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Kier

Devon, July 2018

‘I know what you’re going to say. This place feels—’ Penn smiles, gesturing us inside.

‘Huge,’ we say in unison as the dog bundles in, pushing through my legs. It’s always the same when you’re in a house after travelling in the van. That feeling of space. Permanence.

‘Is this what it’s like all the time?’ Zeph looks at Mila as she comes to greet them in the hall, a broad smile on her face. Curly hair knotted up in a bun, she looks fresh-faced, happy. If she’s stressed about the wedding, it isn’t showing.

‘Yeah,’ Mila shakes her head. ‘You’d better get used to it. The whole finishing each other’s sentences thing … just the tip of the iceberg.’

Laughing, Zeph reaches up to rub the fuzz on his head, T-shirt rucking up to reveal a line of black hair.

Mila glances down, then away. I can’t blame her. Zeph looks good tonight, the dark of his trousers and shirt pulling the blues from his eyes. The shirt isn’t tight, but it shows enough of what’s beneath. A body that’s lean, just the right side of hungry .

A feature piece I once read described him as having the body of a ‘junkie rock star coming off tour,’ but I know it owes nothing to illegal substances. It’s because Zeph’s never still. Cooking. Thinking. Living. Feet that never touch the floor.

Mila pounces on the art wallet in my hand. ‘Is this—?’

‘It is. Final copies of all the stationery. I’ll take you through them later. Printing is next week, but the samples are pretty much what you can expect in terms of quality and colour.’

She grins. ‘Can’t wait. It’s starting to feel real now.’

‘I bet.’ Laughing, Zeph and I follow her down the hall to the open-plan living space at the back of the house. Food covers the length of the table: cooked chicken, griddled courgettes, a rice dish. Fragrant, colourful salads. I absorb the detail – the embroidered tablecloth and vase of wildflowers, touched by the effort they’ve made.

The thought plagues me again, the devil on my shoulder.

You could do this all the time if you settled here. Live a normal life.

But with a lurch, I remember.

You can’t.