‘Is that Ambrose?’ Mum calls. ‘Hello, Ambrose!’
Ambrose stands up straight and moves into view of the camera, waving at Haf’s parents. ‘Hello, Mr and Mrs Hughes. And no, I got a cab home about an hour ago. I have no desire to watch Paco work when I could be in my own bed.’
‘Oh, don’t they look so lovely? Ambrose always looks so well dressed,’ I hear Mum say to Dad.
Ambrose takes one look at Haf’s face and shakes their head. ‘You’re supposed to take your make-up off before sleep,’ they whisper, rubbing a smudge of... something off Haf’s face with a thumb. ‘Anyway, who is the man having a breakdown on our couch?’
‘Christopher. Don’t you remember him? I told you we met last night.’
‘Christopher . . . ?’ they say, rubbing their eyes.
‘Who’s Christopher?’ calls Dad. ‘Are you still there, love?’
‘Oh! Yourboyfriend,’ says Ambrose.
‘You’ve got a boyfriend?’ asks Mum.
‘He’s not really my boyfriend,’ Haf hisses back to Ambrose.
‘What do you mean not really?’ they say, cocking their head.
‘Fake boyfriend,’ Haf mouths.
‘Fake boyfriend?!’ says Ambrose at full volume.
‘Your boyfriend fainted?’ asks Mum.
‘No one’s fainted, Mum,’ Haf says, shooing Ambrose out of the kitchen. They head straight to Christopher, and Haf hopes that they’re in the mood to play nice.
‘If someone’s fainted, elevate their legs and get some water and salts into them,’ adds Dad.
‘No one has fainted!’
‘I’m sorry, darling, I think you’re breaking up and we can’t hear you. Is this Christopher your boyfriend? That’s so nice to hear.’
Upon hearing his name bellowed through tinny phone speakers, Christopher looks up and their eyes meet through the open doorway.
Haf realises at this moment in time she has two choices. She could spend Christmas here, alone with her thoughts,Gilmore Girlsand the candle-fire hazard. A solo Christmas where she hasto watch people having their own lovely ones all over Instagram, while she tries to keep Ambrose’s plants alive.
Or, she could keep playing the fake girlfriend. She could go to Christmas at the Calloways’. She could help him out, and not be alone.
‘Yes, actually, he is my boyfriend. Sorry I haven’t got around to telling you about him.’
‘Oh how lovely!’
‘Yes, and his mother invited me to their Christmas,’ she says, not breaking eye contact with Christopher. Relief flashes across his face. In a lower voice, she adds, ‘so you don’t have to worry about me.’
Ambrose’s eyebrows cycle through the full spectrum of confused, shocked and finally angry in the way that only best friends can be when they’ve worked out the exact breed of chaos you’re enacting.
‘What a relief, we were a bit worried when you hung up on us the other day.’
‘Oh, yeah, we just hadn’t confirmed any plans with his parents, so I didn’t want to say. But we sorted that all out, so I’ll go down next week and stay with them over the holidays.’
‘Good idea, lovey, best not to jinx these things,’ Mum whispers.
Ambrose storms over and holds up their phone to show me the notes app where they’ve written:WE WILL TALK ABOUT THIS LATER. They turn slowly, maintaining menacing eye contact, and stride upstairs yelling an exasperated, ‘Aiyah!’
‘Look, Mum. You don’t have to worry. Everything’s fine, but I need to get going. Christopher’s got a train to catch.’
