How to Kill Men and Get Away With It(75)

‘It’s pretty authentic. It’s a shame about all the iPhones and selfie sticks though. They are kind of killing the vibe.’

‘Killing it? They are absolutely murdering it and dancing on its fucking grave.’

Charlie chuckles as I look around the crowd of Ghostbusters and Flashdancers and spot Hen (Eighties Madonna) and Tor (Lisa Lisa) and drag Charlie over to them.

‘Hey, Eighties bitches,’ I say. ‘You look great.’

Hen gives me and Charlie the Chelsea Once Over and smirks. ‘Aw, you’ve come in couples’ fancy dress. How sweet. But you know they were actually siblings, not lovers, right?’ Her tone is iced with something I can’t put my finger on.

‘Ignore her,’ Tor says. ‘She’s just pissed off that Grut hasn’t messaged her all week and is convinced he’s sleeping with one of his groupies. Which he probably is.’

Hen glares at her.

‘What? You said it yourself about ten minutes ago.’

‘I didn’t tell you so you can repeat it to everyone.’

‘It’s only Kitty, for God’s sake. Who’s she going to tell? We’re both here and Maisie … well.’ She indicates a corner, where Maisie and Rupert are engaged in what would probably be called ‘heavy petting’ at a local pool.

‘Ah, that’s back on then?’ I ask. ‘After Willy-gate.’

Charlie’s eyes go wide. ‘I’ll get some drinks on that note.’

‘I’ll have a Martini McFly and Kits will have a Long Island Vanilla Ice Tea. Trust me. They’ve been inseparable since the shit with Ruben,’ she adds as Charlie battles to the bar.

‘But no one knows what went on?’

Hen shrugs. ‘No one has a clue. You were like the last person to see him. The general consensus is that it was a break-in gone wrong.’

This was news to me. ‘Oh really?’

‘Yeah. The police seem to think that whoever killed Ruben obvs thought Raphe was in Marbella. But Ruben was house-sitting and surprised them. So awful. Raphe’s setting up a charity apparently, something to do with families affected by grief.’ She rolls her eyes.

‘There’s nothing wrong with doing something for charity,’ Charlie says, as he comes back with some alarming-looking cocktails.

Hen knocks back the drink she’s holding before starting on another. ‘There is when it’s ninety per cent for selfish reasons.’

We watch silently as she stalks off to the bar to get another drink.

Tor turns to me and Charlie. ‘She is in a foul mood. I don’t know what’s going on but I think there’s more to it than her casual shag acting like a casual shag.’

‘Do you think she’s fallen for him?’

‘Hairy Grut? I very much doubt it. I think maybe she’s pissed off with Maisie for being so cutesy with Roo. But I don’t know.’

‘Ah. Okay. That makes sense.’ I glance over at the bar where Hen is talking to Jane Fonda, but glaring over to where Maisie and Rupert are sitting. ‘I’ll talk to her later.’

The party is actually a lot of fun. I’m having to watch how much I drink because of the pills I’m on but I’m quite enjoying seeing the wasted people stagger around. There’s a particularly surreal moment where I walk into a bathroom to find a totally pissed Bananaman holding back a Fraggle’s hair as she vomits into the loo.

‘I’ll find another one,’ I say to Bananaman, who’s starting to look a bit green.

As I head up another staircase, I spot Hen. She’s sitting on a step, swirling a glass around in front of her eyes, looking pretty pissed off with life. Which I know is hard to swallow, but even rich girls get the blues.

I drop down next to her. ‘What’s up?’

She squints at me. ‘Where’s your sidekick?’ She’s very drunk. There’s slurring and head wobbling.

‘If you mean Charlie, he’s somewhere around. Is that why you’re upset?’

She sighs and slumps against me. ‘I feel like I’m the only one who’s unhappy. Why does no one love me?’

I hold her head in my hands and look into her drunken, glazed eyes.

‘Henrietta Pemberton. I love you. And Tor loves you. And Maisie loves you.’

She scoffs hard at this point and jerks her head away from me. ‘You all. With your perfect lives. Perfect love lives. Everything so fucking perfect.’

‘Hen,’ I say. ‘I hate to point out all the flaws in your argument. But none of us have perfect lives. I mean, my dad …’

‘Your dad!’ She waves her glass in the air and liquid sloshes out onto the wooden stairs. The wood immediately discolours, which I should try to remember because what the hell is it doing to our insides?

‘My dad is missing, Hen. We don’t know if he’s alive or not. That’s pretty much a daily dose of hell.’

She stares hard at me and for a moment it feels like she doesn’t like me very much at all. ‘At least your dad wanted you,’ she finally says before her head drops into my lap. I stroke her hair and let her sob her daddy issues out for a bit. Eventually I hear her take a deep breath, knowing she’s giving herself an inside pep talk. She lifts her head up. ‘Even my dad wants you. I feel like I’m invisible to him.’