One Summer in Paris(76)

Marc exchanged her empty glass for a full one.

Audrey took it. It wasn’t what she’d asked for, but what the hell? Drinking for one night wasn’t going to hurt, was it?

She wondered what Grace was doing and whether her dinner was going well.

Then she thought about her mother, but that ruined her happy mood so she stopped wondering.

She’d call tomorrow, and if she didn’t get an answer she’d call Ron. Technically, he was her stepdad now. She was allowed to call him.

She drank and danced and then she and Etienne moved to the back of the room where it wasn’t so crowded. The doors were open into a little courtyard garden. Fairy lights were strung around plants and pots.

“It’s like a scene from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, don’t you think?” Etienne took a mouthful of beer.

Audrey had never seen A Midsummer Night’s Dream and hadn’t read it, either, but for once it didn’t seem to matter. Her brain was probably numbed by vodka. Every time she tried to sip slowly, Marc appeared by her side and topped up her drink.

“It’s a pretty garden.”

“You want to take a walk?”

No, she didn’t want to walk. Her head was swimming and her feet hurt. She was beginning to wish she hadn’t chosen vanity over comfort. They made her legs look long, but after an hour of dancing her feet felt as if they’d been chewed by a great white shark.

On the other hand the garden was small and maybe fresh air would be good. “Sure. But I’m pretty thirsty after all that dancing. Is there any water? I keep asking Marc, and he just brings me more vodka.”

“Marc is a dick,” he said it affably, as if he was used to his friend. “I’ll find you some. Wait here.” He disappeared, and she stood awkwardly, trying to look as if she was perfectly comfortable standing alone in a house full of people who spoke a language she didn’t understand.

She thought that when she left London she’d be leaving pressures and insecurities behind, but it seemed they followed you. Did she look okay? Was she saying the right things? Did people think she was stupid for not being able to speak fluent French?

She felt decidedly weird, as if her brain was slowly rotating. Probably all that vodka. She should have found a way of spilling it, but if she’d done that Marc would just have fetched her another one.

Where was Etienne? What was taking him so long?

She turned her head to look and someone bumped into her hard. She dropped her bag and the contents scattered across the floor.

Crap. Audrey bent to retrieve it, gathering up tubes of lip gloss, old receipts and some cash. Leaning down made her feel even worse.

She was suddenly flooded with nausea.

Marc appeared with another drink but this time she didn’t take it.

“I need to use the bathroom.” She shouted it above the music and he waved his hand toward the stairs.

“On the right.”

Right. Left. Audrey checked her hand for the ring Grace had given her and noticed that her hands appeared to be shaking.

Why did she feel this bad? She hadn’t drunk that much, had she? Her mother drank bottles of the stuff and was never sick. It must be something else.

She stumbled up the stairs, clutching the rail for support, elbowing her way through people, muttering excusez moi. The door to the bathroom was locked. It kept moving in her field of vision. She rattled the handle, feeling worse by the minute.

Had they put something in her drink? She thought back. Everyone knew you were supposed to watch your drink in nightclubs and places like that, but this was a private party. Would Marc have dropped something in her drink?

A couple wandered past her and she looked at them through blurred vision. “Have you seen Etienne?”

They shook their heads and disappeared down the stairs.

Finally, the bathroom door opened and a couple staggered out, looking disheveled.

Audrey staggered into the bathroom, banging her arm hard on the door. The pain made her eyes water. Since when had she been so uncoordinated? With a huge effort, she managed to bolt the door before she sank to the floor.

Maybe if she just lay down for a minute her head would steady. But it didn’t steady. Instead, it got worse. She felt giddy and suddenly she was drenched in sweat. Nausea rose like floodwaters and she just made it to the toilet before she was violently sick.

She heaved miserably again and again, until there was nothing left in her stomach and then lay on the bathroom floor, wondering if this was what it felt like to die. Her head felt as if it was being crushed, and even the smallest movement hurt.

If she collapsed in here, who would know?

Who would care?

Grace.

Grace had asked her where she was going, and she hadn’t even been able to tell her.

Trying to move as little as possible, she fumbled for her phone and sent a message to Grace. She would probably be too busy having a reunion with her musician friend to check her phone, but at least when she finally did she’d know how to find Audrey’s body.

She lay still, her head on a bath towel, ignoring the people hammering on the door wanting to come in.

Why hadn’t she said no to the drink?

She was exactly like her mother.

The next thing she knew there was more hammering and this time she couldn’t ignore it because the door burst open and there was Grace, holding the kitchen knife she’d used to lever open the lock.