Fireworks

‘She sat expectantly – any minute, something amazing would happen’

There was a saying in Lexi’s family that when a Dugdale woman made a wish between Christmas and New Year’s Eve by burning three strands of her hair, that wish came true.

‘Take your dad,’ Lexi’s mum told her, as they both watched him pottering round the kitchen on Boxing Day. ‘ When I was 19, I wished for a man to sweep me off my feet. The following week, at a skating rink, he bumped into me and knocked me flying! And the rest is history.’

Lexi’s takeaway was that you had to make your wish specific – should she wish for ‘someone tall, dark and handsome’ to come into her life, a long-legged black tomcat would turn up on her doorstep.

She returned to her own flat in London a couple of days after Boxing Day. She and a couple of girl friends had tickets to a concert at the 02 on New Year’s Day, so she’d decided to be in situ.

Besides, she planned to burn three strands of her hair and make a wish. For that, she needed privacy. A gorgeous new bloke had moved into the flat above. She thought she might wish ‘for that bloke in 6A to notice I’m a beautiful woman.’

Obviously, it would have been more heroic to wish for world peace and free brownies for everyone, but the wish only ‘worked’ if you asked for something personal.

She cut off three strands of her long, auburn hair. Then she lit a scented candle and lowered the hairs into the flame, making her wish.

She sat back expectantly. Any minute now, something amazing would happen….

A draught of air wafted her dipping fringe towards the candle. Smelling serious burning, she ran for the kitchen, grabbed a tea towel and batted her forehead frantically. Then the smoke alarm went off.

‘Someone in there?’ called a voice outside her front door. ‘Only I can smell burning!’

‘It’s under control!’ she hollered, opening the front door to a man who wasn’t gorgeous or from 6A. He was, in fact, slobby Steve from 4B across the hall. To be fair, he did look like Heathcliff-onthe-moors standing there, framed by wispy smoke.

‘ What happened?’ he gasped.

She indicated her fringe. ‘Extinguished.’

‘Oh. Heard your smoke alarm. Loud, isn’t it?’

‘I think that’s the point.’ ‘Long as you’re OK…’ He seemed inclined to hover. ‘Heard about the fireworks in the park on New Year’s Eve? People are watching it from the roof terrace. There’ll be a party up there afterwards.’

‘This building has a roof terrace?’

‘Belongs to the flat above, 6A. But he’s away skiing with his boyfriend. Leant me the key to his flat to water his plants. Said it’d be OK if I hosted a hand-picked soiree while watching the fireworks, long as I kept to the roof. Chance to get to know others in the block.’

She sighed. ‘Might pop in.’ ‘Great! Knock on 6A at eight. For the fireworks.’

In the end, she went, surprised when ‘slobby’ Steve opened the door in a suit, holding two glasses of bubbly. ‘I took the liberty –,’ he began.

‘ You certainly did!’ She accepted one of the glasses.

‘I like your sparkly head wrap.’

‘My singed fringe thanks you.’

She joined others on the terrace, looking up at stars etched on an indigo sky. She recognised most of the other attendees as fellow flat dwellers. There was also a good spread of food, and a pair of music speakers.

Steve was looking at her in a way that suggested he’d definitely noticed her before now. Plus, while not ‘gorgeous’ in a traditional sense, he had a twinkle about him she’d never noticed before.

He smiled and raised his glass at her, and she found herself smiling back. Smouldering, even.

Soon, the fireworks would begin.