Page 10 of One Night in Edinburgh

I assume a sceptical expression. ‘No, he wasn’t. You were the one flirting with him.’

‘Exactly. I was the one flirting, yet his attention was on you.’

‘I’m not sure I got that.’

‘No, obviously you didn’t, because your chat was terrible. I am going to have to give you a lesson in flirting.’

‘Hang on. I may not know how to be with other men, but I can flirt. I wasn’t trying.’

‘Sure.’ Anna grins at me. ‘Well, we’ll not put that to the test tonight. But for the record, you shouldn’t need totryto flirt. It should come naturally.’

‘Whatever.’ I stick my tongue out at her. ‘Now can we go and get some more drinks, and maybe some chocolate fondue? I can still smell those toilets from here.’

Chapter 4

We get another drink in and explore the street party, tracking our way through the crowds to the top of The Mound, then back down and along the length of Princes Street until we’re almost opposite the castle. It’s a great way to check out all the entertainment on offer, and the mood is so buoyant and full of hope and joviality I can’t help but be swept up in it. This is a huge relief, as spending the night battling my rising nausea was not a prospect I was relishing.

‘Do you want to give your friends a shout, and see where they are?’ I ask Anna, as we pass a group of inebriated blokes attempting to build something resembling a human pyramid. They’re being talked down by a policeman who’s warning them exactly how badly that’s going to end.

‘Nah, I’ll give them a shout later,’ says Anna. ‘Want to be sure you’re managing all right before I bring anyone else into the mix, and who knows what’ll come out their mouths.’

‘OK, sure.’

‘Plus, I’m quite enjoying it being just you and me.’

‘Me too.’ I wrinkle my nose and smile at her, pleased to hear this. ‘Feel like we don’t catch up enough outside of work. I’ll have all the time in the world for it now though.’ I ignore the unpleasant swirl in my gut that accompanies this comment.

‘Suits me.’ She looks at her watch. ‘It’s coming up for ten p.m. Shall we go and find a good place to see out the bells?’

‘Sure. We could find a spot to get the best view of the fireworks… or we could go somewhere to have a bit of a dance – maybe at one of the music stages?’

‘Ooh, yes, if you’re not bothered about watching the fireworks, how about we go back up the hill to The Ceilidh Stage on The Mound?’

‘Perfect. Let’s do that. Maybe they’ll playAuld Lang Syneafter the bells. I always love that, and we’ll still see some of the fireworks from there, too.’

We do a U-turn, and retrace our steps, getting in on the general banter and dodging the merry revellers attempting to proposition us as we go. Judging by how many blokes try to chat us up in a cheeky affectionate way, not a sleazy way, you’d think the whole city’s drinks had been spiked with some kind of love drug.

As we approach The Ceilidh Stage, the familiar, jaunty music drifts across the evening air towards us. It’s something I love about being Scottish. The sense of identity and pride that comes with our national traditions – pipe bands, men in kilts, singingLoch Lomondat the end of a wedding, andAuld Lang Syne, of course. Gets me every time.

The music grows louder the closer we get, until we’re swallowed by the mass of punters cheering and dancing. Before we know it, we’re caught in the middle of a makeshift Strip the Willow, being twirled round and round, back and forth along a line of clapping, foot stamping party-goers. It’s such an exhilarating feeling. Anna and I laugh and hoot until we’re spat out the other end of the dance line, breathless and giggling.

We fully immerse ourselves in the fun, dancing at every opportunity, while intermittently joining the queue for a bar or the ladies. Having such a great time, we almost miss the fact that it’s time to recharge our glasses for the bells at midnight, but thankfully we make it to the front of the bar queue with five minutes to spare. Then, brandishing our proseccos, we make our way to a less busy spot to toast the New Year when it comes.

‘Ten… nine… eight… seven…’ The crowd excitedly chant together, counting down the final moments of the current year.

‘Three… two… one… Happy New Year!’ Anna and I celebrate together by throwing ourselves into a squeezy, jumpy hug, as the boom and crash of the fireworks erupts around us, lighting up the sky above Edinburgh Castle.

As we look up and take in the impressively choreographed sight of incredible colours and patterns, we almost miss that the very experience I was seeking is happening right now. The ceilidh band have launched into a moving rendition ofAuld Lang Syne, and people are forming sporadic lines in front of the stage.

I take Anna’s left hand as a woman around our age takes her right one, and we are pulled into a line of around ten people. I’m so lost in the moment, belting out the words, I don’t think twice when someone takes my free hand, joining us with another line of singing bodies. It’s only when I glance at the person beside me with a friendly smile that I do a double take. It’s Jamie from the Christmas Market.

He looks back at me, grinning in recognition and I offer him a faltering smile in return; this time fully appreciating how good-looking he is – and wondering what the hell he thinks of me after our sudden departure earlier.

‘Hi, again,’ he calls over the music. ‘I hope I didn’t offend you earlier.’

‘It wasn’t anything you did, I promise,’ I call back. ‘Sorry for abandoning you like that.’

‘That’s OK. Not the first time a woman has dissed me, though it is possibly the first double whammy I’ve experienced. I’ll try not to let it dent my ego.’

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