A Little New Year’s Dream
Once, an elderly schoolmistress named Margaret accidentally won… a crate of sparkling wine! A whole crate! Sparkling wine! Entirely by chance!
In the local Sainsburys where Margaret usually stopped after her lessons, there was a festive prize draw for the approaching New Year. Margaret, a practical soul, never put faith in such raffles or sweepstakes. But the cashier persuaded her.
Come on, feeling festive, arent you? Surely you wouldnt mind a bottle or two? quipped the cashier.
Margaret sighed. It had been many years since shed had anyone to celebrate with. Her husband had passed decades ago; her daughter had moved to London for university and put down roots there, only occasionally ringing her mother to grumble about work woes, her own daughters sniffles, and whyregretfullythey simply couldnt visit. Of course the pupils adored Margaret, but all their holidays were mapped out with other childhood adventures. So Margaret had grown accustomed to spending New Years Eve alone in the company of her ancient artificial tree, decorated with motley baubles from days gone by, a woolly Father Christmas, and her cat, Percy.
Just jot your surname and number here, the cashier snapped Margaret out of her musings. Margaret obeyed, and her form was dropped with a flourish into the raffle urn. Tucking away her modest groceries, she ambled home, thoughts already drifting.
This was two weeks before New Years. Lessons, end-of-term reports and grumpy marking swept Margaret along, and she entirely forgot the raffle.
On the afternoon of the thirty-first, she popped into Sainsburys for Percys favourite trout mixPercy seemed to eat for three. Muttering about her cats bottomless stomach, Margaret entered the shop, when suddenly her own name echoed across the store. She stopped mid-stride.
Ahead, a crowd was gathered. Atop a dais stood Father Christmas with a battered loudhailer, announcing the lucky winners.
Margaret Goodwin! rumbled Father Christmas. Is there a Margaret Goodwin amongst us?
For a moment, Margaret was speechless, with all the shock of a flustered schoolgirl. The cashier dashed over, grabbed her hand, and raised it high.
Shes here! Shes right here! And then, without ceremony, steered Margaret towards Father Christmas.
He blinked, surprised. The crate of pricey sparkling wine was not meant, hed thought, for a pensioner in a worn parka and old boots. Hed half-hoped to hand it off to a glamorous woman in a velvet gown, perhaps filmed by the local news. Well, nothing for it. Father Christmasstifling a sighpresented Margaret with her extravagant prize.
The crate was whisked outside on a tinsel-bedecked trolley, so she could trundle it home. A quick photo was taken, but that languished on Father Christmass mobile, never posted.
The raffle rolled on, other prizes to be won, but Margaret, dazed by luck, wheeled the crate towards the exit.
Oh! I didnt even thank the cashier, thought Margaret, pausing by the doors. If not for that gentle nudge, she might never have entered at all. She left her winnings with the security guard, reached into the crate, and hurried back into the shop. Spotting her familiar cashier, whose badge read Emily, she solemnly handed her a bottle, her thanks brimming with sincerity, before leaving.
A second bottle wentjust as ceremoniouslyto the security guard. At first, he protested, but Margaret gently insisted.
Makes it lighter for me anyway, she smiled. And truly, what would I do with so much?
Do you live far? the guard asked.
Just round, No. 22, flat 3B, up the next street, Margaret replied.
He helped her down the steps with her trolley and crate, wishing her a happy New Year. He lingered outside, puffing on a cigarette, watching Margaret disappear like some mild eccentric.
Wrapping her cargo in a knitted scarf, Margaret pressed on home. As she turned the corner, she ran into her neighbour, Mrs. Hunter. Polite nods and brief wishes were exchangedthough both harboured a mild irritation for each other. Still, New Years Eve softened even the frostiest spirits, and perhaps for that reason, Margaret extracted another bottle from the crate, handing it to her surprised neighbour.
Some teacher, eh? thought Mrs. Hunter, staring down at the expensive bottle, Buying champagne like royalty!
The parting was cordial, and the trolley was now even lighter.
Glancing around the communal garden, Margaret bumped into the parents of one of her pupils. The father lugged an evergreen, the mother held a cake, and a mischievous boy darted ahead with a sledge. They greeted Margaret warmly and, to their shock, were presented with a bottle of sparkling wine.
You young ones! Raise a glass at midnight and enjoy it, Margaret told them.
Oh, but surely, its a dear sort of drink, protested the parents.
It came for free! I won it, just now, at the shop, Margaret replied, flushed with excitement.
They all shared a laugh at her unexpected good fortune and disappeared off to their own celebrations.
Margaret left the trolley by the buildings entrance.
Maybe one of the children will fancy a ride, she mused. What do I need it for? She took the last two bottles, entered the block, and climbed into the liftjust as the lights flickered off and the lift ground to a halt. Oh dear. She was trapped. Luckily, her prickly neighbour was coming home just then, and promptly fetched the lift engineer, who arrived bristling with irritation.
Why cant old dears sit still at home? he grumbled under his breath, Roaming about in the snow
Rescuing Margaret from the stalled lift, he found himself rewardedquite unexpectedlywith a bottle of champagne.
Some old dear! he couldnt help but whistle. He pocketed the bottleit was perfect for his evening. Hed invited a certain lady round that night and hoped this might tip the evening in his favour.
By the time Margaret reached her flat and an indignant, hungry Percy, it was nearly dusk. She was tired, but oddly content.
And that, Percy, is the story, Margaret finished, sitting cross-legged with her cat. I won some champagne, and passed it on to good people.
Mrow, replied Percy crossly.
Just one bottle left Still, another New Year, just you and me, as always.
A couple of hours passed. Margaret began to lay the table: the jelly, a careful potato salad, and a few slices of ham for Percy.
Then the bell rangquite out of the blue.
She opened the door. On the threshold stood the cashier and the security guard, Emily hooked onto his arm and holding a bag that gave off the most delicious aroma.
Were not exactly Father Christmas or the Snow Maiden, but we wanted to bring you a New Years wish, said the security guard. Emily handed over her bagroast chicken, slightly steaming.
Fresh from the kitchenespecially for you, she said warmly.
How lovely! gasped Margaret with delight. Please, take off your coats and come in.
They became the first guests.
Moments later, the bell rang again. The parents from earlier stood smiling, proffering a cake.
Just thought wed pop in for a bit, to keep you company, they said.
No coats had yet been settled before the bell rang once more: Mrs. Hunter, Margarets unfriendly neighbour, on the step, holding a gaudy box.
This is for you, she said.
A present! exclaimed Margaret, hands to her cheeks. A real one! No one has given me a present on New Years in ages. Thank youdo come in!
So began a cheerful, dreamlike bustle. The old year was waved off with the faded strains of The Morecambe and Wise Christmas Special.
As midnight drew near, the guests drifted out, returning to their own waiting families. For after all, New Years is first and last a family affair.
Margaret was left alone again, just herself and Percy.
Oh, and after all that, we never even opened the champagne, she sighed.
Just then, the bell rang once more.
Standing on the doorstep were her daughter, granddaughter, and son-in-lawthe most longed-for guests of all.
Mum! cried the young woman, enfolding Margaret in her arms, Were so happy we could finally come!
Sorry about the snowtook us ages, like tortoises. Forgot the champagne, too, added the son-in-law in his deep voice.
