31st December
I spent the whole day in the kitchen, or so it seemed, fussing over pots and pans. I could barely think for the constant bubbling and clatter, barely a moment to myself. Then the doorbell rang, echoing through my little house. It was Toms family, come round as promised, and after all the greetings they settled themselves at the tablerather grandly, if I may admit.
Aunt Margaret eyed the dishes and asked, So, wheres the beef?
I smiled, trying not to sound too weary. Well, theres the stuffed goose, just over there.
She grimaced, standing up with exaggerated offence. Oh, thats simply inedible. Come on, were going home.
Before I could say anything, Tom stood up after her, face drawn. Well, suit yourself. Live on your own if you cant cook! Without another word, he started packing his things into his bag.
***
Later, I rang my dearest friendold habits die hard. Hello, Grace? Its me, Helen. What? Sorry, the lines terrible. Why am I calling? Oh, just to say I wont be coming over this New Year. I know, I know. But youll have Victor and your daughter with her lot. Whatd I dostuff my face with salad and pay twice the fare for a cab home? You know I cant stand sleeping over in someone elses house. What will I do? Not much really, just head to bed early
In truth, Id spent the last few years celebrating holidays at Graces, ever since the divorce. Her bustling, noisy family always welcomed me, but theres only so much a person can take. She told me she actually meant to call me herself. They were heading to York to see Victors aunt and wondered if I could put up a niece for a few nights. I dont like having strangers in my home, but, well, I agreed. The line went dead before wed finished talking; sometimes it seems even the phone cant be bothered with my ramblings.
Sitting there, I mulled it over. Maybe its for the bestnot to be alone at New Year. Still, Id need to prepare at least a salad. Im happy with just a sandwich most nights, but you cant offer that to a guest. I put some veg on to boil, chopped parsley, and found myself drifting through the past.
Back when I was married to Tom, things were utterly different. By 30th December, his lot would descend upon us from every corner of Kent. The kitchen was unrecognisablesteam, roasts, and frying wafted through the air. Jellied meats bubbled, pies were in and out of the oven, the endless sizzle of cutlets, and everything swamped in greasy gravies. I felt more like a waitress than a cook, ferrying dishes from the kitchen to the balcony to cool, or cleaning up for the next round. Heaven forbid I try to helpafter I once made an avocado salad, Aunt Margaret announced it was absolutely horrid, and everyone nodded in agreement.
Their foods practically inedible, I fumed to myself later, mayonnaise dripping off every spoon. The men would fall upon the table, sampling homemade sloe gin, and no one made it to midnight before keeling over.
By the 2nd, once theyd devoured every scrap, everyone bundled up and departed. Tom would leave for the village to carry on the festivities, and I was left with chaosa week of scrubbing, cleaning, and loneliness. Hed roll back grim, unshaven, and surly, full of complaints from his relatives that hed married a woman who couldnt cook. Why couldnt you be more like Vera? hed say. And Id take it all, believing I deserved it because I couldnt manage the food hed always known. Greasy, meaty, heavy dishes were never my forte.
All I had left was Grace, my childhood friend. Eventually, tired of my endless laments, she cooked up a planwed host a New Year dinner, but on my terms. With her help, we made lighter, hearty snacks all day. The relatives came and, as expected
Aunt Margaret again: Wheres the meat?
The stuffed goose is right there, I said, trying not to sound defeated.
And what about the mash?
At that, she stood up indignantly. This is nothing but silage. Fred, drive me home.
Without a word, everyone grabbed their coats and slammed the door behind them.
Well, you Tom huffed, nearly raising his hand, then turned to follow. Wait for me! he called after his family.
Dont forget your bag, I added. He threw his things together and stomped out. Live on your own then, you bore. I wont stay alone, but you? And with that, he was gone.
It took the clatter of a boiling pot to snap me out of memory. I lifted the lid just as the doorbell rang. That must be Sasha, I thought, heading to the door. But at the threshold stood a man in his forties, smiling.
Oh, Im Alexander Michaelson, Victors nephew. Surprise! Theyve all gone to York, havent they? And you must be Helen?
I nodded, too bewildered to correct him. Grace mentioned her niece
He grinned. Maybe you misheard?
I remembered the hopeless phone line. Possibly. Well, come in.
He put me at ease straight away. Dont worry; Ive got a ticket out early tomorrow. Wont be under your feet for long. With that, he made himself at home while I finished prepping the salad.
Just the one salad for the occasion? he teased.
I snapped, not meaning to: Did you expect a full spread? Roasts, a whole tub of potato salad?
To my surprise, he laughed. Not my thing, honestly. Im more of a fish man myself.
Im afraid I have no fish, nor the knack for preparing it.
He was already pulling on his coat. Not to worry! Ill handle itback soon. Before I could protest, he was gone.
Looking around at my empty kitchen, I had to chucklehere I was, expecting an elderly woman, and instead, this energetic, grinning man appeared.
He was gone for over an hour. I started getting anxiouswhat if hed gotten lost? Then the bell rang again. Where have you been? I was worried! But my scolding was cut short when I saw hed brought back a Christmas tree, bushy and green, along with several grocery bags.
Whats all this? I asked.
Well, whats New Year without a tree? He set it in the corner, scent of pine filling the room.
All we need now are clementines, I joked.
Dont fretIve got those too. And fizz! Come on, give us a hand.
And so, laughing, we decorated the tree and set about making a feast. Taking my cue from Alexander, I peeled prawns and chopped herbs, watching as he prepared a beautiful roast carp. We made a right team, and by midnight, it was all ready. He popped open the sparkling wine, glasses frothed over with bubbles. To the New Yearand new happiness! we toasted.
As the evening wore on, we talked about everything and nothing. I found myself spilling old hurts. He wasnt always cruel, you know. Or maybe I was just in love and didnt notice. After a while, it was just grumbling and blame. Never did anything right, it seemed. But enough about mewhat about you? Are you married?
He sighed. Not anymore. Same old storyback from a trip to find her with someone else. Ill file for divorce when I get home. Were getting gloomylets share some childhood tales, instead, and skip the formality.
I laughed, recalling, Once, I boasted I could climb the tallest tree on the estateand then couldnt get back down. Sat there bawling till Uncle Charlie from the next street rescued me. Grounded for a week after.
He chuckled. At school, I glued the headmasters chair to the floor. Dad was not amusedwith a belt.
We laughed and reminisced till dawn, swapping stories until my eyes drooped.
He insisted, Go on, get some sleep. Ill clean up the mess.
Too tired to argue, I left him to it and tumbled into bed.
I was nudged awake by Alexander in the morning. Helen, Ive got to go. Lock up behind me, will you?
Sitting up, I blinked at the light. What? Is it evening already? Why didnt you wake me sooner?
He brushed my fringe back with a gentle hand. You were sleeping so peacefully, I couldnt bear to. But the train wont wait.
He hesitated at the door. Helen do you mind if I come see you again? If Im free?
I grinned, hoping the smile didnt look too eager. Id like that.
He kissed me, quieting any reply, and whispered, Till next time then.
I stood by the closed door, hand touching my lips, smiling to myself with a kind of daft happiness.
Funny, isnt it? You can know someone for years only to find out theyre all wrong for you. Then along comes a stranger, and after a single night, it feels like youve always known them. Say what you wantNew Years is a time for little miracles. Life turns on coincidence, and with it, perhaps, a new love and a new beginning.
