‘No, no, go ahead. I can admire the view.’ He flushes again, and Haf adds, ‘I mean out the window!’
‘God, sorry. I need to relax.’
‘You’re doing fine. And anyway, I think it was more the almost dying and embarrassing myself in front of your parents that caused me to basically sweat through this layer of clothing.’
‘Oh, you were fine.’
Haf snorts. ‘You’re being kind.’
Christopher gives her a small smile. ‘I’m all done,’ he says, and she turns to see him in a navy shirt, sleeves rolled up at his elbows. ‘There’s a little bathroom just down the hall. I’ll let you freshen up and meet you downstairs?’
Truthfully, she does feel much better after a quick wash, spritz of perfume and a little spray of dry shampoo, so her hair doesn’t look quite so flat. She passes what must be Kit’s room as she goes between the bathroom and Christopher’s bedroom and tries to keep walking completely normally. Yes, she could stop and knock on the door, and they could hash it out right now, but then she’d have to admit what’s going on, or at the very least have a very awkward conversation. She’s not ready for that yet.
Back in the bedroom, she decides to unpack her squashed clothes and hang them up so they have time to get unwrinkled (at least one thing needs to).
Buried deep in the bag, her hand brushes across something wrapped in paper. She pulls it out and sees on a little card is written,A peace offering. Have a good time. Love you, you wally.
Ambrose. They really do care.
Her eyes mist with tears as she peels back the paper. Inside is a Christmas jumper, bright cheery Santa red with jumping reindeers and Christmas decorations all over it. The wool is soft, not like the scratchy polyester novelty jumpers you find on Amazon. It’snice.
She’ll call Ambrose after dinner, and make up with them properly. A little festive grovelling will go nicely with the jumper. Plus, it’s like Ambrose’s here with her now. Who needs a devil orangel on your shoulder when you have a sweater to conjure your most judgemental best friend?
Okay, I can do this, she thinks.
Haf slowly opens the bedroom door, worried she is going to bump into Kit up here, but thankfully her bedroom door is ajar. She makes it to the stairs and grips the stair rail. Peering downstairs, she kind of regrets agreeing with Christopher that she’ll meet him down there. The first time she stayed with Freddie, he hadn’t woken her up, and so she’d gone downstairs in pyjamas only to discover everyone fully dressed and sitting at the table reading papers. His parents didn’t seem super impressed that she was still in her pyjamas, even if it was barely eight, having trampled all over a house rule she didn’t even know existed. She feigned needing a glass of water before a shower and practically sprinted back upstairs. He had said it wasn’t a big deal, but it was. Or at least, it felt like it. The worst thing about other people’s families is that they think everything in their house is ‘normal’ and no one hands you the guidebook on the way in. You just have to guess.
So that’s on her mind. And the pretending to be Christopher’s girlfriend, convincingly. And Kit. And her raging crush on Kit. Just a few things.
Happy voices float up from downstairs as the Calloways laugh. It can’t be that bad. Just a few steps. She’s dressed this time, after all, and in a nice new jumper too. She takes a deep breath and walks down the stairs before she can worry about it any more.
In the hallway, Christopher passes, carrying serving platters from the kitchen.
‘You look nice,’ he says, gliding into what she presumes is the dining room with the practice of a waiter.
Esther and Otto are still in the kitchen, so she decides to play the good fake girlfriend and see if they need any help.
On the kitchen island are a few platters and jars of things to decant into ramekins. Whatever has been cooking in here smells divine.
It’s so warm down here from all the cooking and the still-roaring fireplace in the living room that she slips off her sweater and wraps it round her waist. At least this way she won’t get anything spilled on it.
‘Can you take the last of the vegetables through, and Otto will follow with the meat, and then we’re all ready to eat?’ says Esther, her voice monotone as she reels off the instructions, making sure nothing has been missed.
From the counter, Haf takes the platter, concentrating very hard as she picks it up and walks with it in the direction of the dining room.
As she passes, Esther apparently remembers the gravy, springing to life and decanting a pan on the hob into a floral gravy boat.
In the dining room, Christopher directs Haf to put the platter down at one end of the table in its correct space.
Esther and Otto arrive just after her and, satisfied, Esther claps and tells everyone to sit down, opening a window to let in some fresh air before she takes her seat.
The Calloways must have reverted to the usual seating plan from when the kids were growing up. Otto and Esther naturally take the two ends and she wonders if they sit this far away from each other when it’s just the two of them, a gulf of a table between them.
An extra seat has been put next to Christopher, which she presumes is for her.
She’s not materialised yet, but Kit must be about to sit opposite, where she’ll have the view of the gathering dark in the garden – perhaps being older meant she got to bag the best seat.
As Haf takes her seat, her hip bumps against the table, and the gravy boat, which Esther has just set down, ominously slops.
