In a Dark, Dark Wood(22)

‘Nina!’ Flo said again, more angrily this time. She stood up, banging her plate down, and Nina looked up, startled, mid-sentence.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You heard me. I don’t know what your problem is, but leave it, OK? This is Clare’s night, and I will not have you picking a fight.’

‘Who’s picking fights? I’m not the one throwing plates around,’ Nina said coolly. ‘What a shame, when you were so keen to take care of your aunt’s things.’

We all followed the direction of her gaze, and saw the crack across the plate Flo had smacked onto the coffee table. For a second I had the image of a goaded bull, about to charge.

‘Look!’ Flo said furiously, and the room went quite still, pizza slices suspended in mid-air, glasses half-sipped, waiting for the explosion to happen.

‘It’s OK,’ Clare said into the tense pause. She put her hand out, pulling Flo back to sit beside her and laughing. ‘Honestly. It’s just Nina’s sense of humour. You’ll get used to her. She’s not having a go at me. Much.’

‘Yeah,’ Nina said. She nodded, completely straight-faced. ‘I’m sorry. I just think the cripplingly unrealistic body expectations of women are hilarious.’

Flo looked at Nina for a long moment, and then back at Clare, her face uncertain. Then she gave a short laugh. It was not terribly convincing.

‘Come on,’ Tom broke into the silence that followed. ‘This party is not nearly drunk and disorderly enough for my liking. Who’s up for the next shot?’ He looked around the group, and his eye fell on me. A wicked grin spread across his tanned face. ‘Nora, you’re looking far too sober. You never did have that pre-dinner shot.’

I groaned. But Nina was nodding vigorously and pushing the full shot-glass at me, and Tom was holding out the lime wedge and salt shaker. There was nothing for it. Best just to get it over with, like medicine.

Tom shook the salt into the crook of my wrist, and I licked it off, grabbed the shot from Nina and gulped it back, and then snatched the chunk of lime from Tom’s hand. The juice exploded between my teeth, even as the tequila ran hot down the inside of my gullet. I waited for a moment, gasping and gritting my teeth against the taste, and then a familiar warmth began to spread through my capillaries, something loosening at the edge of my vision, a certain blunting of reality.

Perhaps this weekend would be a whole lot better slightly drunk.

I realised they were all looking at me, waiting for something. The shot-glass was still in my hand. ‘Done!’ I banged it down onto the table, and dropped the lime peel onto my empty plate. ‘Who’s next?’

‘Make it a royale?’ Tom enquired, archly. He held up the white bag.

Clare nudged me in the ribs. ‘Come on, for old time’s sake, yeah? Remember our first line?’

I did, though I was pretty sure it hadn’t been coke. Ground-up aspirin more like, and I hadn’t really wanted to do it even then. I’d just followed Clare, sheep-like, afraid of being left behind.

‘We’ll do it together,’ Clare told him. ‘Cut one for Nina too; she partakes, don’t you, doctor?’

‘You know doctors,’ Nina said with a dry smile. ‘Notorious self-medicators.’

Tom knelt at the corner of the glass coffee table with his credit card and the bag of powder, and we all watched as he ceremoniously poured and chopped and separated the powder into four neat lines. Then he looked up and raised his eyebrows enquiringly. ‘I’m assuming Mel pump-n-dump Cho, will not be joining us, but what about you, Florence hostess-with-the-mostess Clay?’

I looked across at Flo. Her face was very pink, as if she’d drunk considerably more than the one glass of Champagne I’d seen in her hand.

‘Guys,’ she said stiffly, ‘I’m … I’m not very happy with this. I mean, it’s my aunt’s house. What if—’

‘Oh Flops!’ Clare gave her a kiss and put her hand over her mouth, stopping her protests. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Don’t have any if you don’t want to, but I really don’t think your aunt’s going to rock up here with her sniffer dogs and start taking names.’

Flo shook her head, and pulled herself out of Clare’s arm to start clearing plates. Melanie got up too.

‘I’ll help you,’ she said pointedly.

‘All the more for those who do!’ Tom said with slightly aggressive cheerfulness. He rolled up a ten-pound note and snorted up his line, wiping his nose and rubbing the grains on his gums. ‘Clare?’

Clare knelt and did the same with a practised swiftness that made me wonder how often she did this. She stood up, swayed slightly, and then laughed. ‘Christ, I can’t be high already. Must be the tequila! Nina?’ She held out the tenner. Nina made a face.

‘Thanks but no thanks! Palm that snot-rag off on some unsuspecting shop assistant. I’ll use my own, thanks.’ She ripped a strip off the cover of the Vogue Living that was lying on the hearth, and snorted up the third line. I winced, looking at the butchered cover, and hoping Flo wouldn’t notice when she came back.

‘Nora?’

I sighed. It was true that I’d done my first line with Clare. It had also been one of my last. Don’t get me wrong, I smoked and drank and did various other drugs at college. But I never really enjoyed cocaine. It never did much for me.