“We’ll meet you over by the birdfeeder,” Nory called as Thom and the boys disappeared inside.

“I get the feeling your brother doesn’t like me,” said Dev.

“Oh, he’s like that with everyone. And anyone standing near me is collateral damage.”

“Ah, the overprotective big brother.” Dev nodded wisely.

“No, he’s just difficult,” Nory replied lightly. “He’ll like you better when I tell him you went to state school.”

“Would it help if I mentioned I grew up on a council estate?”

“He would probably make you a friend for life.”

They pushed through the crowd and hovered by the community birdfeeder, which stood on the edge of the green. The excitement was ramping up, and someone in the crowd had brought a set of jingle bells, which added another level of twee to the chocolate box scene, with its laughing children and Christmas music. Nory was always taken aback by how many people actually lived in the village; it seemed like such a tiny place until you squeezed everyone together on the small patch of grass.

Nory’s mum and dad emerged from the White Hart, paper pints in hand, and joined them, signaling another round of hugs, kisses, and introductions. Her dad nearly keeled over laughing when Dev held out his hand and said, “Hello, Mr. Noel, good to meet you. I’m adopted, I was brought up on a council estate, I went to state school, and I am filthy rich of my own making.”

“Well, then,” said Jake, laughing, “I daresay you are good enough for our Amie in that case. Let me introduce you to some of the lads.”

And with that, Dev was whisked off to the pub garden, where even the local farmers seemed starstruck by his handsomeness.

“Oh my god!” Ameerah exclaimed as they watched Jake clapping Dev on the back.

“What?” asked Nory.

“I’ve gone and fallen for man-Barbie, haven’t I?”

“Yes, you have,” Nory agreed.

“Now would probably be a good time to stop referring to him as ‘man-Barbie,’ then, my love,” said Sasha. “I know you only say it in jest, but if Donald Trump has taught us anything, it’s that locker-room banter is insidious; objectification works both ways.”

“Sorry, Sasha,” said Ameerah.

Nory’s mum kissed Ameerah on the cheek. “Let yourself fall in love, my girl.”

“Steady on, Sasha. At the moment I’m only committing to like-like him.”

“Oh, pish!” Sasha waved her words away. “You’re well on the way to love, I can see it in your eyes.”

“But what if it doesn’t work out?”

“Then we’ll be here to pick up the pieces, won’t we, Nory?”

“Every time,” said Nory, feeling a rush of love for her amazing—slightly bananas—mum and her best friend.

“I’m not sure I’d be very good at being in love.” Ameerah bit her lip.