by Vance Huxley
Chapter 3:
A Brave New Year
The suggestion livened everyone up, and the scavenging parties later that day were much more cheerful. They also smuggled a good few items out of houses with wagging fingers and promises of surprises. Four more days without anyone shooting at them, or anyone trying to do the job to themselves, raised spirits all round. The snow that fell for two of the days helped, smoothing the ragged edges of the ruins and covering up the marks of fire and explosives.
The snow reassured everyone as well, because the two pickups and the minibus carried the parties out to scavenge over virgin snow. Not a footprint or tyre mark marred the gardens and streets, just animal and bird tracks. Either the neighbours were respecting the boundaries, or they were staying at home to celebrate. Harold took the opportunity for a bit of unobserved target practice to get the rifles more accurate.
The scavengers stopped worrying about the boom of the big old rifle, or the sharper cracks as Harold got his two-two into as near perfect condition as he could. In between Harold loaded ammunition or stripped and inspected weapons. At least he had a hell of a lot of cleaning gear and primers, presses and all the rest. The booklets he’d picked up as he stripped each gun club or stockist helped.
Midday on the last day of the year the scavengers were home and every unattached male over sixteen lined up in the cleared section. “I shouldn’t be here really. I’m a grandad.” Barry looked downright embarrassed.
“Nor me. Look I can barely walk.” Sandy hobbled a couple of steps.
Stewart Baumber still had dressings on his chest and shoulder wound, and a drawn and haunted look. “I’m not looking for a girlfriend, Harold.”
“I know Stewart. This isn’t about getting a girlfriend.” Harold smiled as several shouts of ‘speak for yourself’ rose from the younger men. “This is about who you’ll dance with at midnight. As long as you hold hands and move a bit, that’s dancing, and there’s no need to kiss if either of you don’t want to.”
“Can we trade?” Emmy grinned. “Can we swap our partner for someone else?”
“I hope so.” Sharyn scowled. “If I’ve got to do this I’m not dancing with my little brother.”
Harold mimed sticking fingers down his throat. “Yeuk, no thanks.”
Doll waved to Barry. “Sorry gramps, but you aren’t on my dance card.”
“As long as you don’t tell anyone who was rejected, except who you swap with. Some of us have got fragile egos.” Harold smiled. “Though that means the men can swap as well. No wrestling over numbers, all right?”
“Only the very nicest sort, right after the kissing bit.” Doll blew Harold a kiss, then blushed when Barry looked at her.
Suzie seemed to be keen as well. “Come on, or it’ll be dark. I need time to get myself beautified.”
“The best snowman gets number forty five and so on upwards. We’ve all got an hour.”
“They all know. Three two one go!” Liz whooped as some men set off at a run to the middle of the open space. The rest walked out and started gathering snow.
* * *
“What is that?” Liz walked around Harold’s attempt, followed by all the other women who would be competing for a number later. They were also the judges.
Harold looked at his sort of sculpted heap of snow and suddenly it didn’t look as good. “A snow Dalek?”
“Oh, right, I thought the weapon was a bit high. Er, for a ray gun?” Holly blushed.
“I was surprised to see a weapon out in this snow.” Liz grinned. “I thought the weapon um, barrels became brittle, Soldier Boy?”
“In the depths of a Siberian winter they can get a bit fragile, allegedly. This is nearly summer for the Army.” Harold took another look at his creation. It didn’t look any better. The women put their heads together and muttered, and numbers were written down. Then they trooped off to the next.
“It’s a snowman fireman.” Barry grinned. “It doesn’t look great because I was going to put a helmet and my axe on it, but I’m not allowed.”
“Bits of wood and stones only. We banned carrots because some of us are innocents.” Liz led the women around Barry’s effort and critiqued before they moved on. Eventually the women all stood in a huddle and worked out the score.
“I still think Casper should be in our group. No offence Casper, but I’m looking for a bit of action from whoever I get.” Sal blew Casper a kiss. “See, it just bounces off.”
“There were too many single women which is why all the single men have to take part but some women don’t.” Harold grinned. “Unless some of you want to double up?” Several women had been offered a pass and enough had accepted to even up. Neither Hilda the librarian nor Faith had wanted to take part, and Betty, the oldest woman, preferred to babysit the young teenagers. Sharyn had been pressganged after Harold mentioned her Christmas Eve soggy to Liz.
“Does Casper’s count as a snowman? It’s a what? Dog?” Jon had his head to one side, looking at Casper’s creditable attempt at a sitting snow dog.
“It’s a good job Lucky isn’t on our team.” Sal turned from the marking. “All right you lot, line up and hold out a hand.” The women moved out and began to put numbers into hands. “Remember, put your paper number on when Kerry announces it, just before midnight.”
“Don’t we get to know who won?” Seth laughed. “Not me, but I’d like to know.” He’d tried to get Berry to agree to being a couple and exempt from all this, but she’d said no.
“Nope, and you lot do the same with our numbers.” Liz wagged a finger. “No cheating, you aren’t good enough to escape my wrath and a bed ornament. Now I’m off to get into my fancy undress.” The women marched off in a line towards the spectators, singing “hi-ho, hi-ho.”
Casper came across to Harold. “Well that part went well. What number did you get?”
“Naughty. You’ll tell the girl club.”
Casper laughed. “They already know, idiot. The cheating will be intense and not just to get you fixed up.” He looked over at his creation. “Maybe I should have made the antlers bigger?”
“You’ll need antlers and a crash helmet if you don’t get off the firing range. Come on, see if you can kill a Dalek.” Everyone who could do so was picking up half-bricks to throw at the snowmen, a less pointed way of removing possible cover for attackers. Some of the spectators might not even realise why the snowmen were being pelted. Daisy waved a half-brick in each hand, one each for Uncle-Harry and Uncle-Casper, so Harold hurried before she accidentally clobbered someone. The heap of snowballs were for the kids and those without a decent throwing arm.
* * *
“Oh no sis. Get back up there and try again.” Harold grinned. “Fancy dress, remember.”
“I’m not getting tarted up.”
“Not tarted up, but fancy dress. You could use the Womble costume?” Harold sniggered. “It would be a bit short, though with the head on nobody would know it’s your legs?”
“Stop it!” Sharyn put her hands on her hips. “I am not in the mood for this.”
“I wasn’t in the mood to be Rambo then or now, but someone insisted.” Harold sobered. “And I’m not in the mood to find you sobbing your socks off when I get back.”
Sharyn stared. “Oh.” She sighed. “I never thought of that, which isn’t fair.” She sighed again. “Womble, but not tarty? I can do this.” She turned and went upstairs.
“Can I come in yet?” Hazel looked much too serious.
“It wasn’t an argument, Hazel, and if it is then you can come and rescue me.”
Hazel giggled. “Sorry, but Sharyn didn’t sound happy.”
“She won’t be happy for a while, maybe years.” Harold looked up the stairs. “But sitting in here brooding won’t help her either.”
“I know. That’s why I’m going to Betty’s to play computer games.” Hazel looked sad for a moment, then smiled, just a little one. “Thank you Uncle-Harold.” She hugged Harold and ki
ssed him quickly on the cheek. Harold watched, gobsmacked, as the young orphan or probable orphan went out the door. Hazel seemed to be handling it so well, and then she came out with that? Harold touched his cheek, he was Uncle-Harold to her as well?
He turned at the sound of feet on the stairs to see what would be a very tarty Womble, if it wasn’t for a pair of baggy shorts and thick tights or leg warmers covering her legs right down to Sharyn’s boots. “The girl club sent these tights round so I’d better wear them.” That explained the Holly and Mistletoe pattern all over her legs. “Though I thought Holly should have them.” A muffled snigger followed from inside the pointed head. “She’ll probably find something much more unsuitable.”
“You won’t have to worry about a New Year kiss under there, but you might get a bit thirsty.” Harold smiled, because Sharyn did sound a lot happier. “You may as well take the head off until the babysitters arrive.”
“Susan and Rob? When they volunteered my last excuse went, the rotten gits. Though it means they are a couple now, if only to avoid the last dance lottery.” Sharyn smiled as her face reappeared. “At least they’ve finally made it official. We should throw rice over them.”
“Rice is food, I’ll look out for some confetti on the next scavenger runs. It’s the nearest we’ll get to marriage which will make divorce easier.” Harold grinned. “We could make them jump over a broom?”
“Mean. Rob’s not allowed to jump about at all yet though I reckon he’ll get a dance and the midnight kiss.” The doorbell rang. “They’re keen enough.”
“No, on time. Somebody took too long getting ready, or arguing about it anyway.”
“Someone isn’t ready. Where’s the stocking?” Sharyn smiled happily. “Payback, little Bro.”
Harold tried hard to come up with an excuse and couldn’t. He’d worn these ruined jeans and a torn tee used for scavenging instead of the much briefer originals because the women had been adamant. The men had to wear fancy dress, and Harold had to be Rambo again. “You do know what some of them keep saying about the stocking?”
“No, and yeuk, I don’t want to. Though I know you’ll still have it, probably in your trophy box.” Sharyn turned towards the stairs. “Shall I go and look?”
“No!” Harold surrendered, as usual. While he collected the stocking he could hear the laughter downstairs, though as he came down much of it was about who in the girl club might have worn Sharyn’s costume without the shorts.
* * *
“Oh cripes.” Harold muttered that quietly to Casper. “Whose bright idea was this? At least Celine has stuck to her usual white dress, even though she’s got a tinsel hairpiece. I was surprised that Celine agreed because I offered her a pass.”
“She really has decided it’s time to move on. Now Celine reckons her brain has to tell the rest of her that it’s all right to be near a man.” Casper scowled. “In her own time. Anyone pushes it and it’s chopper time.”
“I’ll hold him down. Both Alicia and Matti seem to be feeling better as well. Now we’ve got to decide who wins the fancy dress and that won’t be easy.” Harold looked at the crowd of women waiting. “What is Louise dressed as?” Louise wore a pair of tight jeans, a shirt and jacket, workmen’s boots and a baseball cap. Harold blinked and forgot Louise. “Holly is actually overdressed, just.”
“If stripy knitted stockings can be classed as clothes.” Holly came properly into view and Harold could see they really were stockings or leg warmers, not tights. Casper sniggered. “Half the blokes won’t look that far with that tutu on again. Louise has come as a bloke.” Casper laughed. “Sal is wearing something different. Well, different from Halloween.”
“That red dress really does suit Jessica Rabbit though. Her makeup is good, really good.” Harold smiled. “We’ll have to go scavenging for more lipstick and eye whatever that is, just to top Sal up.”
“Yee-ha.” Billy only murmured but the men near him nodded, though most glanced to see if Barry was near first. “If I’d known I’d have gone for cowboy instead of Robin Hood. I thought they ran in a hurry?”
“Priorities. Some people think a Stetson is essential.” Bernie, in a white paper overall and holding a goldfish bowl as his spaceman helmet, grinned as he spoke. Doll wore her cowboy hat, and a little checked blouse and fringed top to go with her denim shorts and cowboy style boots. “No whip or lasso though.”
“Come on you lot, stop drooling and start judging.” Liz grinned “What?”
Harold grinned back. “The staring is because they’re wondering what that is, apart from half the net curtains in Orchard Close.”
“This is the ghost of Christmas hopeful. Take a good look because if you don’t find me a blacksmith soon this could appear anywhere.” Liz beckoned with a finger and headed off towards the contestants.
* * *
“So if number one dances with number forty five, who will you be lip-locking?” Liz sniggered. “Don’t tell me you didn’t check the numbers before handing them out?”
Harold managed a twirl without stepping on Liz’s feet; his dancing was improving with all this practice. “Nope. Even if I did, I wouldn’t cheat.” Harold would end up dancing with Berry according to the numbers, but he’d bet coupons that it wouldn’t be Berry. Seth had already asked to swap numbers and Harold told him no, not yet. He had visions of both Seth and Berry swapping and really getting it wrong. “At least her dad Nigel will be occupied so if Seth is lucky and can get the last dance with Berry, he’ll have a clear run.”
“He doesn’t need luck.” Seth and Berry were already dancing, while Nigel danced with Sharyn and tried to find out who hid under the Womble head. Sharyn seemed to be joining in now she was here, though so far staying in disguise. Not that half those present didn’t already know or guess.
Three dances later Harold smiled as Sal moved in. “Hi there Roger. I’m trying to get a trade, since I’ve got all this lipstick to get rid of.” She put her arms up around Harold’s neck and glanced down. “I’m supposed to stick these out to keep in character.”
“Yours or Jessica’s?”
With all the lipstick Sal’s pout looked magnificent if a bit alcoholic. “Come on Roger Rabbit, get a proper grip. You lost this argument at Christmas so let’s have some hands on skin, or I’ll start pattycake right now.”
Harold got a grip as instructed. “I thought you were fixed up now?”
“Maybe I is and maybe I ain’t. Maybe I’m just making sure he’s keen?” Sal giggled. “Is he keen?”
“I’m not sure. His eyeballs are out on stalks and he’s tripping over his tongue. Does that count?” Harold could see Jon, who definitely kept an eye on Sal even while he danced with Patricia the nurse.
“Perfect. Now it depends on who I can swap with. I could end up with anybody.” Sal gave a little shimmy. “But do I want to worry all year about a knife in the back? One or two are getting very competitive about you, Soldier Boy.”
“Liz keeps saying I’ve chosen someone.”
Sal giggled. “But has she chosen you?”
“That would be a mess, wouldn’t it? Maybe I should just let Liz arrange it all? Then I could let it come as a pleasant surprise.”
“You trust Liz to do that, with her sense of humour?” Sal raised her eyebrows to go with her wicked smile. “She’s likely to fix you up with Casper.” Harold laughed, at least partly in relief because although Sal danced very close, she wasn’t going overboard this time. Not only that, but Sal certainly had Jon’s attention. He almost trotted over when the music stopped to claim the next dance.
“Me next, because I owe you this one.” Emmy wore a huge grin. “Since I won’t get a New Year kiss from you.”
“Is it rigged then?”
“Mine is, and don’t you dare say so.” Emmy was very serious. “I was a bit tempted to burn my fingers at Christmas, but that probably wouldn’t have happened.” She quirked her lips in a half-smile. “If you lived in the next town then I re
ckon I could have rocked your world, just briefly Soldier Boy. But you don’t, so I’m not risking it.” Her big bright smile flashed. “Curtis is going to get his world well and truly rocked tonight when I walk him home.”
“I thought he was supposed to walk you home?” Harold hugged and smiled, and he didn’t need to force either because he really felt happy for Emmy. “Good luck. Though of course, given your stunning looks, signature hair and sparkling personality, luck won’t come into it. Are you making it all official?”
“Sort of. I think I should go out with him for a week or two, all open and above board, before dragging him into bed permanently. What do you think?” Emmy laughed. “Since you’ve already given Curtis advice.”
“Hey, I didn’t know that was about you.” Harold leaned forward a bit and kissed her on the nose. “Though I’m pleased it is. He really did fancy you way back, before the hair and all that.”
“And he’s been really sweet as well, not pushy, which seems to have worked.” They danced until the song ended and Emmy’s lips met Harold’s briefly. “Thanks, Harold. Happy New Year.” She laughed, and just as she turned away winked. “You’ve already been traded at least once.” He had? Now Harold wondered who had been Seth’s original partner, and had no idea.
* * *
The music paused at ten to twelve, and Kerry held up two sheets of paper. “The results are on here, or the original results are. You men go and get safety pins for your numbers so the poor girls can see their fate.” Kerry tried for a threatening glare but her smile kept winning. “If there is an argument this list will settle it so trade numbers, don’t steal them.”
Harold pinned his number on and tried to see who had what, but a good few were keeping theirs covered while trying to make trades. Liam, one of the original residents from the flats, looked a bit like a rabbit in headlights as Suzie waved her number at him. Matti claimed a dance, a very modest one without hugging. “This is working, I’m already eyeing up the talent. Next time round I’ll be giving that sister of mine some competition.” She smiled. “How often do you lot have dances?”
