‘Hello,’ Haf says brightly, but he cuts her off.
‘No, I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know about your schemes or what reindeer you’re chasing.’
‘I just wanted to say thank you for looking after the gingerbread house for me.’
‘You’re welcome.’ He awkwardly runs a hand through his curly black hair and gets to his feet. ‘You know what? Take my seat. I’ll just leave!’
‘Oh, okay?’ Haf says, feeling a little bad but ultimately relieved. As he puts his glass on the bar, she calls, ‘See you again soon!’
‘I hope not!’ he cries and slams the pub door shut.
‘Christ, what was that all about?’ asks Christopher, passing her a cup of mulled cider.
‘He was the guy who told us off on the train. I keep bumping into him. He saved the gingerbread house from Cupid’s rampage.’
‘The one who overheard all the fake-dating stuff?’ Christopher says, paling.
‘Yeah, but every time I see him, he just freaks out, so it’s probably fine. I don’t think he’ll tell anyone.’
‘Wait, was he also running the raffle? I wondered why the person on the stand was being so weird.’
They curl up in the chairs and soon are well on their way to being a little drunk. It turns out that this pub’s version of mulled cider is practically rocket fuel, and after one cup – which Haf initially swigged like tea – they are both giggling like teenagers.
‘I know we said we wanted to get away from all that stuff,’ says Christopher, ‘but I’m glad you’re here and it’s all working out.’
‘Me too,’ she says. Emboldened by the booze, she adds, ‘You know, there’s another funny coincidence that I can’t get my head around.’
‘What’s that?’ he mumbles.
‘I’ve met Kit before.’
‘What do you mean?’ he asks sleepily.
‘On the way here, we met in St Pancras before you got there, and we flirted and I was going to ask for her number and then she disappeared off and...’
Haf trails off as Christopher sits up.
‘You mean, Kit recognised you?’
‘Yeah, but it’s okay. She just gave me shit for flirting. It’s all fine.’
But Christopher is not acting like it’s fine. ‘What if she tells my parents? Then everyone will think I’m an absolute laughing stock, having to strong-arm someone into pretending to date me—’
‘Christopher, you didn’t strong-arm me into anything. I agreed to this. It’s just a weird coincidence. It doesn’t matter.’
He says nothing for what feels like a huge stretch of time.
‘Please say something, Christopher,’ she croaks.
‘Why didn’t you tell me this two days ago when we got here?’
‘I... I didn’t know how to talk about it, and I didn’t want to upset you. I didn’t want to make things more complicated—’
‘Well, apparently they already are!’
‘Christopher, come on. Just listen to me,’ she pleads.
He’s just about to speak, and she hopes with all her heart that he’s going to say okay, it’s all okay, and we are a team, it’ll work out.
