NEW YEARS EVE INCIDENT
I really didnt want to go home. The working day on the thirty-first of December was mercifully shorteveryone in the office seemed to bolt for the door at half-past three, hurrying off to their children, husbands, and last-minute Tesco runs for mince pies. The atmosphere was infectiously festive; the other women were beaming, juggling heavy bags of clementines and a bottle of proseccoeach a gift from old Mr. Nicholas Illingworth.
No one was waiting for me at home. And there was no one to make potato salad for. I looked at the shiny mound of clementines in their crinkly plastic bag perched on my desk and let out a resigned sigh.
No, going home really didnt appeal. Instead, I started tinkering with my year-end report. Before long, Mr. Illingworth poked his head through the door, slightly out of breath, his wool hat askew and his sheepskin coat flapping open. The only man in our officeand also the boss.
Oh, Emily! Youre still here? he exclaimed. I’ve just realisedforgot my wifes present, can you believe it? With that, he disappeared into his office.
A moment later he reappeared. Why are you still here on your own? Why aren’t you off home yet?
WellId just be alone at home, Mr. Illingworth.
About to rush off to his wife, he suddenly halted in the doorway. He came over and sat down by my desk, eyeing me rather seriously for a few moments.
Now, listen, Emily, he said. Its New Years Eve! You cant just sit here with that look on your face. Its a holidayyou should be having fun! He started gathering my reports in a flurry, shuffling the pages into neat stacks, whisking them away from under my hands. Go onsmile, thats more like it. I sent the others home, and here you are! Honestly
Please, dont worry about me, Mr. Illingworth. Ill be off in a moment. You goIll tidy up here and make sure everythings locked.
Promise? he said, slightly suspicious.
Of course.
Well, then. Happy New Year, Emily!
I let out another sigh. It did feel a bit ridiculous, sitting here alone in the office. I really ought to go.
Maybe I should order a pizza, I wondered. Are any takeaways even open at this hour?
I tried the first numberno answer at all. The next one, a bright-voiced girl told me theyd just closed at six and wished me a happy New Year. It was already five past by my watch. I tried one last place and, to my surprise, they took my order.
I packed up my notes, bundled myself into my coat, grabbed the bag of clementines and the bottle of prosecco, and headed out.
Stepping into the street took my breath awaythe night was stunning in that crisp, wintry London way. Cold air nipped at my cheeks; snow crunched under my boots. The streetlamps blazed; strings of coloured lights twinkled everywhere. People hurried home weighed down with bags and gift boxes, laughing and calling out seasons greetings. The shops were still open, full of last-second shoppers after a gift. I felt the sparkle of the holiday swirling around me, lifting some of the heaviness in my chest.
What am I doing? I thought, chastising myself as I strode into the welcoming glow of the supermarket.
Soon, I was unpacking my purchases in my tiny kitchen flat. Hope Ive enough time to boil the potatoes, I muttered.
I switched on the telly, dangled up the cheerful string lights Id just bought, then plugged them in. A little rainbow snake danced across the windowpane. I couldnt help but stretch my hands above my head in a silly dance before starting to prepare my New Years feast.
Why not? For myself!
While the potatoes cooled on the windowsill, I arranged salmon canapés on toast, sliced up cold meats from the supermarket, laid out cubes of cheddar on a side plate, set out pineapple pieces, and poured a mound of clementines into a bowla gift from Mr. Illingworth.
Within half an hour, my classic potato salad was ready, while on the hob, chicken drumsticks sizzled merrily. I wheeled the small table over to the sofa, covered it with a lacy napkin, and started ferrying out all the platesposing them around as lovingly as if I had guests. I set a wine glass and a juice tumbler, knife and fork. Then I stepped back to admire the scene, trying to view my efforts with a guests eye.
At half-past eleven, I reached for the proseccojust as the buzzer sounded on the intercom.
Did someone order pizza? came a cheerful male voice.
Oh, goodness! Id completely forgotten.
Yes, come up! I pressed the button.
How much do I owe you? I asked the delivery man, a pleasant-looking chap, probably my age, holding a big, flat box of pizza.
Nothing at all! Take it, its on the house, he answered with a warm, genuine smile.
I couldnt! Wont they take it out of your pay?
They wont, I promise. He grinned. Consider it compensation for the late delivery. Pleasetake your pizza.
I realised I was still holding the prosecco bottle, unopened. Could you hold the prosecco for a sec? I asked, handing it to him as I took the box.
You dont strike me as a regular delivery guy, I said, once I was back.
He laughed. Youre spot onIm Adam, I own the place. Let the staff go early for New Years; they all have families. Saw your order still open on the system and thought, well, nobodys waiting for me, but someone is waiting for this pizza. So here I am. Got a bit delayed on the way over.
Only ten minutes left! I gasped. Quickopen the prosecco! Weve got to toast the old year out!
No problem! You got glasses?
While I fetched the glasses, a resounding pop rang out.
To the old year!
To the old year, I echoed.
We touched glasses and knocked back the fizz.
Oh, what have we done? I cried suddenly.
Whats wrong? he looked worried.
Youve just drunk prosecco! Youre meant to be driving!
Oh, good point, he said, but grinned all the wider.
So now you cant drive!
Looks like Im stuck, he said, eyes twinkling.
Its impossible to get a cab tonight
Impossible, he echoed cheerfully.
Well, then, better take off your shoes and come in, or well see in the New Year standing in the hall!
Wow, its really cosy in here.
Hurrypour some more. The Prime Ministers finished his speech already!
To the New Year, um
Emily, I supplied.
To the New Year, Emily! Im Adam.
To the New Year, Adam! Try the potato saladI made it myself. Only have the one fork, though. Actually, just eat straight from the bowlwho cares! I was laughing too much to care.
Adam was so easy to talk to, so at ease.
Mmmmtastes even better out of the bowl. Emily, have you got any wholegrain bread knocking about? Im absolutely starving.
Course I have!
When I came back, he had a drumstick in each hand. Sorrycouldnt help myself. You really can cook!
Im glad! I thought itd all go to waste. Look how much Ive made; no way I could finish it alone.
Alone? Dont be sillyIll help!
Get stuck in!
Suddenly I realised how hungry I was, too.
We sat together eating potato salad straight from the bowl, drinking prosecco, watching silly New Years telly, chatting about nothing in particular.
I think we finished the prosecco! I said, peering into the bottle.
Ive got another in the car! Ill fetch it!
Not without me, youre not!
The air outside was crisp and new, and I stretched out my arms, grinning. Around us, fireworks burst in the London sky.
Emily, you know what? Will you marry me? Not nowgive it a year, get to know me.
I hope youre joking.
Not a bit of it.
Well, then, I promise Ill think about it.
But for nowshall we keep celebrating?
I nodded happily. Adam grabbed the bag from his car, and arm-in-arm, we headed back to continue our own little New Years party.
Well manage just fine through the nightBack inside, we kicked off our shoes and flopped onto the sofa with our plates balanced on our knees. On the TV, crowds cheered and confetti rained down over Trafalgar Square. We clinked fresh glasses, the second bottle sparkling with possibility, while the clock flashed past midnight into a brand-new year.
As the last firework faded, I caught Adams eye and felt a flush of warmth that had nothing to do with the prosecco. For the first time in ages, I wasnt dreading tomorrow. Maybe it was the feast, or the fizz, or the riot of colours still twinkling across my curtainsbut mostly, I think, it was the sense that the empty spaces in my flat were suddenly full.
We talked until the early hours, the city outside quieting into gentle hush, London at peace. When Adam finally nodded off mid-sentence, head tipped against my shoulder and a faint smile on his lips, I found myself smiling tooonly this time, I wasnt pretending.
I slipped the last clementine from the bowl, peeled it quietly, and placed a segment beside him. The bitter, bright scent filled the room, as if promise itself had a fragrance. For once, I didnt feel alone. I looked at our mismatched glasses, the half-eaten pizza, the nearly-empty bowl of potato salad.
Maybe next year would bring everything I had ever missed. Or maybe, just maybe, it already had.
And when the sun roseunhurried, goldenover the citys rooftops, I knew, deep down, the New Year had brought me exactly what I never knew I was waiting for.
