Mother wanted to know why I wasn’t at the chemist’s. told her Mr Leakey didn’t really need me any more and how, what with SATs coming up, I felt it best to concentrate on my studies. She accepted this without comment. In fact, there was a little flicker on her face which I read as a dawning suspicion that maybe some mothers might have insisted I gave the job up anyway.

She said, ‘So, are you going to study now?’

I said I was and, when they were all dressed, she took Cyril and Marie off swimming.

Peace. But then I started missing William and feeling bored. I can’t remember what I used to do on Saturdays before the chemist’s.

I went round to Delilah’s.

It had been playing on my mind that today was the day of the party. I wondered how prepared she was, mentally and physically, for the ordeal that was about to befall her. It was like knowing an accident was going to happen, a terrible pile-up on the motorway, and being powerless to do anything to stop it.

She and her friend Sam were sitting wrapped in towels at the kitchen table doing their toenails. Sam’s were candy pink, Delilah’s liquorice black. They had cotton wool between their toes, and on top of the varnish they were placing nail-stickers in the shapes of hearts and flowers. The sink was piled with plates. They’d only been on their own a few hours and they already seemed to have got through most of the crockery. On the table was the remains of their breakfast: a carton of orange juice and a tub of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey.

I asked if they were ready for the evening. Delilah rolled her eyes and said no, they had so much to do. ‘I mean, we’ve done our nails, but we’ve got our legs and underarms, and our tans to put on. I don’t know what to wear yet. I’m either going to go kind of punk-rock-chick glamour, with that new drop-waisted skirt I’ve got. You know, with the pink trim? Or I’m going to really downplay and wear jeans with my fishnet popsocks and those silver sandals? Sam’s thinking the same, aren’t you, Sam?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What are you going to wear, Connie? Wellies or those burgundy peep-toe sandals.’ She and Sam giggled.

‘Ha. Ha,’ I said. ‘Very funny.’

‘We’re going to set up the bathroom like a spa. I’ve got all Mum’s Clarins moisturizing stuff lined up ready. And our hair… I’m thinking little bunches. And we’re going to do our make-up really properly, you know, take time over it?’

‘I see.’ I looked up the steps into the back sitting room, at all the blond wood and white upholstery and freshly plumped cushions. ‘Do you want me to help clear some furniture?’

Delilah made a vague gesture with her hand. ‘Do you think we need to?’

I tried to keep the anguish out of my voice. ‘Yes.’

‘It’s all right. Sam and I will do it later. I thought we’d close the double doors between the two sitting rooms and have music and dancing in the back room, with the stairs down to the kitchen, where the drink will be, and move the sofas and chairs into the other, where we can turn the lights down really low for anyone who wants –’ she and Sam giggled – ‘a bit of time out.’

‘And have you bought the booze?’

‘Yeah,’ she said vaguely again. ‘Sorted.’

‘And the music… ?’

‘My brother’s doing it,’ explained Sam. ‘He’s only twelve, but he really knows his stuff and he’s got an iPod.’

‘That’s all right, then,’ I said.

‘And Will’s on the door. If you see him, will you remind him?’

‘I will if I do,’ I said, knowing I wouldn’t. ‘So I’ll be round at what time?’

Delilah mock-panicked, making startled eyes at the clock. ‘The invitation said 8 p.m., so any time about then. Or drop round later if you like.’

‘What about the carpets?’ I said. ‘Shall we try and cover them?’

Delilah looked hassled. ‘Don’t nag. There’s shampoo under the sink if we need it.’

I left. I’d done my best.

I mooched. I tried on clothes. I got cross with Marie for playing her recorder too loud. I buried my face in the cat’s fur and then kicked him off the bed for dribbling. I sat on the roof and listened to the traffic, smiling, snarled, circling the suburbs forever. I changed my mind and went downstairs to go to Delilah’s. Changed my mind again and went to the fridge. I ate a rice cake. And then another. I watched the news. I told Mother, who was off out, that she looked lovely, and made a face behind her back. I hugged Jack. He was on his own for once, having split up from Dawn. (Dawn has finally broken.) And then I said, ‘Get off,’ and went back upstairs. And at eight o’clock, finally, I dressed (pink ra-ra skirt, denim jacket, red baseball boots), said goodnight, promised not to be late, laughed at Jack’s ‘ring me if you need a lift home’ jokes, and left for the party.

Delilah opened the door. Her face fell when she saw me. ‘No one’s here,’ she squealed. ‘I can’t bear it. It’s all a failure. I’m a social disaster. I wish I was dead.’

She had obviously opted for rock-chick. She was wearing a black halterneck top, decorated with a diamanté heart, which showed off her soft golden shoulders, and a black skirt with a jagged hem, which hid her curvaceous tummy. On her legs were large-scale fishnets (the sort of net you’d need to catch a shark in rather than a sardine) and a pair of black biker boots with buckles. She had heavy kohl round her eyes and shiny crimson lipgloss that made her mouth look enormous. Delicate diamond pendants glinted from her ears.

‘You look amazing,’ I said.

‘Do you like my earrings?’ she hissed. ‘They’re real diamonds. They’re Mum’s.’

We went into the front half of the sitting room, where the light was dimmed and music was playing. It was empty of furniture except for a couple of chairs, with girls on them, and a side table in the window, behind which crouched a small kid with two gold pendants round his neck (one in the style of a cross), voluminous jogging pants and a cap at an angle. He was standing, fiddling with an iPod in one hand and making flicking hand movements – fingers stuck together in twos – with the other. He looked about ten except that he had a bum-fluff moustache.

‘That’s Sam’s brother,’ Delilah told me. ‘He wants to be a DJ…’

‘… When he grows up,’ I said.

‘Ssh.’ She gave me a look. ‘He comes with an iPod, so shut it.’

‘How can he afford an iPod at his age?’

‘He has two buses and a train to get to school. His parents feel sorry for him. Also, according to Sam, they’re so relieved to find he’s got an interest.’

I laughed, though Delilah didn’t, and lifted my hand in the direction of Sam, who was sitting on one of the chairs, her fingers tugging at the smallest denim miniskirt I’d ever seen. She looked like she was shivering under her tiny camisole. She sent me a weak smile back. Her face looked spottier than usual. I wondered if the orange-and-oatmeal face pack had given her a rash. Standing next to her were two girls in bomber jackets and hoop earrings who were laughing hysterically while banging their hips together self-consciously in – sort of – time to the music.

Delilah shouted at me to come and get a drink. I followed her to the kitchen, where the table was laid out with plastic cups, a washing-up basin full of a mysterious dark-red potion, bobbing with bits of apple and orange, a few bottles of beer, some baguettes and, touchingly, half a Brie.

‘You’ve got the cheese in, then?’ I said, trying to conceal a smile. Marcus and Tanya always provided half a Brie along with the Pimm’s at their summer party.

‘Soaks up the booze,’ she said. ‘We don’t want people getting too drunk.’

She ladled me a cup of the dark-red brew, which I took a quick sip of. It tasted astringent, half smoky, half sweet, with a vicious undercurrent that caught the throat. I coughed. ‘God. What’s in it?’

Delilah giggled. I caught her glance towards a black garbage sack in the corner, with some bottles sticking out. ‘Don’t ask,’ she said. ‘Sam and I have been experimenting. Call it the Delilah Bite.’

I took another sip. ‘Ow.’

She laughed. Then the doorbell went and she scampered off to answer it. There was a burst of giggles. I could see down the hall that another gaggle of girls had arrived, all with side partings and long blonde hair that looked like it had been ironed. Delilah brought them down to the kitchen, where they poured cups of punch and giggled some more. I realized there were about fifteen girls here now, to one pre-pubescent boy. Perhaps I’d been wrong to worry. Perhaps this was as bad as it was going to get. Then the doorbell went again. Delilah squawked and disappeared. This time I followed her up and reached the hall as she opened the door to William.

He seemed taken aback by Delilah’s appearance. He’d been leaning against the door frame, with that I’m-too-cool-for-this-life expression he sometimes gets, and I’m sure he swayed in shock. ‘Hi,’ he said, staring at her, as if that was all he could manage.

She giggled. ‘You might have smartened up for me a bit, Will.’ He was wearing several faded T-shirts in layers, an inside-out hooded top and his Adidas trainers. ‘Is that bike oil on your jeans?’

He bent down to look and she tapped his nose on the way up. ‘Made you look, made you stare, made you lose your underwear!’ (We’d all notice if that happened. His pants were sticking out of his trousers, as usual.)

He crooked his arm round her neck, twisting her round and pretending to strangle her.

‘Help!’ she cried. ‘Con.’

He couldn’t pretend I wasn’t there any more. He dropped his arm. ‘Hi, Connie,’ he said, not looking at me.

‘Hi,’ I said, looking away too.

I think she took him down to the kitchen then to ‘meet some of the girls’, but I went the other way into the wide open space of the sitting room, where I watched the joined-at-the-hip disco divas lark around, and made desultory conversation with Sam. She told me she was in love with Charlie from Busted, that he was a dark, deep soul stuck in a business that didn’t understand him. Her brother came over and, in a voice that kept jumping between treble and base, said Charlie from Busted had no true musical integrity and wouldn’t last. And she said what did he know, he didn’t understand, he didn’t recognize true talent when he saw it. ‘Twerp,’ she added as he headed back to his iPod.

I can’t remember much more about the early part of the evening, except that it was cold – Delilah opened the back door when people started smoking – and that I wandered back and forth between the kitchen and the sitting room, avoiding William and trying to look as if I was having a nice time. A few more people arrived – a couple of lads in dark-blue jeans and zip-up jumpers from the youth club, more girls in various states of undress from the high school. One of the boys in a zip-up jumper tried to make conversation with me. Turns out he wasn’t from the youth club but had met Delilah when she was on holiday in the Isle of Wight. His name was Cal. He asked me questions about school and Delilah. He said, ‘Constance is a lovely name.’ I told him it was French and that I loved France. He said he did too. French bread. French cheese. I was quite enjoying myself until he added, ‘French kissing.’ I was so embarrassed I had to walk off.

William took up position on the door at about 9 p.m. I don’t know what his brief was. It’s not as if there was a guest list or anything. I think it just made him feel important.

It got louder – a couple of drinks got spilt, someone went upstairs and unravelled a loo roll on the banisters. Someone else, in search of attention, got locked in the bathroom. There was a huddle in the ‘quiet’ (i.e. snogging) room and a waft of smoke in the doorway. A cigarette was stubbed out on the kitchen floor. But these were all isolated incidents, identifiable, controlled. The cigarette burn was small and close to the sink. So when Delilah came up to me when I was in the kitchen picking at the Brie and yelled, ‘Ashtrays! Have you got any ashtrays next door? There’s ash being dropped all over the floor!’ I didn’t panic unduly. I felt we’d encompassed the worst. That Delilah, as usual, had got away with it. No gatecrashers. No mass descent. And I said I’d go and get some, relieved to escape from my own social embarrassment, to give my face a break from its false, I’m-quite-happy-on-my-own smile.

‘Leaving already?’ said William harshly as I sidled out.

I didn’t even answer.

Back at home Cyril had gone to bed and Marie was asleep with her head on Jack’s lap. He was watching some detective drama. Or trying to. You could hear the bass line of next-door’s music through the walls, along with the noise of people in the street.

Jack raised his eyebrows when he saw me. ‘Home already, Cinders?’ he said.

I gave him a hug, being careful not to disturb Marie, and told him I’d come to get a couple of ashtrays. He said I looked flushed. I was probably just still angry with William. But I said, so he wouldn’t worry, ‘Too much dancing!’

‘By the way, your mum out anywhere nice?’ he said.

Normally, as you know, I tell him to mind his own beeswax, but an idea struck me then, out of the blue. Jack may not be perfect, but he loves Mother, that’s obvious, and at least he doesn’t go jogging in satin shorts. From the start I’ve been determined that she shouldn’t end up with him – I told Julie so, didn’t I? – but desperate times mean desperate measures.

‘No,’ I said. ‘She’s out with our creepy landlord. You know, that weedy Mr Spence? She needs saving, Jack…’

And, leaving that thought with him, I collected the two ashtrays I could find and went back to Delilah’s.

I’d only been gone ten minutes, but something had changed. William was being barged at the door by a group of boys from Year Eleven in fur-lined parkas. A girl with scraped-back hair and hoop earrings was screeching in the middle of them, ‘We’re invited! I’ve got an invitation.’ She thrust something under his nose and after that they burst past him, like water surging through a dam. I followed.

There were more bodies in the house. The hall was full. A picture had fallen off the wall and was on the floor, leaning against the skirting board with the glass across it cracked. Someone had been sick on the carpet on the stairs; a bunch of loo roll had been stuffed on to the mess, but you could smell it. Shoes had stamped tread-shaped puke stains all the way up to the landing. The front room was heaving – people were dancing and jostling. I saw Joseph Milton right in the middle of them. The music was very, very loud. It wasn’t coming from Sam’s brother’s iPod – both Sam’s brother and the iPod had vanished – but from a large portable stereo, pumping out bass. I was holding the two pathetic ashtrays in my hands, so I put them on the mantelpiece. It was like arriving with a couple of lifebelts half an hour after the Titanic’s gone down. Ash, spilt beer cans, splattered Delilah Bite everywhere.

In the kitchen I found Sam leaning into the sink.

‘You all right?’ I yelled to get her attention. When she turned her face to me it was bleary, her mouth spit-tied. She made a sound and then retched. I pushed past the girls shrieking at each other behind her, and reached her just as she vomited. ‘OK, OK,’ I said, pulling her hair back. ‘There you go. Oh. Gosh. There you go.’

‘Ughghhh,’ she said.

There was still washing-up in the sink – a couple of mugs and plates – so I had to retrieve them before getting the sick down the drain. I used the wrong end of the washing-up brush. It was mainly Delilah Bite, with bits of apple in it. It could have been worse.

I went upstairs to see if I could get some towels from the bathroom, but even after I’d scrambled over the group on the floor, I found I couldn’t get in. The door was locked. Suspicious ‘sounds’ emanated from inside. OK. Back through the legs. Back downstairs. When I reached the kitchen, Sam was leaning against the sink, facing out now, which was a good sign. Her face was very pale. ‘Have you got a coat?’ I said.

She managed to tell me she had a jacket under the stairs, which I found and struggled her into. Then I led her into the garden and put her on the wooden recliner – what Marcus calls his ‘steamer chair’ – for some fresh air while I got help.

‘Delilah?’ I said. ‘Do you know where she is?’

Sam’s head was lolling. Her eyes were half closed. ‘Quiet room,’ she mumbled.

Of course.

I wended my way back through the kitchen, to the section of the house dedicated to those who wanted ‘a bit of time out’. The door was ajar and I pushed it open. At first I couldn’t see anything. The only light was the strip showing under the double doors to the front room. My eyes got accustomed to the dark. All the furniture in the house seemed to be in here, and on each piece, and on the floor in-between, there were entangled couples.

‘Delilah!’ I hissed. ‘Are you in here?’ Nobody stirred. ‘Delilah!’ I put more urgency into my voice. No reaction. ‘Delilah! Sam is dying. Can you come and help?’

At this, the couple in the far corner, beyond the sofa, came apart and Delilah emerged. She trod her way over. Her hair was dishevelled, her eyes sleepy. The strap of her bra was hanging out of her top. ‘What you want?’ she slurred, frowning. I wondered how many Delilah Bites she’d had since I last saw her.

As I explained about Sam, a bloke in a checked short-sleeved shirt followed her across the room, sidled past me through the door and disappeared. ‘Dan!’ she called after him. ‘Daa-mn.’ She swayed as she swore and, though the word began with feeling, it sort of tapered out.

‘Not Dan Curtis again?’ I said.

She blew out like a horse. ‘Damn,’ she said again. Then, ‘Oooh, look, Darius! DARIUS!’ A guy in a skullcap was leaning, one foot against the wall in the hall. I swear she said, ‘Cooeee.’ A lazy sort of grin crossed his face and he raised his hand and nodded a greeting at her.

‘Anyway, she’s in the garden,’ I said. ‘How am I going to get her back to East Sheen? Where’s her brother?’

But it was hopeless. Delilah had hooked her bra strap back up and tottered off towards the bloke in the skullcap.

I stood looking after her for a moment. She had got there without falling over and was gesticulating and giggling up at him, circling her fingers across her bare shoulder, rotating her head to the music, swinging her hair. He leant back, immobile, watching her. Then, a sleeping cobra striking, I saw him grab her head and kiss her on the lips, one of his hands continuing to hold her by the head, the other dangling casually by his side.

I would have walked away then, but there was a small agitation at the door beyond them. William was trying to greet some people, but they’d pushed past him. He looked up after them, and for a second our eyes met over Delilah and the boy in the skullcap – and I saw the anguish in his expression – before I realized that the couple stalking in were Julie and Ade.

She came straight up when she saw me. ‘Connie!’ she said, and I could hear panic and misery. She wasn’t even dressed in Julie party gear. No combats or string vests or dog-collar bracelets. No glitter or wild hairdo. Just jeans, her towelling hoody and Alison’s leather jacket. She’d done her make-up in a rush too, and there were clogs of mascara under her eyes. Her mouth was in a grim line. She looked like she was trying hard not to cry. She glanced over her shoulder. Ade had gone into the front room. ‘Connie,’ she said again.

I put my arm round her and pulled her into the kitchen. She was gripping on to my hand. ‘What’s wrong?’ I said.

She looked over her shoulder again. ‘Not here.’ She gestured urgently to the back door. ‘Out there.’

Well, the steamer was taken – Sam had lolled completely to one side and it looked like she was asleep – but there was no one in the al fresco dining area. We sat on two of the chairs. You could look up at the house with all the lights on and music blaring; people moving across the windows. Julie crossed her arms on the table and buried her head in them. ‘Oh God, oh God.’

‘Are you OK?’ I said. ‘Are you hurt or something? Is it Ade?’

‘Yes.’

‘What happened?’

And then it all came out. How they’d met in the high street at lunchtime and had a fab couple of hours browsing. How they’d had a mocha and shared a sunburst muffin in Starbuck’s, and that had been great. How she’d wanted to go to the cinema, but he’d wanted to go back to her dad’s flat, but she’d persuaded him and how that had been cosy and snuggly, and how when the film had finished he’d said, ‘Can we go there now?’ And she’d agreed, thinking she’d make him some food and they could have a snog and a cuddle and get ready for the party, after which, they’d go back for the Big Moment. But then when they’d got to the flat… She broke off and lit a cigarette, her hands fumbling at the packet.

‘Did you have a row?’ I said.

‘No. Yes. Sort of’.

‘What, then?’

‘Well… as soon as we got through the door we started kissing and it was lovely and we were on the sofa and it was all fine, but then he started getting more insistent and doing things, you know, under my top and stuff. That was OK, but then he started pulling off my trousers and I said, ‘No, let’s wait.’ I wasn’t ready, do you know what I mean? Maybe I was nervous. I wanted it to be later. Night-time. I dunno why. I just did. That was what I had in my head. But he kept carrying on and saying things like, ‘Let’s do it now’ And then when I said no and sat up, he stalked off to the bathroom. So then I went to talk to him and then he started up again, about how we should do it now and I’d said I was ready for it and why was I backing down? And I didn’t know what to say, it had gone all wrong. I’d just wanted to wait until later. Do you understand? He said I’d gone all frigid on him, and I suppose I had.’

‘Poor you,’ I said.

‘But that’s not all. Because then he got all cool and put his jacket on and said he was going for a walk. And I didn’t want him to go, not like that, so I said it was OK and that we could do it now if that was what he really wanted. So finally he took his jacket back off and we went into Alison and Dad’s bedroom and got under the covers and it was weird because the bed smelt of them and I felt really shy. He must have got undressed, but I didn’t look at him, and then he was next to me and kissing me and, you know, Connie, I didn’t feel anything. Just cold and scared. And after a bit, with me not moving or anything, he turned away. And then we both got up and got dressed again in silence. And then we came here.’

‘Oh, Julie,’ I said. ‘Poor you. How horrible.’

‘I’m going to be a virgin forever.’

‘Aren’t we all,’ I said.

She laughed then and put her head back on the table, but with her chin up, the hand with the cigarette held away. ‘What a mess. I thought he was The One. I thought it was going to be…’

‘I know’

We sat there for a bit longer. I said a few things about how these things happen, and how if he’d really loved her he would have been more sensitive to her needs.

‘I wonder what Ade’s doing now?’ she said after a while.

‘Do you want to go and find him?’

‘Not really’

She seemed better now she’d told someone. She gave a comedy groan, which ended in a shiver.

‘Shall we go back in?’ I said.

‘Yeah.’ She stubbed out her cigarette on the table and threw it into the daffodils.

Sam stirred and made a sort of whimpering noise in her sleep. I had to do something about her. I had to begin to think about getting her home before she caught pneumonia. And then there was Delilah. Snogging her way round the party. And then William, manacled to the front door, in a bate. And the missing twelve-year-old and his iPod. I sighed. Little pockets of anxiety everywhere. And as usual Connie Pickles, the only one in control. Julie put her arm through mine. ‘Once more into the breach,’ I said as we entered the house.

Things seem to have exploded even further in there, like a can of Coke that’s been shaken before it’s opened. There was pogoing behind the Brie. You could see up the stairs that the doors between the front room and the ‘quiet’ room had been opened and loads of boys were jumping on the sofas and across the chairs. The music was even louder. Julie saw someone she knew and her face cheered up. I left her in what could be described as ‘animated conversation’, if you can be animated shouting at a thousand decibels.

In the hall there was a new development. Delilah wasn’t involved in tongue-relay any more. She was sitting on the stairs, leaning on the wall, between two boys. The one standing was the bloke in the skullcap; the other, sitting just above her, was Ade. She was rocking her head and singing. Ade saw me and started stroking her leg, starting at her ankle. She closed her eyes and he continued. The bloke in the skullcap was just watching.

It was disturbing – degrading – seeing her like that. I shouted out was she was all right, and she smiled at me and said, ‘Yeah, yeah.’ Then I gave Ade a look that should have vaporized him on the spot. What a bastard. Julie was still in the kitchen. I had to get back to make sure she stayed there.

The front door was half open and William was sitting outside on the step, swigging from a can of beer and smoking a roll-up. I tutted loudly, ‘William! What if the neighbours saw?’

‘You are the neighbours,’ he said, and gave a shout of laughter.

‘Can you come and help? Sam – Delilah’s friend – is in trouble. I’ve got to get her into bed or home or something. But I can’t lift her. And I’ve got to keep Julie out of the hall. Please.’

He carefully extinguished the end of his roll-up and put it in his pocket, then heaved himself to his feet. ‘Where do you want me?’

We sidled past the weird threesome on the stairs – Delilah and Ade (the total bastard) were kissing now; the bloke in the skullcap was still there, but looking bored – through the kitchen, where Julie was still safely chatting to her friend (‘Stay there!’ I said), and into the garden. I pointed to the comatose bundle that was Sam. William went over and poked her, trying, unsuccessfully, to wake her up.

‘I’ll have to carry her,’ he said, heaving her into his arms. She stirred. Her head lolled on to his shoulder. ‘OK. Here we go. Upstairs, I think, don’t you?’

Our little procession made it back into the kitchen, through the people in the hall – ‘Excuse me. Thank you. Sorry. Can you – There we go. OK. Sorry Thanks’ – up the stairs to the first floor, along the landing, and then up to Delilah’s bedroom in the attic. There were pots of make-up and powder all over her desk and items of clothing and shoes all over the floor. A hand mirror with ‘Delilah’ written in three-dimensional paint on the back was balanced on the window frame. William shifted Sam’s weight from his arms to his shoulders and managed to launch her over the bars of the platform bed on to the mattress beyond. I climbed the ladder and covered her with Delilah’s duvet.

‘There,’ I said, smoothing her hair from her face. ‘She should be OK now.’ But when I turned round William had left the room.

I’d had enough then. I stood looking out of the window at the patchwork of dark gardens below. The house seemed to shake and thump. If it wasn’t for Julie and Delilah downstairs, I would have tried to climb out, shimmy across the roof to my own ledge. What was happening at home? What was Jack thinking? He couldn’t have fallen asleep with the racket through the walls. Was Mother back? She wouldn’t stand for it, that’s for sure. Would she be with Mr Spence? What was I going to do about that? I looked at my face in Delilah’s hand-painted mirror. I looked pale and sober. On impulse I picked up a tube of lipgloss and ran it over my lips. It tasted like cherry chewing gum (which is nothing like cherries, but quite delicious in its own way).

And then I went back downstairs.

I could tell something had happened the moment I rounded the landing. Shouts were coming from the sitting room, not wild exuberant shouting, but angry shouting. I stood at the top of the stairs. The music suddenly stopped and the shouts became more distinct. Julie’s voice was in there, angry but controlled. So was Delilah’s – tearful. And a girl’s voice I didn’t recognize shrieked, ‘You slag! You slag!’

I jumped down the stairs and reached the sitting room as Toyah Benton charged at Delilah. Delilah was clinging to the boy in the skullcap, who was trying to get away from her. Toyah Benton didn’t know who to clobber: the boy in the skullcap – Darius, oh, DARIUS, THAT DARIUS – or Delilah. Her fists were going everywhere. ‘You… I’m… get that… I’m gonna… you…’

Then William was there, pulling her off them. Delilah fell back and started whimpering on the sofa. Two of the girls with long blonde hair sprang out of the crowd to comfort her. Toyah Benton was yelling at William now, but he was saying something to her and slowly she stopped and started crying. Three girls came round her too, whispering to her, occasionally shouting abuse – ‘How could you do that to her ?’ – at Darius, who was just standing looking hopeless, scuffing his feet, by the door. Not cool, but dim. People began to drift away. Toyah Benton stalked out of the house. Darius followed. You got the feeling their evening had only just begun.

I glanced around for Julie. I was sure I’d heard her voice. But I couldn’t see her. Ade had disappeared too. William was standing by the group on the sofa. I remember thinking how all that cycling had filled him out. He saw me watching and came over. ‘She’s such a little idiot,’ he said. ‘She doesn’t know what she’s doing. Someone’s got to take her in order before she gets herself into serious trouble.’

There was a note in his voice I hadn’t heard before. Not about Delilah anyway. What would you call it? Concern? Tenderness? I gave him a long look. I thought about him kissing me. ‘It looks like you’re her knight in shining aluminium,’ I said finally.

I don’t know what he was going to say then – it was the first time either of us had made any reference to the other afternoon – and now I’ll never know because at that moment there was a renewed squeal from the sofa. The long-blonde girls were on their knees on the floor, rummaging around in the cushions, while between them Delilah, her hands to her ears, was sobbing. ‘Mummy’s earring. It’s gone.’

‘More help is needed!’ I said. William looked at me as if trying to read something in my face.

‘Connie?’ he said.

‘What?’

He looked at me for a moment longer. ‘Nothing.’ Then he turned away and went over to Delilah. She wailed, ‘Will,’ and hugged him. I didn’t wait to see what happened next. I left the room and went to find Julie.

She wasn’t in the hall, or on the stairs. She wasn’t in the kitchen. I finally found her back in the garden, having a cigarette. Her make-up was smudged under her eyes, but she was calm. Ade, she told me, had left. She never wanted to see him again. ‘What… what happened?’ I asked.

‘He and that tosspot Darius were, what do you call it, “sharing” Delilah. Taking it in turns.’

‘She’s out of her head,’ I said. ‘She’s been drinking all day…’

‘I know. I don’t blame her. Although I do think she needs to seriously rethink her life. I just think how desperate would you have to be to do that? Ade, I mean. It’s like he had to prove something. Now I’ve chucked him he’s begging me, saying he was just trying to make me jealous, but I don’t care what it was. It’s just pathetic’

‘Yes.’

‘What a terrible party.’

‘Yes.’

‘They always are.’

‘Are they?’

Julie laughed at my expression. ‘It’s the pressure of having to enjoy yourself. These are the best years of our lives. People are always telling us that, aren’t they? So if you are not having the best crack ever, you think, what’s wrong with me? I’m missing out. Everyone else is having a great time and I’m not. But you know, sometimes I think, well…’

‘What?’

‘That we’ve got the rest of our lives too.’

We sat out there for a long time, talking about this and that, until we got too cold to sit out any longer. Julie’s mum wasn’t expecting her home – she thought she was at her dad’s, remember – so I asked if she wanted to sleep over at mine. She said she did. We got up – my limbs felt stiff – and went back into the party to say goodbye.

It was quiet now. Most people had left. The kitchen floor stuck to our feet as we crossed. Bottles lay everywhere. Three girls and Cal from the Isle of Wight were eating bread at the table. A boy with three earrings in one lobe had passed out in the corner. Through the door to the back sitting room you could see two people lying together on the sofa.

I should have walked on, but I didn’t. They were asleep. I stood in the doorway and watched them. Her head was on his shoulder. His arms were round her. Julie was waiting for me by the front door. I had to go. But I couldn’t tear myself away I thought if I stood there a little longer, William would wake up and see me. He would shake Delilah off. He’d come over to me. I’d never noticed how long his eyelashes were before, or how muscular his arms. He made Delilah look very small.

He was my friend, my best friend. He smelt of pavements and peppermint. And he was with Delilah.

What had I done?

‘Are you coming?’ Julie was outside, calling me. ‘I’m cold. I want to go to bed.’

I pulled my eyes away and followed her to the door and out to the street. We let ourselves into the house. There was no sign of Mother or Mr Spence. Jack had pulled out the sofa bed and was under the duvet, asleep.

We made ourselves some toast and tea and came up here to my room. I made up a bed with the spare pillow and eiderdown on the floor, and we talked for a while. I didn’t tell her about seeing William with Delilah. Not at first. Instead we talked about parents and love, about Ade. Julie said he’d made a fool of her and then, her voice croaky with tiredness, said some things about her stepmother she’d never said to me before, how she liked her, but she just wished she was someone else’s stepmother, how she never got her dad to herself. I told her about Mother and how guilty I felt about our ‘games’. ‘I wish we hadn’t split her up from Uncle Bert now,’ I said.

‘Did we?’ she said. ‘I thought Sue came back from her work trip and whipped him in. We didn’t do anything.’

‘Yes, we did. I said things to put Mother off, and made Marie sick. And – oh, I don’t think I ever asked. What did you do that very first day, the day of your first date with Ade, to make him cancel?’

‘I didn’t do anything.’

‘You must have done. Why else did he cancel?’

‘It was the day Sue got back. She rang to tell him to pick her up from the airport.’

‘Really? So that wasn’t us… ?’

‘Apparently not.’

Then I told her about making a fool of myself with John Leakey; how I just cringe when I remember it now, I don’t know what I was thinking. She said how I shouldn’t beat myself up and, ‘Great arse.’ And we started laughing then and couldn’t stop. When we finally managed to control ourselves she said, ‘What happened with William in the end?’

I lay on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. ‘I really like him.’

‘He’s got a great arse too.’ We both laughed, but for not so long that time.

Finally I said, ‘I think he’s with Delilah now.’

Julie yawned. ‘That won’t last,’ she said.

And pretty soon after that she was silent and I realized she was asleep.