Seas Between Us Braid
We twa hae paidl’d in the burn,
frae morning sun till dine ;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
sin’ auld lang syne.
We two once paddled in the stream,
from dawn till dinner time;
But seas between us broad have roared
since once upon a time.
Robbie Burns - Auld Lang Syne
The tinny notes cut through the silence of the country night. They died out, then the tune started up again, louder than before. A muffled curse sounded nearby; a hand reached out, felt its way across the table towards the source of the noise, wrapped itself around it and dragged it towards the pillow. The tune stopped. There was a sigh, a pause, then a half-groan, half-whisper. “Hello?”
A second later, Harry sat bolt upright.
“What the fuck?” The duvet fell away; his eyes opened wide, narrowed and glinted blue as they read the screen. He put the phone back to his ear. “What the-”
His free hand pushed itself through bed-hair, tried to iron the creases on his forehead, made a fist as his eyes rolled towards the dark ceiling. “No, you idiot, it's the other way round. Yes I'm sure. It's two o'clock in the bloody morning, December 31st. You're twenty-two hours early.”
He shivered, lay back down and pulled the duvet back over himself. “No, it's OK. It's the thought that… yeah. G'night. Morning. Whatever.”
Harry set down his mug and the half-slice of stollen, swallowed, reached into his pocket for his phone, checked the caller-id and mouthed an apology to the the rest of his family.
“Hi Pugs. Sorry about… What's that noise?” Harry pressed the phone tighter against his ear and closed his eyes. “Sounds like you're in a war zone. Fireworks? Happy New Year to you, too.”
He took the phone away from his mouth and stage-whispered. “It's Dougie. Just turned midnight in Australia.”
He grinned as his family waved, and spoke into the phone again. “One in the afternoon… At mum and dad's, just finishing lunch. Actually, hang on a sec. They want to say something.”
He motioned to the others, and they gathered round as he held up his phone.
“Count of three…”
“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Outside, a million explosions filled the air, while inside the room were party poppers and hooters and squawks and the clink of glass against glass. In another room, the singing began, took hold and spread throughout the house. Harry sipped his champagne as he watched from the shadows, then brushed his hand against his pocket and edged towards the door. He paused at the foot of the stairs, took out his phone and chuckled at the name on the screen before putting it to his head.
“Happy New Year, Pugsley.” He smiled. “Again. Yeah, you got it right this time. Listen…" He returned to the doorway to the living room and held up his phone for a cup of kindness and the sake of auld lang syne before turning and retracing his steps. “Not really," he said, “just my family and a few friends.”
Harry started up the stairs. “So, are you still partying, or… On your own? Why?" He reached his room, pushed the door to and sat on his bed. “I thought you'd be curled up with a sheila. Or a lizard. Or both.”
He shifted back, pulled up his legs and crossed them under him. “No. Well, still don't know where Tom took Gi. He really wanted to surprise her, wouldn't say anything. Danny's at his mum's, so… yeah, you can see where he gets it from.”
There was a soft thump on the door, then a furry head pushed it open. The cat gazed around the room, sauntered in and leapt up on the bed, circled and purred and settled down with its back pressed against Harry's leg.
“Yeah, I guess it is strange. First time in what, two years?" Harry's hand drifted down to the cat's neck, began stroking the fur. “OK… Pugs? You know your case, the black one? OK, look in the side pocket. Yeah, well, I thought you might…”
His fingers moved up, began caressing the soft hair behind the cat's ears. It purred louder, arched its back, rubbed against his fingertips.
“Happy-” Harry froze. “Happy… What? Don't you like… What's so funny?”
The cat grunted as it purred, pushed with its head to try to bump-start the now stationary fingers. Instead, Harry uncrossed his legs, stepped to his wardrobe, knelt down and unzipped the smallest compartment on his backpack. He put his fingers inside and frowned as he pulled out a small holly-papered parcel.
“Dougie, we said we wouldn't… Yeah, I know, but that was… different.” He returned to the bed. “No, we didn't say anything about New Year presents, but…” Harry sat heavily; the cat leapt away, thudded on the floor and shot him a filthy look over its shoulder before it pushed its way out of the room.
The parcel turned end over end in Harry's hand, gave a muffled rattle when he shook it. He rested it atop one knee and tried prising away the wrapping paper, struggled for a moment, then clamped the phone between his ear and his shoulder and tried again with both hands. “Jeez, how much tape did you put on this? Hang on, here we are.”
The paper split, opened, and a blue jeweller's box fell out onto Harry's legs. His breath caught. He fumbled it open, and a gold chain poured onto his lap. “Dougie, I don't… How did this get here? I swear I put it in your… it did… you have… you do.”
Harry lifted the chain, felt the weight of its slender links between his thumb and forefinger. “Of course I do, that's why I got it for you, but how… why…”
He stopped, held it to the light. “Oh.” He set the phone beside him and reached behind his neck, and the wooden beads that hung there jerked, then fell down and away. The chill of the metal made his skin rise; he shivered as his fingers puzzled at the clasp.
He retrieved his phone and crouched forward, saw his reflection in the dresser mirror.
“Oh…”
Harry stared for a moment, then laughed.
“Yeah, I guess great minds do think alike. People are really going to talk, you know, when we turn up wearing the same bling.” He chuckled. “Damn right. To hell with 'em.”
There was a tap on his door. Harry looked up as his mother pushed it open. “Come on, love,” she said, “fireworks. We're waiting for you.”
Harry nodded. “Duty calls, gotta go," he said into the phone. “Pugs? Thanks… Yeah, well… No, I don't miss you either.”
He stood, reached for the door, and laughed. “Idiot. Same to you.”
When he reached the mirror in the hallway he paused and watched his reflection brush fingers once more over the golden chain. The smile on his face broadened into a grin, and he turned and bounded down the stairs.
frae morning sun till dine ;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
sin’ auld lang syne.
We two once paddled in the stream,
from dawn till dinner time;
But seas between us broad have roared
since once upon a time.
Robbie Burns - Auld Lang Syne
The tinny notes cut through the silence of the country night. They died out, then the tune started up again, louder than before. A muffled curse sounded nearby; a hand reached out, felt its way across the table towards the source of the noise, wrapped itself around it and dragged it towards the pillow. The tune stopped. There was a sigh, a pause, then a half-groan, half-whisper. “Hello?”
A second later, Harry sat bolt upright.
“What the fuck?” The duvet fell away; his eyes opened wide, narrowed and glinted blue as they read the screen. He put the phone back to his ear. “What the-”
His free hand pushed itself through bed-hair, tried to iron the creases on his forehead, made a fist as his eyes rolled towards the dark ceiling. “No, you idiot, it's the other way round. Yes I'm sure. It's two o'clock in the bloody morning, December 31st. You're twenty-two hours early.”
He shivered, lay back down and pulled the duvet back over himself. “No, it's OK. It's the thought that… yeah. G'night. Morning. Whatever.”
Harry set down his mug and the half-slice of stollen, swallowed, reached into his pocket for his phone, checked the caller-id and mouthed an apology to the the rest of his family.
“Hi Pugs. Sorry about… What's that noise?” Harry pressed the phone tighter against his ear and closed his eyes. “Sounds like you're in a war zone. Fireworks? Happy New Year to you, too.”
He took the phone away from his mouth and stage-whispered. “It's Dougie. Just turned midnight in Australia.”
He grinned as his family waved, and spoke into the phone again. “One in the afternoon… At mum and dad's, just finishing lunch. Actually, hang on a sec. They want to say something.”
He motioned to the others, and they gathered round as he held up his phone.
“Count of three…”
“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Outside, a million explosions filled the air, while inside the room were party poppers and hooters and squawks and the clink of glass against glass. In another room, the singing began, took hold and spread throughout the house. Harry sipped his champagne as he watched from the shadows, then brushed his hand against his pocket and edged towards the door. He paused at the foot of the stairs, took out his phone and chuckled at the name on the screen before putting it to his head.
“Happy New Year, Pugsley.” He smiled. “Again. Yeah, you got it right this time. Listen…" He returned to the doorway to the living room and held up his phone for a cup of kindness and the sake of auld lang syne before turning and retracing his steps. “Not really," he said, “just my family and a few friends.”
Harry started up the stairs. “So, are you still partying, or… On your own? Why?" He reached his room, pushed the door to and sat on his bed. “I thought you'd be curled up with a sheila. Or a lizard. Or both.”
He shifted back, pulled up his legs and crossed them under him. “No. Well, still don't know where Tom took Gi. He really wanted to surprise her, wouldn't say anything. Danny's at his mum's, so… yeah, you can see where he gets it from.”
There was a soft thump on the door, then a furry head pushed it open. The cat gazed around the room, sauntered in and leapt up on the bed, circled and purred and settled down with its back pressed against Harry's leg.
“Yeah, I guess it is strange. First time in what, two years?" Harry's hand drifted down to the cat's neck, began stroking the fur. “OK… Pugs? You know your case, the black one? OK, look in the side pocket. Yeah, well, I thought you might…”
His fingers moved up, began caressing the soft hair behind the cat's ears. It purred louder, arched its back, rubbed against his fingertips.
“Happy-” Harry froze. “Happy… What? Don't you like… What's so funny?”
The cat grunted as it purred, pushed with its head to try to bump-start the now stationary fingers. Instead, Harry uncrossed his legs, stepped to his wardrobe, knelt down and unzipped the smallest compartment on his backpack. He put his fingers inside and frowned as he pulled out a small holly-papered parcel.
“Dougie, we said we wouldn't… Yeah, I know, but that was… different.” He returned to the bed. “No, we didn't say anything about New Year presents, but…” Harry sat heavily; the cat leapt away, thudded on the floor and shot him a filthy look over its shoulder before it pushed its way out of the room.
The parcel turned end over end in Harry's hand, gave a muffled rattle when he shook it. He rested it atop one knee and tried prising away the wrapping paper, struggled for a moment, then clamped the phone between his ear and his shoulder and tried again with both hands. “Jeez, how much tape did you put on this? Hang on, here we are.”
The paper split, opened, and a blue jeweller's box fell out onto Harry's legs. His breath caught. He fumbled it open, and a gold chain poured onto his lap. “Dougie, I don't… How did this get here? I swear I put it in your… it did… you have… you do.”
Harry lifted the chain, felt the weight of its slender links between his thumb and forefinger. “Of course I do, that's why I got it for you, but how… why…”
He stopped, held it to the light. “Oh.” He set the phone beside him and reached behind his neck, and the wooden beads that hung there jerked, then fell down and away. The chill of the metal made his skin rise; he shivered as his fingers puzzled at the clasp.
He retrieved his phone and crouched forward, saw his reflection in the dresser mirror.
“Oh…”
Harry stared for a moment, then laughed.
“Yeah, I guess great minds do think alike. People are really going to talk, you know, when we turn up wearing the same bling.” He chuckled. “Damn right. To hell with 'em.”
There was a tap on his door. Harry looked up as his mother pushed it open. “Come on, love,” she said, “fireworks. We're waiting for you.”
Harry nodded. “Duty calls, gotta go," he said into the phone. “Pugs? Thanks… Yeah, well… No, I don't miss you either.”
He stood, reached for the door, and laughed. “Idiot. Same to you.”
When he reached the mirror in the hallway he paused and watched his reflection brush fingers once more over the golden chain. The smile on his face broadened into a grin, and he turned and bounded down the stairs.