Page 103 of On Circus Lane

I pull back and kiss his cute nose. “Ready?”

He grins. “I’m looking forward to seeing Dad.”

“Are you sure he’s okay with doing Christmas early so we can go to Amsterdam?”

“Honestly, he probably won’t know when Christmas Day is anyway.”

I want to laugh at that slightly disapproving tone because his dad epitomises an absent-minded professor. Let’s just say the apple hasn’t fallen far from that particular tree.

“Well, that’s okay then,” I say. “Bags are by the door.”

“What about the presents?”

“Also, by the door. Let me just switch off the tree lights, and we can get off.”

He follows me into the lounge. This is a rather bare room at the moment. The floorboards need repairing, which we’ll do next year. Yesterday, we stripped half the wallpaper off, ready to paint, before Bee got amorous and pulled me to bed. We’ll get around to it eventually, but the room still looks nice.

We have a real tree with twinkling lights. It looks like it was made to fit in the corner by the old fireplace, which has pretty blue-and-white tiles that remind me of the Netherlands. Almost unconsciously, my hand strays to the box in my pocket. I become aware of Bee staring at me, immediately paste a big grin on my face, and switch the lights off.

“I can’t wait for Christmas in our first home,” Bee says, hugging himself with glee.

I smile affectionately at him. “Me too.” I wink at him. “And then afterwards, we’re getting a dog.”

He shakes his head but can’t conceal the smile that shows off the cute gap in his teeth. “One that will run with you?”

I tap his nose as I walk past. “Well, someone in our family has to.”

“There’s just nothing I like so much in life that it needs me to run towards it.” He shakes his head. “Although, I do like ourfamily. I can’t believe that only a year ago I thought you were a massive twat.”

“You sometimes still do.”

“Yes, but I get over it quickly,” he says earnestly, surprising a laugh from me.

The truth is that we rarely row. Both of us prefer harmony and get bored with strife, so if we do argue, we’re over it fairly quickly. I suppose it helps that we usually say sorry under the sheets.

I take a look around and nod. “Okay, let’s go.”

Bee’s family home is in Oxford, and we spend the journey listening to Christmas music, and then some odd podcast hosted by complete crackpots that Bee wants to listen to. I can’t follow the circular arguments of their utterly barmy conspiracy theories, so I occupy myself by imagining how I’m going to propose. I have all sorts of romantic scenarios in mind, so I just have to pick one. I’m uneasily aware that nothing in my life goes that smoothly, so I have contingency plans in place, too.Nothingcan go wrong.

“You’re quiet,” Bee says as I pull into his dad’s street. “Are you thinking about the podcast?”

“Oh yes,” I say quickly. “It was certainly an unusual viewpoint.” I’ve discovered that catchall phrase to be of immense use when hosting Bee’s friends from uni or at his work functions.

His soft snort tells me he isn’t fooled for a second, and I drag him close and take his lips in a lush kiss. When I pull back, I’m extremely gratified to see those clever eyes clouded. I give him another quick kiss. I always want one more.

“Let’s go in.”

He blinks. “Eh?”

“The house,” I say, concealing a smile. “Goodness, you are a bit of a flibbertigibbet.”

His eyes sharpen. “Do you know where that word comes from?”

“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

His eyes twinkle with amusement as he adjusts his glasses. “It came from the word flepergebet, which meant chatterer. It’s an old Middle English word that’s onomatopoeic.”

“Fascinating.” I wink at him. “Almostas fascinating as the last cultural mystery tour I took you on, but not quite.”

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