‘It’s easier if a lie has a grain of truth in it. That way it’s far more convincing, like you can pull from things that actually happened,’ she explains. ‘It’s not so much lying to your entire family, as bending the truth. Speaking of which, give me the cast list. Everyone’s names and likes and who I need to impress most.’
She pauses for a second.
‘It’s definitely your mum, isn’t it? You strike me as a mummy’s boy.’
‘I am not.’ He huffs, affronted. He takes a piece of cookie and chews. After a moment he says, ‘Mother—’
‘Mother?!’ Haf interrupts, with a snort. Another pointed cough sounds out, this time from someone else behind them.
‘Yes, Mother,’ he says, rolling his eyes. ‘Her name is Esther. She’s... Well, she’s a bit of a... a character. She stayed at home when we were growing up, but she ran basically every committee in the county.’
‘And your dad? Dads love me.’
‘A bit of a man’s man is my dad, Otto. He started his business – which is kind of like Airbnb for rich people and their multiple homes, I guess – a long time ago and it’s still going. Branched out into other bits alongside it. He’s good at innovating, I’ll give him that. He’s very keen I do well in work as I... err... expect he wants me to take over the company.’
‘And you don’t want that?’ He pales a little, so she decides to skip over this for now. ‘Is he a whisky man?’
Christopher nods.
‘Excellent. I had a Cool Girl phase at uni and got really into whisky, which, it turns out, is very useful for talking to dads.’
It had absolutely worked with Freddie’s dad, who had admittedly liked her much more than Freddie probably did. Whenever Freddie came back from a trip home, he’d bring a bottle of something nice for Haf that his dad had sent up.
‘Okay, Esther and Otto Calloway. How cute. Siblings?’
‘Just Kit.’
Haf’s phone vibrates. Ambrose has sent a train emoji, followed by a question mark. She sends back a thumbs up, a pink heart and a sunflower, Ambrose’s favourite. Two blue ticks appear, but nothing else follows.
‘Everything all right?’
Haf puffs out her cheeks. ‘Ambrose just thinks this is a bad idea.’
‘Well, they’re not wrong.’
They share a warm smile.
‘I suppose if a friend of mine told me they were going to fake-date someone for Christmas, I’d probably kick off a bit too,’ Haf admits.
‘They sound like a good friend.’
‘They are.’ Apart from the Twitter roasting, she thinks, though she doesn’t say this in case she worries him. ‘We’re very different, so sometimes we clash a bit, but it’s good. I’m a puppy with separation anxiety who needs a lot of attention, so I get that I’m a bit annoying.’
‘You’ll be pleased to hear my parents have two dogs. No separation anxiety, though.’
‘That’s fine, I have enough for all of us. Go on, show me a picture then.’
Christopher’s phone is filled with photos of two tan terriers with grey wiry bristles around their mouths. ‘Stella and Luna,’ he says. ‘Border terriers. Probably the biggest personalities in that house, just about. Slip them a bit of bacon and you’ve got friends for life, though.’
‘I love them,’ Haf whispers. ‘I’ve missed being around animals. Renting is so shit for that. I’m going to be unbearably clingy to them, just to warn you.’
‘Taking the dogs out for a walk is also a good excuse to escape any situations that might arise.’
‘Are you saying I should be prepared for some family drama?’
Christopher pauses a little too long. ‘It’s not going to beEastendersor anything, just maybe a few comments. A disagreement or two, maybe.’
‘Good to know. Also, you skipped your sister. Give me the details so I can get her on side.’
