I stood up, walked into the bathroom and let the towel drop, but the movement of being on my feet again was too much, and I threw up violently, kneeling on the cold, hard tiles in front of the loo before I was able to climb in the shower. It turned on with a clunk, and I winced as the water pushed into my skin like an old-fashioned wire brush. The pressure turned me slightly pink as I moved under the head and washed clean every bit of me that he’d touched. Brushing my teeth afterwards made me retch, and even once I was dressed and had some make-up on, I was shocked by how pale and ill I looked in the mirror.
My previous benchmark for alcohol consumption was passing in and out of consciousness on a toilet floor having necked half a bottle of vodka at a student ball in the Birmingham Botanical Gardens – again, some twenty years ago. Strange faces had loomed over me, asking me if I was all right, and someone even pulled my dress down to preserve my dignity before my friend, Tim, eventually found me and took me back to the coach. But that was immature stupidity. I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t know what I was doing in Pacha – I admit I drank that much deliberately. I was desperate not to think any more. I wanted to blank everything out.
Once I’d grabbed my room key and phone, I let myself out and started to walk unsteadily down to breakfast. A little girl shrieked as she ran up the wide staircase towards me, her younger brother in hot pursuit, and I winced visibly at the pitch her voice hit – the jaunty parents apologised cheerily for the noise as they passed by, already on their way back to their rooms after breakfast, and I smiled weakly in return. They would have been up for hours and were probably envying me my late start and child-free status. I watched them happily walking away and was suddenly so desperate to be back at home that I had to grip the bannister and stand still for a moment.
That was how Rachel found me, as she appeared at the bottom of the stairs and looked up. She tried to rearrange her expression of shock at my appearance but failed. ‘Have you been sick yet?’ she asked once she was alongside me, holding out a steadying hand.
I swallowed. ‘Yes.’
‘Well, that’s good. You should start to feel better soon, and it’ll help if you have something to eat, come on.’ She started to lead me gently, as if I was the patient for once. ‘Everyone is down there,’ she lowered her voice and leant in slightly. ‘All they know is what they saw: you kissing him at the club. They don’t know you came back here together. I told them I went with you in a taxi and put you to bed. They were all pretty wrecked themselves by then.’
‘Thank you, Rach.’ But my initial relief quickly gave way to shame. ‘I’m sorry for ruining your evening. I’m so embarrassed that you had to come back here looking for me to make sure I was safe, and that you saw all of his clothes on the floor.’
‘You don’t need to apologise. I shouldn’t have come crashing in so thoughtlessly this morning.’
‘It wasn’t your fault.’
‘It was unnecessary.’
‘The whole thing was unnecessary,’ I replied blankly.
We fell silent for a moment, and she turned to me as we reached the bottom of the stairs. ‘Ally, who you tell about this, if anyone, is your call, but no one will hear a word from me.’ She gave my hand a final, supportive squeeze, and released me. ‘Come on, let’s do it.’
I took a deep breath and followed her into the busy restaurant. The smell of warming buffet food began to make me feel queasy again. We arrived at the table where our six other friends were already sitting in varying degrees of morning freshness. Clare was enthusiastically and noisily scraping the last of her yogurt and muesli into her mouth – Stef glaring at her, hunched over a mug of black coffee. Marie and Cass were staring down at their phones, while Carolyn had propped her head upright with one hand and was holding a piece of buttered toast in the other. Only whippet-thin Jo had gone down the full English route, and as I stared at her loaded plate, I felt a small amount of sick rise up into my mouth.
They all looked up and there was a brief pause before Rach said warmly: ‘Here she is!’ Everyone tried not to exchange awkward glances as I sat down.
Only Stef made no attempt to smile. ‘You look like I feel,’ she said. ‘We need a Bloody Mary.’
‘God, no.’ I blanched. ‘I’m never drinking again.’
There was another awkward pause, which Rachel covered by saying brightly: ‘Checkout isn’t until half eleven, I’ve discovered, so I might have a swim after breakfast if anyone’s keen?’
Stef looked at her, briefly appalled, and then turned back to me. ‘So you had a good night then?’
I cleared my throat. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking.’
‘It’s always the quiet ones you’ve got to watch,’ Cass teased, reaching out to rub my back supportively. The motion made me want to vomit into her lap. ‘It was just a snog, Al. None of us is going to breathe a word to anyone. Don’t beat yourself up.’
They all nodded in agreement. Their kindness was harder to deal with than the disapproval I knew I deserved. I wished we’d just gone to a nice boutique hotel somewhere near home and stayed over for a night or two, like we normally did on our annual weekend away. A spa, wine and chat. When I suggested a last-minute Ibiza jaunt two months ago, it really was innocent. I’d never been, I’d always wanted to, and I thought it would be fun. There was no agenda.
I tried to smile but felt very near to tears all of a sudden. They all looked at me worriedly, and Rachel passed me a napkin. ‘We’re jealous as hell, if truth be known. I’d like something as pretty as him to keep in my pocket.’
They all laughed and the tone felt momentarily lighter, but it didn’t ring true. She doesn’t think that at all, I know she doesn’t. None of them do.
‘He looked like he was in a boy band,’ whispered Carolyn.
‘And I think we can confirm you’ve definitely still got it, baby,’ said Marie. They all murmured agreement.
Cass even brightly said: ‘Hell, yeah!’ which sounded un-comfy in itself – as if she were issuing trotting instructions to a pony – but I couldn’t join in with a sheepish, or even slightly smug, smile… Still got it? I didn’t want it. I wasn’t the woman from the night before, craving attention while feeling drunkenly dangerous, reckless and determined. I could sense their pity, and I knew exactly what they were thinking: “Ally has had such a shocking time of it these last three weeks. It was just a kiss – and you know what? This might have actually done her confidence the world of good.”
I swallowed and remembered his body on top of mine. I could hear my own gasps. Acting a role. No one has to know. I don’t even know your name. And now you have to go.
But this wasn’t some glossy music video a million hungry kids were watching on YouTube as they memorised the ‘empowering’ lyrics. There was no glamour. It was just so sad. A tear crept down my face – and my friends didn’t know where to look. Marie reached out and gently took my hand, which I had to pull away when my phone started to vibrate. Glancing at the screen, I saw it was Rob. I couldn’t pick up. I just couldn’t. If he’d put the girls on the phone I’d have broken down completely.
They all watched me dismiss the call, and then, even more embarrassed, I tried desperately to think of something to say. It was our last morning and I was ruining it for everyone, making it all about me and my selfish domestic drama. I made a huge effort to gain some control again. I took a deep breath and drew myself up with as much confidence as I could muster; the same blank authority and professional persona I tap into when a patient starts verbally laying into me.
Dr Alexandra Inglis will see you now.
‘I’ve changed my mind, Stef. I think that Bloody Mary might be just what I need.’ My voice was calm and steady.
Stef plonked down her coffee cup. ‘Now you’re talking,’ she said. ‘That way, I might just about be able to contemplate getting on a plane later today.’
‘Hair of the dog,’ I said automatically. Hair of the dog, life in the old dog yet, only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun. I scratched the itching sunburn on my neck.