Christopher follows, his arms out wide to grab Mark lest he keel over.
The crowd of onlookers disperse quickly as the band strikes up again, and as she steers this mass of a man down the corridor back to the front door, Laurel appears at their side.
They steer Mark into a chair in an alcove just off the main entrance, and Laurel asks one of the staff members to call a car to take him home. Haf wonders if they should stay with him, but within seconds he’s deep in loud-snoring sleep.
‘I’ll keep an eye on him,’ says Christopher. ‘He can get a little fighty when he wakes up.’
God, what a turd of a man, she thinks as she joins Laurel in the atrium where she is pacing and fiddling with her own stunning dress, a waterfall of silver silk that makes her look like an ice sculpture.
‘Oh God, thank you for that,’ Laurel breathes. ‘He’s been a completetoadall evening.’
‘It’s okay. I think he was just spoiling for a fight.’
‘Feels like he always is,’ she says, nibbling a nail.
Reaching up, Haf takes Laurel’s hand in hers to stop her chewing.
‘Laurel, can I ask you something?’
She nods eagerly.
‘Why are you with him? Do you even like him?’
Laurel nervously licks her lips. ‘I did, at the start. I think. Truth be told, I’ve wanted to break up with him for a while, but it’s the holidays! How do you break up with someone at Christmas?! It just feels so mean...’
‘The kindest time to break up with someone is as soon as you decide to,’ says Haf, parroting a relationship columnist’s advice she heard years ago. ‘Not that he deserves your kindness, but also you deserve to not have to deal with him.’
‘I know, I know.’ She sighs. ‘You’re right. He’s just been such a... such a...’
‘Arsehole.’
‘Yes! Arsehole. Especially around Christopher, and I feel awful for not noticing it all before.’
‘Infatuation does weird things to us.’
‘Rebounds too. Thank you, I really needed to get that out,’ she says, pulling Haf into a hug.
‘It was the least I could do after you made me this,’ says Haf, twirling about as Laurel releases her.
Clearly something in Laurel’s brain switches from crisis mode to business mode, and she appraises her work. She walks around Haf, making her turn this way and that to admire how the dress moves.
‘Wow, I really did a good job, didn’t I?’
‘An amazing job. A near psychic-level design job, I’d say. I can’t believe you did this just off my measurements. It’s perfect, Laurel. You’re really talented.’
She flushes at the compliment. ‘No, I...’ she begins, and before she can downplay her work, Haf stops her.
‘No, listen to you. You made something amazing, and you did a really kind thing for me. I’ll never forget that.’
Laurel wafts her hand at her face and looks up at the ceiling. ‘Hush, you’ll make me cry.’
‘You should, because have you seen how good my tits look?’
‘I thought it would be rude to comment, but really. Wowzers!’ She laughs, the tears dried now.
From his seat in the alcove, a semi-conscious Mark does an extremely loud burp that echoes around the atrium, and a fart. Haf doesn’t even hold herself back from rolling her eyes. Laurel is so much better than this man.
‘Have you shown Ambrose yet?’ Laurel asks, trying to feign casualness but her nerves are clear from her fidgeting fingers.
