A Dream for Hogmanay

The Hogmanay Hooley

The peaceful crackling of the log fire was interrupted a couple of minutes later by Zoë flouncing into the room. "They were sold out!" she announced, and flung herself down on the couch with a sigh. "New Year's going to be so boring!"

Ben looked across at her, and put his magazine down again. "How about we all go into the centre, anyway? There's bound to be something going on." He shrugged. "I'll drive." He glanced at Debbie and made a face. "I'll just have to join Debbie in drinking oh-jay all evening."

"That's wicked awesome!" said Zoë, the slang expression sounding discordant in her cut-glass accent.

"Are you sure?" Debbie asked Ben. "You don't mind not drinking?"

He shook his head. "I'll survive." Turning his wrist, he glanced at his watch. "Who's for some toasted cheese before we go?"

Before they had time to answer, the door swung open and Simon loped in. "Dudes!" He raised a hand in greeting.

Debbie rubbed her lip. It was ages since the last bus would've passed through the village, and she was never very sure how Spock got himself from A to B. Sometimes she wondered if he managed to teleport, like his namesake.

Spock was brandishing some pieces of paper. "Who's coming?" he asked.

Zoë sniffed. "Coming where, darling? We're not mind-readers, you know."

"To the Hooley," he said, turning his face towards Zoë. It was as if his head was on a pole, and turned without affecting the rest of his body.

Ben sat up. "Did you get tickets?"

Spock's head rotated again, and he smiled at Ben. His smile always reminded Debbie of a child's drawing — it was almost a pure semi-circle shape, and showed most of his less-than-white teeth. "Four. From Jude."

"Well, that means we can all go then, yah?" said Zoë, bouncing up off the couch. "I'm going to get ready. Could you bring the cheesy toast through to my room, Ben, darling?" she flung over her shoulder as she went out.

Ben's raised eyebrows seemed to indicate what he thought of that, but he just shook his head resignedly and glanced at Debbie. "You coming, then?"

Is he asking me to go? Debbie wondered briefly, and then remembered this was her life, and not a storybook. No, he's just being kind. "Well, yeah, I guess so, since there's free tickets. Thanks, Simon." She smiled at Spock. "I'll come and help you with the toasties, Ben," she said, and uncurled herself from the armchair.

"No, don't worry about it," Ben waved her away as he stood up, doing that guy-thing, where they stand straight up from a cross-legged position on the floor. "You go and do whatever it is you ladies do to make yourselves pretty, and I'll bring your toastie with me when I take her ladyship's through."

She laughed. "Are you sure?"

He mimed draping a cloth over his arm, then made his voice sound obsequious and decrepit. "Glad to be of service, ma'am!"

-::-

Debbie opened the wardrobe and riffled through the hangers on her side of the shared space, feeling uninspired. I really don't have anything nice to wear. If she and Zoë were better friends — and had similar taste and body types — then perhaps they'd do the clothes-swapping thing that she read about in books. In a story, Zoë would give her a make-over and she'd end up having her choice of suitors and marrying Prince Charming. But in reality, any make-up Zoë painted on her would probably make her resemble Marilyn Manson more than Marilyn Monroe, and send all the guys running for the hills. She sighed.

Black. Black is always a good idea. It's thinning. She pulled out some dark jeans, and then remembered that the button had popped last time she'd worn them. Dressed-up denim? She had a flowery scoop-neck t-shirt she'd never been brave enough to wear that might look good with jeans. Perhaps tonight was a good time to debut her cleavage?

She threw the t-shirt and jeans on her bed and took one last look through the hangers. Nothing else inspired her, so she pulled out a lilac fleece that would match the t-shirt, wondering how long it would be before Zoë vacated the bathroom so she could take a shower. I might have time to fix those black jeans after all.

-::-

"About time!" Debbie heard Zoë mutter under her breath as she walked into the lounge.

She looked round and realised that everyone was ready, and waiting for her. Ben sprang up, clutching his car keys. "Let's go, people!" he said.

"Sorry if I've kept you waiting," she apologised, "but I needed a shower and there was a queue for the bathroom." With difficulty, she resisted the temptation to give Zoë a dirty look. Not only had she managed to fix her jeans while she waited for Zoë to emerge from her ablutions, but she'd also had time to read another two chapters of her book.

Marty and Julie were making their own way to the party, so the rest of them piled into Ben's beat-up two-door Fiesta. Typically, the boys assumed they'd sit in the front, leaving Zoë and Debbie to clamber unceremoniously into the back seat.

Before they left, Debbie remembered to ask Spock, "Simon, have you remembered the tickets?" He'd forgotten various essential pieces of ski kit, such as his lift pass, gloves or goggles, on more than one occasion. Their boss, Jude, had started to keep an emergency 'lost property' box, which Debbie suspected was mainly for Spock's benefit, up at the ski school hut, so she didn't feel at all guilty about checking.

Simon patted his chest pockets, then frowned and felt his jeans pockets. He started to say something, but Ben interrupted. "Try your back pockets," he said, and, sure enough, Spock produced the tickets and looked at them curiously.

"What is a hooley, anyway?"

Ben laughed. "Wouldnae expect a Sassenach like you to know, Simon. It's a Scots word for a party, or a knees-up."

Spock nodded slowly. "Trippy."

The car was too noisy to encourage much more in the way of conversation, and Debbie was secretly rather glad. Now that they were actually on their way, she was starting to look forward to the event. Who knew who'd be there? There would probably be a bunch of locals from the town and workers from the ski area, plus some holidaymakers. Maybe, for the first time in her life, she'd find someone to kiss at midnight as the old year gave way to the new one, with all its infinite possibilities. Perhaps I can start 2006 the way I'd like it to carry on? From that perspective, though, a holidaymaker didn't seem such a good bet. I'll just have to try and find someone new from the resort, then. Or hope he finds me.