‘Jesus, Vic, we all love a fuss.’ Orla went to undo her coat then, remembering she only had a bra on underneath, stopped herself.
‘It’s all good, Vic.’ Mandy slurped her cocktail through a straw. ‘Let’s just go with the flow, ladies. We haven’t all been together for what seems like ages.’ She looked at Orla. ‘And where were you last night, anyway, you dirty harlot?’
Orla grinned. ‘I woke up next to the most delicious-looking creature in East Finchley. On the bed, there was a book of Byron’s poetry and one of those weird cats with no hair staring back at me. Scared the fecking life out of me. The cat, not the man. Anyway, I was so rattled that I remembered neither being serenaded nor shagged, so for fear of getting scratched – or worse – by the hairless beast – again, the cat, not the man – he did have a full old nest of chest hair – I just upped and left.’
An already tipsy Vic descended into fits of laughter, but Mandy was serious. ‘Does it not bother or worry you that you constantly wake up with strangers?’
‘He wasn’t a stranger, I chatted to him for a while in the bar the night before. I know his name – well, his first name, anyway – and it was fun at the time, I think.’
Mandy shook her head. ‘It may be a bit dull sometimes, but it makes me realise how happy I am that I just have Steve to wake up to. At least I know where I am.’
‘What’s happening here? Do I smell judgement?’ Orla gavethe young waiter a big grin as he placed the colourful cocktail down in front of her.
‘No,’ Vic replied bluntly. ‘Just jealousy.’
The rhythmic pulse of heavy bass echoed through the still night as Victoria stepped out of the buzzing nightclub onto the Brighton beachfront. With a sense of liberation, she inhaled deeply, letting the cold, salty air fill her lungs. A lethal combination of cocktails and too much wine had left her feeling heady.
She plonked herself down on a bench overlooking the sea, and decided to call Nate.
‘Hello.’ The shrill voice of a woman answered his mobile. Loud music blared out in the background.
‘Erm, can I speak to Nate, please?’ Vic’s drunk mind wasn’t even sure why she had called him in the first place now.
‘Sure, who wants him?’ The woman was shouting.
Vic felt her heart beating faster. ‘It’s Vic… his girlfriend.’
‘Oh, I thought he was a single Pringle.’ Vic moved her ear as the woman shouted. ‘Nate! It’s yourgirlfriend!’
‘Hey, it’s me.’ Vic tried to keep upbeat.
‘Sharpie! You having fun, baby girl?’ Nate sounded off his face.
‘Who was that?’
‘Just a girl I work with. We all decided to go back to hers after shift. Shit… my battery is about to d?—’
Vic glared at the screen. She was so used to Nate either being at work or home chilling when not at the restaurant, that the fact that he was out partying and had allowed a woman to pick up his phone had completely thrown her. Who was she? And where was this house they were all at? And was it ‘all’ of them or just him and her? And he clearly hadn’t conveyed to whoever had just picked up his phone that he had a girlfriend. Also, how dare he moan about always working and not gettingany weekend downtime. It sounded just like how they used to party, together. Hedonistically, without a care in the world. Maybe theywerejust stuck in a rut of boring monotony now. She tried to call him back, but his battery had clearly gone. ‘Fuck you, Nate Carlisle,’ Vic drunkenly uttered under her breath.
‘Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness. Mind if I join you?’ a man’s voice asked, a hint of hesitation in his voice. Vic peered up at him blurrily. He was late thirties, she guessed, with cropped blond hair. His straight nose housed a single diamond stud.
Victoria gestured to the empty space beside her. ‘You’ll catch hypothermia out here.’ He took off his jacket, put it over her shoulders, then reached for a pocket and pulled out a cigarette. ‘I’m Danny, by the way.’
Vic hiccupped. ‘I’m drunk, by the way.’
‘What a pretty name. Is that Gaelic? Or maybe Celtic?’
Vic giggled. ‘Victoria Sharpe.’
‘How very posh.’ Danny smirked.
Vic laughed. ‘Hardly.’ She held out her hand to him and assumed a plum-in-the-mouth accent. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, kind sir, and thanks for theverytrendy jacket.’
‘See, youareposh.’ He punched her arm playfully.
‘I do come from Windsor and because everyone thinks you have to be loaded to live there, I quite often randomly get asked if I ride horses.’
‘Hmm. That is random. Let me guess, you’re down here on a hen weekend?’
