Laurel throws her head back and cackles.
‘Oi,’ snaps Kit.
Realising that anything else she says might be interpreted as siding with a Calloway sibling, she mimes zipping her mouth shut.
‘Anyway, I meant normal karaoke with a booth and a champagne button,’ says Laurel.
‘A champagne button?’ Haf whispers, her eyes wide. ‘I want to go to that.’
Laurel nods sagely. ‘When you’re next in London, we can all go.’
‘What have you been up to today, Laurel?’ asks Christopher, moving the conversation away.
‘It’s been a busy one,’ she says, and counts off the tasks on her fingers. ‘I just finished scheduling my socials for Christmas week. There were a few photos I needed to sort this afternoon, and luckily Kit appeared out of nowhere. She’s such a good photographer.’
Kit squirms at the praise. ‘I’m know how to point and click. You just have a good camera.’
Laurel, of course, ignores this. ‘Luckily, this morning I managed to corral Mummy to the spa, so she can have a relax before the big do.’
‘Oh yeah, the party. Is it a big thing, then?’ asks Haf, and at once, Kit and Laurel look at her with confused expressions.
‘The Christmas Eve party? Yeah, it’s pretty big,’ says Kit. ‘It’s practically a ball. We go every year.’
Wait. A ball?!
‘No one said anything abouta ball,’ Haf says, nerves creeping into her voice.
‘It’s not a ball,’ Laurel says.
‘How is not a ball?’ Kit retorts.
‘There’s no prescribed dances. We’re not inBridgerton. Though we do have a string quartet this year... It’s just a bit of an extravaganza.’
Haf is not sure how something can be ‘a bit’ of an extravaganza, but all she can think about is that this is absolutely, completely not what she planned for.
Laurel trails off as she watches Haf’s face fall, and turns to Christopher with an exhausted look, the kind that comes fromknowing someone for far, far too long. ‘You didn’t tell her to bring a dress, did you?’
Christopher blanches. ‘Erm, it slipped my mind.’
‘A dress? You mean like a ballgown or something?’ Haf panics.
‘Pretty much,’ adds Kit. ‘It’s all formal wear.’
‘Fuck. No, you didn’t mention that, Christopher,’ she whines. ‘At most, I’ve packed for turkey-curry-supper level of party. I absolutely did not bring anything remotelyballsuitable. What am I going to do? Turn up in my shagging-reindeer jumper and fluffy coat.’
Laurel, quite unsubtly, kicks Christopher under the table. ‘You little turd. Was this to try and get out of coming?’
He doesn’t even bother to lie.
‘Christopher.’ Haf groans. She wouldn’t have minded if she was in on it, but this feels unfair, like he’s hung her out to dry just to save himself.
‘Useless man! Even if Haf doesn’t have a dress, you know Esther would drag you there. It’s forcharity, Christopher. You can’t be a big baby about it. This isn’t about us.’
At this, Christopher flushes bright red under the furious gaze of the three women.
‘S-s-sorry, Haf,’ he stutters, finally. At least he looks apologetic. ‘We can go shopping tomorrow. I still have presents to buy, anyway.’
Kit raises a finger. ‘I’m sorry, what?’
