Page 72 of Make You Mine This Christmas
‘Hi, Laurel,’ says Christopher, placing a polite kiss on her perfectly contoured cheeks.
‘Hello!’ says Haf. ‘Nice to see you again.’
‘Oh my God, look how adorable and Christmassy you both are!’ she cries. Her perfectly manicured nails flick the bell at the end of Haf’s hat, which sounds a very feeble chime. Maybe sheshould listen to Esther and make a new one; this is practically an antique.
‘Be careful with that. It’s basically an antique,’ says Kit, who appears beside them, clutching a cup of hot cider in one hand. In the other, her black walking stick has been replaced with a bright red one wrapped with white ribbon, so it looks like a candy cane.
‘You’re looking very Christmassy too,’ Haf says a bit too enthusiastically.
‘Laurel’s handiwork,’ Kit says, turning it back and forth. ‘I like it.’
Calm down, Haf. Just act normal, if you can imagine what that’s like. ‘Thanks for letting me wear the hat.’
‘Did you see over there is a cute little stall where you can go decorate your own baubles?’ Laurel says, pointing over from where they came... right at a familiar flash of Calippo orange. ‘Why don’t we go—’
‘NO!’ shout Christopher and Haf in union, before looking awkwardly at each other.
‘Not right now, you just got here,’ says Christopher, trying to rescue the moment.
‘Yes, let’s go later!’ blabbers Haf, spilling more hot mulled wine onto her fingers. ‘Let’s catch up and drink this searing booze first.’
She tries to surreptitiously lick the wine off her hand, but Kit watches her with a baffled smile.
Laurel blinks a few times, but has the grace to move the conversation along.
‘Come, come. Let’s sit down,’ says Laurel, ushering them towards a picnic table covered in thick tartan wool blankets, the kind you might buy from a National Trust shop.
Haf does a quick look around at the people milling about, but luckily, Sally and her orange coat appear to have moved on.
‘What did you both get up to today? Haf, I heard you and Kit had a baking disaster.’
‘Oh yes, turns out Kit and I should not be allowed near a kitchen. We had good fun, though. Sang a lot of Dolly.’
Kit’s cheeks flush a little, but it must be the cold. And the wine.
‘Kiiiit, you never sing with me.’ She pouts. ‘I want to sing Dolly. Let’s go do karaoke.’
‘No!’ chorus the Calloways.
‘Wow, do you guys not like joy?’ asks Haf.
‘They get competitive,’ explains Laurel with a knowing look.
‘About... . karaoke?’ How can you be competitive?’
The Calloways eye each other like old rivals.
‘Hejust doesn’t want to be beaten again.’
‘Shejust can’t accept that it was a fluke that she won last time.’
‘It was not a fluke, and you know it.’
While the siblings bicker, Haf looks to Laurel for an explanation.
‘You know the one on the games-console things. It gives you a score at the end. It became... a source of conflict.’ Laurel leans in and whispers conspiratorially. ‘Truth be told, it just measures how accurately you can hold notes, and it’s absolutely nothing to do with how well you can sing.’
‘I was going to say, I’ve heard her sing. How bad must Christopher be for her to beat him?’
