New Year's Eve
by
Margaret Cracknell
Catherine was looking forward to New Year's Eve. Christmas, as often happened, was something of a letdown. Too much planning and not enough time taken to enjoy it. David's father snoring in the armchair. Her mother hissing at her in the kitchen.
"Do something. It's disgusting him passing out like that, and in front of the children, too!" The gravy had boiled over and set off the smoke alarm, but worst of all had been the next door neighbour that had looked in for a Christmas drink and had stayed long after all the relatives had left. By the time Catherine crawled into bed, she was ready to murder James Stewart and "It's a Wonderful Life", Bing Crosby and his "White Christmas", and the kids still up fighting over video games.
New Year's will be great. She didn't have to do a thing. This year Janet was doing it all. Cocktails at John and Janet's first, and then on to the Carriage House Lodge. The Carriage House was famous for its ambience. Glowing logs in the fireplace, waiters with white napkins over their arms, fresh flowers on the tables, music lingering around corners and in the air but never obtrusive. The aroma of wine and good food met you as you entered. The luxury of pampering wrapped itself about you. Bliss.
David and Catherine went there every year with two other couples. You had to book well ahead for the New Year's Eve dinner and dance. Mary had always made the arrangements but she and John had split up, and three months ago he had remarried. Janet was twenty years his junior, slim, perky, determined to prove herself to be the perfect hostess. She invited them all for cocktails. Sheila and Ken made up the party of six who every year celebrated New Year's Eve together.
"This is very nice," Sheila said as she stumbled over Catherine's feet getting to her seat. Candles glowed on the mantlepiece, candles floated in bowls on the coffee table, candles lit your way in the hall.
"I can't see a damn thing. Is that your drink or mine?"
"I think it's yours."
"Did you see what Janet is wearing? Any tighter and she won't be able to sit down. Are there any peanuts or potato chips to nibble on?"
"Here, have an olive," Catherine said as she passed him a plate of olives speared by toothpicks onto cubes of cheese with green stuff coming out on top.
"I hate olives. Oh, hullo, Janet. I was just telling Catherine I hate olives on their own, but these are delicious, speared onto cheese with this bit of green stuff sticking out on top. How have you been? I haven't seen you since the wedding."
They all went in John's car as it was the biggest. The white lights, threaded through the trees at the entrance to the Carriage House Lodge, sparkled in the dark night. The doorman held the door as they came in stamping the snow off their shoes. It smelt wonderful, warm and inviting. A bustle of excited chatter came from the dining hall. Streamers and balloons hung from the ceiling. They checked their coats and walked in.
"Your name, sir?"
"A party of six for Fenwood." The maitre d' ran his thumb down the list, turned the page over, and checked the list again.
"I'm sorry, sir. We have no reservation for Fenwood."
"But you must have. It was made months ago."
"I'm sorry, sir. We have no record of a reservation in that name, and we are completely booked up."
John did not give up easily. He was used to getting his own way. He railed and fumed. It made no difference.
Fifteen minutes later they were all back in the car. Janet was close to tears. She had made the reservation. "It's not your fault," they told her. John who thought he ran "a tight ship" was thin-lipped. Somehow the New Year sparkle had gone out of the night.
They stopped at six restaurants on the way home to try and get dinner. Then they tried to get in just for drinks, but to no avail. Everywhere was full.
"Stop!" shrieked Sheila, as they came up to a Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet.
She and Catherine jumped out of the car and ran inside. Then Catherine ran back to the car.
"Money, David. We need money." She grabbed his wallet and dashed back inside.
"I can't believe this," John said. "It's New Year's Eve and they are buying chicken and French fries!"
"Believe it, John, believe it. It's after eleven and we are all starving," said Ken.
When they got back to the apartment they turned on all the lights, threw a cloth over the dining room table and set out the food. Janet tried to fuss around, doing her perfect hostess thing, but they told her not to bother. They did allow her to light one candle in a glass bowl in the middle of the table.
They had just finished eating and were raising their glasses for a toast, when there was a loud bang. The candle in the center of the table had burnt down and the glass bowl had exploded!
There were fragments of glass over everything. Poor Janet was stricken.
"Well, thank God we have eaten," said David standing up. "Here's to us and to a Happy New Year. We may not have had pheasant under glass tonight, but chicken under glass comes a very good second."