The Single Mums' Secrets - Janet Hoggarth Page 0,49

the bottles from the sink in the ladies, saving money. The evanescent intense feeling of benevolence and bonhomie for the entire club, and everyone in it was euphoric, and surpassed anything we’d experienced before. The unity was bonding. So from then on, clubbing was fuelled by Es and water, and we saved so much more cash on a night out than we had done in our first year.

‘You’ll love it,’ I promised Fergus as I squirted ketchup on my kebab.

By the time Cypress Hill came on stage, a perfect sickle moon hung heavily in the sky, and I could feel the pulsing sunburn on my nose where my cream had rubbed off. We’d managed to worm halfway to the main stage at the side near one of the lighting towers. Neither Louise nor I wanted to squeeze to the front – that was where you got splattered in pint glasses of urine from people trapped by the thousands of bodies locked in place making toilet trips unfeasible. We were also desperate to dance now we’d all had a pill each. They were quite chilled pills, with a gentle knockback dance vibe.

‘I can’t believe I’ve taken drugs,’ Fergus kept reciting like an incantation. ‘I’m battered. It’s amazing.’

We were a proper party family, the four of us throwing shapes and enthusiastically jumping up and down, hands in the air, hugging and laughing, spilling water down ourselves. As the last song rang out into the night, our heads were still buzzing, none of us wanted to sleep. It felt like we weren’t the only ones; the entire festival was wired.

‘We can go back to the tents and listen to some tunes. I brought my small ghetto blaster and have some good mix tapes with me,’ Jason proposed. ‘The night doesn’t have to end now.’

I woke face down in the floor of the tent, pillow-less and fully clothed, still wearing my fake Timberland boots. I could hear snoring next to me. It wasn’t Louise – it didn’t smell like her (stale CK One). Fergus’ navy woolly hat was poking out of his sleeping bag. I’d missed my own sleeping bag and it appeared someone had tried to cover me and given up. Why wasn’t Louise here? I didn’t remember much after we all had some shots of vodka at three-ish. I’d bailed but Louise was supposed to be with me. I could have laid a bet on that this was always on the cards; boys consistently came first as far as she was concerned. I joined in the unmistakable symphony of tent zips reverberating across the campsite as the morning sun transformed every tent into an oven.

‘Sleeping beauty!’ Jason laughed as I poked my head out of the tent to find him eating a banana lying on Fergus’s groundsheet we’d repurposed as our camp floor.

‘Where’s Louise?’ I asked. ‘Why didn’t she sleep with me?’

‘Yeah, sorry about that. She passed out on me and I couldn’t wake her so I was a bit worried leaving you both in a bit of a state in there.’

‘I was fine, just tired!’ I said huffily.

‘Well, she was all over the place. I think she had more than one pill. She’s still asleep recovering.’ I’d no idea how she got one; I was in charge and never gave her more.

Louise never asked if I was OK, or did I mind about Fergus dossing in my tent. She just surfaced an hour later in need of food and we carried on with our day. We ended up having a really lovely time and I let it go. It just wasn’t worth the aggro. We keenly explored the rest of the site, dipping into the signing tent (no one worth queuing for), while around us the crowds kicked up clouds of dust from the parched ground. We scoffed pizza for late breakfast and even took in some comedy in one of the other marquees. As the main stage properly kicked off mid-afternoon we flocked to yet another queue for some beers and discussed who we wanted to see later that day. People everywhere were infected with joie de vivre, smiling and laughing, the air suffused with the heady aromas of weed and stale beer.

‘All I care about is seeing Pulp,’ I declared my intention. ‘And obviously Radiohead and Primal Scream headlining later.’ We all agreed that Pulp would be a team effort, especially because their big tune, ‘Do you remember the first time?’, was mine and Louise’s anthem when it had