Never mind, Slava! Don’t be sad! At least you had a brilliant New Year’s celebration!

“Cheer up, Dave! Chin upat least you had a brilliant New Years!”

There it washis hometown. Dave stepped off the train, crossed the station square, and headed for the bus stop. He hadnt told his wife, Emily, he was coming back today.

His mood wasnt exactly jubilant. An unpleasant conversation with Emily loomed ahead. Shed accuse him of being a selfish git, moan about how indifferent he wasthe usual.

Indifferent? Hed tried to call her on New Years, hadnt he? But shed turned her phone off. Sulking!

For three whole days, hed rung hernothing. So, finehe gave up. And lets not forget, she couldnt even be bothered to wish his parents or sister a happy New Year, let alone him. Oh, hed have a thing or two to say about that.

It wasnt just her who had a right to blame him, was it? She had her own faultsplenty of them. Best defence? A good offence.

Dave squared his shoulders and marched into their building, battle-ready.

The flat greeted him with silence.

“Hello? Anyone home? Em, Im back!” he called. No reply.

He checked the kitchenempty. The spare roomnothing. Their bedroomsame. But something was off. The cot by the wall was gone. So was the changing table, the chest of drawers, even the pram her parents had bought them.

Heart pounding, he flung open the wardrobe. Emilys side was bare.

“Has she lost the plot? Left me?” he muttered.

He rang his mother-in-law. No answer. Next, KateEmilys best mate. Still nothing. Finally, he got through to Mike, Kates husband.

“Mike, mate! Put Kate on, will you? Cant get hold of her.”

“Kates at her parents in the countrysidewe celebrated New Years there. Spotty signal, you know how it is. I came back early for work. Theyre still relaxing. Why dyou need her?”

“Thought she might know where my Emilys got to. I just got home, and shes vanished. All the baby stuffs gone too,” Dave said.

“Waityour wife was due any day, wasnt she? You seriously swanned off to your folks and left her alone over the holidays?” Mike sounded incredulous.

“She didnt *want* to come! The due date was the 10th or 11thwe had time!”

“Congratulations, Dave. Youre a prize plonker,” Mike chuckled.

“What?”

“Because youve probably been sacked as a husband. Blithering idiotring the hospital. Shes likely there.”

—

Ten days earlier

“I dont get it, Dave,” his mum had said over the phone. “Why mope at home if Emily wont come? Just visit us alone. The babys not due for nearly two weeksyoull be back in time.”

“All the familys gatheringAunt Vera and Uncle Steve, Nat and Vic, even Ollie and Paul. And us, of course. Vic booked us a countryside hotelfour nights, 30th to the 2nd. Fancy dinner on New Years Eve with live music. Ive paid your sharesettle up later. Stay till the 8thyoull make it back before the baby comes.”

Emily had refused to go:

“Dave, I could go into labour *any* day. Picture iteveryone celebrating while Im mid-contraction. And that hotels miles from town! What if the ambulance doesnt make it in time? No. Im staying put.”

“Mums right,” Dave grumbled. “Women these days treat pregnancy like an illness and birth like a medal-worthy feat. She had *three* of us and barely took maternity leave.”

Granted, Emily had a point. But the thought of a bleak New Yearsjust the two of them, a half-hearted meal (shed already said she wasnt cooking much)made him glum. Meanwhile, his family would be dancing, laughing, ringing in the new year with champagne.

So, he went alone.

The hotel *was* brilliant. Around half past midnight, he slipped out to call Emily. No answer.

“Fine. Stay mad. Your lossyou couldve been here having fun,” he thought.

The next morning, his mum fumed:

“Not even a *call* from Emily! No Happy New Year to me or your dad. See how she snubs us? Youve let that wife of yours run wild, love.”

“She doesnt get what *family* means. Thats why were all here together, and shes sat at home sulking. Serves her right.”

Meanwhile, Emily had other concerns. If she thought of anyone that night, it was Davecertainly not his parents or their endless relatives.

Her own folks, hearing shed be alone, invited her over. No big feastjust quiet. Her brother worked shifts in London, so her parents planned a low-key evening.

At 9 p.m. on the 31st, as Emily helped her mum set the table, her waters broke.

The ambulance came. Her mum rode with her; her dad followed in the car.

Emily welcomed the new year in a hospital bed. Her parents waited below. By 12:30 a.m., she was a mum.

—

Taking Mikes advice, Dave rang the hospital.

“Emily Carter? Discharged yesterday,” reception said.

“*Yesterday*? Butthe baby?”

“Born 1st January, 12:30 a.m.”

“Who collected her?”

“Sir, we dont log that in the register.”

Only her parents couldve picked her up. So, she and the baby were at theirs.

Dave bought roses and headed over.

He knocked. His father-in-law answered.

“Yes?”

“Im here for Emily,” Dave said.

“Why?”

“Im her *husband*.”

“Emily!” her dad bellowed. “Some bloke here claims hes your husband. Fancy a chat?”

“No. Tell him to leave,” Emily called from inside.

Her dad shrugged. “Shes not keen. Cheers, mate.” The door shut.

Dave waited, then knocked again.

This time, his mother-in-law loomed in the doorwaytall, sturdy, and terrifying.

“Did you miss the memo?” she snapped.

“Let me in. Ive got rights”

The roses were yanked from his hands. *Whack!* Thorns stung his face.

“Rights? Your *solicitor* can explain those! And dont call againmy grandsons asleep.” The bouquet was flung at his feet. Door slammed.

Dave trudged home, rubbing his scratched cheeks.

Back home, he rang his mum.

“They wouldnt even let me *in*! Didnt see my own son.”

“Dont fret, love. Shell come crawling backwhere else can she go with a baby? Dont call. Dont send money. Let her parents foot the bill if theyre so clever. A week or two, shell be back. Now sleepyouve work tomorrow.”

Dave obeyed: ate shop-bought dumplings, went to bed.

He slept soundly, unaware itd be his last night in that flat.

The next evening, he returned to find his belongings boxed up on the landing.

His mother-in-law (who owned the place) opened the door.

“Well, dear son-in-law? Need directions to your *lovely* bedsit, or shall I jog your memory? Take your junk. Whats left goes in the bin tomorrow.”

Dave moved into the bedsit.

Divorce papers followed. Rent seemed impossible once child support and alimony left his wages skeletal.

“Budget better,” Mike advised. “Youre saving for a flat now. Cheer up, Daveat least you had a cracking New Years!”

Emily stayed with her parents for three years. They helped with little Jake while renting out her flat. When she returned to work, they moved back in. After renovations, no trace of Dave remained.

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