It hasn’t been her year.
First, there was the break-up. She and Freddie had been together since university in Liverpool and had moved into a little house in the leafy suburbs where the proper adults lived, away from the streets lined with big five-bedroom houses full of undergraduates. Together they made a home, and it was, for a time. But then she moved, chasing a job that matched her degree, and Freddie had decided that actually he’d much rather be with someone who had their life together, like, for example, Jennifer, the woman he started dating the second Haf set foot on the train.
Second, the job that seemed great on paper was not actually the cushy, fun little role she’d hoped it would be. A communications position at a wildlife charity with fixed hours and a salary and no work on Christmas was a nice change from working in shops, even though she had liked the routine of retail a lot. Despite everyone and their mother wanting to ‘go green’, there were virtually no jobs and when she’d spotted the opening advertised online, she had no choice but to go for it. She’d pretty much got the job on the strength of her knowledge of Twitter and ability to write plausible copy. The thing she’d learned though was that while charities might be good, they’re still a workplace, and bad jobs and bad managers who insist on micromanaging can happen anywhere. Her own nightmare micromanager insisted she account for every minute of her time without learning what she actually did, meaning her responsibilities piled up and up and up as the charity CEOinsisted they needed to be present on every platform. The latest request had been for her to set up ‘one of those ClickClocks’.
And now, because bad things happen in threes, she’s facing a Christmas entirely alone.
‘The one good thing that’s happened this year has been you,’ Haf whimpers to Ambrose.
‘Obviously,’ they say with a wolfish grin. ‘I’m excellent.’
Through absolute sheer luck, a Twitter mutual had introduced them when Haf announced her impending move to York, as Ambrose was looking for someone to share their lovely two-bedroom terraced house. It’s one of those perfect cottages that people envy – just near enough to the river to be aesthetically pleasing but not get flooded, and just a few streets from the good brunch places. It had only taken an evening of DMing about their favourite foods and wish lists of restaurants to visit for Ambrose to say Haf could move in. Haf is fairly sure her friendship with Ambrose is the most successful stable relationship she’s ever had. They had even re-signed the lease for another year. Thank God for very online queer people.
Haf pulls uselessly at the toggles on her hoodie.
‘Did you book your train home already?’ Ambrose asks ‘Do you need me to ring the customer service people and frighten them into giving you a refund? I love doing that.’
‘No, luckily not.’ The train tickets home to North Wales were always eye-wateringly expensive, no matter how far in advance she booked them.
‘Well, now you can spend that on some posh Christmas food. We’ve got all the decorations up already at least.’
They decorated on the first day of December. Ambrose is strictly anti-tinsel, and Haf insists on fairy lights everywhere, but they’d managed to find a pleasant if slightly eclectic middle ground. The tiny yet convincingly fake tree was hung with Ambrose’s beautiful gold and silver baubles in between Haf’sassortment of weird ornaments that she had picked up over the years, the latest acquisition being a very shiny pink prawn holding a candy cane. They had filled the decorative fireplace with all their unused warmly scented candles, but quickly learned lighting them all at once in the hope it might look like a real fire was actually a hazard and the mixed scents made them both feel distinctly weird. Now they only light one at a time. Today’s choice was cinnamon apple.
‘I know, but also, I don’twantthat. I just want to be fed and not have to think about anything... I guess that’s what my parents wanted too.’
Ambrose smiles gently, as though they’d been holding back pointing this out. ‘It’ll be okay.’
‘Easy to say when you know your plans aren’t going to change last minute.’
‘You never know, Mum could surprise me and announce she’s going on a cruise. In fact, I kind of wish she would.’
Haf fixes them with a dark look because that’s the last thing in the world Ambrose’s mother would ever do, and they both know it. Liew family Christmases are a big family affair, with aunties, uncles, cousins and all the grandparents piling into the family home. Ambrose has promised to take Haf home for their Lunar New Year celebrations, and as much as she wants to ask them to see if they can fit her in, she feels embarrassed. It’s not the same when you haven’t been specifically invited, and also Ambrose puts up with her all the rest of the year; they probably need a break.
‘You’re being a stroppy baby.’
‘Well, you’re not being nice enough in my hour of need,’ Haf says, trying to ignore the whine in her voice.
Ambrose gets up, and a few minutes later returns with a mug of tea and the biscuit tin, and motions for Haf to drink some ofthe sickly sweet, strong tea. After a big sip, she says, ‘All right, maybe I am being a bit of a stroppy baby.’
‘The thing you’re missing here – because you’re too busy being an aforementioned stroppy baby – is that you now have the opportunity to have a perfect Christmas. You can do what you want, drink what you want, watch all the good films. You could make it your own perfect day – a nice hot bath, easy-cook Christmas food and all your favourite horrible pink wines. Heaven.’
This is a perfect example of where Ambrose and Haf differ. Ambrose isn’t antisocial per se, but Haf is the only person they’ve successfully cohabited with for more than a few months. In a way, Ambrose is a cat. They like to be admired and see people on their terms, but also love their own company.
Haf, meanwhile, is a puppy. A very needy puppy that needs people, attention and lots of praise.
‘A solo Christmas isn’t really my thing,’ she murmurs.
‘Look, I’m leaving on Christmas Eve. I’ll only be gone for a few days, and then we can do our own thing up here for Betwixtmas.’
‘That’s true . . .’
‘Maybe this is a good thing? You’ve been rushing through the last year, just trying to keep going at your horrible little job with your dickhead boss, to the point that you literally forgot that your parents were going away for Christmas. Maybe having some quiet time in that lovely brain of yours would be a good thing for you.’
‘That sounds like the exact opposite of what I want to do.’
‘Need and want aren’t always the same things. Anyway, let’s forget about this. I think youneeda distraction and some fun, and Iwantto go to a party tonight, so we are both going.’
Haf buries herself further into her blanket nest. ‘I don’t know if I want to go out after this, Ambrose,’ she whines.
