Joan knew she was putting a damper on the celebrations, but she just couldn’t help herself. This was the first New Year’s Eve since she’d moved into the house that Sam wasn’t there to share it with her. She nursed a glass of ginger wine, barely sipping it as talk and laughter flowed around her. She had rarely felt so alone – he’d always been around, sharing her highs and lows. Now he was gone.
“Mum, have a mince pie?” Sara, her daughter, leaned over, concern in her eyes as she proffered the plate.
“No thanks.” Joan smiled with an effort, adding, “they do look delicious. I might have one a bit later.”
“There won’t be much later,” Sara laughed. “It’s almost midnight now.”
Joan looked around. People were still chatting and enjoying themselves. It was nearly midnight. She got up, moving towards the window as the countdown began.
“Five, four, three, two, one…” The room erupted as everyone hugged and kissed, exclaiming loudly. Joan accepted the embraces, then turned back to gaze out into the darkness. A sudden movement on the garden path caught her eye. Could it be? Surely not? Heart beating quickly, Joan went to the door, flinging it open. Yes! She was right. He HAD come. Sam had returned.
A pretty little Persian cat stepped daintily across the threshold, her four feet pattering on the parquet, Siamese Sam strutting proudly at her side.
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