A Creative Spirit with a Flair for Drama
“Don’t you regret it?” asked Max, holding Polly close against his chest.
“No. Do you?” She tilted her head back to look up at him.
“I’m happy. You know, the moment you walked into our home with Lucy, I knew it was fate. Everything that happened before you… it all led us here. After she left—”
Polly pressed a finger to his lips.
“Don’t bring up the past. Everything’s going to be fine now.”
A year earlier
Polly spread a festive tablecloth over the dining table, then carried in a stack of plates, forks, and two wine glasses.
“Are you sure we made the right call staying home? It’d be livelier with friends. We could still pop over to Tom’s,” said Daniel when she returned to the kitchen.
“Positive. Take these out.” She handed him a platter of cold cuts and cheese and a bowl of salad. “We’ll see our mates tomorrow. Three years together, and we’ve never spent New Year’s Eve just the two of us. However you ring it in, that’s how the year will go.”
“So you’re programming us for a whole year of just us two?” Daniel lingered in the doorway.
“Wouldn’t that be lovely? Shame it’s not realistic.” She sighed.
“All right, let’s give it a go.” He relented and carried the plates out.
Polly fetched a bottle of champagne from the fridge and another salad bowl before joining him.
“Well? Looks nice, doesn’t it?” Daniel gestured at the table setting. “Can we bid the old year farewell? I’m practically drooling.”
“Not yet. Give me five minutes. I need to put on my new dress and freshen up.” She headed to the bedroom.
“Why bother with a new dress if it’s just us?” he muttered, snagging a slice of ham.
“Because it’s a celebration!” Her voice carried from down the hall.
*Bloody drama queen*, Daniel thought irritably, grabbing another slice.
Soon, Polly reappeared, radiant in a deep blue dress, her curls loose over her shoulders. Daniel gave an approving nod as she twirled on her heels, the fabric flaring like a bell before settling around her legs.
“Now we can sit down and say goodbye to the old year,” she said cheerfully, glancing at the clock.
“Blimey, this spread’s too much for just us. Should we call Mark? He’s home with his mum,” Daniel suggested as he sat.
“We’ll ring him tomorrow. Pop the champagne.” Polly’s face was alight with joy.
*She’s acting odd tonight*, Daniel thought as he twisted the cork.
“You seem… different,” he hesitated, searching for the word, “excited.”
“A bit. Wait and see.” Her news burned inside her, but she’d save it for the stroke of midnight—no better time for a grand reveal.
They toasted, nibbled on the salad. Daniel leaned back, stuffed, while some light telly played in the background.
“Why aren’t you drinking?” He noticed her barely touched glass.
“Don’t fancy dozing off before the countdown.” She shrugged.
“Off for a smoke.” He stepped onto the balcony.
Fat snowflakes drifted down. Lights glowed in nearly every window, fairy lights flickering. From a nearby yard, firecrackers popped, followed by cheers, though the buildings blocked his view.
“Dan, come in—the PM’s about to speak,” Polly called through the cracked door.
He took a final drag and flicked the cigarette into the dark, watching the ember vanish. Back inside, the Prime Minister droned on. Daniel half-listened, refilling his glass, mind buzzing with too many wishes to pin down.
“You still haven’t drunk yours?” He frowned at her full glass. “How’re you meant to make a wish?”
“Daniel, there’s something I need to tell you.” She straightened. “Maybe top yours up first?” She waited until he did. “This New Year… we’re not just two anymore. We’re three. A proper little party.” Her eyes sparkled.
He stared blankly.
“Don’t you get it? I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby. Well, he’s already here—just tiny.” The words tumbled out.
Daniel drained his glass and set it down heavily.
“Aren’t you happy?” Her smile faltered.
“I am, but… we said we’d wait.”
“It’s been three years. I’m twenty-eight. I want this.” Her voice wavered. “What’s there to wait for? He’s already on his way.”
“But… you were on the pill.”
“I stopped last month. Usually it takes ages, but it just… happened. Brilliant, right?” Her enthusiasm withered.
“So that’s why you skipped Tom and Laura’s?”
“Yeah. Honestly, I thought after this, you’d propose.” Her voice cracked. “Guess not. Fine, then. You can still catch Tom’s.” She jumped up and fled to the kitchen.
“Polly, I didn’t say I wasn’t happy—just shocked.” He chased after her.
She darted onto the balcony, gripping the door. “Don’t be daft—you’ll freeze!” He yanked it open, nearly sending her stumbling into him.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d stopped?”
“Because you’d have talked me out of it again! We’re just… coexisting. This isn’t a family.” Tears spilled freely now. “Go on, have your fun!” She dashed to the bathroom.
Outside, fireworks boomed.
“Sorry I’m not who you wanted. I can’t do this…” He pressed his forehead to the door. The tap ran.
Back in the lounge, he eyed the festive spread, her untouched glass. He grabbed it and downed it. *Happy bloody New Year.* Anger simmered. *Why’d she ruin it? We were fine. Sod this.* He threw on his coat and left.
Polly heard the door slam and sobbed into her hands, tears staining her blue dress. She cleared the table, changed, and curled up on the sofa. The telly played cheerful tunes.
Daniel didn’t return that night, or the next day. Her friend Emily dragged the story out of her.
“Men just panic. He’ll be back. You mustn’t stress. Want me to talk to him?”
“No. Just go. I won’t do anything daft.”
Three days later, Daniel slunk back, full of apologies. But the air stayed frosty. By the time the holidays ended, they barely spoke. His phone buzzed constantly.
“Nothing to say?” Polly finally asked.
“What d’you want to hear? Fine—I’m leaving. You tricked me.”
“Go on, then.” She turned to the window.
“Thought you’d have got over this tantrum.”
“Wanting a baby is a tantrum?”
“I can’t even talk to you…”
After he left, Polly wept for a day straight. That night, pain ripped through her. The ambulance came too late.
She returned to work at the music school pale and hollow, pupils ranging from talented to lazy. Bright, diligent Lucy had stopped attending in December. Polly assumed she was ill, but February came with no sign of her. The headmaster said her father had pulled her out.
“Why? She’s gifted—perfect pitch. Give me their address. I’ll talk to him.”
After work, she trudged through the frost to Lucy’s. A tall man in his mid-thirties answered.
“I’m Lucy’s music teacher. May we talk?” Her lips were numb.
Lucy bounded over, hugging her. Max—her father—poured Polly tea before asking why she’d come.
“I wanted to know why Lucy left. She’s talented.”
“Keep your voice down,” he murmured. “My wife… she left us. I’m swamped with work. No time for music lessons. She’s on after-school club now. Evenings, we’re both knackered.”
“Let me teach her. I’ll mind her too.”
“You’re serious?” He frowned.
“Yes. Her hands, her ear—she can’t quit. I’ll come three times a week. Or fetch her from school, do homework, then lessons…”
“Why would you?”
She lowered her eyes. “I… live alone. My boyfriend left when he found out I was pregnant.”
Lucy returned to lessons. Polly rearranged her schedule to collect her at lunch, bringing sandwiches or home-cooked meals. Lucy thrived, even sitting in on others’ lessons.
Sometimes Max called, running late. Polly would take Lucy home, and they’d wait, playing piano or reading.
One evening, Daniel turned up. Polly had forgotten he still had a key.
“Who’s this? Private pupil?”
“Yes. Here for your things?” Her calm startled him.
“No, I wanted… Can we talk alone?”
“She’s just a child. Speak.”
Voices erupted in the hall—Max hadAs Max stepped inside and saw Daniel, his protective instincts flared, but before tensions could rise, Lucy rushed between them with a bright smile, her small hands clutching both men’s sleeves, silently reminding them of the new family they’d all become.
