Page 80 of Make You Mine This Christmas

‘Fuck off,’ she barks at the goose, hoping it will go away.

On the upside, it now seems no longer interested in Cupid. The downside is that it’s ready to murder Haf instead.

Wiggling her foot free, Haf takes another quick step forward, arms stretched out for Cupid, who has been watching this whole farce with what can only be the reindeer equivalent of great concern.

Will he even let her pick him up? He’s much bigger than she remembers, now that she’s closer to him. And those tiny antlers are almost certainly going to give her a black eye.

‘Come on, Cupie. It’s me, your old friend Haf. The one with the carrots. Let’s get out of this nightmare, come on,’ she coos.

Haf takes one last stride forward, Cupid almost within reach, but as she does, the horrible goose leaps forward and grasps her arm in its beak. The entire act shocks her so much that she doesn’t make a single noise, and simply keels over, landing arse first in the duck pond. The disgusting water goes practically up to her chin.

A wave of cries goes up from the crowd, followed by several people yelling her name.

Arse suctioned firmly to the mud, Haf rolls herself upwards and staggers to her feet in a kind of rough doggy paddle.

To her surprise, the crowd cheers.

And the sound is followed by a series of very loud thuds.

An army of children has assembled on the bank and are throwing snowballs right at the goose. They all have terrific aim – a credit to the Oxlea school district’s physical education programme – and soon the goose is dodging and swerving out of the way of huge chunks of snow. To her relief, it begins to back away across the ice, and to the bank furthest away from the frozen artillery regiment, hissing and honking as it goes.

Soaked to the bone, Haf reaches out again for the baby reindeer.

Unsurprisingly, Cupid doesn’t see a rescuer in front of him as much as a veritable swamp monster, and so doesn’t seem particularly inclined to leap into her arms.

‘Come on, babe. Let’s get out of here,’ she pleads. ‘I’m freezing my tits off.’

At her words, Cupid begins sniffing, scenting the air. He stretches out his long neck and sniffs right in the direction of her boobs.

By some kind of miracle, and well-constructed underwiring, the carrot she found before is still wedged in her bra.

‘You want this?’ she says, taking it out to show him. Her ice-cold fingers against her warm skin make her shriek. In a flash Cupid has taken it from her hand and she sweeps him up into her arms. His little tail wiggles with delight as he happily munches away.

Together, they wade slowly back as the fête attendees start to clap and cheer. His back legs drag a little in the water, and he keeps kicking his feet up to keep them dry, and whacking Haf directly in the stomach as he goes.

‘Just a bit longer, mate, come on.’

As well as not accounting for how big he is, Haf had not considered how heavy he was and how little carrying of living animals she’s done.

Her soaked body is screeching at her to give up, to drop the reindeer, to leg it out of here, or to just expire so she won’t have to feel any of the above any more.

‘Come on, you’re almost there,’ Kit shouts from the bank, antique Santa hat jauntily placed on her head. ‘Just focus on me!’

So Haf does. Eyes on Kit, she takes one step at a time. Cupid, who is now done with his carrot, begins to honk happily,rubbing his head against her shoulder. She takes this as a sign of encouragement too.

They’re almost at the bank, and so many arms stretch out towards them.

She pulls her foot up in the shallows with an enormous glug, and falters, the foot underwater sliding and she’s certain she’s about to fall over, crashing both her and reindeer into the muck.

But someone grabs her, and she’s steady. She lets out a huge breath and opens her eyes, to find Kit in the water with her.

‘Last few steps,’ she says, steadying them both with her walking stick against the bank. ‘You’re almost done.’

‘Who’d have thought wading through a mucky pond with a baby reindeer in your arms would be hard, eh?’ Haf jokes through gritted teeth.

‘What a trio we make.’ Kit laughs, pulling her along. ‘Clumsy, chaos and the structurally unstable.’

‘Which is which?’