Two Minutes to Midnight

They were gathered in her living room eyes glued to the television waiting for the countdown that would launch them into the new year. Some sat squashed on the sofas, others perched on chair arms, a few stood, but all were looking at the gogglebox in the corner. They had come in their best party gear. Masked in make-up and hair spray, the women wore sparkling, crackling cocktail dresses and heels high enough to break an ankle. The men, novelty ties aside, had on a simple uniform of pressed suit trousers and shirts. In each of their right hands resided a glass of bubbly, held carefully, untouched, so that when the time came they would be ready. The room was heady with anticipation. Then murmurs began. How long until the Bells now? Three minutes? Is that all? Why isn’t the host saying something? Ah cannae go that accordion music. Jesus, Jackie Bird looks like she needs a good feed. No-one noticed as she slipped into the room and stood smiling at the back. The living room was still festooned with festive delights. The bauble laden Christmas tree slumped exhausted in one corner, twinkly lights were strung across the windows and a cacophony of cards took up most of the sideboard. Their brightly coloured faces wishing good cheer to all those who happened to glance their way. It was perfect, just perfect.

Ellen loved a party, especially at New Year, but she hadn’t known anything about this one. She had happened to come down from their bedroom when the noise from their living room had sent her scurrying to investigate. They were all here. Their friends. Their neighbours. Harry must have thrown the party as a surprise for her. It would be so like him.

There were two minutes to go until midnight and she needed a drink. She looked about for a spare glass of champagne so that she too might toast in the New Year. Seeing none, she turned to go through the kitchen door where she knew Harry would have set up the bar. Where was he anyway? He was going to miss it.

They had chosen this home specifically for the layout. A brand-new modern house, it was unusually spacious and boasted two glass doors leading from the living room. One, the one she had just entered from, led into the hallway. The second, in the dining area of the room, led directly into the kitchen. It was perfect when you were entertaining and she had always liked this feature. It was one of the many reasons why she loved this house. Not her house, their house. Hers and Harry’s. And the kids. Of course.

The door had been left open for easy access. The rule of the house during a party was that the host would fill one glass and guests would help themselves after. You know where the bar is, just help yourself. This is a Help Yourself Home. Harry always said that. He would have said it earlier, she knew it. Where was Harry? She looked into the kitchen and saw her husband of 15 years standing at the breakfast bar with her best friend, Simone. The bar was heaving with wines of all colours, beers in a huge plastic tub filled with ice, and an impressive array of spirits. Harry was always a generous host. On the kitchen worktops lay the detritus of what had once been a buffet. She frowned. Why had they had started without her? The kitchen window, black and fathomless, was frosted with ice. It was freezing outside.

Harry had his back to her and was laughing and joking as he always did.. He was a tall man, slim, muscular, and still turned heads when he walked down the street. A definite ten-out-of-ten. She considered herself to be a seven and lucky to have him, but Harry made her feel beautiful.

Simone, standing on the other side, was hanging on his every word and giggling at his lame attempts at humour. Ellen loved her best friend, but Simone would flirt outrageously with other people’s husbands. It was just what she did. There was nothing in it, Ellen knew that. She waited for a moment to cut into the conversation, but it never came. Instead, Simone did something Ellen never thought she would ever see her do. She touched Harry’s face. And it wasn’t the touch of a long-term friend brushing a crumb from a cheek, but the tender touch of a lover. And what was worse, Harry did say anything. In fact, he seemed to encourage it. Ellen stifled a gasp and retreated into the living room. Standing with her back against the wall, she felt dizzy with shock. She peeked around the door sill and quickly wished she hadn’t. Simone was kissing him now. Her best friend – her former best friend - was standing in her kitchen kissing her husband! Ellen felt like she had been punched in the stomach. Bile rose to her throat as she reeled from what she had just witnessed. She couldn’t believe it. Her husband was having an affair…with Simone!

Ten seconds to go! Ten…nine…eight…she barely registered as their guests began the New Year countdown. Five…four…Harry and Simone hurried out of the kitchen and joined the party oblivious to her devastation. That hussy! Look at her, with her arms around Harry like she owned him. Ellen examined the faces of their guests to see if anyone else had noticed, but they were all too busy watching the screen. Maybe they already knew, maybe she was the last to know. Oh God! Was she the last to know? She searched for her children, but could not see them. Did they know too? Two…one…Happy New Year!! The party rose as one and greeted each other with a New Year’s kiss. Happy New Year! She heard the boom of fireworks outside. Mary and John were always the first to let off fireworks in the street. They didn’t disappoint tonight. The squeals and bangs reverberated through the house.

‘Come on everyone,’ Harry called, arm still around Simone. No-one blinked at that. They all knew and no one had had the guts to tell her. ‘Let’s go out and watch the fireworks.’

Ellen could only watch helplessly as her traitor friends and neighbours, people she had known for years, file passed her like nothing had happened. She wanted to scream at them, she wanted to call them out on their betrayal, but no words came.

‘Wait!’ she croaked too late. ‘What’s going on? Wait!’ She wanted to follow them outside into the clear frosty night and demand an explanation, but something stopped her. She could not move.

‘It’s no use calling after them, you know.’ A stranger stood close by holding a fresh glass of champagne in his hand. He was huge, well over six foot and had an annoyingly kind face. ‘You can’t change anything. They are in love. It’s really nice, actually.’

‘What? What are you saying? That’s my husband out there with my best friend!’ she snapped.

‘Yes, and you should be happy for them,’ he replied picking invisible fluff from his immaculate tuxedo. He was dark haired and blue-eyed. A black bowtie was draped around his neck, untied.

‘How can I be happy for them? They are having an affair behind my back and everyone knows!’ She looked down and realised for the first time that she is not properly attired for a party. In fact, she was dressed in her old gardening jeans and a grubby t-shirt. Why hadn’t she dressed up for this? It wasn’t like her.

There was a rat-a-tat-tat as fireworks went off outside.

‘You’ve been gone for so long, surely you don’t grudge Harry some happiness,’ the man said. He smiled and Ellen felt like punching him.

‘But we’re married and I was only upstairs,’ she replied. ‘I can’t believe it. I thought we were so happy together. Now I find out he’s been having an affair behind my back.’

Bang. Whoosh.

The man placed his glass on her sideboard. The fact there was no coaster made her wince, but she was too angry to say anything. He placed a hand on hers and it felt warm, reassuring. She hated him.

‘You’ve been away longer than that, Ellen,’ he said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, what’s the last thing you can remember? Before just now that is.’

She frowned. What was the last thing she remembered? Her head was dull and her memories were gone. All she could come up with was her stepping off the bottom step of the stairwell a few minutes ago walking into the living room and then…seeing them…together…kissing. There was nothing else. She looked at the man puzzled.

‘I…don’t remember anything,’ she replied, gut-punched again.

Wheeeeee. Bang. Bang.

‘Do you remember collapsing in the garden? Being taken to hospital?’ he asked. His glittering blue eyes searched hers. She clutched her head. The pain. She remembered the pain. The blackness. She had passed out. In the mud. She remembered how cold it was. There were loud noises: an ambulance siren, machines bleeping, staff talking and then…nothing.

Whoosh. Whoosh. BANG!

‘I’m dead aren’t I?’ she said.

‘Yes.’

‘How long ago did it happen?’

‘Seven years this coming May,’ he replied.

Had she had a mortal body she was sure she would have staggered and fallen, but this was not real, she knew that now. This…she…was just a memory, a breath of a life once lived. She bit her lip, closed her eyes and waited for the shock to ease.

‘Harry and Simone?’ she said at last.

‘A new relationship. Just started before Christmas. Neither of them wanted it to happen initially, they grieved hard for you,’ he said.

‘And my children?’

‘See for yourself,’ he said.

She opened her eyes just as the last firework finished its final descent and the only sound was the burble of the television. Then guests began to re-enter the house, shivering with cold but happy and smiling. The first through the living room door was a tall young man of about 19. He was no longer the pre-teen of her memories, but she could still see her 12-year-old Jack about the eyes and in his smile. Behind him, wearing a fitted dress, hair and make-up immaculate, was a beautiful young woman. Sally. She must have been 15 when I died, Ellen thought. She’ll be 22 now. Sally, giggling, pulled another young man in behind her. Her boyfriend? Ellen wondered sadly. Her children were all grown up. She had missed some years. Friends and neighbours tumbled through the door, one after another, full of noise and laughter and there at the end were Harry and Simone. They were hand-in-hand, happy together. Ellen felt sick. Her mind was a whirl of conflicting emotions. She looked down at the ground and noticed for the first time that someone had changed the carpet. Where was her carpet? She had liked it.

‘They even changed the bloody carpet,’ she muttered. ‘They’ve forgotten me. They don’t need me anymore.’

‘Open some more champagne Jack!’ Harry shouted over the hubbub. Jack gave his father the thumbs up, ‘it’s in the fridge.’

‘You know,’ said the man taking her hand, ‘we could stay here a bit longer or we could go somewhere else.’

She looked at him. ‘Where would we go?’

‘Somewhere better,’ he said.

‘I don’t know…’

Her attention was drawn to her husband standing in the middle of their living room holding up his glass.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he shouted above the noise. People stopped talking and looked at him. ‘As you know, we lost our Ellen seven years ago. I know it’s been a while, but it has become a family tradition to raise a glass to remember her and all those who have departed. So, let me start.’ He raised the glass higher. ‘To my Ellen, gone but not forgotten… and to others who are no longer here. To the dearly departed!’

‘To Ellen and the dearly departed!’ the crowd chanted. There was a pause whilst the living remembered the dead.

Then Sally finally broke the silence.

‘My mum wouldn’t have wanted to see all these long faces,’ she said making her way to the music player. ‘Let’s have a dance. Who’s up for a bit of ABBA?’

A cheer rose up and Sally pressed a button. The familiar tones of Dancing Queen blasted out of the speakers and people began to sing and dance. Ellen watched them, sadness filling her heart.

‘I love that song,’ she said.

‘They played it at your funeral,’ the man replied.

‘Good. That’s what I wanted.’

‘Now, about that other place,’ he said looking at his watch. ‘We really must move on. There are a few people who are desperate to see you,’ he said. With one final glance at her family, Ellen allowed him to guide her into the kitchen.

‘Oh yeah? Like who?’ she said her voice fading with every step.

Simone broke away from Harry and went to sit down at a dining room table. She needed to rest. Her feet were killing her. Why the hell did she wear such high heels? She glanced into the kitchen and thought she saw two figures fading from view. She frowned, blinked and looked again. They were gone. She looked down at her glass, it was empty. Must be seeing things, she thought, too much champers. Harry sat down beside her and followed her gaze.

‘What is it?’ he asked puzzled.

‘Oh, nothing,’ she said with a smile.

The pair looked at the party in full flow before them. The new year was starting with a bang. Just like Ellen would have wanted it to.