‘Mmm, well, perhaps that’s enough for you then, dear,’ says Esther.
Under the table, Haf gives Christopher’s foot a little kick. She’s so completely unprepared for all of this.
‘God, I can’t imagine having to work with that arsehole,’ snarls Kit.
‘Don’t say “arsehole”, Kit.’ Esther sniffs.
‘He is, though. All the Ratliff-Zouches are, you’ve met them.’
Otto nods silently in agreement.
‘Don’t you have to be nicer to him now Laurel is dating him?’ asks Christopher.
‘Not if I can help it,’ she says, spearing an extra roast potato from the platter with her fork. ‘She’s a law unto herself.’
There’s a moment where they catch each other’s eyes across the table, and the gap between them seems to widen.
Kit lowers her voice and adds, ‘I didn’t tell her to break up with you for him, just so we’re clear.’
‘I didn’t think you did,’ mutters Christopher in a way that sounds not at all convincing.
‘Let’s not talk about all that business at the table,’ warns Esther.
The chill from the fresh air – and let’s face it, the icy conversation – brings up goosebumps on Haf’s skin, so she decides it’s time to don her nice jumper. After all, her plate is clean(ish) and she’s drunk most of her wine, which Esther has clearly cut her off from, so all the major stain options are out of reach.
She wiggles awkwardly into it, which seems to distract the Calloways, as once her head pops through the neck hole, everyone has gone back to eating.
Except Kit.
Kit is staring at her, eyes wide and a smirk playing on her lips.
‘What?’ Haf mouths.
Widening her eyes, Kit nods towards Haf’s chest.
There’s nothing spilled on her. How could there be? She only just put it on. She does a tiny shrug at Kit, completely confused by what she’s getting at.
‘Your jumper,’ Kit mouths.
Just to be safe, she checks her elbows to make sure she didn’t lean on anything as she put it on, but there’s nothing there either.
‘What are you doing?’ whispers Christopher to her.
Confused, she looks back to Kit, who is barely holding it together, lips clenched tight to hold in a laugh.
‘What?’ whispers Haf.
Esther, who doesn’t even look up from slicing into her last bit of beef, simply says. ‘Dear, I think she’s trying to tell you that the reindeer on your jumper appear to be engaged in coitus.’
‘In what?’ asks Haf, pulling out the material to look at it.
‘They’re fucking!’ cries Kit, who dissolves into such heavy laughter that she can barely get the ‘ing’ out before collapsing back into her chair.
‘Kit, don’t be vulgar.’
‘Oh, wow, yes, Haf. They do appear to be... active,’ says Christopher awkwardly.
He’s not kidding. The reindeer are patterned across in stripes, and what she thought were frolics are considerably friendlier.
