Special

In the back room, Hen had gone for more drinks. Adey was having a half-heated argument with Higgs, and Caz was silently examining her ankles. She seemed aware that the argument was partly theatre, a sideshow dialogue performed for her benefit.
When Yves came back into the room, she did not look up.
Adey gave him a watery glare. ‘J’ou get to?’
‘Piss.’
Higgs raised one enquiring eyebrow. Yves winked. Neither of them noticed Caz intercept the look. Neither of them saw her get up and walk across the room.
She went into the ladies and said softly, ‘Jules?’ No answer. Behind her, she could feel the draught from the fire exit on the back of her legs. Outside, the wind was shoving paper bags at the dustbins, and an incomplete moon was rising. Caz walked out on to the grass, moving slowly until her eyes adjusted to the dark. The dew cooled the toes of her shoes.
The security light came on, blinding her, so she turned back towards the pub and skittered out of the spotlight’s range. When the spotlight went off again, she walked up to the corner, past the shadowy swings and the see-saw.
She looked down at Jules, still lying curled asleep in the sandpit. There was sand dabbled all the way down her calves, her tits and bum were naked to the world, and one shoe was lost in the dark. Beside Jules, just to the right of her head, was a splatter of vomit.
She stepped back a pace, pulled a cigarette out of her pocket and lit it. She could hear the faint shushing of the traffic on the road beyond and the scream of a rabbit in a nearby field. The sound the trees made seemed like the sound of the sea. Caz stood there, listening to the trees and the road and staring down at her friend. She smoked the cigarette to the end, and then stamped it out by the edge of the sandpit. Then she turned and walked back to the pub.

Hen was tipping her chair back and forth and glaring at Higgs. ‘Drink any you under table. No problem. Nooo problem-o.’
Someone had placed three small glasses of clear liquid on the table next to the half-full pint glasses.
‘Slammers, then,’ said Higgs. ‘Go on.’
Hen giggled. ‘Race.’
Caz bent down and whispered something in her ear. Hen flapped a hand. ‘Naaaw. No’ now. Later.’
Caz whispered again. Adey looked up. ‘What is it?’ His voice had blurred and his eyelids had a sleepy angle to them.
‘Got to go. They’ll check up on us.’
Hen leaned over unevenly and tried to pull out the spare stool. ‘Siddown. In a minute.’
Caz plucked at her arm. ‘Now. Come on.’
‘Piss off.’
Higgs stretched his arms out, mock-pleading. ‘Don’t go,’ he said. ‘Don’t leave us. Not nearly drunk enough yet.’
Caz smiled and began dragging Hen towards the door. ‘Gotta go.’
‘Wait!’ said Hen, lunging for the table. ‘Moment.’
Caz stood by the doorway, waiting.
‘Bag.’ Hen groped around on the floor, giggling. Higgs caught her eye and nodded slightly. ‘Go on.’
Hen picked up the glass of tequila, tipped her head back and swallowed it down in one. Liquid dribbled down the corners of her mouth. When she slammed the glass back down on the table top, her eyes were wild. She was drunk, triumphant, gorgeous. The men were watching her. She was perfect.
‘HEN!’ shouted Caz, ‘Come on! We’re going.’
Hen shrugged her jacket on, walked to the door and gave the watching men a little wave. ‘Byeeee. Byeeeeeee.’ Then she stopped again, raised one finger at the staring boys, and shouted, ‘Kiss my slit.’ Spun round and tripped out after Caz. The boys heard her laughter - high, jerky, almost mad - all the way through the next room.

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