‘Oh God,’ she whispers.
Swallow me whole, Earth! Just do it right now. A tiny sinkhole would be good, not for everyone, just me. Just right under this chair. Me and this fucking jumper.
‘I am so embarrassed. I’m so sorry,’ she says. ‘It was a gift from my housemate. I didn’t realise.’
‘A strange kind of gift,’ says Esther.
‘Yes, well, they’re a strange kind of friend,’ Haf says despairingly. ‘I’ll just take it off again.’
But as she slips her head down and pulls one arm out, she feels her fist connect with something distinctly fleshy, followed by a clatter.
‘Oh God, the gravy!’ cries Esther, and around her is a hive of activity as everyone, presumably, tries to mop up the gravy she just sent flying.
Jumper still stuck over her head, she mutters, ‘I just punched you in the face, didn’t I?’
‘You did,’ Christopher says, gently lifting the jumper off her face. ‘You’ve got a good right hook.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers, as she sees the red welt rise on his cheek.
The gravy is sopped up with the cloth serviettes, and order is relatively restored, apart from Kit, who is still uncontrollably giggling.
‘Chaos really does follow in your wake, doesn’t it?’ laughs Otto.
‘It seems like we’re set for an exciting Christmas,’ says Esther archly.
Chapter Eight
The rest of the meal is thankfully uneventful, if a little chilly from taking her jumper back off again. It may be an inappropriate item to wear at a family dinner, but, boy, is it warm and cosy.
Once everyone has decided they’ve had enough, Haf hops up and begins clearing the table.
‘I’ll do the washing up,’ she offers. She truly hates washing up, and realistically is completely rubbish at it, but right now she’ll do anything to be on her own for a few moments.
Christopher gets up and helps her clear the plates, and as she’s setting them down near the sink, everyone else comes in carrying more of the dirty dishes.
‘You’ll only need to do the glasses,’ says Esther. ‘Everything else will go in the dishwasher, but don’t even bother trying to do that. Otto will just redo it, anyway.’
Fuck. She was hoping for a longer and considerably less delicate job than just washing the five glasses, but it’s better than nothing.
‘I’ll come do that in a moment,’ says Otto. ‘Son, can you come help me with something on the computer? I am worried I’ve got one of those viruses.’
Christopher flashes her an apologetic look, before following his father out of the room.
In the dining room, there’s just a few bits left. Now that the glasses are her job, she carefully takes them from each of theplace settings, crossing them at the stem in one hand like she learned at the restaurant she worked at for like two weeks when she was a teenager.
‘Be careful with them. They were my mother’s,’ says Esther as she passes her in the corridor.
Double fuck.
Luckily, Esther disappears, leaving Haf alone in the kitchen with the heirloom glasses and dirty dishes. It all feels a bit unintentional Cinderella.
Behind her, Kit puts the salt and pepper back in their places and swivels lids back on the sauce jars.
She can feel her when she’s near, which is a weird thing to say, but it’s true. Haf’s not sure she’s ever been so aware of someone else’s body.
Haf runs the hot tap into a plugged sink, and makes far too many suds on the sponge, threatening to make everything slippery.
Kit appears at her side, a tea towel in one hand. ‘I’ll dry.’
