‘Good? I think you mean “as ridiculous”.’
‘Close enough. But, I suppose, this is a kind of promise.’
‘Aren’t those for like deeply religious abstinent teens?’
‘Oh God, I hope not. Did I get this wrong?’
‘I’m just teasing you. What are you promising? Your soul? Your vast wealth? Your collection of fantasy novels from the early noughties? I do hope it’s the latter.’
‘Shush,’ he scolds gently. ‘I’m promising to be there for you, like you have been there for me.’
All her bravado and bluster melts.
‘Oh, Christopher. There I was, all ready to take the piss out of you, and then you go ahead and say something so lovely that I just can’t.’
Haf takes the ring from the box and slides it onto her fingers. It’s not quite the right size for her middle finger, so slips it onto another. She admires it in the morning light.
‘The antlers are for your daring rescue,’ he says. ‘And I read that clover means “I promise” in the language of flowers, so that seemed apt.’
This yanks something in her chest, and she’s on the verge of crying with happiness. What a nice man. What a nice, very silly man.
‘Christopher, you’re actually killing me. The language of flowers? This ring might be the most lesbian thing in the world, and you’re a straight man.’
‘Mostly.’
‘Mostly?’ she says, her eyebrows practically falling off her face. ‘Ohhh. This absolutely tracks.’
‘How so?’
‘The fake-dating, the falling in love with your sister, all the other nonsense. That’s the combined force of two chaotic bisexuals.’
Thankfully, he laughs.
‘Thank you for telling me,’ she says, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him against her. ‘And for trusting me with... well, everything.’
She releases him and he takes a deep breath.
‘Did I just smother you with my bosom or something?’ she laughs.
‘No, I just haven’t told anyone that in a long time. It’s kind of nice to be known, I suppose.’
‘Eurgh, can’t relate.’ They both laugh.
‘Shall we go make our entrance downstairs? Get some booze in you?’
‘God, please,’ she says, getting out of the bed. She takes a wrapped present from her rucksack and clutches it against her chest. ‘You know, this is going to make my gift look a lot less cool now. You can have it downstairs in a little bit, so it doesn’t look quite so shit.’
‘I am positive it will not be shit.’
With his arms full of presents, Christopher follows her down the stairs. The house smells like freshly baked pastry and butter.
Luckily, it turns out that the Calloways are relaxed about pyjamas for Christmas breakfast and presents. It’s way too cold for her to take off her pyjamas, and she hates waiting for the present opening, even if the one on her hand is the only one she’s getting. She just loves the whole ceremony of it. Freddie’s family always insisted on opening presents after Christmasdinner, which Haf had always thought must be some kind of human rights violation, or at least a very specific form of torture designed to make everyone miserable.
‘Merry Christmas!’ Esther cries, carrying a tray of baked pastries into the living room.
Under the tree is a large stack of neatly wrapped presents. She adds the one for Christopher.
In one corner of the couch sits Kit, curled up in thick blankets. Their eyes meet, just for a second.
