Auld Lang Syne

"Ja, it was stupid," Peta said, flicking her hair to try and mimic the mannequin in the display. She posed, trying to work out if the red ball gown dress would suit her.

"That looks great," Sam said, studying the lines of the dress. "You'd suit that, for sure."

"You think?" Peta said, smiling. "Come, we need to get to the car, so you don't miss your flight."

"We have time," Sam said, taking her hand, and kissing it. "What's this?"

"Ohhh...I came here as a child, with mutter," Peta said, gazing at the rings and necklaces on display next door. "I always wanted a ring with rubies, or sapphires in it".

"If you had a ruby each side of a diamond," Sam suggested, "You'd have a ring that looks a bit like the Austrian flag".

"That's true," Peta said thoughtfully. "I like that idea."

Sam smiled, and pulled her close. "We really do need to get going now," he murmured. "Thank you for looking after me."

"Thank you," Peta said, turning to face him, and holding his face in her hands, "for reminding me this evening of how I feel about you."

"Did I need to?" Sam said, confused.

"I was annoyed at you. But then after some time in the city, I realised you are just doing things out of love," Peta replied. "But we should have a serious chat soon, for sure. Work stuff out."

They looked into each other's eyes once more. "New year's?" Sam asked.

"Ja," Peta said. "I will be there."

"Danke," Sam said, his heart swelling.

***

It had been a whirlwind few weeks for Sam. He'd organised a limo to the venue, the R.A.F. Club's New Year's Eve party in London.

He had the ring: he had taken his grandmother with him to look around the ring shops of London's diamond quarter, eventually settling on a single carat, princess cut diamond with two small rubies, one each side. set into a silver-gold ring, it was very pretty and sparkly.

It was also terrifyingly expensive, at least for the 26 year old Sam. Italy never left his side, staying in a pocket close to his heart.

Peta had arrived only a few hours before they were due to leave, and was being helped by his mother and sister to get ready to go out. Sam was beyond nervous, pacing up and down the hall in his red velvet jacket, black trousers and black tie completing the look.

"Very Lewis Hamilton," his father observed, brushing the shoulder of Sam's jacket. "Chill, be casual. Have you got it?"

"Yes."

"Does she know?"

"No, not a thing."

"Okay. Good luck Son, Bonne chance", his father said, embracing him.

"Sam! Yoohoo! Look up angel!"

His mother's dulcet tones rang out from above them, and Sam turned to the staircase.

It was one of those moments in life that change you in an instant. You become someone else, watching down, on two people seeing each other for the first time in an entirely new way. Sam gazed up at Peta, wearing the red ballroom dress, her lips matching the colour, and her eye-shadowed in silver. Her green eyes glinted as she stepped down in her heels, stumbling slightly around the excited old dog, Blues, and as she made it to the bottom step, Sam's heart was thumping back and forth enough to wake the dead.

Peta gazed down at Sam. She loved his jacket, and could see how much effort he'd put into this for her. She spied a small bouquet in his hands, and smiled.

"Hey you," Sam said, his mouth dry.

"Hey yourself," she replied, giving him a cheeky kiss on his lips. He relaxed a little, handing her the bouquet.

"Pour vous," he said, gently.

"Oh, mai ouis!" Peta laughed.

"Both of your french is - 'ow you say - terrible", Sam's father said, his own french accent accenting the R's in "terrible".

They laughed, and posed for a few photos.

"The limo's outside Sam", his father said, pushing them towards the door. "We need to get on with cooking for our party".

"Have fun you two!" Sam's mother and sister chorused.

Peta smiled warmly, and looked to Sam, taking his hand. He whispered to her "You are the most beautiful woman in the world".

"What right now?" Peta asked.

"Always," Sam replied. Peta softened, more.

"You're not so bad yourself," she whispered back, as he helped her into the limo.

"Where to guv?" Asked the driver.

"The R.A.F. Club," Sam called out. "A friend of mine got us in, he's an engineer with some good contacts".

The journey into London took about half an hour, and they made small talk over a bottle of Bollingers (Sam's dad's contribution to the proceedings).

"It's very bubbly," Peta giggled, drinking a little more from her glass. "Very nice!"

"Would you drink it again?" Sam asked, pouring a bit more into his glass.

"Ja, for sure," she replied.

"We're nearly there guv", the driver called back. "I'll park round the corner so just text when you need to come back".

"Much appreciated," Sam said, as the limo slowed to a crawl, and stopped just outside the beautiful old building of the R.A.F. Club.

Peta looked to Sam. Something was amiss. He wasn't entirely relaxed. "Are you okay?" She asked him.

"Yep. All good," Sam said, wiping a couple of beads of sweat from his forehead. "All good".

The dinner went without a hitch. Well, maybe one hitch. Sam's desert hadn't arrived, but he didn't seem bothered. He was looking round anxiously. "Sam...what are you doing?" Peta asked.

"Sorry Peta, I'm just feeling a bit restless," he said. "Do you want to come for a little walk, to go round the building, maybe get some air?"

"Ja, then we can dance until midnight," Peta said, standing up. Sam took her hand, and led her through the corridors of paintings and photographs of the Royal Air Force. He took the time to explain a few, but this wasn't the normal Sam, confident and tall, this Sam was nervous and, well, a bit sweaty.

They stopped on the stairs, above the ballroom, and gazed down at the people helping put the tables away for the dancing.

"Peta, I haven't been entirely honest with you..." Sam said, breathing a little deeper than he wanted. "...there's something I need to tell you."

"Ja? What is it Sam?" Peta asked, turning to him, concerned. "You've been so odd this evening."

He took a deep breath, and looked at her. "I love you Peta. More than I have ever loved anyone, in my entire life." He took her hand, and dropped his gaze to her shoes before looking up again, his eyes shining.

"I have had a lot of time to think about the things we've discussed...what we're doing, where we're going...but I know one thing...I can't do this without you."

Peta was actually frightened. This seemed too serious. Oh no, she thought, realising what he was about to do...

"Peta," Sam said, pulling the ring box out, "will you marry me?"

She stood there, rigid, stuck to the spot. The most beautiful ring she'd ever seen was sat there, in the ring box.

"I...that is...to say..." Peta was trying to be careful. "Sam...I am not sure...that this is the time..."

Sam looked confused. "Maybe try the ring on, for size?" He suggested. He took the ring out, and carefully, slowly, slid it onto Peta's hand.

Peta's heart was thumping. She looked down at the ring. Then at Sam.

"I need...I need a bit of time...could you...could you get us some drinks?" She said, outwardly calmly.

"Sure...I'll...get some drinks..." Sam was looking very unsure, and left her on the stairs, going to the bar. Peta stood there for a few moments, her mind racing.

Then, she turned, hocking her dress a little with her hands, and carefully walked down the stairs and to their table, grabbing her bag. The world seemed to be in vignette, as she walked past scores of people in tuxes and dresses, laughing and drinking the night away, heading for the door.

"Taxi!" Peta hailed the cab from just outside of the R.A.F. club. The black cab stopped abruptly, and she pulled herself in, ball gown and all. "Charing Cross please, danke," she said, breathless. The cab driver said something in response but she hadn't heard it through her heart pounding. What was she doing? This didn't make sense to her.

The last train was standing in platform 1, waiting to head south to Dartford. Peta sprinted, making it through the gate, and then through the train's doors as its old air brakes sighed, before its usual electric hum took over, and it moved forward, across the bridge and over the Thames.

She looked at her phone. Missed calls. Texts. From everyone, Sam included. She was panicking. She turned the phone off, and sat back, leaning against the window.

Fireworks were still going off in London as the train passed the Millennium Eye, then Waterloo station, and the building site that was London Bridge station...the train picked up speed. Fast to Hither Green, said the tannoy. Peta couldn't breathe. She had to get back to Sam's house and just get out of there, quickly.

She saw the familiar green bridge, bathed in the neon lights of the suburbs before she saw the station sign. She got off the train amongst other revellers, and walked down the station to the end of the ramp. To her relief: more taxis. "Shortlands, please," she said, and passed a tenner to the driver.

It was only a few minutes more, and she was outside Sam's family's house. The party was in full swing, and she realised the side gate was open. She managed to get in, through the garden, amongst the other guests and went into the hosue by the back door, avoiding Sam's parents and sister amongst the partygoers.

She made it up to Sam's room, and changed quickly. The ball room dress went into her cabin bag, and she threw on her jeans and shirt. She turned to leave but then...the ring. She looked down at her hand. Frightened. It was beautiful, sparkling. She shook her head, and took it off, putting it on Sam's bedside table.

She opened the door...a note! He deserved a note. Did she have time? She ran back, and found a notebook on the dresser. She opened it to the next free page, and froze. There was a poem written there.

Perhaps I am too late

Ever the latecomer

Tell her the truth

Always love her

Peta stood, on the verge of hot, furious tears. Why did he have to make this so hard for them both? It was like every moment leading up to this was designed to guilt her into a decision she did not want to make right now.

In scribbled ink, she wrote underneath:

Sam,

Always in my heart

My love, I am sorry

Peta turned and left, running down the stairs, slaloming past drunken guests and Sam's old dog, before getting to the door.

"Peta?"

It was Sam's mother.

"Pat..." Peta turned to her, crying. "I'm so sorry, I have to go, the taxi is waiting."

"I don't understand..." Pat said, confused, hugging her.

"I can't...tell him...I'm sorry..." Peta said, hugging her back, tears flowing. She let go, and opened the door, running to the black cab that was waiting. Sam's mother stood there, staring, still holding her glass of champagne and watching Peta get into the taxi and disappear from view.

It could have been only a few seconds, but the limo screeched to a halt outside the house. Sam, dishevelled, stumbled out, and ran up to the house. "Did you see her?" He asked his mother, holding her shoulders, manic. "Did you see her?"

Pat pointed. "She just left...in a black cab...she didn't say...Sam, what's happened?"

Sam stood there, panting, the enormity of it all hitting him like a freight train. "Did she go upstairs?"

"I think so, she came down with her bags..."

Sam leapt to the stairs, and ran to the top of the house, throwing his bedroom door open, and saw the notebook opened. He walked over to it, and read her message, confused...until he saw the ring, sitting on its side. The diamond and rubies gave the bedside a glittery red shadow from under the teal lamp. He picked it up, and knew what it meant.

"Oh Sam..." His parents and sister had come upstairs. Even the dog, old Blues, had come up and rested her head on his knee. Sam looked up at them shocked, saddened. "How do I tell Gran?" He asked, timidly, before the tears flowed, and he leaned down into the shoulder of his father, tired, and beaten.

The bells were ringing out and fireworks going off again. It was midnight.