‘Slutty though she was.’
‘Still together thirteen years later.’
Even now Cara’s blood ran cold at the possibility that they might have missed each other.
She wasn’t meant to go out that night. ‘I’m too fat,’ she’d called, as her flatmate Gabby fluttered around, getting ready.
‘You’re not fat. You’re just not as thin as you were.’
‘Can I wear your denim dress?’ Erin, her other flatmate, asked.
‘Wear what you like.’ Cara was stretched along the couch, her feet comfortably up on the arm-rest. ‘I’m going nowhere.’
But Gabby and Erin had kept at her. ‘Life is for living! You’ll never meet someone if you stay at home eating crisps.’
‘Who says I want to meet someone?’
‘We all want to meet someone. Just stop picking bad boys.’
‘I don’t do it on purpose.’ The bad boys she dated came in so many different guises that it had taken her years to identify that she actually had a type. Even when she tried going out with guys who seemed nice, sooner or later they always revealed their true nature.
‘Oh, all right, I’ll come. I’ll be the sensible fat friend.’
In retrospect, she’d been far from fat. But until shortly before that night she’d been a lot thinner. It had been glorious but she’d slipped and slid, had a succession of breakouts and now her weight was on the increase again.
Until she was thin once more she deserved nothing, and this gave her a certain freedom. No one would take her seriously – certainly not a man – so the pressure was off. She was cool with being the chubby sidekick.
Their destination was a super-bar in the centre of Dublin. It was thronged with people, the roof lifting with pulsing music. I’m getting too old for this. The trio were swept and jostled by the constantly moving crowds until – hallelujah – a small, high table freed up and Cara pounced.
‘Good job,’ Gabby said. ‘We’ve a base now. We’ll be grand. Jesus, look at your man! Over there.’ She flicked her eyes towards a huddle of four or five lads. ‘Him.’ One was conspicuously hot. ‘How do I get to meet him?’
‘Just go over and say hello,’ Cara said.
‘I’m not drunk enough. And by the time I am, he might be gone.’
‘Hold my beer.’ Cara was suddenly energized.
‘Wait! What – what are you …’
Cara pushed her way through the people, scanned the five men and identified the one who looked least likely to mock her. ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘My friend likes your friend.’
‘It’s him, isn’t it?’ The man nodded at the hot one. ‘Kyle. It’s always Kyle.’
‘Yep. My friend is over there. We’ve a table.’
‘A table? Right! We’re in.’
Quickly, the five of them up-sticked over to Gabby and Erin. Introductions were made, drinks were bought. Kyle eventually wandered off, but Gabby didn’t seem to mind. A couple of hours passed, and the next thing Cara knew, they were all leaving together, en route to a house party in Stoneybatter.
The small two-storey was crammed with people. Cara had just got a drink when a girl rushed into the kitchen and said, ‘Is there someone here called Cara? You’re needed upstairs.’
A girl had locked herself in the only bathroom, then passed out. A throng of desperate people were outside on the landing, banging on the door.
‘Cara, thank God! This is tonight’s designated sensible friend,’ Gabby announced to the gathered crowd. ‘Help us – she can’t stay in there! We’re all bursting.’
‘And we need to know she’s okay,’ a male voice said.
It was the nice man who hadn’t mocked her – Ed.
‘What about the people who live here?’ he asked.
But no one seemed to know who or where they were.
Cara said, ‘I wonder if the bathroom window’s big enough for someone to climb through?’
‘We could see …’
The two of them went down the stairs and around to the back of the house. The small frosted bathroom window was illuminated – and slightly ajar.
‘You’d fit through that,’ Nice Ed said.
‘I wouldn’t – I’ve been on the pies. But you’d fit, skinny boy.’
‘So? You want me to shin up a drainpipe?’
‘We’re not in an Enid Blyton book. Maybe there’s a ladder.’
There was a ladder, in a miniature shed in the miniature garden. Together they carried it and leant it against the wall. ‘Look.’ Ed paused. ‘I’m afraid of heights.’
‘And I’m so hefty I’ll break the rungs.’
‘No, you’re not.’ Then, ‘But, it’s okay. I’ll do it.’
He climbed up while she held the ladder steady. ‘I’ve got you,’ she called. ‘You’re safe.’
There were an anxious few moments as