He sighs deeply, and she can hear the curl of a smile when he says, ‘Me too.’
Chapter Ten
Several unusual noises in succession wake Haf the next morning. First, a bell – not a distant church bell, but something closer and more demanding. This is followed by the cackling squawks of a flock of geese, capped off with the howling woo-woo-wooooo barks of Stella and Luna.
As she wriggles up to sitting, Christopher bustles in with two steaming cups of tea.
‘Thought caffeine might be needed.’
‘You thought right. Bloody hell, are you one of those dreadfully perky morning people?’ she says, realising he’s fully dressed.
‘Unfortunately,’ he says, brushing some errant toast crumbs off his mustard cable-knit jumper. ‘All of us are. Bar Kit.’
‘Deal-breaker!’ moans Haf, grabbing her phone from under the pillow. Her work alarm hasn’t even gone off yet. ‘If I’d known I was coming into the household ofactive people,I’d never have gone along with this. You’re not going to make me go on a pre-breakfast hike, are you?’
‘Hikes come after breakfast,’ he says with a teasing wink.
‘Christmas is in three days. Surely, surely that’s holiday-mode time?’ she murmurs.
He draws the curtains and wipes the window down with a cloth from the radiator that appears to only exist to wipe away condensation – this is the work of an adult person, thinks Haf.He opens the window to let fresh air in, and she dives back under the covers.
‘Oh, you devil, close that!’
He rolls his eyes and shuts it. ‘A bit of fresh air never hurt anyone.’
‘Tell that to all the dead people on Everest.’
‘Speaking of, I thought you might want to see the snow.’
Haf scrabbles out of the bed to the window. Christopher’s right. A respectable blanket of snow covers everything. Ambrose had told her when she moved there that York always got a thick layer in winter, but it hadn’t landed before she’d left and part of her was worried she had missed out. But here it is.
‘We don’t normally get it down here at Christmas, but the weatherperson said the country is covered. Even London, apparently.’
‘We never got snow in Wales either. Too close to the sea,’ she whispers, enraptured.
‘Our first white Christmas, perhaps?’ he says with a boyish smile.
The sunrise crests over the trees in the distance, brightening the sparkling white.
‘Should I get up?’
‘Sure, but no rush. I’m just helping Mother with some preparations. Just take your time, and I’ll make you some breakfast when you join us?’
‘How very boyfriendly of you.’
He beams, apparently very pleased to be useful and in the presence of snow, and practically skips out the door, closing it softly behind him.
She opens up Twitter and is briefly confused as to why her account is locked until she remembers doing it so the Calloways couldn’t find her.
However, she might not have needed to worry so much about that, because it turns out Ambrose is running another poll.
@ambroseliewWhat would you do if you fancied your boyfriend’s sister?
Expire: 42%
Dump him for her: 25%
Other (explain):33%
