Claire, and gained a new friend called Kelly. Kelly had been to the same school as me, although I didn’t remember her. That didn’t matter to either of us; Kelly was dressed as a witch without a broomstick, all stripy orange tights and black nylon wig, me like the bride of Satan in a fitted red satin dress and cherry-red silk shoes that had cost more than the dress. I’d already been groped a few times.
By one, most people were heading for the night bus, or the taxi stand, or staggering away from the town center into the freezing night. Kelly and I headed for the River bar, since it was the only place likely still to let us in.
“You are so going to hook up wearing that dress, Catherine,” Kelly said, her teeth chattering.
“I fucking hope so, it cost me enough.”
“Do you think there will be anything decent in there?” she said, peering hopefully at the bedraggled line.
“I doubt it. Anyway, I thought you said that you were off men?”
“I said I’ve given up on relationships. Doesn’t mean I’m off sex.”
It was bitterly cold and starting to drizzle, the wind whipping the smells of a Friday night around me, blowing up my skirt. I pulled my jacket tighter around me and crossed my arms over it.
We headed for the VIP entrance. I remember wondering if this was a good idea, whether it might not be better to call it a night, when I realized Kelly had been let in already and I went to follow her. I was blocked by a wall of charcoal-gray suit.
I looked up to see a pair of incredible blue eyes, short blond hair. Not someone you’d want to have an argument with.
“Hold up,” said the voice, and I looked up at the doorman. He wasn’t massive like the other two, but still taller than me. He had a very appealing smile.
“Hello,” I said. “Am I allowed to go in with my friend?”
He paused for a moment and looked at me just a fraction longer than was seemly. “Yes,” he said at last. “Of course. Just . . .”
I waited for him to continue. “Just what?”
He glanced across to where the other door staff were chatting up some teenagers who were busy trying their hardest to get in.
“Just couldn’t believe my luck for a moment, that’s all.”
I laughed at his cheek. “Not been a good night, then?”
“I have a thing for red dresses,” he said.
“I don’t think this one would fit you.”
He laughed and held the velvet rope to one side to let me in. I felt him watching me as I handed my jacket in to the cloakroom; stole a glance back at the door and saw him again, just watching me. I gave him a smile and went up the steps to the bar.
All I could think of that night was dancing until I was numb, smiling and laughing at people with my new best friend, dancing in that red dress until I caught the eye of someone, anyone, and best of all finding some dark corner of the club and being fucked against a wall.
Thursday 1 November 2007
It took me a long, long time to get out of the flat this morning. It wasn’t the cold, although the heating in the flat seems to take an age to have any effect. Nor was it the dark. I’m up every day before five; it’s been dark at that time since September.
Getting up isn’t my problem, getting out of the house is. Once I’m showered and dressed, have had something to eat, I start the process of checking that the flat is secure before I go to work. It’s like a reverse of the process I go through in the evening, but worse somehow, because I know that time is against me. I can spend all night checking if I want to, but I know I have to get to work, so in the mornings I can only do it so many times. I have to leave the curtains in the lounge and in the dining room, by the balcony, open to exactly the right width every day or I can’t come back in the flat again. There are sixteen panes in each of the patio doors; the curtains have to be open so that I can see just eight panes of each door if I look up to the flat from the path at the back of the house. If I can see