I jumped in the shower while I had the chance, came backinto the kitchen in my dressing gown to grab a bite to eat and then retired tomy room to get ready. At 7pm, I emerged, excitedly wearing my dream dress.
Lily and Phoebe were in the kitchen. They were both in theirparty outfits by now and making serious inroads into a bottle of white wine.
“Oh my God, you look amazing,” said Lily.
“Wow – the dress from the market! I can’t believe you gotit!” exclaimed Phoebe. “How did you afford it?”
“New Year’s sale,” I said. “Let’s just say it’s an earlybirthday present,” I added.
“I didn’t know your birthday was coming up,” said Lily.“When is it?”
Of course, they didn’t know. That made sense as it was ourfirst year together and I probably hadn’t told them yet for all the usualreasons. But now seemed as good a time as any to let them know.
“Actually, it’s tomorrow,” I said.
“Oh my days!” exclaimed Phoebe. “I can’t believe you didn’ttell us! Big party tonight, then! Even bigger than it was already going to be!”
She reached into the cupboard and pulled out a whiskytumbler.
“Here – have a glass of wine,” she said, emptying theremainder of the Chardonnay into it.
It was the wrong sort of glass, but we only had two wineglasses. Our kitchen was a complete mishmash of odd plates, cups and other bitsof pieces we had all brought with us when we moved in. The same could be saidof the whole flat, really. Any interior designer would have recoiled at it, butwe liked it that way, random, haphazard and homely.
As I drank my wine, joining in the banter going on betweenus girlies, I realised I was really enjoying myself. Perhaps I was going tohave to rethink my previous Scrooge-like attitude to New Year. Why had I beensuch a killjoy in the past?
I think I can answer my own question. Before it had beenjust humdrum real life, drifting along from one year to the next, but now I washad a time limit. I had to live like there was no tomorrow, because in my case,there literally wasn’t. It was time to party hard.
Full of enthusiasm for the night ahead, the three of usgrabbed a taxi – my treat – and headed out for the club, three excited youngthings off for a night of adventure. And in what was now mythirty-four-year-old body, I really did feel like a young person again and Iwas only going to get younger.
Despite starting with what might have been unrealisticallyhigh hopes, the night didn’t disappoint. I took full advantage of my situationto make it one of the best ever. With all inhibitions cast aside, some twelvehours after we’d left for town, I found myself waking up with a simply gorgeousman by my side.
His name was Carl and he reminded me of a young KieferSutherland from the early years of 24. Fortunately this man did not havesuch a dangerous lifestyle as Jack Bauer. He had some high-paid research postat the university. That’s what he had told me anyway, as he was sweeping me offmy feet at the bar shortly before midnight the previous evening.
A New Year’s kiss inevitably followed, and three hours afterthat we were at it like rabbits, not once, but twice. Now he was sleeping, butas I wriggled down the bed to wake him up in the most pleasant of ways, I wasdetermined to go for the hat-trick.
It wasn’t like me to jump into bed with someone on the nightI met them – that was more Phoebe’s thing, but if I hadn’t done it last night,when would I do it? I could hardly ask him to meet me for a date a year in thepast, could I? I had to grab him while I could so there was no way I was goingto pass up an opportunity like this.
He was quite probably the most gorgeous man ever to show aninterest in me. Just talking to him at the bar had given me what Phoebe rathercrudely referred to as “the fanny gallops”. I knew right there and then that Ihad to have him, but the night was still young at that point.
After a couple of hours more drinking and dancing, Inaughtily suggested in his ear that he might like to come back for “coffee”,meaning of course more than coffee. From the grin on his face, he certainlyknew what I meant.
Leaving Phoebe and Lily still enjoying the party, I took himhome in my third taxi of the day. Back at the flat he proved to be anaccomplished lover.
How had I managed to pull such a gorgeous man? I have noidea. Maybe it was the dress, or perhaps it was just my newfound devil-may-carepersona. Either way, I wasn’t complaining. What had I been missing out on allthese years spending my New Years doing night shifts at the hospital?
After I’d had my wicked way with him a third time and westarted to get dressed, he asked the question that under any othercircumstances I’d have been delighted to hear.
“I think you’re awesome,” he said. “Can I see you again?”
“Of course,” I replied. “Give me a ring in a couple of daysand maybe we could go out at the weekend.” It was a hollow promise about aweekend I would never see. I’d never see this man again either, and that reallycut me up. Finally I had met a decent one but in less than twenty-four hoursI’d be spirited back into the past and that would be the end of it.
It would be the end of it for me, anyway, but what abouthim? My mind might be heading back through time, but what about the body thatwas here – the
