The Day She Came Back(59)

She missed her friend. Missed her so much. Nothing, she knew, felt half as much fun when Daksha wasn’t involved. She felt for her phone but decided against calling, hating the tears that threatened.

‘Not tonight, Victoria. No more crying tonight.’ Sniffing, she managed to halt the tears’ advance.

Having downed her tea and with the beginning of clarity edging her thoughts, she emerged from the kitchen to find the hallway busy with people. Ignoring the snickering and whispered comments about her appearance, she peered into the drawing room; the ten people dancing had become twenty or possibly nearer thirty, or more . . . the place was rammed. She watched the crowd take up positions in the spaces on the floor as if choreographed, comfortable and familiar with how to move to the pulse of the music. She watched through the open door as Sab placed one earphone over his ear and seamlessly led them like a puppeteer from one tune into another, and still they danced. It was like they were connected, his hands on the decks and the feet of those who now shuffled, slid and jumped en masse.

Her eyes scanned the sea of heads, each and every one of them a stranger and not one of them remotely interested in talking to her. She was invisible. The way heels were dragging across the hardwood floor bothered her; similarly, she noticed a couple who had stretched out top to toe on the sofa with clunky boots resting on the dupioni silk. Another girl flicked ash over her shoulder, careless of where it might land.

It was as if a switch had flipped in her brain. This was not fun. This was not the best night of her life, and this was her house. She wanted everyone to leave, she wanted the party to stop and she wanted nothing more than to lie in Flynn’s arms.

Slowly, she made her way through the crowds and across the hallway, which was chock-full of bodies. Here there was less laughter and more shouting, people calling to each other to be heard, lobbing lighters and cigarettes across the heads of others and swilling booze from carelessly held cans. Then came the crash of glass, followed by a clap of derision from those standing close by. She didn’t know what had got broken: a wine glass? A painting? Her heart began to race as she sobered enough to feel the full fear of someone who was in a situation that was veering wildly out of their control.

She needed to find Flynn.

‘Flynn?’ she called out in the kitchen, and again in the hallway, before making her way into the drawing room and battling through the crowd to Sab and his mates. ‘Have you seen Flynn?’ she shouted.

‘Nah!’ came his downturned-mouth response, followed by a shake of his head, before he turned his attention back to the music. Victoria went hunting for the boy who could make this all stop, the person who had invited all these people to the party – his friends, his bloody friends! One thing she knew for certain: this was not a nice gathering and there was nothing mellow about it. She felt the very real beginnings of panic as she prowled the rooms and garden, looking for him.

It felt like more people had arrived. Strangers crowded every corner. Some kissed wildly on cushions in the window seats where she and Prim had sat and read books; others lay in dark corners trying not to get trampled; one girl, she noted, was wearing what looked suspiciously like her ratty grey dressing gown. Her heart raced and her breath was coming fast.

‘Oh no! Not upstairs!’ Her heart continued to thud as she navigated the inebriated, the high and the sexual adventurers who cluttered up the stairs, tripping over the bodies, not caring at that point if they could see right up her short, short dress. The breath caught in her throat at the sight of people up here too, on Prim’s landing, where her gran had blown her a kiss goodnight across the soft carpet on more nights than she cared to remember, in this, the home Prim had lived all of her married life with Grandpa.

‘Night night, my darling, sweet dreams, see you in the morning . . .’

Her head continued to clear and her anger burbled.

I need to find Flynn . . . this is getting way out of hand! He can send them all home . . .

‘You need to go downstairs!’ she yelled, waving her arms to indicate where the stairs were, thinking this might help speed up the process. ‘You all need to go back down the stairs, this is out of bounds!’ she called again, trying to make herself heard over the beat of the music, which she was certain had gone up in volume. People ignored her, all apart from one guy, who gripped her arm and whispered, ‘Chill out!’

‘Fuck off!’ she yelled back, and he laughed.

Making her way along the landing, she put her hand on the handle to Prim’s bedroom, this special place.

Please, please, no . . . She prayed that no one had done the unthinkable and found the key, taken up residence in this room, this one above all others. Even the thought of someone lying on Prim’s bed, near her things, was enough to make her tears gather and her gut bunch with guilt and regret.

I’m sorry, Prim! I’m sorry!

Opening the door quickly, there was a split second where she felt utterly paralysed. The long cascade of blonde hair shivering down the naked back of the girl was the first thing she saw. The same girl now kneeling with her arms raised provocatively over her head as she sat like a queen on a throne. The throne, however, was Prim’s mattress.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing in here?’ she screamed through gritted teeth. ‘Get out! Get out of this room! What do you think—’ The words ran out as the girl turned around to face her and Victoria’s stomach jumped so violently she feared she might throw up again. It was none other than Courtney who pouted at her in the lamplight, pulling off the doll-like and dumb in a way she could never emulate.