‘Where to, love?’
‘Er, Sydney Street. It’s just off the King’s Road.’
‘Righto.’
Helen enjoyed the ride across London. The evening was sunny and warm and the world was fast becoming a very nice place to be.
She slipped out of the taxi in front of a tall, white, terraced house. There was music blaring from an open window onone of the upper floors. The front door was ajar, and Helen made her way up the stairs, clutching her four bottles of Babycham.
‘You made it! You look great.’ Sam was at the door, shouting above the music. ‘If you can get in, come in,’ she giggled. ‘I’m afraid it’s a bit of a scrum.’
The small entrance lobby was overflowing with guests, and the cramped interior of the flat was no better. Helen pushed her way through the sea of bodies, not quite sure where she was heading. Eventually, she found herself in the kitchen, having lost Sam altogether. After she had put her alcoholic offerings down on the sticky, beer-stained worktop, Helen was unsure of what to do next.
‘Hi, gorgeous, who are you?’
Helen turned around to see an extremely tall young man leering over her, his breath fetid from beer.
‘Helen,’ she said quietly.
‘Who?’ he boomed.
‘Helen!’
‘Oh.’ The young man burped. ‘Hi, Helen. Wanna drink?’
‘Er, I was just getting myself one.’
Helen turned her back on him purposefully, and opened one of the Babychams. At the moment the bottle reached her mouth, she felt a rogue hand pinch her bottom. Helen gasped in horror, and the Babycham went down the wrong way. She coughed helplessly. The tall man placed a large hairy hand on her back and began to thump it, causing the Babycham to spill out of the bottle and down the front of her new dress.
‘Stop it, stop it!’ she shouted. ‘Now look what you’ve done!’ She turned to him, her face a mask of red-hot anger.
The man held his hands up in a drunken apology. ‘Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’
‘Excuse me.’ She glared as she moved past him.
‘I get you.’ The man burped again. ‘You’ve got a flabby bum anyway, love,’ he mumbled as she pushed her way out of the kitchen.
When she finally found the bathroom, Helen opened the door and locked it behind her. She sat on the edge of the bath, trying to control her breathing. Her cheeks were burning with embarrassment and anger. It didn’t take long for her to conclude that she would go home. That awful man had completely ruined her confidence. She was furious at him. She was furious at herself, too – no matter the transformation she had undergone, underneath the expensive clothes and the make-up she was still stupid, plain Helen.
She unlocked the door and headed for the exit, hoping she could sneak out unnoticed. Helen reached the landing outside without being stopped and had begun to walk downstairs when she felt a sudden tap on her shoulder.
‘And where do you think you’re going?’ a familiar voice asked. She stopped, then turned around to see Tony Bryant grinning down at her.
Helen did her best to compose herself. ‘I...I need a breath of fresh air. It was stuffy in there,’ she mumbled.
Tony nodded. ‘Me too. Lead the way then.’
Helen turned and resumed walking down the stairs.
‘Blimey, it reallywashot up there.’ Tony took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. ‘I think I must be getting too old for that kind of bash.’ Outside he sat down on the front step and patted the space next to him.
Helen sat down, her thigh lightly touching his. For a while, neither of them spoke. Eventually, Tony broke the tension.
‘You’re looking good enough to eat tonight, Miss McCarthy, if I may say so.’
Helen didn’t reply.
‘Why so down? I’d have thought after coming top of theclass you’d still be on a high. You really should be proud of yourself, Helen. I alone know how hard you’ve worked. Every essay must take you three times as long as everybody else and you still managed to beat ’em all hands down.’
