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Can a strange New Year’s tradition help Ruby get the fresh start she needs?

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‘In Colombia, they stuff a doll called Mr Old Year with items associated with bad memories of the past year and set him on fire.’

Ruby looked up from her magazine. She could see the cathartic possibilities. Rushing into her bedroom, she took out her box of photos. Tears flowed as she flicked through them, especially the one of her and Ben in front of the Eiffel Tower, laughing.

How could she know within a year he’d have left and moved in with Adele?

She gathered a bundle. She didn’t have time to make a new doll. She eyeballed Henrietta, the rag doll she’d cherished since her eighth birthday. It was a sacrifice worth making.

She cut a hole in Henrietta’s soft body, stuffing the photos inside. She rammed in her engagement ring, then sewed Henrietta back up. Avoiding Henrietta’s accusing stare, she switched on the TV, where the New Year was heralded by an explosion of fireworks.

Ruby headed into her garden, glancing at her neighbour’s house. She’d heard visitors arriving earlier, but it looked like they were all inside. She placed Henrietta on top of a flower tub leaning against the old wooden fence and struck a match, then held it against Henrietta’s pink gingham dress. ‘Goodbye and good riddance, Ben,’ she whispered. ‘Adele’s welcome to you hogging the TV to watch football.’

As a flame caught one of the doll’s blonde plaits, Ruby remembered the times she’d cried into Henrietta’s soft head over a failed teenage romance.

‘No!’ she wailed, throwing the glass of Champagne she’d placed on the window ledge over the doll. She stamped out the remaining flames, cradling a charred Henrietta, sobbing uncontrollably.

‘Fire! Quick!’ she heard someone shout.

She raised her head and saw flames start to devour her neighbour’s fence where Henrietta had been leant. She tried to move but her legs refused to work. Someone turned on a hose and she breathed a sigh of relief as the fire petered out. Still clutching a singed Henrietta, who only had one plait and whose gingham skirt was missing, she stared in horror at the row of faces peering at her over the top of the fence.

‘Were you trying to launch her as a firework?’ a blond man wearing a Christmas jumper asked, adding, ‘Are you OK?’

She recognised the man with curly hair enquiring after her health, and possibly her sanity, as her neighbour. So far, they’d

only exchanged hellos as they scraped the ice off their car windscreens before heading to work.

‘Fine, thanks. Excuse me...’ Her voice was a pitiful squeak. She bolted into the house.

‘We could help you try again if you like,’ the blond man shouted after her.

She headed to bed, pulling the duvet over her head. So much for getting rid of bad memories. The New Year had hardly begun and already she had a horrendous new memory. Every time she opened her eyes, she pictured those partygoers staring at her as if she were mad. What was she going to say to her new neighbour? She’d need to pay for the damage to his fence.

She fretted about this all the next day. When she saw him go out jogging, she had an idea. She ripped out the magazine article, underlining the part about Mr Old Year and put it into an envelope with a note saying she hoped this would explain. She also asked how much she owed for the fence repair.

She sneaked out, her head spinning in all directions, in case he returned, and posted her note. An hour later, her doorbell rang. Her heart thudded. Ruby opened the front door to see her neighbour holding her note and a bottle of wine.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, humiliated.

‘It’s only a fence. It’ll get fixed,’ he smiled, waving the bottle of wine. ‘Why don’t you let me in as your first-foot?

You could say hello to Mr New Year, instead of goodbye to Mr Old Year. It would be much safer.’

She led him to the kitchen and took out two glasses.

‘I’m Ruby, and I’m usually a normal person. In fact, my ex said I was boring.’

‘I’m Luke.’ They clinked glasses. ‘Boring? My party will be the talk of the town for years to come because of you!’

Ruby saw he was trying not to laugh. But his smile was kind; she began to see the funny side. Luke studied Henrietta sitting on the sofa. Ruby had cut off her other plait so she wasn’t lopsided and made her a new skirt of pink taffeta.

‘She seems to have survived,’ Luke raised his glass. ‘And her owner will, too.’

‘To Mr New Year,’ she toasted, feeling hope for the first time in months.

She could have sworn Henrietta, looking renewed and rather charming, winked at her.