The first dram disappears fast, like there’s a hole in the glass.
I meant to nurse it, I need to stay sober, this is an important night for me.
Maybe my last chance to get my life back together.
I’m in the Royal, down by the harbour, here for the Hogmanay do.
It’s not somewhere I visit often, there’s a clue in the name, it’s not really my scene.
It’s a hotel, a huge place, holds maybe three hundred folk, with two bars and a big area for the dancing.
I know she’s going to be here, I met her pal Cathy and she told me they’re all coming
So I’m dressed up, all smart like, suit and shirt and tie, and I make sure I’m here early enough.
It’s already pretty mobbed, even though it’s only half ten, so, like I say, I get myself a whisky.
I’m just thinking about having a nosey around when I see big Rab.
‘Awright, Scottie,’ he says.
‘Awright, Rab,’ I say, and we have a blether for a while.
I’ve known Rab a long time, pretty much all my life, we grew up in the same neighbourhood.
Okay, scheme.
We were never really mates, not usually in the same classes at school.
I was more of a high flyer back then, a bit of an academic.
Aye, times have changed.
Rab was on the practical side.
He’s a sparky now, works in the family business.
But we always got on okay, so we talk about nothing for ten minutes, then I go for a wander about until I see her.
She’s with Cathy and a couple of other lassies, just standing with their glasses in their hands and kind of moving to the music.
Well, I say ‘lassies’, but they’re all in their early forties now, nearly as old as me.
She’s looking great, wearing that wee black number that she knows I always liked.
It shows off her figure, she’s still slim, and still got great legs.
I catch her eye, she says something to her pals and comes over to speak to me.
‘Awright, Scottie,’ she says.
‘Awright, doll,’ I say, ‘How’re you doing.’
‘I’m good,’ she says, ‘Aye, I’m good, thanks.’
‘I like your hair’, I say.
‘Do you, yeah?’ she is all smiles, combing her fingers through it, ‘I got it done a wee bit lighter, and the curls are softer too.’
We chat for a while, just general stuff about the kids and that, all very friendly.
I mean there’s no hassle there, they’re pretty much grown up, our lassie’s living through in Edinburgh with her man, and the lad’s about to finish university in Aberdeen.
I’ve always made sure that money wasn’t a problem, for them or for her, so that’s never been something we’ve argued about.
Glasses with holes in them, that was more of an issue.
So after a bit I say that I’ll maybe see her at the bells.
She tips her head to the side and grins up at me.
‘Aye, maybe,’ she says.
Result, I think to myself, because traditionally you get to kiss who you happen to be with at midnight, and I’m hoping that will remind her that we had a pretty good thing going in that regard.
And then we’ll see where we go from there.
I’m still hoping we can get back together, although we’ve been separated for quite a while now.
I watch her as she heads back, her hips swinging to the music, and I shake my head.
What an idiot I was to let this happen in the first place.
I go back to the bar to kill some time, there’s still the best part of an hour to go.
I have another drink to celebrate my good luck, then another one just to settle my nerves.
Suddenly folk are starting to move, and I realise that there’s only a couple of minutes to go.
I panic a wee bit, hurry back to where she was earlier, but she’s gone, and so have her pals.
I go over to the dancing and there she is, with Big Rab.
They seem far too close together, then I see that his arms are round her waist.
They’re dancing real slow, hardly moving, just swaying to the sound of strings and a deep voice.
I am stunned.
I mean, Big Rab has all the charisma of a pair of cheap plastic flip-flops you get in Benidorm because the sand’s too hot to walk on.
But he’s all over her like a rash.
I think about cutting in, but it’s too late.
I watch in horror as the countdown begins and they show no sign of separating.
5-4-3-2-1.
Happy New Year!
And they kiss.
It isn’t a New Year kiss, it’s a real kiss, a kiss with a promise.
When they eventually stop, they turn as if by mutual agreement and head towards the door.
They have to pass right by where I’m standing, and I want to move, but find I can’t.
‘Awright, Scottie,’ says Rab.
‘Awright, Rab,’ I say.
I want to lamp him right there, but I know she wouldn’t be impressed.
She told me way back at the start that she hates violence, so I gave it up, and I’ve not been in a fight for 20-odd years.
Well except for when I battered that tube in the pub in Kilmarnock after the game that time, but he asked for it.
And there’s another thing.
I’m not sure I could take Rab.
He’s a big lad and a bit of a bruiser, even back at school he could fair dish it out.
It would be pretty embarrassing if I had a go at him and ended up getting my face pushed in with his big fists.
So I just look at her.
She lifts one shoulder a couple of inches, and gives a half smile.
It’s nearly an apology.
‘Awright, Scottie,’ she says.
I stare at her for a minute.
‘Awright, doll,’ I say. ‘Maybe see you around?’
The shoulder lifts again, but the smile falters.
‘Aye,’ she says, ‘Maybe.’
And I watch her walk out of my life.
Again.
© CE Ayr 2026
Glaswegian by birth but now living in a small town he calls Medville on the Côte Vermeille, France, C.E. Ayr has spent a large part of his life in the West of Scotland and a large part elsewhere. His work has featured in a number of anthologies, chapbooks and magazines in Scotland and he has four full-length novels available on Amazon. He also has a blog, of course, and some pretty cool stuff on YouTube.
His latest book is out on Amazon HERE
Loved this- could see it playing out. Tragic