New Year’s Eve fairytale
Love it or hate it, NYE can be an emotional night. A time to let things go – and to welcome in new beginnings. For Loraine Dennison, 35, it was the start of a whole new life…
‘Not bad,’ I thought, admiring my reflection. Hair up, make-up on and a tight full-length coral body-con dress.
I scrubbed up quite well, even if I did say so myself.
But then anything was an improvement on my usual outfit of jeans and old jumper.
There wasn’t much opportunity for dressing up in my day to day life.
I’d moved to France from
Sandhurst, Berkshire – or rather followed my parents there – when I was 21.
They were renovating an old barn in the Dordogne, to make their retirement dream come true. I’d been drifting around, working lunch times in a pub. While my friends were getting married and sorting out careers, I wasn’t sure what to do.
So, moving to remote France and working on the renovation for a few months seemed like an adventure.
I didn’t intend to stay… but nine years on, here I was. Thirty, single and working as a carer for a local lady.
I liked our rural way of life, it was gentle, I’d made a few friends… but it was anything but glamorous!
And I had all but given up on love. I’d had boyfriends in the past but nothing that had worked out long term. Nor did I expect to meet anyone…
So, when a local, Ron, announced he was hosting a 70th birthday party on New Year’s Eve in a chateau – I was understandably excited – the whole village was.
‘ We need to really dress up,’ I told Mum and Dad. They agreed.
Mum wore a long evening dress. Dad wore a black suit and dickie bow. And here I was, in my coral number bought on eBay …
Arriving at the chateau, which was all lit up with
candles and fairy lights, I felt like I was in a movie. Like Cinderella, finally going to the ball. Little did I know, there was even a prince waiting for me…
It was so beautiful and grand – so unlike anything from my everyday life.
And I spotted him – my prince, who I would later discover was called Hugh, in his blue shirt and green sweater – straight away.
It wasn’t his good looks that caught my eye – just a new face!
The way we lived meant it was rare to meet someone new… let alone a not bad-looking youngish man…
I was sipping strong homemade cider, drinking in the glowing lights, when my dad came over.
‘ You should go and chat to that chap,’ he announced, pointing out Hugh.
‘He made this cider…’ Did I mention the homemade cider? It was very strong. Just one glass and we were all feeling a little tipsy! So, buoyed with Dutch courage – well homemade French cider - I introduced myself to Hugh. We chatted for most of the evening. He was a year younger than me, a gardener, who bred rabbits.
‘Fairytales really can come true.’
He’d been living and working as an odd job man in Sheffield when he’d made the move to our part of France.
We had to shout to be heard over the jazz band but even so, the conversation flowed and I barely left his side.
Then the countdown to midnight began: ‘10, nine… Happy New Year!’ the crowd roared.
And as the clock struck 12, Hugh planted a rather chaste kiss on my cheek. Nothing more…
Then, suddenly it was 12.30, and the party was over, and just like in Cinderella, we had to go home…
But I did have Hugh’s phone number. Calling him a few days later, I was disappointed he didn’t pick up. Or the next day, or the next day. I’d called six times before I finally spoke to him.
Rather like Prince Charming, I was starting to think I’d imagined Hugh – and our connection.
Turned out he’d given me his house telephone number and he was always outside working.
‘Do you fancy a walk with the dogs?’ he suggested, when we did eventually speak.
And so, me and Jack, my cocker spaniel, met with Hugh and his black Labrador Elsa. Just like on New Year’s Eve, the conversation flowed. Jack and Elsa seemed to get along, too!
An invitation to dinner followed – where he’d made chicken and vegetables – grown in his own garden. But even then, the course of true love didn’t run all that smoothly. We’d still never kissed. I wondered if Hugh just liked me as a friend and wasn’t interested in me romantically.
It was six weeks before we sealed our relationship – ‘I’ve been wanting to kiss you for ages,’ he said. ‘Could I?’
‘ Yes, please,’ I answered And that, as they say in fairytales, was that. We moved in together.
On Christmas Day two years ago, he proposed. We were married in our garden in July 2018.
And now? We plan to live happily ever after…
‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned’ ‘I had all but given up on love – and I hadn’t expected to meet anyone...’