"There, in Thy Scanty Mantle Clad, Thy Snawie Bosom Sunward Spread." To a Mountain Daisy, Robert Burns 1786

"I Hear Your Footsteps in the Streets, it Won't Be Long Until We Meet. It's Obvious." Oblivious, Aztec Camera 1983

"Ouch, be careful!"

"Well stand still, Paddy," Trixie scolded, "and I won't accidentally prick you."

"Is this really necessary?" whined the publican, not for the first time that hour.

"You want it the right length don't you?" admonished the determined dressmaker.

"That's too short." Paddy grumbled swaying unsteadily on the rickety foot stool.

"No it's not."

Patsy interrupted the squabbling confirming the kilt should hang from the top of the hip and finish at the top of the knee.

"This one is too high." Paddy fiddled with the waistband.

"No, it's not! It sits at the navel." Getting up from her knees Trixie playfully poked Paddy in the belly button.

The temporary male model wasn't amused and Delia felt some sympathy. "Right Doc, take it off now, so Chummy can alter it."

Paddy hopped off the footstool, the green and blue checked woolen garment swaying around his thighs. He grabbed his jeans and headed out of Patsy's studio towards the downstairs loo. Patsy, Delia and Trixie didn't wait until he had closed the door behind him before they burst into giggles.

Saturday 25th January 2020

Bernie wouldn't want anyone to accuse her of being ungrateful, but she would have much rather spent her birthday at work. Back in Poplar-on-Tweaven working behind the bar with Paddy rather than traipsing around Newcastle city centre with Trixie.

Saturday's were usually fun at the Crown. Sundays you could always predict to be busy, due to the temptation of Violet's Sunday lunches and the let's have a nice day in the country crowd. Saturday's were more unpredictable a lot depending on whether there was a match on. The football crowd had made Bernie nervous at first, but she had taken her lead from Val, who seemed to know the right mix between flirting and being one of the lads. She even surprised herself with her knowledge of the offside-rule and recognising a few players when they came in during the off-season.

"So, what about this one?" Trixie's irritated voice broke through Bernie's wistfulness. They were standing in Fenwick's department store, her friend was holding up a black mini dress bearing a large faint gold and red criss-cross pattern.

"Isn't it a bit tartanie?" Bernie screwed up her nose.

Trixie tried very hard not to give anything away. "What's wrong with tartan, your Scottish, don't you just love tartan?"

Bernie bit her lip and tried to keep a level of calmness in her voice, "I am not that kinda Scottish."

Trixie clanged the hanger back onto the rail in frustration. Bernie felt a twinge of guilt for exasperating her well meaning friend.

"I will probably just wear my good jeans and a sparkly top, Trixie." Bernie tried to reassure, without much success.

"But, Paddy is taking you out somewhere nice tonight, surely you want to look the part?"

Bernie took a deep breath, "The part?...the part of Paddy's date! I am thinking jeans and a nice wee top will do just fine, Trixie."

It was several hours later, Bernie was looking at herself in the oak cheval mirror in the corner of her bedroom. The little black dress with the red and gold criss-crosses did look quite nice on and it did have pockets so that was a bonus. She heaved up her 40 denier black tights one last time. Why did they never make the small, small enough. She smiled, knowing if Chummy were in the room she would ask why they didn't make extra large, extra enough.

A frown reflected back at her as she fiddled with her hair. Trixie had insisted on styling it with a mountain of product she had brought back from Boots. As a result it now seemed to flick out in all directions. The would-be stylist had been very pleased with the finished article and Bernie had smiled and made positive noises. She really wanted to put a brush through it and tie it back in a scrunchie like she did most days. Trixie's sixth sense clicked in and she growled, "Leave it."

They set out, tottering the short distance from Bernie's cottage to the Crown Inn. Arm-in-arm, more for stability than out of friendship. Trixie in nine months of living just outside of Poplar had still not mastered walking on cobbles in heels. Bernie more used to ankle boots and trainers had let Trixie talk her into buying a pair of black below-the-knee boots in the January sales. Until today the labels hadn't been removed. She was convinced the young saleswoman and her friend had been in collusion. Eventually the overwhelming smell of leather, shoe pollish and sweaty feet on an empty stomach had rendered the usually stubborn Bernie vulnerable. Well honed sales techniques and Trixie's promise of a Greggs' vegan sausage roll to offset the purchase of leather eventually triumphed. These boots were definitely not made for walking, Bernie decided. She was however glad of the extra fabric as the north wind whistled around her shorter than usual hem line.

As if sensing her friends awkwardness, Trixie squeezed her arm a little more tightly. "You look amazing, just don't scuff those killer, fuck-me boots on the cobbles."

This warning unsurprisingly had the opposite effect than intended, as Bernie stuttered to an abrupt halt and dropped her friend's arm,

"What?" Bernie shrieked in horror. Trixie grabbed back hold of her stabilizer and dragged her along laughing so infectiously that Bernie couldn't help but succumb.

"Why are you so tarted up anyway for a night in the Crown?"

"It's your birthday and I thought you would be having a drink before heading off with Paddy. Just because it is a country pub doesn't mean everyone has to always wear wellies and a jumper with a hole in it."

Bernie's mock indignation at Trixie's jibe resulted in a snort as she tried to hold in a laugh. They were still sniggering as Trixie lunged forward and steadied herself by slapping her hand heavily against the inn's bay window. She pulled herself up and then slapped her hand against the window one more time. Bernie, who was still giggling, just shrugged at her friends clumsy behaviour.

"Bit slippy there, have to tell Paddy about that." Trixie straightened up and smiled nervously.

"OK." Bernie nodded somewhat bemused as she pushed open the large wooden doors of the old inn.

Bernie later couldn't recall if it was her eyes that first alerted her that something was different; the darkness giving the game away. Or it could have been her ears as they picked up the deep drone of the bagpipes. Maybe it was neither, her skin tingling with goosebumps was more than likely the first sign that all was not as it should be.

After that initial physical reaction her mind seemed to give up trying to make any sense of anything. It all became a blur. She remembered Trixie pushing her in the back and into the bar and placing something around her shoulders. There had definitely been cheering and then a very tuneless rendition of Happy Birthday accompanied by the bagpipes and a small band.

The pipes - bashful Kevin and his wee dog, at first she had thought Paddy or somebody had bought her a pet for her birthday. The poor wee thing was used to sitting and looking cute outside the town hall. Raising a paw everytime someone dropped a coin in Kev's mug. The animal had become a little overwhelmed by the commotion and sheer volume of people. Realizing that the lady who had just come through the door must be somehow responsible for the change in ambience; he could not resist jumping up at the new arrival with great enthusiasm. His owner was horrified, but unsure what was more important; to reprimand his charge or keep playing. Fortunately the situation was resolved when a large pair of hands gently scooped up the tiny mongrel and calmed him down by whispering in his ear and letting him lick his face.

Bernie remembered Violet telling Reggie to take the excited guest through the back for a biscuit. The comotion had given Bernie time to take it all in, the low lighting, the table centres made up of thistles and blue and purple hyacinths each with a thick white candle, flames dancing a jig on every table. The black, royal blue and red tartan tablecloths and a larger trestle table covered with a different checked pattern, a lighter blue and green with gold.

Bernie wasn't given long to take it all in, as she was overwhelmed by hugs and kisses. Mostly from people she knew like the Noakes', Fred, Jane, Phyllis and Julia along with a few she didn't know, which was a bit disconcerting. Along with the displays of affection, cards and packages that were also pressed into her. Finding it very difficult to accept all the hugs from her friends and free herself from those who weren't, Bernie found it impossible to balance all the gifts too. Fortunately Trixie had been prepared for this and took on the role of a lady-in-waiting, as if Bernie had suddenly been crowned the Princess of Poplar. The village's newest resident relished her role as best friend, relieving Bernie of her burdens as swiftly as she received them. Trixie may have had a colourful life but she did like to be of use.

It was Val who finally rescued her from the wall of wellwishers. Taking Bernie by the hand she took her behind the bar and up the stairs to the living accomodation. "Are you ready for your present?"

Exasperated by the recent unexpected events and not knowing what to expect next Bernie just shrugged her shoulders. Secretly she was enjoying the calm of the Turner flat and not being the centre of attention. Val gave her a quick squeeze and told her, "Happy birthday, chick." Opening the door to Paddy's living room she added winking,

"You're welcome."