A Dream for Hogmanay

New Year's Eve

"Life's not like a romance novel, Debbie, you need to get out there and get yourself a real man, instead of sitting around with your nose buried in trashy chick-lit." Zoë's tone was scathing as she looked down her nose at the paperback in Debbie's hand.

Debbie looked up at her room-mate. "It's not a romance novel," she replied, surreptitiously sliding her hand up to mask the illustration on the cover, "it's about time travel."

Zoë snorted. "I'm sure the only science in that fiction is the 'magnetic attraction'," her fingers made the quotations marks in mid-air, "between the two star-struck lovers."

"Star-crossed, not star-struck," Debbie corrected her.

"Whatever." Zoë rolled her eyes. "So, tonight — are you going to come out and live a real life instead of dreaming about fantasy lovers? It is New Year's Eve, after all."

"Hogmanay. We call it Hogmanay in Scotland."

"Yah, of course, that time of the year when everyone up here gets 'steaming' on whisky and sings indecipherable Burns' songs and then lets tall dark strangers carrying lumps of coal into their house so they can be 'first-footed'." Zoë flared her nostrils, which made her nose stud glint malevolently. "Makes perfect sense."

-::-

Debbie was saved from replying when the door crashed open, revealing Marty, in a kilt, with his arm round a sultry redhead.

"What on Earth are you wearing, Mart?" asked Callum, his eyebrows rocketing northwards.

"S'for the ceilidh," said Marty, throwing an arm out and striking a pose. "Julie here's got a spare ticket so I'm going dancin' and we are going to paaaar-tay!" He grabbed the girl's hand and began to jig her round in a parody of a polka, but quickly stopped and collapsed in a heap of giggles when they crashed into the back of the couch.

Debbie wrinkled her nose. He's tipsy! She'd never understood the attraction of getting drunk, so she tended to watch from the outside as others over-indulged and lost control.

"Where's the ceilidh?" asked Ben, who was lounging in front of the fire, flipping through a magazine.

"At the Regal," said Marty, "the 'Hogmanay Hooley'. S'only five pound for a ticket. You should come." He turned to the others and opened an arm. "You should all come!" he added, expansively.

Julie dragged him round onto the couch, and he sat down heavily. She squeezed in beside him and addressed the others. "I think it's sold out, though, I got some of the last tickets."

She sounded quite sober, so Debbie guessed that Julie was driving. Marty liked his girlfriends to be mobile — it meant he always got a lift home after a night out. He also liked to think of himself as a 'new man', and was quite happy for them to pay for stuff for him. Like ceilidh tickets.

Debbie didn't drive and she didn't have much money, but despite that, she sometimes found herself wondering what it'd be like to be Marty's girlfriend. When he looked at her, the hint of danger in his brown eyes made the pit of her stomach tingle and burn, and she found it hard to look away.

Normally, she was so exhausted from the physical work of teaching skiing in all weathers that she'd read her book and fall asleep without any trouble. But on the few occasions when she'd struggled to reach the land of dreams, she'd tried to travel there under her own steam by imagining what it would be like to be kissed by him, to have those sensuous lips travelling over her face, to feel his breath on her neck… She shivered involuntarily, which brought her back to reality, and the realisation that Zoë was speaking.

"I'll phone and find out if there's any tickets left. Who wants to go?" Zoë asked. "Ben?"

"Aye, count me in!" said Ben, closing the magazine.

"Debbie?" Zoë pulled a mobile phone from the pocket of her ripped black canvas jeans. "Now's your chance to meet your magnetic man."

Debbie chewed her lower lip. She'd been quite looking forward to seeing Texas playing in Princes Street Gardens on 'Hogmanay Live' on BBC. They were one of her favourite bands. And she had nearly finished her book. If she stayed in, she'd find out if Dr. Kendrick could find a cure to help Henry survive the time-travel. Anyway, she had no money for the ticket. "Nah, I'm skint. I spent all my cash on Christmas presents. Payday can't come soon enough!"

Zoë tutted and turned to Callum with a questioning look.

Callum met Debbie's eyes for a moment, and was about to answer when there was a buzzing sound from the vicinity of his hips. "Oh!" he said with a lift of an eyebrow, "my vibrator's going off!"

He pulled the phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. "Yo!" He listened for a moment, then checked his watch. He caught Debbie looking at him curiously, and she dropped her eyes. "Yeah, sure, I can do that." He looked at his watch again, calculating. "See you about seven… Okay, bye!" He pocketed the phone and shrugged at Zoë. "I've got to go. So no ceilidh for me, sorry."

He turned to the rest of them. "Have a happy hogmanay, you lot!" He waved and disappeared off to his room.

"Just you and me, then, Ben," said Zoë.

"And us!" said Marty.

Zoë looked sideways at him, then stood up. "I'll just go and get my card and phone for the tickets."

In the quiet after Zoë went out, Debbie heard the front door bang and the noise of Callum's car crunching up the driveway and chugging along the street. She glanced round at the others. "Shall I put some music on?"

"Don't mind us," said Marty, standing up and pulling Julie to her feet. "We're goin' through to ma room for a bit."

Ben looked after them as the door closed, then looked at Debbie from under his eyebrows. "There'll be enough noise and stramash later. Let's just make the most of the silence for a while."

"Okay," she said and curled her legs up onto her chair, opening her book again. She hadn't taken Ben for the quiet, reflective type. Interesting.