No one ever says what they mean. It’s all just empty words from them, and heartbreak for her.
Her heart aches like it’s trying to claw its way out of her chest, and she launches her phone across the room, where it crunches hard against the wall.
And so, she curls up under the covers and cries until she can’t cry any more.
Eventually, she gets dressed into yesterday’s clothes, brushes a bit of make-up over her blotchy, just-bawled face, and heads to the kitchen in search of caffeine.
Downstairs, she finds Kit nursing a cup of coffee with a book open on the kitchen counter. She had kind of hoped Kit would have gone out too.
‘Morning,’ she croaks. The clock on the oven blinks eleven. ‘Is that accurate?’ she asks, pointing to it.
‘Yep,’ Kit nods, looking up from the pages. Her eyebrows furrow slightly as she takes Haf in. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Just didn’t sleep great.’
‘Welcome to the club,’ says Kit slowly.
The dogs trot in from another room, ready for their morning pats. When she bends down to cuddle them, Luna hops up and gives her a little lick on the cheek as if to say ‘I heard you went on your ex’s Facebook – sorry about it.’
‘Is everyone out?’
Kit holds up a bright yellow Post-it. ‘I believe they’ve gone for a long walk.’
‘What is it with your family and leaving notes?’ Haf mutters. ‘Christopher’s gone to Laurel’s.’
‘Oh yeah, the decorations,’ Kit says, wiping her face. ‘It’s the Howards’ one concession. All the staff can go home once the dishwasher is full, and Christopher and I usually help with the decorations. It’s a nice tradition. Laurel usually bullies us into going for a ride.’
‘Not feeling it today?’ Haf asks, as she pours herself a cup of coffee from a cafetière.
‘No, and... erm, I should probably tell you that I told Laurel about everything.’
‘You mean . . .’
‘The adventures in the closet,’ finishes Kit. ‘Sorry, I just needed to talk to her and since she found out, she’s been messaging me constantly about this... situation.’
‘Oh God, there’s two of them. I knew introducing her and Ambrose wasn’t a good idea. I hope she won’t tell Christopher.’
‘No, no. And said she would look after Christopher on the condition that I, err, talked to you.’ She shifts awkwardly in her seat.
‘About?’
Kit gestures in the air in a way that Haf takes to mean everything.
Suddenly, the kitchen feels too small to contain all her feelings. ‘Shall we take the dogs out?’ Haf offers.
‘Good plan,’ says Kit. She decants the remains of her coffee into a thermos. ‘Walkies!’
A soft layer of fresh snow has settled on top of everything. It’s one of those perfect bright, sunny, cold days. The dogs lead her and Kit through the back garden to a gate that opens straight onto the fields. Stella and Luna slip through it as soon as there’s a big enough gap for them, gambolling in the pure-white field. Church bells ring in the distance, but otherwise there’s little sound apart from the snuffling and panting of the dogs, who run back and forth as though they’re herding Kit and Haf onwards. The air tastes cold and fresh.
From her pocket, Kit produces a ratty-looking ball and holds it out to Haf.
‘Wow, for me? You shouldn’t have.’ Haf hops out of the way as Kit goes to whack her with her walking stick, sliding in the snow as she lands.
‘Throw it for them, dickhead.’ Kit laughs.
Stella vibrates with excitement at her feet. Haf has never been a good thrower, and when she releases the ball, it doesn’t go very far. But the dogs, seemingly pleased to just be getting some attention, prance after it happily.
‘Wow, that was almost as bad as my throwing, and when I do it, my shoulder pops out.’
