘I’ll organize it all if you’d like to go ahead,’ Dev adds softly. ‘You don’t have to worry about a thing. Just give it some thought, yeah?’
For a long moment, Merri says nothing. Then, finally, she nods – just once, a small, reluctant motion. ‘I’ll think about it.’
Dev presses a kiss to her forehead, the tension in his chest easing just a little. He stands, leaving her with the breakfast, and moves to the window. It’s the kind of view people dream of, but there’s an edge to it now. If it becomes sullied any further, they might not be able to claw back their confidence.
Dev turns to his wife. ‘This is our home now, Merri. We’re not going to let anyone drive us away. We can’t let that happen.’
Her eyes look dull. ‘I hear what you’re saying, Dev. But I’m not sure I believe it.’
‘That’s why I’ve asked for a bit of help with it,’ he says carefully.
‘Help?’
‘I spoke to the police yesterday,’ he says. ‘This time they actually put me through to someone useful.’
‘You called the police about the photographs?’ Merri whispers. ‘Why?If they won’t come out for vandalism, they’re hardly going to be bothered about a bit of social media.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ Dev says. ‘The police are more geared up for social-media problems than anything else, these days, aren’t they? I explained we’d had a couple of cases of vandalism and now someone is carrying out a vendetta against us on Facebook.’
‘And what did they say?’
The colour has drained from her face. As he suspected, she’s not taking it well. ‘When I explained that the local news would be very interested in the details of what’s happening here because of the house win, the officer assured me someone would be around this morning.’
Merri sits bolt upright. ‘This morning?’ She throws back the quilt and Dev reaches to steady the tray. ‘I need to get showered and –’
‘There’s no rush. I just got a text saying they’ll be here at ten.’
Dev stays by the window, his eyes tracing the familiar line of the trees as they sway in the breeze. He can feel Merri’s still nervous and uncertain about the police coming and also his drinks suggestion. He gets it – this is a risk. But they can’t keep hiding away, letting suspicion tear them apart.
He turns back to her, his expression more determined now. ‘Let’s think this through properly,’ he says gently. ‘If we’re going to do it, we need to be prepared. We can’t just let them show up and hope something falls into our laps. We need a plan.’
Merri looks at him, her expression still wary but also curious. ‘A plan for what, exactly?’
‘To help us figure out who’s been snooping around and posting those photos,’ Dev replies, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. ‘We’ll make them comfortable – get everyone relaxed, chatting. A few drinks, maybe even a toast to new friendships. Then we can nudge the conversation around to the house. Talk about how lucky we were to win it.’
Merri folds her arms, frowning. ‘And how would that help? They all know the DreamKey story.’
‘True,’ Dev concedes, ‘but we’ll steer it in a different direction this time. Once we’ve got them talking about the house,we’ll offer to show them around – take them through the rooms they haven’t seen. Watch how they react to the idea. Look out for anyone who hesitates or gets too eager.’
