‘That’s the Calloway way. What would you do if you didn’t work there any more? Can you afford to just quit?’
‘That would require them to pay me a decent wage,’ she laughs. ‘It’s not just that, though... It’s more like I don’t trust myself to make good decisions. Like, whenever I pick something, make a firm decision, it seems like the right thing in the moment. But so often it feels like things don’t pan out the way I expect. I just don’t trust my judgement. Better the devil you know, right? I mean, Ididjust get into a pond in the middle of winter.’
It all spills out of her so fast she can barely catch her breath. Everything she’s been holding in threatens to unleash right now, probably in part thanks to the glass of wine she apparently already finished. It’s like she can’t get enough air and her heart is leaping— but then Kit is there, facing her and her hand on her knee.
‘Breathe slowly. Follow me,’ she commands, and every cell in Haf’s body obeys, matching Kit’s long deep breaths.
They’re so close. So very close that Haf can smell the remnants of the deep oud perfume Kit wears, imprinted in the wool of her jumper.
Kit watches her breathing, and Haf has to drag her eyes away from her, over and over. It’s like looking at the sun; she’s going to get burned if she looks too long.
‘I’m okay,’ she says eventually, even though she’s not really okay for a very different reason – Kit’s hand is on her leg.
‘We don’t have to talk about it any more, but I will say one thing. You might be a bit, how would you say it? Esther would say “socially unpolished”—’
‘Wow, thanks.’
‘—but people seem to respond to you. When you came out from the swamp, Esther puther coaton you. I’m her kid, and I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t do that for me.’
Haf scrunches up her face. ‘I don’t think she likes me more than you. Even if you do seem to spend all your time annoying her by “being vulgar”.’
‘Perhaps not,’ Kit laughs. ‘But she trusts you, or she thinks she can rely on you. I don’t know. There’s something open about you that people respond to, so maybe you should be doing something with people, rather than behind a screen?’
There’s probably some element of truth to this, but this conversation makes her feel deeply strange. She doesn’t want to break the trust of Esther, and while she’s not sure Kit necessarilytrusts her, it still makes her feel unmoored to know she’s lying to them all. The lie is an itchy second skin.
‘You’re a people person, even if you’re a bit wonky about it.’
‘Hey!’ she protests.
‘I didn’t say it was a bad thing,’ laughs Kit. ‘It’s just very different from me. I’m not the warmest of people at first meeting. Can you imagine children listening to me telling them to pick up trash? They’d kick me in the back of the knee and run off.’
‘I’m sure there’s at least a few children desperate for a bit of cold authority. You know, future civil servants, cult members and that.’
‘Fucking hell.’ Kit laughs, swatting at her. ‘So you’re saying only the children primed for a bit of brainwashing would listen to me? That’s a more damning indictment of my character than anything else I’ve heard.’
‘I was trying to gas you up!’ Haf shrieks as Kit whacks her squarely in the face with a cushion. ‘I thought you’d love to know you’d make a great dictator!’
She takes a cushion from the pile, much to Stella’s annoyance, and bats it gently at Kit, who cackles in her face. ‘Is that all you’ve got?’
Chaos unleashes as Kit and Haf scrabble for more cushions to lob at each other, giggling like children. For all Kit’s sarcasm and coolness, it turns out she is also very silly. The dancing in the kitchen should have been a giveaway, but here Kit is scrabbling about and hiding behind furniture, very into this pillow fight.
‘You’ll never win!’ She cackles from behind an armchair. ‘I know where all the pillows are.’
And on cue, a tiny embroidered decorative pillow whizzes just past Haf’s head.
‘I have the power of sneakiness on my side,’ Haf says, edging slowly around the couch.
‘Sneaky? Have you heard yourself? You are a very loud person.’
Luckily, Kit is looking the other way, and Haf creeps closer to her. Just as Haf goes to take a proper swing, Kit spins round and clamps the cushion between her hands like she’s squashing a bug. The move shocks Haf so much that she barely notices as Kit yanks it out from her hands and lobs it across the room, where it lands with a soft thud.
They kneel facing each other, and Kit is so close to her that she can practically taste the wine on Kit’s breath.
‘Aha! And now you’re unarmed. What are you going to do now, huh?’
Haf can think of so many things.
In another universe, Haf would reach out and kiss her. Pull Kit into her arms and press their wine-stained mouths together. Or maybe, she would push a loose strand of hair back behind her ear, and kiss the newly bare skin where jaw meets neck.
