A STRANGE NEW YEARS EVE
Harriet didnt want to go home. The workday of the thirty-first of December was mercifully short; all her female colleagues had darted off to their children, husbands, and bowls of coronation chicken. Joyous, radiant, a little breathlessarms laden with bags of satsumas and a customary bottle of prosecco, each courtesy of their boss, Mr. Nicholas Hill.
No one would be waiting at Harriets flat. There wasnt anyone to cook for, no festive salad to prepare. With a forlorn glance at the pyramid of satsumas encased in a crinkly bag on her desk, she sighed.
No, home didnt seem inviting at all. She busied herself with compiling a report when, not long after, Mr. Hill himself bustled into the office, puffing and hurried, his wool hat askew and duffle coat flung openthe lone man in their all-female team, besides being the manager.
Oh, why are you still here all on your own? You wont believe itIve forgotten my wifes present! he exclaimed, then disappeared into his office.
Five minutes later he reappeared, lingering in the doorway.
Still here? Why arent you off home?
Well, Id only be alone at home too, Mr. Hill.
He froze for a second, then shuffled over and perched beside her. For a moment, he regarded her with uncharacteristic gravity.
Right. Harriet, this simply wont do. Its New Years Eve, for goodness sake! Why so glum? Its a holiday; go on, chin up! No one ever got anywhere in life moping about. A woman ought to smile! Come on, enough of this, he fussed, whisking her papers from under her hands and stacking them, muttering, I let all the others dash off, and here she is, stuck fast
No worries, Mr. Hill. Ill see myself out, and lock up the office. Go on, your wifes waiting!
Are you sure? he asked doubtfully.
Absolutely!
Well then, Ill be off. Happy New Year, Harriet!
She sighed again. Truly, what a ridiculous thinglingering in the office at this hour. She should go.
Maybe I should order a pizza, she mused. Are pizza places even open tonight?
Her first call went unanswered. On the next, a cheerful girl chirped that they were closing at six, and wished Harriet a Happy New Year. Harriet glanced at the clock: five past six. She tried one last number, telling herself this would be the final attempt. To her surprise, the order was accepted. Gathering her work, shrugging on her coat, she grabbed the satsumas and champagne, and left the office.
And straightaway, the world outside took her breath away. The chilly winter air pinched her cheeks; the snow crunched softly beneath her boots. Street lamps burned with all their might, and a riot of coloured fairy lights blinked everywhere. People hurried home, overloaded with bags and parcels. Shops were still open, some last-minute souls frantically picking over the remains for gifts. Gradually, the nervous holiday anticipation seemed to stir within her too.
What nonsense, she rebuked herself, and boldly swung into the bright mouth of a supermarket.
Soon she was unpacking her groceries in her tiny kitchen.
Hope these potatoes boil in time, she muttered.
She switched on the telly, strung up the new garland shed bought, and plugged it in. A jolly thread of blinking colours started sidling along the window frame. With a spontaneous, twirling gesture she flung her hands in the air and set about preparing her New Years Eve feast.
After all, why not? For myselfbecause I matter!
While the potatoes cooled on the balcony, slices of smoked salmon and caviar-topped brown bread appeared on the table. Supermarket charcuterie was arranged on curly lettuce leaves atop a vast platter. A dish of cheddar cubes, pineapple chunks, bowl of satsumas from Mr. Hill.
Half an hour later, the salad was ready; chicken drumsticks were cheerfully crisping up in the pan. Harriet rolled out her little coffee table, laid on an embroidered cloth, and began ferrying plates back and forth. She set out a wine glass, a juice glass, knife and fork by her plate. Stepped back, surveying the spread with a careful eye, as if expecting a guest.
At half eleven, she reached for the prosecco, when suddenly the buzzer buzzer blared.
Did you order a pizza? an energetic male voice called through.
Blimey! Id forgotten! Harriet exclaimed. Yes, please come up! she buzzed him in.
How much do I owe you? she asked the cheerful young man with a perfectly square pizza box.
Nothing. Consider it a gift.
He had an open, genuine smile.
But I couldnt. Wont you get in trouble with your boss?
No trouble at all. Its my way of saying sorry the deliverys so late. Go on, its yours!
Harriet realised she was still clutching the unopened prosecco.
Hold onto this, would you? she asked, offering him the bottle as she took the box, Ill just pop this in the kitchen.
You dont really look like a delivery driver, she observed on her return.
Im not, he replied, grinning. Actually, I own the place. I let all my staff go home earlyyou know, New Years and all. I saw your order still hanging about and thought, may as well deliver it myself. No one waiting for me, unlike your pizza. Bit of a holdup on the road, though.
Ten minutes to midnight! cried Harriet. Open that prosecco! No point faffinglets send off the old year in style!
No problem. Do you have glasses?
While Harriet fetched two flutes, there came a glorious pop.
To the old year!
To the old year! they echoed, clinking glasses, downing the sparkles in one go.
Oh, what have we done?
What is it? he asked, suddenly concerned.
Youve had prosecco! Butyoure driving!
His grin broadened. Quite right.
So, how will you get home now?
Looks like I wont!
And youll never get a cab at this hour…
Precisely, he repeated with glee.
In that caseshoes off, come inside! Otherwise, well be celebrating in the hallway!
He stepped in, looking around. Its ever so cosy in here.
Pour anotherquick, the Prime Ministers speech is over!
Well then, Happy New Year er
Harriet.
Happy New Year, Harriet! Im Oliver.
Happy New Year, Oliver! Please try the salad, I made it myself. Although, Ive only got one set of cutlery. Actually, just dig in with your fork! Harriet babbled on, feeling curiously elated.
She liked Oliver; his ease made everything simple.
Mmm, tastes better straight from the bowl. Harriet, dyou have any brown bread? Im absolutely famished.
Of course!
When she came back with the bread, Oliver was gripping a chicken leg in each fist.
Couldnt resist, he apologised with his mouth full, but its all delicious. Youve got a talent for this!
Oh, Im so glad you think so, Oliver. I was afraid all this would go to waste. Look how much Ive madeI couldnt have managed it alone.
Who said youre alone? Im your willing helper!
Then dont dawdle!
A sudden, deep hunger caught Harriet too.
They devoured salad, forking it straight from the serving bowl, washed it down with prosecco, watched the New Years show and animatedly chatted about nothing much in particular.
I think weve finished the prosecco!
Ive got another bottle stashed in my carIll fetch it!
Ah, no, Im coming too!
The night air is glorious, Harriet said, arms outstretched as they stepped outside.
Here and there, fireworks crackled and bloomed above them.
You know what, Harriet? Marry me. Not now, I meangive it a year or so! You ought to know me better first, of course.
I do hope youre joking!
Dont count on it! he replied, eyes twinkling.
Well, thenI promise to think about it.
In the meantime, shall we carry on celebrating?
With an eager nod, Harriet watched as Oliver grabbed a bag from the car. Together, they wandered off back inside, ready to see the night throughInside, with the second bottle popped, they lounged on cushions by the window, watching stars wink between fireworks. Harriets laughter felt lighter, as if a window had opened in her chest, letting in the crisp, sweet air of possibility.
I never imagined this night would turn out so strange, she confessed, brushing crumbs from her skirt.
Strange is only the beginning, Oliver replied, pouring her another glass.
As midnights echo faded and the city quieted, Harriet noticed her phone blinking with a single, unexpected messagefrom her own number, somehow: Happy New Year, Harriet. You are exactly where youre meant to be.
She stared, stunned, then laughedthe kind of laugh that clears away lonely thoughts. The apartment, once so silent, now pulsed with warmth, voices, and future stories.
Raising her glass, she smiled at Oliver and at her strange good fortune. To new beginnings, then. Even the ones that find us when we least expect.
And as the frost painted delicate flowers on the window, Harriet realized she wasnt alone at allshe never truly had been. With Oliver beside her, and the bright world beyond, she leaned into the moment and into the new yeargrateful for the surprise of company, for laughter, and for lifes kind, necessary strangeness.
