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‘Those damn crazy Brits,’ my dad mutters.

‘You do look especially healthy though, you have good colour in your cheeks,’ my mom adds. I didn’t think I’d miss them as much today but seeing their faces on the screen, when they’ve just woken up for Christmas Day, makes me realise what I’m missing – freshly brewed coffee, sticky cinnamon buns and my dad being surprised when I open my gift as he has no idea what’s in there.

‘So how are you guys doing?’ I ask, watching Meatball eat that cinnamon bun meant for me.

‘We’re all good. Maddie will come over soon and we’ve got a prime rib on the go. So you’re telling me those pictures you sent are real? It’s gorgeous there, you’re so lucky.’

‘It is. They’re a nice family, they’ve taken me in,’ I say.

‘Well, I am super glad. I didn’t like the idea of you being on your own,’ my mom says. ‘And your father has told me not to say anything, but…’

‘Joy,’ my father says exasperatedly.

‘Bob, I have to! The girl in your photos, does she have a name?’

I smile as they both lean in to the screen. ‘Her name is Phoebe.’

‘And are you… courting?’ my mother asks.

I snort with laughter. Probably not after I pushed her into the sea and she screamed as her head went under. She’s been decidedly silent with me since. ‘We are friends.’

‘Friends?’ my mother says, making speech-mark signs with her hands.

‘What does that mean, Mother?’ I ask her.

‘I don’t know what you young people call it. We’re talking. It’s a situationship. It’s complicated,’ she says dramatically.

‘Friends. Just friends.’ Who have energising, intense sex too.

They both nod slowly.

‘Speaking of which, you never told me about New Year’s – about your plans. Maddie told me yesterday.’

They both look at each other sheepishly. ‘We don’t have to go if it’ll be awkward. I don’t like the idea of having to wear a penguin suit,’ my dad says, clearly trying to gauge my reaction. ‘But it’s Jed and Inga and it’s a tradition, right?’

Ah, Jed and Inga. The prospective parents-in-law who sent me a basket of muffins when their daughter unceremoniously dumped me. Inga still occasionally likes my Instagram posts and I never know how to feel about that. ‘They sent a hamper at Christmas. An olive branch I think. I think they still want the families to be friends.’

I pause for a moment at how they’ve been won over by a hamper. They have been friends with the Pattons for years and, despite my emotional devastation, their friendship persists. I will admit that stings a little. ‘Maybe. I don’t know. If you think we should go then I guess I can tag along.’

‘I think it’ll be nice to let them know that all of it was amicable. That we’ve all moved on from it,’ my mom says.

We have? I go a little quiet, hoping they can see how talk of anything to do with Avery just drops the mood a bit. It’s Christmas, after all. We can talk about her another time.

‘Any plans between today and the twenty-eighth?’ my dad asks me, trying to pick up the conversation again.

‘I’m going to see West Ham,’ I tell them.

My mom narrows her eyes in confusion. ‘Well, that sounds awesome. Is it English ham? I hear it’s very tasty. What do they serve that with?’

My dad grins broadly. ‘We miss you, kiddo – you know that, right?’

‘I know. I miss you too, especially on a day like today.’

I see my mom’s eyes mist over. ‘Merry Christmas, Joshua. Love you. Give our love to Phoebe too, yes?’

I laugh. ‘Merry Christmas, guys.’

I end the call, and sigh loudly as the screen goes to black. I’m sitting here in a stranger’s house, in a spare bedroom, looking outside at light flurries of snow being blown up by the breeze but slivers of blue sky trying to burst through.