Twenty-Four.
And now the year was in its death throes. And if they were anywhere more violent than at the Glit's Hogmanay Hoolie, Joe was glad he wasn't there.
So intense was the crush that he'd had to be lifted over the heads of the crowd to sing his much admired version of 'Roamin' in the Gloamin' as the night wore to its Caledonian climax. It was impossible to exist in such conditions without coming into more than usually intimate contact with your neighbour. As Joe's neighbour happened to be Beryl Bod-ding ton he had no particular complaint and she didn't seem to find it too distressing either.
Indeed, as the super amplified voice of Big Ben roared out the twelve notes of midnight it was Beryl who took the initiative in seizing Joe in a wraparound hug and pressing on his lips a kiss whose present fire was almost beyond bearing, but whose incendiary promise might have produced total collapse if there'd been room to fall down.
'You going to eat all that girl or leave some for Old Tom's breakfast?' enquired a familiar voice.
Reluctantly Joe eased back an inch and said, 'Happy New Year, Merv.'
'You too, my man. And Beryl, a very Happy New Year to you.'
Merv Golightly pulled Beryl out of Joe's arms and planted an enthusiastic kiss on her lips. Molly McShane did the same to Joe, and though there was no competition with the hidden agenda of Beryl's embrace, it was, Joe had to admit, a very acceptable also-ran.
'Everything OK?' he asked when he finally surfaced for air.
'Fine. I said I'd sit in with Dorrie but she said no, it was silly the two of us spending the New Year on the shelf, so here I am. But I'll just go and give her a ring now, see she's OK.'
'Yeah. Give her my best, will you?'
Think you've given that already, Joe,' laughed Molly, glancing at Beryl. 'Back in a mo.'
She ploughed her way through the seething mob like a stately ship through a choppy sea. Someone struck up 'Auld Lang Sync', and hands were joined in a series of concentric circles. The thought of the pressure exerted on those in the innermost ring during the ritornello accelerando made Joe wince, but the screams seemed to have more of pleasure than pain in them. Then out of the juke box erupted the Glit's traditional salute to the incoming year, 'Hello! Hello! I'm Back Again!' and the circles were broken and everyone was jumping up and down, which were the only directions permitting the necessary violence of movement.
Back face to face with Beryl, Joe shouted, 'How're you doing?'
'I'm doing fine. You got your breath back?'
'From what?'
'From your draught of Irish Cream, of course. Thought you were going all the way in.'
For a happy moment Joe thought she was displaying real jealousy, then he saw the smiling mischief in her eyes.
'Not as young as I was,' he said, giving a hippo yawn. 'Way past my bedtime.'
'You don't want to leave already, do you, Joe?' she protested. 'And here's me got my sister to look after Desmond all night on the expectation I'd be dancing till dawn.'
The mischief still there.
'Only takes two to dance,' he said. Two and a bit more room than we've got here.'
'In that case, what're we waiting for. Give me your keys!'
'Keys?'
'You don't think I've been drinking apple juice most of the evening so's I can be driven home by a drunken incapable.'
'May be a bit drunk,' said Joe, 'but there's no way I'm incapable.'
'We'll see,' said Beryl. 'Let's go.'
They fought their way to the door, moving out into the comparative calm of the lobby with some relief. Then Molly McShane emerged from under the phone hood and relief faded from Joe's mind as he saw her face.
'Joe,' she said, 'she's not there, she's gone. I let the phone ring and ring and then I got worried so I rang the next-door flat' know the couple to say hello to, they've got a youngster and they sometimes trade baby-sits with Dorrie. Well, he went round to knock at the door and he came back and he says the door was open and the telly was on and there was a bottle of vodka, almost empty, and a glass, but no sign of Dorrie or little Feelie ...'
She was close to hysterics. Joe said, 'It's OK, Molly, she probably just got tired of being by herself and went round to a friend's, you know, first-foot sort of thing. Or maybe she's even round your place waiting till you get home.'
'You think so? She could be. Oh Merv!'
The lanky figure of Golightly had appeared from the bar. She ran into his arms. Merv held her close and said, 'Joe?'
'Dorrie and the kid have gone walkabout,' said Joe. 'I think they've probably gone first-footing. Or maybe to Molly's. Why don't you take her home and if Dorrie isn't there, ring round a few of her friends, see if you can track her down? I've got to see Beryl home, she's not feeling too clever, then I'll get in touch, see what's happening,
OK?'
He kept his voice light and casual but his eyes signalled, 'Get her out of here and keep her calm!'
'Yeah, sure, that's all it'll be,' said Merv. 'Come on, doll, let's be getting you home.'
