Page 50 of Make You Mine This Christmas

‘I think I’ll be fine. We’re leaving the day after Boxing Day, so it’s only, what, five days and then we leave,’ Haf says, telling herself as much as Ambrose. ‘We can just be friends. It’s probably just the horn, you know? It’s not like I’m in love with her, I just fancy her a bit. I’ll be fine.’

‘I’m not sure what’s the most ridiculous part of this. The fact that you think that you can stop yourself from flirting with her, or the fact you seem to think Christopher’s not going to notice. I’m guessing you didn’t tell him about this funny little coinkydink. How is he going to feel about it all?’

‘He doesn’t need to know because there’s not going to be anything.’

‘What if he picks up on your pining? Your big, gooey eyes? Your whole horny goblin vibes. That face of yours can’t hide anything, especially not a crush.’

‘God, I hope he doesn’t work it out,’ she mutters. ‘But, like I said, if I keep focusing on us being friends, then the crush bit will die off. It’ll be fine!’

Stella and Luna rush past her back inside.

‘I should go. I just snuck out with the dogs.’

‘Send pics. Of the dogs,’ they say. ‘And the sister.’

‘I will.’ She licks her lips. ‘Will you... are we?’

‘We’re fine, and I will be your emotional support slash shouty mocking pocket pal, yes.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘I miss you.’

‘I miss you too.’

Chapter Nine

The glorious heat of the Calloway house hits Haf like a lullaby. She’s exhausted from the weight of everything, and bed, or rather Christopher’s bed, is calling to her.

The dogs trail her back into the living room, before slipping past to curl up in their basket in front of the fire.

‘I think I’m going to go up to bed, if that’s all right with everyone,’ says Haf, poking her head into the room.

‘Of course, dear. Are you well? It’s still quite early,’ says Esther. The big grandfather clock in the corner shows it’s only eight thirty, somehow.

‘Just tired from the journey!’

‘And we’ve put you through the ringer,’ says Otto, peering over his paper with a raised eyebrow.

‘No, honestly. You’ve all been lovely. I’m just wiped out from all the excitement. Perhaps I’m a border terrier too,’ she adds, as Stella begins snoring. Luna, in response, farts very loudly.

‘Hopefully not,’ chuckles Otto. ‘We’ll be stunk out.’

‘I’ll be up in a little while,’ says Christopher.

Kit says nothing, but that’s okay. Probably. It’s not like she wants her to.

The upper floors of the house are significantly cooler. This is probably why everyone is curled up in the living room around the fire. She swears there’s frost on the exposed wooden beams above her.

Thank goodness for proper pyjamas, she thinks, a sensible last-minute purchase after she realised all her current pyjamas had holes, stains or inappropriate slogans on them. She awkwardly clambers into the high bed and sinks down, dragging the soft covers up over her head so she can warm up quicker.

Her phone screen lights the dark, like she’s a child reading by torchlight. Except most children, or hopefully any, would not be scrolling Twitter.

Ambrose’s poll has gained more votes and replies. Apparently, people have a lot of thoughts about fake dating, and how no one with an ounce of sense would do that in real life.

Otherwise, her feed is full of people sharing festive photos from their family homes, from their childhood-made decorations to the makeshift beds that have been created for them in weird corners of the house.