Christopher rolls over, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. ‘Hello, Ambrose. Apologies, I didn’t realise we were family now. I’m doing my best, just for you.’
‘That’s more like it. You look very dashing in those pyjamas,’ they say with a purr, which sends Christopher under the duvet and out of view of the screen.
‘Ambrose stop flirting with my fake boyfriend.’
‘Oh boo to you too,’ Ambrose says. ‘Where’s your Christmas spirit?’
‘Mine normally doesn’t wake up until after eight,’ Christopher mutters from under the covers.
‘So much for being an early riser,’ Ambrose replies, which prompts a snort from Christopher.
‘My Christmas spirit is entirely reliant on presents, croissants and something fizzy to drink, none of which I currently have,’ sulks Haf.
‘I don’t think I can Deliveroo you any of that,’ they say, taking a big swig of something decidedly fizzy in a flute.
‘Oh, fuck off.’
‘Very festive of you. Is that the Welsh for “Merry Christmas”?’
Haf mutters something very, very rude in Welsh that she once taught Ambrose, who starts giggling uncontrollably.
Once recovered, they shuffle the phone around, revealing the kitchen behind them.
‘What are you doing exactly?’
‘Got the goose in. I am on goose duty. Gooty,’ they say with a laugh.
‘This Christmas has had too many geese for my liking,’ Haf mutters.
‘Just think of it as revenge.’
‘Who trusted you with that?’
‘Listen, Haf, I am actually averyaccomplished chef when someone gives me all the instructions, tells me what to do and also basically supervises me, I’ll have you know. Mum and Popo have gone out for a power walk around the lake and apparently even I can be trusted with it for half an hour.’
‘Or at least more than your cousins.’
‘Potato potahto.’
‘Maybe you should have less of the booze.’
‘What would be the fun in that? How was the ball last night? I’ve had radio silence from you, apart from those pics. I was worried you were dead, or had fallen down the stairs or something.’
Behind her, Christopher groans.
‘What did you do?’ Ambrose says flatly, all jolliness gone.
‘Why do you always presumeIdid something?’ Haf whines.
Christopher lifts his head up and says, ‘She kissed Kit.’
‘Shut your pretty mouth!’
Shocked by the sudden outburst, Christopher complies.
‘You snogged her? Ha ha ha ha. I mean, sorry, Christopher, but also—’ They cackle.
‘Yeah, but he was busy snogging Laurel, who knew all about us fake dating thanks to your Twitter.’
