“Eddie’s out with a baby,” I said, almost laughing, as if I were spilling tea over a cuppa.
“Where are you going?” Emily asked, eyes still glued to the grocery list she was scribbling on the kitchen table. She hadn’t even heard the words leave my mouth.
“All the way!” I blurted, feeling oddly light.
“All the way where?” she repeated, a hint of panic in her voice. “What about New Year’s?”
Eddie had decided to bolt right before the clock struck midnight, not to a faroff exotic island, but just out the front door of our flat on a rainslicked Manchester street. He strutted out, polished shoes clicking on the pavement, a faint trail of the expensive aftershave she’d given him still hanging in the air.
He’d been packing for weeks, trying to explain why I should understand and forgive himthere’s even a TV show about that sort of thing, you know. And, apparently, God himself had given him the nod.
The Christmas tree was already up, twinkling with lights. Emily was on the sofa, brainstorming the perfect party outfit, the menu, and a mountain of ingredients for the New Year’s feast wed planned with the gang. Her mood was as high as the ornaments on the treealways that buzz on New Year’s Eve, when the night feels like a promise of something better.
Emily, at fiftyfive, adored the holiday, just like most of us Brits do. The streets were losing their snow, which was a bit of a dampener, but the postChristmas sales kicked in early, and she was always the thrifty sort, sorting gifts well in advance to save both pounds and nerves.
By now everything was readyearrings for the sisters, presents for the kids, grandkids, even a little something for her beloved husband. Eddie had gotten a nice woolly sweater with reindeers, a thing he’d been dreaming about for ages. It cost Emily barely a few pennies, but love makes you spend a pretty penny, doesnt it?
She’d already wrapped everything, tucked it away, wondering what surprise Eddie might bring her. A ring? No, maybe cashhe wasn’t exactly the most sophisticated shopper at fiftythree.
Then, out of nowhere, he dropped the bomb: “I’m leaving!”
“Where?” Emily asked, still lost in her list.
“All the way!” I repeated, the words sounding like a bad punchline.
“What do you mean, all the way? What about New Year’s?” she pressed, a note of disbelief creeping in.
“Eddie laughed, his face scrunching up. “When will you get wise, Emily? I love someone else, were expecting a baby. Clear as day now, arent you?” He said it slowly, almost as if reading a script for a dodgy soap.
The room went dead quiet. Emily wanted to ask, “What about me?” but that would have been like asking about the fireworks after the clock struck twelvejust too raw.
It turned out his new love was a lot younger, fresh as a spring lamb, and, well, seemed to suit him better. Eddie talked about it with a grin, as if bragging about a new car.
He even boasted, “My darling’s about to give me a son. Weve had two grownup daughters already, so finally an heir!” He kept on about how hed inherit nothingEmily earned more, owned both flats, and he was just a name on the lease.
Emily didn’t add any more poison to the pot of their dwindling marriage. She was too busy watching her perfectly planned world crumble in an instant.
“We met at a work party,” Eddie said cheerfully, as if that explained everything.
“Why should I care?” Emily snapped, disgusted.
“Because it’s all about love, right? It’s lofty for you, but for me it’s just… dirt,” she retorted, her eyes flashing with hurt.
She wondered, for the first time, if shed overestimated his cleverness. Eddie slipped into his new life, and Emily felt as frozen as the stone statues on a seaside cliff. She didnt laugh, didnt cryjust stared at the halffinished shopping list.
They’d been married twentyeight years, a solid, dependable partnership with adult kids. By all accounts, it should’ve been enough. Yet something was missing, and Emily crossed “Prosecco” off her listthe one Eddie loved most.
She flopped onto the sofa, thoughts empty, just a hollow ache. Three hours ticked by like a minute. Her phone buzzedher best mate Tess calling.
“What’s the plan with Ian?” Tess asked, almost breathless.
“Eddie’s gone!” Emily blurted.
“He really left?” Tess pressed.
“Did you know?” Emily asked, stunned.
“Everyone knew,” Tess replied after a pause. “Ian worked with Eddie, remember?”
“I knew and kept quiet?” Emily shouted, half laughing, half crying.
“Exactly! So what’s next for me?” Tess retorted, a little annoyed. “Will you sort things out, or what?”
Silence fell, then Emily just turned off the line.
It was right to be, really. She didn’t feel like celebrating New Year’s with the gangjust two friends, and she was alone. She decided to visit her elderly mum, then head to her daughter’s house on New Year’s Day, where the whole family would be.
There she announced, “Dad’s gone to his new love.” Everyone already knew, of course. The gossip spread faster than a city fire. She felt like a fool with a pair of horns stuck on her head, and her mood sank lower than the Thames in a dry summer.
She left the party early, trudging home on foot through quiet, snowdusted streets. The city was festooned with lights, but the crowds had thinned. The quiet made her feel a little lighter, as if the weight was lifting off her shoulders.
“Let them be happy,” she thought, smiling at the empty street. “No point in sulking.”
A year later, on exactly the same dateDecember 29thshe found herself again with the tree up, the list in hand, planning a New Year’s bash with Tess, just like before.
She was about to introduce Tess to Victor, a charming chap who’d just proposed to her. “What, you think I’m supposed to sit here alone on a dusty sofa?” she muttered.
Just then there was a knock. At the door stood Eddie, a small backpack slung over his shoulder, a bundle in his arms.
“Well, would you look at that!” Emily thought, half expecting a baby.
He said, “What if I wasnt home?”
“Id have opened the door with my key!” Eddie replied.
“What if I changed the locks?” she asked.
“You wouldnt, youre a softie,” he grinned, asking, “Will you let us in?”
Emily stepped aside, not wanting to shove a baby out. He slipped inside, placed the sleeping infant on the bed.
“How old is he?” she asked, flatly.
“Five months,” Eddie answered.
“Wheres your new love?” she asked, though she had no intention of welcoming a stranger with a child into her home.
“My loves moved on,” he said quietly.
“Well, that’s something,” Emily replied. “And why are you here?”
He started to undress the baby, and Emily, half amused, half irritated, asked, “You really arent going to let me keep him, are you?”
“Of course not,” Eddie said, realizing he’d overestimated her patience.
She laughed, “Fine, take your baby back, and get out.”
He tried to argue, but Emily told him, “Dont blame the devil for a night after a party. If you keep doing this, youre not a devil, youre just a mess.”
“Dont look at me like thatjust take your kid and go!” she snapped, quoting some old British humor about giving away scraps.
“If I dont leave?” Eddie asked suddenly.
“Then Ill stay, and we can sort it out later,” Emily said breezily. “We were supposed to celebrate at Tesss anyway. Victors already offering a place.”
She added, “Dont expect me to split the flat or share the mortgageno voting rights here.”
Eddie didnt seem to mind; he just needed a place for himself and the baby. His girlfriend had vanished a couple of days earlier, leaving a note that read, “Dont look for me, youre boring me.”
He took a few days off work, then the long holiday stretched on. Emily, ever the good host, told him to make himself at home while she sorted things.
“You gonna dress, feed, change diaperswhat else do young dads do?” Eddie asked, a bit flustered.
“Ive forgotten everything,” Emily replied, stepping out of the room.
She wondered if he was joking. “If not, maybe he should go to his mum’s. Shes 75, spry as ever, and can help at first. Then maybe a nanny.”
Emily was in the bathroom when the front door slammed shut. Eddie had left a crumpled tissue on the bedmaybe hed cried, she thought with a wry smile. “Better late than never,” she mused.
She felt no pity for the baby, not even a flicker of sympathy for Eddie. The whole thing reminded her of the odd British saying, “If youve got a lot of fish, youll end up with a few more.”
Now, instead of worrying about Eddies sweater, she was thinking about Victors lasagne, which he loved far more than prosecco. Eddie had always preferred a pint over a glass of bubbly, but now she only had Victor on her mind.
Victors present was ready: that same reindeerpatterned sweater Eddie never got last year, which, as it turned out, fit any bloke perfectly. Men in England love a good reindeer sweater, after all.
And thats where we arejust another New Year, a tree glowing, a list halfwritten, and life doing its usual twists. Cheers, love.
