Our New Year Celebrations were relatively muted, Tom, Simon and I toasted the new year with a bottle of ordinary champagne, I tried to tell Simon, that I preferred an Asti spumanti but typical man, he thinks it’s his job to talk and me to listen.

Earlier, I’d put Mima to bed and Simon had done the story telling. He’d fallen asleep again, and I had to go and wake him. Dinner was okay, my coq au vin, was passable and some polite comments were made about it. It was acceptable, I wouldn’t go beyond that myself. For dessert, I produced some apple and mint sorbet, I’d made a week or two ago. That was good, even I enjoyed it, though the cold made my teeth squeak a little.

The television wasn’t on, as we played a few games of scrabble to while away the evening. Tom is actually quite a canny player, and he and Simon beat Stella and me, twice. We did get revenge, when Stella played a seven letter word and hit a triple word score. I also got all my letters out first.

By the time, we girls had hit back, it was nearly eleven forty five, so Simon went off to get his bottle of bubbly and Stella poured herself a fruit juice. I was quite impressed how she had eschewed alcohol during her pregnancy. I didn’t say anything because I knew it would make her self conscious.

Simon checked his radio controlled watch and at two minutes to twelve he opened the bottle and poured us a glass. We toasted the new year and I went with Tom to let the New Year in, opening the front door and standing on the doorstep for a few minutes. No one walked past, nor did we see anyone else about, however, suddenly the place was filled with bangs and flashes as people set off fireworks.

I was amused to think of a report I’d seen of the women of Naples going on sex strike if their men folk continued to use illegal fireworks. Apparently there are fires and nasty injuries every year, so the woman were trying to use the same tactics as the ancient Greeks–good luck to them.

We hadn’t set off any fireworks, so Simon was safe, assuming he was in the mood. I was tired but could probably be encouraged if he pressed a few of the right buttons, two of which were on my chest.

We all kissed each other to celebrate the New Year, and my kiss to Simon, should have sent him the odd message. I would wait and see, he’d have to work for it, but he’d get his just rewards if he did.

As we shut the front door, we heard someone blowing a bugle in the near distance, I don’t know what they playing, because I’m a total ignoramus regarding bugle calls, except it wasn’t the last post, I knew that one from Armistice Day.

A little later after finishing the bubbly, we went to bed. Simon let me go in the bathroom first, and while I waited for him, I tucked in Jemima, who had possibly wriggled with the noises outside. It was bitterly cold out doors, no wonder we hadn’t seen anyone.

“Happy New Year,” I said to Simon and kissed him. He took the hint, and kissed me back, then he let his kisses migrate downwards and, you can probably guess what happened later and why I had to go to the bathroom again.

I was returning to bed, Simon had already zonked, when I heard a little whimper. I froze and listened. It was quiet and I was quite literally freezing. Then I heard it again. I sat up in bed and this woke Simon up, “Wassamatta?”

“Hush, listen.” I sat there and he lay still as we listened, trying to ignore the odd sound of revellers or traffic from whatever it was I’d heard. Then it happened again.

“Mima?” Simon whispered to me.

“Sounds like, I wonder if she’s having a bad dream,” I whispered back.

“Want me to check her?” he offered and I nearly fell out of the bed.

“No, it’s okay, I’ll go.” I said and went to Mima’s little bed. He followed me. She was moving about and her eyes were moving indicating she was dreaming, REM, or rapid eye movement, they call it.

I stroked her face, “It’s okay, Meems, we’re here, no one’s going to hurt you.”

She opened her eyes but was obviously still asleep, “I wanna stay wiv Caffy, Caffy my mummy.” Then she closed them and seemed to calm down as I spoke and reassured her again.

“Poor little lamb, if those bastards in social services only knew what they were doing to her,” said Simon once we got back into bed.

“I want to keep her more than ever,” I said and felt myself tear up.

“You and me, too. Dammit all, we are going to keep her. If that judge bloke doesn’t find in our favour, I‘m going to appeal against him.”

“Hasn’t he got to give permission, for you to do that?”

“I can be most persuasive.”

“I had noticed, I’m sore somewhere because of your powers of persuasion,” I said.

“See, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Yeah, maybe that’s what it was.”

“You cheeky cow, you told me I’d turned you on a few moments ago.”

“Well maybe you did, perhaps we could see tomorrow and I’d have something to compare it with.”

Even in the relatively dark room I could see his expression of mixed emotions, the overriding one being that he hoped I was still feeling comparatively sexy tomorrow. I’d do my best.

“What about Jemima?” I asked, “What would she do if the judge found against us?”

“Keep it quiet, Babes, she might hear us.”

“I am keeping it quiet, I’m whispering.”

“You weren’t just then.”

“Sorry, I am now.”

“I think she’d be very distressed, so would I for that matter, and I hate to think what you’d be feeling.” He stroked my shoulder, “You’ve practically become her mother.”

“Yeah, I know. So we fight on?”

“As much as we can. She needs stability and a loving household. I think we provide that, even if you are a cyclist.”

“What? You cheeky git. What’s wrong with being a cyclist?”

“Nothing, I was winding you up.”

“No you weren’t, you did that earlier, this was screwing me up.”

“No, that’s what I did earlier, this was a wind up, definitely–trust me, I’m a banker.”

“Oh shit!”

“What’s wrong?”

“You just reminded me.”

“Of what?”

“Never mind, I’m tired, I need to go to sleep.” I kissed him and lay down, turning on my side away from him.

“What did I remind you of?” he hissed behind me. I of course ignored him and went blissfully off to sleep, while he whispered and hissed to his heart’s content —now that is what you call a wind up.