Chapter 4
Four
WE MET IN HEAVEN. I stood beneath the arches nursing a vodka and lemonade, and peered out at the gyrating mass of bodies.
The DJ, shirtless, tipped his head back and spread his arms wide, Christ-like, while the crowd squirmed as one at his feet.
I leaned back but then thought better of it.
The brick wall was damp with other people’s sweat and breath. Someone tapped me on the shoulder.
‘You came!’ Victoria yelled over the music. She was wearing a tartan mini skirt, Doc Martens and a faded Rolling Stones T-shirt. Her hair was loose, her eyelids heavy with glitter. She pulled me into a hug, then took a step back and looked me up and down. ‘You look gorgeous.’
I smiled, relieved. I’d spent hours that afternoon deciding what to wear.
I’d packed a few flimsy bodycon dresses and strappy heels in my suitcase, the sort of things girls wore on nights out back home, but, after meeting Victoria, I sensed a different look was required.
I’d finally landed on a green check shirt, denim hotpants and Converse. ‘Thanks,’ I yelled back. ‘So do you.’
‘Sorry I’m late. The tubes were shit.’
I waved her apology away.
‘Thanks for agreeing to come out,’ she said. ‘You know when you just need to dance?’
I nodded, although the urge had never taken me.
The song changed and a cheer went up. Victoria squealed and, taking my hand, dragged me into the crowd. ‘I love this song!’
‘What?’
‘I said I love this song.’
I didn’t recognize it. It sounded just like the last one and the one before that, but when we reached the centre, I jumped and threw my arms in the air like everyone else.
As we danced, I caught glimpses of the people around me.
I’d never been to a club like this before, one where men embraced men, women embraced women, and the air felt charged with possibility.
It was different from the clubs I’d sneaked into while at college, where two-for-one Apple Sourz and getting groped by some acne-scarred teenage boy to Usher’s ‘Yeah!’ were the hallmarks of a Good Night Out.
The bass hummed in my teeth and one song blended into another. Sometimes I managed to catch Victoria’s eye, at which point she’d smile or pout or beckon me closer. I saw a couple of guys glance over at her approvingly, a couple of girls. I felt proud then, that Victoria had chosen me.
The lights flipped, green to blue. The song changed and the crowd lurched forward, pushing us closer together. Victoria turned to face me.
‘Are you having a good time?’ she shouted in my ear.
‘The best,’ I said, dabbing my forehead with my sleeve.
She looped her arms around my neck. ‘Are you drunk?’ she asked. Her breath was both sweet and vinegary.
‘Not really.’
‘Do you want to be?’ She pressed her hips against my own and swayed from side to side. I felt a dull ache in my pelvis. I laughed nervously and pulled away from her, ashamed.
‘I brought my brother’s credit card.’ She felt inside her back pocket and re-looped her arms, so we were nose to nose. ‘What do you want?’
‘I can pay.’
She shook her head and pulled a face.
‘I’ll have the same as you, then.’
Her fingers lingered a moment on my neck before she removed her hands and disappeared into the darkness.
I bopped on the spot, looking to see which direction she’d gone.
But it was useless. The music continued and people danced around me.
I tried to watch what they were doing, to move in time with the crowd, but without Victoria there to guide me, I felt ridiculous.
After ten minutes, I pushed my way towards the bar, where I saw Victoria talking to an impossibly tall and handsome man in a tight white T-shirt and brown chinos. An unpleasant, unnameable sensation flared up inside my chest. Victoria glanced over and motioned for me to join them.
‘Double vodka and cranberry,’ she said, thrusting a plastic cup into my hand so red liquid sloshed onto my wrist.
‘Thanks,’ I said, not meeting her eye.
‘This is Angus,’ she said, sliding her arm around the man’s middle and resting her head on his chest.
‘Hi.’
He nodded and gave me a bland, disinterested smile.
‘We were at Trinity together,’ Victoria said.
‘Where?’ I asked, unsure whether I’d heard her correctly.
‘Oxford. I only managed two terms.’ She took a slug of her drink. ‘It was not for me. Angus is still on the academia treadmill though, aren’t you?’
The man bent down and whispered something in her ear.
She flashed him a knowing grin. ‘OK, see you later, hun.’
We watched him re-enter the crowd.
‘Isn’t he an absolute darling?’
‘Yeah.’
‘He’s doing Classics.’
‘Right.’
‘Bless him, he came out to his parents last weekend. I don’t think they were too happy about it, so he’s hiding out with some friends in Clapham until term restarts.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘He’s gay. Of course.’
‘Well, yeah,’ Victoria said, rolling her eyes and gesturing towards the Pride flag emblazoned on the wall. ‘Obviously.’ She took a sip of her drink. ‘It’s not a problem, is it?’
‘What?’
‘Being here.’ Her eyes flicked towards a woman leaning against the wall with another pressed up against her, a hand disappearing beneath her top.
‘No. No problem,’ I said, looking at the floor, my drink, at anyone but her.
‘We can leave if you’re uncomfortable.’
‘I’m not uncomfortable. I’m . . .’ I grasped for the correct thing to say. ‘Comfortable.’
Victoria looked sceptical. ‘OK.’ She brushed her hair behind her ear. ‘Seen anyone you like?’
‘What do you mean?’ I wasn’t sure what she was asking. Did she think I was—?
‘Here – is there anyone you like the look of?’
‘No,’ I replied firmly. ‘You?’
She pursed her lips, considering the question, then, grinning, laced her fingers with my own. ‘Come on, let’s dance.’
WE SAT ON THE floor of McDonald’s, drunk and ravenous.
The place was heaving despite the late hour.
A gaggle of teenage girls stumbled past us in ankle-breaking stilettos; a homeless man lingered by the door asking for spare change or, if it’s not too much trouble, a Diet Coke; a stag group, all wearing shirts the same shade of salmon, eyeballed us as they swaggered towards the counter.
Victoria stuffed a handful of fries inside her mouth.
‘It’s so weird,’ she slurred. ‘My parents have been divorced for years, but there’s still this flirtiness between them. When they see each other – which isn’t very often, I should say – Mum’s like a teenager again; she gets all giggly.’
‘When did they split up?’
‘God.’ She thought for a moment, swaying lightly. ‘I must’ve been six years old?’
‘That’s young.’
‘Yeah.’ She leaned over and swirled a fry in my barbecue sauce. ‘Dad’s a cad. He could never keep it in his trousers.’
‘Do you see your stepmum?’
‘Ugh, don’t say it like that, stepmum. No, I can’t stand her. Or the twins. Nasty little shits. But it’s fine. Dad’s in America mostly, and they almost never come over with him.’
‘What does your mum do in Surrey?’
Victoria grimaced. ‘Not a lot. The official line is, she runs a wine-importing business.’ She slurped her milkshake. ‘What about you? What do your parents do?’
‘Dad sells garden awnings and Mum works as a teaching assistant in a high school.’
‘Fun.’
‘Special educational needs, you know, things like that.’
‘Hmm.’ She sniffed and rummaged in her bag for more chips.
I felt I’d disappointed her in some way, although I wasn’t sure how.
‘I’m probably closer to my grandma though.’
‘Oh yeah?’ she said, still rummaging.
‘Yeah. She’s cool; a bit odd. Mum and Dad . . . ever since I was a kid, I don’t know, it’s like there’s been this distance between us—’
‘My great-grandmother had an affair with a Nazi officer,’ Victoria said, talking over me, her mouth filled with food.
‘Seriously?’ I said, trying to match her animated tone. It wasn’t something I’d brag openly about, but I was starting to realize Victoria came from a different world entirely.
‘Yep. There’s pictures and everything. Dad keeps them locked away though, for obvious reasons.’
‘You’ve had such an interesting life.’
She shrugged. ‘Not really. It’s just my family; they’re a mad bunch.’ She dipped another fry into my sauce. ‘My great-aunt died in a plane crash in the Alps.’
‘Wow.’
‘Now, she did have an interesting life. I think she was involved with a Kennedy at one point. Bless her, the old slag.’ She laughed and clambered unsteadily to her feet. She crushed the brown bag into a ball, then took my hand and pulled me up to standing. ‘Where do you live?’
‘I’m in halls.’
‘Oh, weird.’ She pulled down her top, which had ridden up. ‘I thought everyone house shared at RLSDA.’
‘They do. I just wanted my own space.’
‘Whereabouts?’ she asked, staggering towards the door.
‘Near Baker Street.’
‘Can I stay at yours? It’ll be a pain getting back to mine at this time.’
I hesitated. As much as I’d enjoyed the evening, I wasn’t sure if I could handle being alone with Victoria in my cramped little room. But then I pictured her standing on the kerb, shivering and off her face, desperately trying to hail a cab. ‘Sure. Of course you can.’
I UNLOCKED THE DOOR.
‘You’ve not unpacked much,’ she said, stepping inside.
‘No, sorry – I would’ve tidied up more if I’d known you were coming over.’
Her eyes roamed the blank walls. ‘You should put posters up.’
‘Yeah, no, I will. I’ll get around to it soon,’ I replied, chastened.
‘You know what’ – Victoria edged past my open suitcase – ‘although it’s small, it’s actually kind of cute.
’ She placed her hands on the windowsill and peered down at the courtyard.
‘I mean, for you. I don’t think I could live here.
But then I have a lot of stuff.’ She reached for the photograph by my bedside – one of the few things I’d unpacked – and turned it over.
‘Julie and Tom with Shannon, aged five. Are these your parents?’
‘Yes. That was taken at my auntie’s wedding.’
‘You look so cute.’ She squinted at the picture, then me. ‘Your hair was a bit redder back then. And your eyes looked bluer.’