A NEW YEARS EVE INCIDENT
Sarah really wasnt keen to go home. The working day on the thirty-first of December was mercifully short, and all her female colleagues had scurried off to their husbands, kids, and bowls of potato salad. They left beaming and excitable, arms full of enormous bags of clementines and a bottle of proseccoeach courtesy of Uncle Brian, their boss.
But no one was waiting for Sarah at home. And she certainly wasnt about to start making potato salad for just herself. She glanced at the heap of clementines in the transparent bag on her desk and sighed.
No, absolutely no desire to go home. Sarah turned back to her report and carried on typing. A few minutes later, panting and red-faced, burst in Brian himself, wearing a bobble hat askew and a waxed coat flapping openthe sole bloke in their team, as well as the boss, if you could call him that.
Oy, whatre you still doing here, all by yourself? Ive gone and forgotten me wifes present, can you believe it? he blurted, before dashing into his office.
Five minutes later he reappeared.
You still here, eh? Why arent you off home, love?
Well, Id just be on my own there, too, Brian.
Brian, who only a moment ago was galloping out the door to his missus, froze in the doorway. He stepped over to Sarahs desk and plonked himself down. He gave her a solemn look for a solid ten seconds.
Right. Sarah, enough of this. Its New Years Eve, for heavens sake. Why such a face? Its a celebration, youre supposed to be having fun. Honestly, youll be single forever with that look. A woman should smile, you know! Come on now, none of this glum business, he chided, rifling through her paperwork and stacking it neatly for her. Let em go home, I said, but whats she thinking, sitting here glooming around
Dont worry about me, Brian. Ill be going soon. You get off to your wife. Ill tidy up and lock up the office myself.
You sure? he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.
Course, Sarah replied confidently.
Well, right then. See you next year, Sarah! Happy New Year!
Another sigh escaped Sarah. Honestly, how ridiculous was this? Who spends New Years Eve stuck in an office? She needed to get out.
Maybe Ill just order a pizza, she thought, Wonder if the pizzerias are even still open?
First number she diallednothing, not even a ring. Tried a second one; a cheery girl announced they closed at six and wished Sarah a Happy New Year. Sarah glanced at her watchsix o five. She called one last place, already resigned, but to her surprise, they took her order. With that, Sarah gathered her things, bundled up her clementines and prosecco, and finally stepped out into the wintery evening.
Andgood heavensit was utterly magical outside. The crisp air nipped her cheeks; snow squeaked merrily under her boots. Lamp-posts gleamed, festooned with winking strings of lights. People hurried home laden with bags, faces aglow with anticipation. Shops were still open, last minute shoppers grabbing gifts at the eleventh hour. Sarah couldnt help but feel the festive bustle soak into her bones.
Oh, what am I faffing about for? she scolded herself, marching straight into a wide-open supermarket door.
Soon, she was unpacking her loot in her own kitchen.
Fingers crossed the spuds boil in time
She switched on the telly for a bit of background cheer, strung her brand new garland in the window, and plugged it in. Tiny, colourful fairy lights chased each other up and down the frame, blinking madly. Sarah did a little victorious jig with her arms in the air and set about prepping her New Years feast.
And why not? Youve got to treat yourself sometimes!
While the potatoes cooled on the chilly balcony for her potato salad (well, salad might be a stretch), she laid out canapé with red caviar, and her favourite smoked salmon. The meat selectionsourced from the supermarkets poshest aislewas artfully fanned onto a massive platter atop a carpet of frilly lettuce. There was a cheese plate, and even a pineapple. The clementinesUncle Brians doinghad their own bowl.
Half an hour later, the potato salad was ready, chicken legs were sizzling in the pan, and Sarah wheeled the coffee table to the sofa, draped it in her prettiest lacy napkin, and loaded it up with all the dishes. She poured a glass and a tumbler of juice, fork and knife by the plate. She stood back to admire her handiwork like she was hosting a dinner party.
At half eleven, she was preparing to pop the prosecco when her intercom buzzed.
Pizza delivery! came a sprightly male voice.
Oh blimey, Id completely forgotten!
Absolutely! Come on up! Sarah said, buzzing him in.
How much do I owe you? she asked the handsome young man holding the flat square box.
Nothing at all! Take it, its a gift.
He had an honest, warm smile.
I cant possibly! Theyll dock it out of your pay.
They wont, honest. Think of it as a reward for being the last order. Please, just take your pizza.
Sarah realised she was still clutching her prosecco bottle, unopened.
Would you mind holding this? she asked, handing over the bottle and taking the pizza from him.
You dont really look like a delivery man, Sarah remarked when she returned.
Im not, he grinned. Im the owner! Let my team go early, you seefamily and all that. Then I spotted your order still unfulfilled. Figured Id deliver it myself. Nobodys waiting for me anyway, unlike the pizza. Ran a bit late though.
Only ten minutes left! Sarah exclaimed. Quickopen the prosecco! Got to toast the old year!
No problemshould I find some glasses?
While Sarah fetched flutes, there was a resounding pop.
To the year that’s leaving us!
To the year that’s leaving!
They lightly clinked glasses and drank the bubbly in one go.
Oh dear, whatve we done? Sarah giggled.
Whats happened? asked the man, suddenly worried.
Youve just drunk prosecco! But youre driving!
He gave a sheepish smile. Ah, quite right.
So how exactly are you going to drive?
Looks like Im not.
And booking a cab is hopeless
Absolutely hopeless, he agreed with obvious glee.
Do you know what? Sarah announced, Get your shoes off and come inside! Otherwise, well see in the New Year in my hallway!
Wow, its cosy in here, he said, stepping in.
Pour a fresh onethe Prime Ministers probably done his speech by now!
To the New Year um
Sarah, she prompted.
To the New Year, Sarah! Im Tom.
To the New Year, Tom! Go on, try the saladI made it myself. Sorry, only one set of cutlery, but if you dont mind, just dig in with a spoon!
She talked a mile a minute, and for some reason, felt giddy in her own kitchen.
She liked Tom, liked that things felt so easy with him.
Mmm, something about eating from the bowl makes it even better. Sarah, you wouldnt have any brown bread, would you? Starving, honestly.
Of course!
Returning with bread, Sarah caught Tom with both hands clutching bare chicken bones.
Couldnt help myself, he said with a mouthful. Delicious. Sarah, youre a cracking cook!
Im so glad, Tom. I thought all this would just go to waste. You see how much I madetheres no chance I couldve eaten it all on my own.
On your own? Rubbish! Ill help you polish it all off!
Right you areno slacking!
Sarah realised just how hungry she was too.
They ate potato salad straight from the bowl, washed it down with prosecco, watched dodgy variety shows, and chattered away, mostly about nothing at all.
I think we polished off all the prosecco!
Ive got another bottle in my carIll nip out!
Not without me.
Lovely night for it, said Sarah, arms stretched wide as they stood by Toms car, fireworks popping all around.
Tell you what, Sarah. Marry me! Not right away. Lets say, in a yearyoull need time to see what youre letting yourself in for.
I hope youre joking.
Not in the slightest!
Well, in that case, I suppose Ill consider it.
But for nowfancy carrying on celebrating?
Sarah nodded, smile as wide as the Thames, as Tom grabbed a bag from the car, and together they set off. After allits not a party if you have to do it all on your own.
