A faint brush of sleeves
As the New Year crept nearer, Eleanor felt a trembling excitement. This would be her fortythird New Year, and each one still smelled of fresh oranges, making her feel like a child waiting for a secret present.
Eleanor lived alone in a cosy flat in Bristol. Six months after shed married, her daughter, Beatrice, had flown off with her husband to a seaside town in Devon, where his parents ran a charming inn and the young couple had been handed the same trade. Eleanor was delighted for her.
New Year always brings the impossible, the things that could never happen on any other day, she told her colleague and friend, Lydia, over tea.
Ah, Eleanor, youre such a romantic, almost a heroine, Lydia laughed. Youre no longer seventeen, yet you still float on clouds, waiting for something extraordinary.
Eleanor sighed. What else can I do? Romance never fades
Eleven years ago, Eleanors husband, Rupert, had been claimed by a car crash. She raised Beatrice alone, never dreaming of another love, convinced that she had already known happiness with Rupert. Their love had been the kind that seemed timeless.
Eleanor, you shouldnt stay single forever, Lydia urged. Youre beautiful and kind; you ought to make someone happy.
I compare every man to Rupert, Eleanor admitted. I doubt therell ever be another like my Rupert.
Two months before the holiday, Eleanors path crossed with a tall, lithe blond with striking blue eyes named Ian. They brushed shoulders at a tiny café during the lunch break, standing close to the register. The contact sent a sudden, warm surge through her, a fluttering that rose from head to toe.
Ians gaze lingered on her, and she felt herself drown within it.
Lord, when was the last time something like this happened to me? she whispered, and the thought vanished as quickly as it had arrived.
She settled at a nearby table with her tray, and Ian drifted toward her.
May I join you? he asked, a smile brightening his face.
No, I dont mind at all, she replied, thinking, *his smile is utterly charming*.
Ian, he introduced himself. And you?
Eleanor, she said, cheeks flushing a shade brighter than before.
Both seemed nervous, but soon the tension melted. They chatted about everything and nothing, as if theyd known each other for a century. Their conversation fell into an effortless rhythm, each word landing where the other expected. A month and a half slipped by in a dreamlike blur.
They lunched together often, strolled at dusk, and Lydia could barely recognise her old friend. Eleanor never thought of herself as a beauty, yet she knew she possessed a certain spark, a charm that made both men and women gravitate toward her. Her long, lightbrown hair cascaded just past her shoulders, a waterfall she treasured; she refused short cuts, believing that if God gave her such hair, she ought to wear it proudly.
Her signature was a beguiling smile and a soft, slightly sideways glance. Since meeting Ian, her heart had finally begun to race again. In her youth shed married Rupert right after college, worked as an accountant at a large factory, where her parents had placed her. Shed been happy thenuntil the black day when news arrived that Rupert had perished.
Ian often suggested walks, and she gladly accepted. She loved winter; even if snow buried the trees and the frost made staying outdoors uncomfortable, nothing could stop those who had long awaited such a moment.
One, Lydia, I feel like Im walking on clouds, Eleanor said over a coffee break, Ian is exactly the man Ive dreamed of. I cant believe fate has been so kind to me again.
Lydia smiled. I hoped youd find happiness. Im happy with Sam, but I wanted you to bloom too. Youve become… youve become radiant, she gushed.
Then, without a word, Ian vanished. No call, no explanation. Eleanor felt unmoored; Lydia worried for her friend.
Dont fret, Eleanor. Things happenwho knows whats storming in his life, Lydia tried to soothe.
Cant I just call? I cant picture life without him. Ive waited years for him, and nowjust like that songs line, a slight brush of sleeves everything vanished. When I first saw him, I knew it was him. And now hes gone, Eleanor whispered, tears threatening.
Crying wont change it. Did you try calling? Lydia pressed.
Ive called a dozen times, always goes to voicemail. Could he simply abandon me? I dont know what to think.
Believe. Hell return. How long has it been?
Two days, today is the third.
Patience, dear. New Years approaching; youre always the organiser of our office parties. Focus on that, and Ian will appear.
A week passed with no sign of Ian. Eleanor kept herself busy, hunting for quirky prizes with Lydia for the offices New Year contest, while evenings found her weeping into her pillow.
On New Years Eve the office erupted in laughter, champagne spilling like rivers, music booming from every corner. Colleagues danced with hopeful hearts, wishing each other the best. Tables overflowed with canapés. Eleanor pretended to join the merriment, yet her gaze never left her phone, waiting for a ring that never came.
At ten oclock she retired home, the holidays stretching ahead like a blank canvas. She couldnt imagine how she would fill the idle days. Beatrice called, inviting her over, but Eleanor felt no desire to travel.
Come spend New Years with us, love, her mother urged over the phone. Dont stay alone; you know what that does to a night.
Ill be there, Beatrice promised.
On the evening of 31 December, as Eleanor headed to her parents house, a soft knock sounded at her door.
Who could that be? she wondered, opening it.
There, in a red coat and white beard, stood Father Christmas himself.
Good evening, dear Eleanor, he boomed, his voice warm yet ancient. He reached into his sack and produced a tiny crimson box, opening it to reveal a gleaming gold ring.
Whats this? Whos it from? Eleanor asked, startled.
Will you, my dear, marry the lad Ian? Father Christmas intoned, and from behind the door stepped Ian, smiling, clutching a bouquet of roses and the ring in his hand.
Yes, yes! Eleanor laughed, tears of joy spilling.
Then accept this ring on the day of your engagement, the esteemed date of 31 December, just before the New Year, in my presence, Father Christmas declared, his eyes twinkling.
Eleanor slipped the ring onto her finger as Ian pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Blessings upon you both, Father Christmas proclaimed. My work here is done. Happy New Year, and he vanished, closing the door behind him.
Im sorry, love, Ian whispered, I missed you terribly.
What happened? Why did you disappear? Eleanor asked, bewildered. Why no calls?
I was on a yearlong assignment at your factory, Ian explained, and then a tragic accident struck my family. My sister died, my mother ended up in intensive care. I couldnt find my phone; it stayed on the plane. I rushed home on the first flight I could catch. I wanted to be here for New Years with you.
God, I thought youd left me, Eleanor exhaled, pressing against him.
My mothers now stable, the surgeries are done. I came straight to you because I couldnt miss the night wed meant to share, Ian said, his voice trembling with relief.
Eleanor, still dazed, replied, I was heading to my parents for the celebration, and I havent even prepared anything.
Ive got some bubbly, Ian said, pulling a bag of wine, mandarins, and sweets from the floor. Lets go together, and Ill ask your parents for your hand.
They arrived at Beatrices family home. Her father opened the door, greeting Ian with a firm handshake.
Good evening, Im Ian, he said.
Welcome, son, Eleanors mother smiled, though clearly surprised. We werent aware you were coming.
Its a New Years gift, Ian chuckled, and the room filled with laughter.
Eleanor lifted her hand to show the ring. This is Ian, my fiancé and future husband, she announced.
Her parents stared, then her mother, regaining composure, said, Delighted to meet you, Ian. But dear, where did you appear from?
Its a festive present, Ian answered, and they all laughed together.
Lucky us to have such a spry soninlaw, Eleanors father toasted, raising his glass of champagne. To our childrens happiness, and to a bright New Year.
Glasses clinked, laughter echoed, and the clock struck midnight. The surreal dream faded as the New Year unfolded, leaving Eleanor convinced that the year ahead would be blessed, for as the old saying goes, how you meet the year decides how it will be.
