The Girl I Used to Be(2)

Alex’s house was in the middle of the countryside, ten miles out of town. We’d guessed it would be bigger, more expensive, but the scale of it surprised us. It was a detached house set in pristine landscaped gardens on the edge of a village. There were no near neighbors; their garden was surrounded by fields, beyond which we caught glimpses of the river.

He and Theo were standing at the front door when we arrived, making sure that they knew us all. There’d been stories in the news that summer about parties where crowds had gate-crashed and the police had had to be called; it was obvious from the way he checked everyone as they walked up the driveway that he was on guard for that.

“Hi,” he said. “Come on in!”

Behind Alex was Jack Howard, one of his friends, who was taking photos of everyone as they went into the house. We’d known for a long time that he’d had a crush on Lauren and, when he saw us, he blushed and busied himself with his camera. She slung her arms around Tom and me and we posed there on the doorstep, giddy and excited at the thought of the night ahead. After Tom went through the front door she turned and blew a kiss at Jack and turned to wink at me.

Whenever I think of Lauren, I think of us giggling. Just about anything could make us laugh. When Alex greeted us we giggled and nudged each other and went through the large hallway into the kitchen at the back of the house. It was full of food and alcohol. People had gone overboard and brought spirits and crates of beer and armfuls of wine bottles. I heard Jack say that Alex’s parents were away on holiday; they’d agreed that if he got top grades—which meant he’d be accepted by Oxford—and if he paid for a deep clean afterward, he could have a party there to celebrate. They would be back a few days later and didn’t want to see a sign there’d even been a party. That was a bit optimistic, I thought.

Everyone in our year was invited to that party and most were there. There were so many I only knew by sight, but we were all on such a high that pretty soon we were kissing everyone and anyone, congratulating people we barely knew, just grateful that we’d done well and were going to have our chance to get away. You’d think we were living in some sort of hellhole, the way we carried on, as though our only chance of a good life was to leave behind the one we had.

Lauren and I had done well; Tom, too. We were all off in a month’s time to different universities. She and I had been friends since nursery school, and it would be almost the first time Lauren and Tom would spend more than twenty-four hours apart in the two years she’d known him. I thought our friendship would last the separation, and guessed she’d stay with Tom, too; there was an ease about them that I envied. That night their arms were entwined and I noticed when she kissed a friend, she’d align herself with Tom, as though they were one person, so they embraced the friend together.

I drank so much that night. All of us did. It was the first time we’d all been together like that and we knew it would be the last time, too. Despite that, people didn’t seem drunk. Not really. Nobody was staggering or falling, and apart from my friend Lizzie, who was sick into an ornamental bay tree on the patio before it was even dark, nobody was ill. We were all outside and then the music was turned up and everyone was dancing. I lost Lauren and Tom somewhere along the way. When I saw her later, her dress was buttoned up wrongly and she had a fresh love bite on her neck. She was telling someone she hadn’t ever spoken to before that she would always miss them.

Then all of a sudden, past midnight, it hit me. I realized I was more drunk than I’d ever been. I’d been drinking more and more as the night went on, and most of it was punch from a huge bowl that one of Alex’s friends had been in charge of. God knew what had been in it—there were bottles of every spirit and liqueur you could think of lying around, and I was sure that most had ended up in that bowl. Lauren and Tom were lying in a hammock nearby by then, and when I turned to them, clinging on to the back of a garden chair for support, she smiled lazily and closed her eyes. I knew she wouldn’t want to go home yet. I was staying at her house that night and we were sharing a taxi home. Her mum had promised to leave the money next to the front door and the key under the doormat, so that we didn’t have to take our handbags with us.

My heart sank. It could be hours before Lauren wanted to go home. I started to walk back toward the house and staggered, falling into a bush. I didn’t mind; I thought it was funny. One of the girls from school yanked me back up again and asked if I was all right. I nodded. I don’t think I could have spoken if I’d wanted to.

When I reached the house I was suddenly desperate for the toilet. There were several portable toilets at the bottom of the garden but I didn’t think there was a chance I’d reach them in time. I searched for a cloakroom inside the house and found a door under the stairs, which I thought was probably what I wanted. When I tried to open it, I heard a boy laugh and a girl say “Shh!” and I realized what was going on. I gave a deep sigh, knowing there was no point in waiting, and went farther into the house. I could hardly see by then and was smiling at just about everyone. The mood was high, voices were loud, everyone was happy.

At the foot of the stairs there were a couple of chairs, with a note telling people to keep out. I couldn’t wait by then, though, so I squeezed past them and found a bathroom just at the top of the stairs. I stumbled in and sat down so fast I nearly dislodged the toilet seat. I found that funny, and wondered just what was in that punch. I wasn’t so drunk that I didn’t wash my hands, though, and saw that my face was flushed in the bathroom mirror, my eyes bleary and half closed. I knew I’d suffer the next day; I would have even if I’d stopped after the champagne and the tequila shots at Lauren’s house. I remember grimacing as I thought of the headache I’d have. The following afternoon I was going on holiday to France for two weeks with my family and already I was dreading the long car journey with a hangover.