I manage to convince my two new friends – Sergei and Lev – that I have to return to the hotel first, to freshen up, and also to collect my friend. Their eyes light up at the second statement, and I’m quite sure that Carrie and I are in for a wild night, in their eyes at least. They give me an address, and when I check the map on the way back to the hotel, I see that it’s up in the area of the historic wooden houses. Carrie will get to see them after all. I’m feeling nicely buzzed from the beers and the compliments, and even though I have no intention of letting things go any further with either of these men, I feel a bit better than I did earlier.
Thoughts of Sam are pushed firmly to the back of my mind, for now, at least.
When I get back to the hotel, Carrie is up and dressed, and looking a lot better than she did this morning. I notice that she’s unpacked my bag and hung everything up. I want to say something but I can’t, because I did the same to hers, didn’t I? A fleeting memory passes – something stuffed into the side pocket of my bag in the ger. Did she put something in there?
‘Having a look through my stuff? Go for it, you won’t find anything.’ I try to make it sound light, jokey, but from the expression on her face, I don’t think I’ve succeeded.
She recovers quickly. ‘I was just doing you a favour, V. Like you did for me. It’s nice to hang everything up once in a while, to let the creases fall out. This room has the most coat hangers I’ve ever seen.’ She turns away, and stuffs something into her make-up bag. I decide not to question it.
‘Maybe they get lots of customers wearing dresses.’
She laughs at that. ‘Ladies of the night, you mean? I guess that would explain why the receptionist seems to be studiously avoiding looking anyone in the eye. I went down and asked her for some Coke, and she got quite flustered. Although the non-liquid kind might’ve been welcome when I finally managed to get myself out of bed. I had the shakes so bad I could’ve churned butter from a carton of milk.’
She must’ve been on more than vodka on our last night on the train. There’s no way she’d have got in that state otherwise. But then again, there was a lot of vodka, and not a lot of anything else. We’re probably both lucky we didn’t die of alcohol poisoning. Carrie’s lost weight since we first met. Drinking more than eating will do that to you.
‘Well, if you’re up to it, we’ve been invited to a party tonight. Up at the wooden houses.’
‘Oh, cool. If you’d come back and said this a few hours ago, I’d have told you where to go, but actually, yeah. Why not? Whose party is it?’ She wanders over to the dressing table and lays her make-up bag down, then picks up a powder compact, starts dabbing her face with the little sponge. She looks at me in the mirror. ‘Where have you even been?’
I shrug. ‘I went for a wander around town. Saw some fancy churches. Went to the houses. Saw some old cars. Then I ended up in this market … oh God, I nearly forgot – I saw this guy and I thought it was Sam—’
‘Please tell me you’re not still thinking about Sam. Jeez, V. You weren’t thinking about him much at the festival … or on the train.’
I stand beside her and pick up a mascara. ‘You’re going to bring this up now?’
‘When, then?’
‘I think you made it pretty clear that you’re not interested.’
She picks up a black eyeliner, starts expertly running it across her lids. Her hand is steady and the line is neat. I have never been able to do it like that. She places the eyeliner back down, then rummages in her make-up bag and a small, plastic wrapper slides out. She grabs it quickly and looks away, but I’ve already seen what it is.
‘Fucking hell, Carrie. You brought that over the border?’
She won’t look at me. ‘Forgot I had it.’
I grab her shoulders and spin her around to face me. ‘What do you mean, you forgot you had it? You took that from the tent – the one we were in before the private ritual? Was it not bad enough at the time? Jesus, why would you want to take it again? Where did you even hide it?’ I understand then. She’d hidden it in my bag. It would’ve been me who’d been arrested if it’d been found, not her. I’m fuming, but I’m also quite impressed at her clever move. I decide to store this information for later.
‘Don’t say it’s been in your make-up bag all the time, because I don’t believe you. That’s exactly the kind of place the border guards would look.’
‘Yeah, well they didn’t look, did they? I distracted them. I told them you were ill.’
I’m confused by this. I can’t even remember the border crossing. I’m sure I didn’t wake up – but the guards must’ve come into the cabin. Surely they’ve heard all the tricks before. She’s a decent liar, it seems. Well, well.
‘They like pretty white girls, V. Hardly a shocker. I made sure the stuff was hidden and I didn’t involve you. I thought you’d be pleased. You know what happened last time we smoked that stuff.’
I’ve really tried hard to stay calm, throughout everything, but I can feel the anger bubbling in me now. ‘Stop it, Carrie. Stop playing with me. Everything’s just a big game to you, isn’t it? You gave Rory the come-on then you blocked him at the final stage. You’re messing about with me, and you think it’s OK because it’s just a bit of fun, but I’m telling you now, this is not that. This is more than that—’
‘Christ, Violet. Keep your hair on. I’m sorry, OK? I shouldn’t have brought it. I shouldn’t have messed with your feelings, either. I never meant to. I just thought that—’
‘Don’t you get it?’ I scream at her. I want to grab her and shake her. Her eyes widen at my raised voice and she sits down hard on the end of her bed.
‘Violet—’
‘No. You need to get it, Carrie. You need to understand.’
She closes her eyes. ‘Understand what?’
‘I love you, Carrie.’
She falls back onto the bed. ‘No, you don’t, Violet,’ she says, gently. She flips onto her side and faces me. ‘You just think you do, because it’s all been so intense. We’ve been in each other’s pockets since we met. You know, I’ve been thinking…’ She pauses, sits up again, swinging her legs back round off the bed. ‘I think maybe we should go our separate ways after this. You need to carry on with your trip how you want it, and I—’
Tears spring to my eyes, making them itch. ‘No. Please. That’s the last thing I want.’ I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to sound desperate, or make a fool of myself. ‘This is just like what happened with Sam. I can’t believe I’ve been used and let down again.’
Carrie sighs. ‘Look, you’re blowing this all out of proportion. Let’s go to the party. Have a laugh.’ She comes over to me and puts an arm around me, squeezing me into her side. ‘We’ve had so many laughs. We’ve made so many memories. Let’s not spoil it though, eh?’
I swallow down salty tears, then I nod. I don’t want her to see me like this. I want to be the fun, sexy Violet that she’s been hanging out with.
‘Come on then,’ I say. ‘Let’s go.’ If I’ve only got one night to convince her that we should stay together, then I need to sort myself out fast. ‘You know, I think I’ve got PMT.’
She laughs, then grabs her bag, and heads for the door.
I follow her, because that’s what I always do. She can kick me as many times as she likes, and I’ll still want her. I’ll still love her. Won’t I?
The thumping bassline leads us to the right door. I knock, hard, but I don’t expect anyone to hear it. I’m about to tell Carrie we should just go in, when the door swings open and the smiling bulk of Sergei stands in the doorway. He’s holding a bottle of Baltika lager in one hand, and a cigarette in the other.
‘Ladies … you made it.’ He seems genuinely pleased, even more so when he clocks Carrie, standing a little behind me, hidden in the shadows. She steps out into the light and his eyes seem to darken immediately. He grins wider, looking her up and down. ‘This is your friend? Hello, friend,’ he says.
‘I’m Carrie,’ she says, stepping forwards and taking the cigarette out of his fingers. She takes a drag, then blows a perfect smoke ring into his face.
He turns to me. ‘I like your friend.’
Carrie follows him into the house, and I follow her.
The house is packed with people, lots of men lounging on chairs in tracksuits, and ridiculously glamorous women in tight dresses and high heels, faces Botoxed and made up like drag queens.
Carrie turns to me and raises her eyebrows, and I’m glad that we’re still bonded over this. We are not like these women.
The women are drinking champagne, or vodka shots. Sergei disappears into the crowd, but we keep walking, looking for a place to sit, or even just a place to stand. I feel overwhelmed, all of a sudden. Despite the things we’ve done already on this trip – the people we’ve met – the situations we’ve been in, when it comes to something like this, I clam up and I need guidance, or else I have the urge to flee back to safety, where I don’t have to try to fit in. Luckily, Carrie steps up to the challenge. She grabs my hand and drags me through gyrating bodies.
She turns to me, grinning. ‘Thank fuck you made us come out,’ she shouts. I can barely hear her above the din. She jostles us past various party-goers, some dancing, some huddled in groups, shouting into each other’s ears. A thin girl with long dark hair almost as long as her buttock-skimming dress is gyrating against a fat man in a grey tracksuit, who looks old enough to be her dad.
Eventually, we find the kitchen, where people are huddled around worktops littered with bottles and cans. A couple of people are in a corner, squashed close together, leaning down, heads together. The woman lifts her head and turns to me, wiping her nose. She glares at us, then the man lifts his head, and she looks at him and tips her head back and laughs. They move apart just enough for me to see the granite chopping board in the space behind them, two silver straws sitting there next to a credit card and their one remaining line.
‘Here.’ I spin around at the sound of Carrie’s voice, and she holds out a champagne glass, filled with pale liquid – bubbles still fizzing up to the top. ‘Cheers,’ she says, and downs her drink. Then she picks up the bottle from where she’s left it nearby, and tops up her glass. Downs it again.
‘Steady,’ I say. ‘We’ve only just got here.’
She laughs, and gestures around the room, using the bottle as a pointer. ‘We’ve got a bit of catching up to do.’
I finish my drink, and I’m about to say something else, when I feel strong arms grabbing me around my waist. I try to squirm free, but I’m trapped.
‘Hey there,’ he whispers in my ear. ‘It’s Lev. Remember?’
He releases his grip and I wriggle free, turning to face him. ‘Hi.’
He lets me go and takes a step back. ‘Oh, not so much fun tonight, maybe? I think your friend is having all the fun though.’
I turn back to see Carrie laughing hard, swigging from the champagne bottle. Sergei has a meaty arm draped over her shoulders, and he is leaning in, whispering something in her ear. He’s stroking her cheek.
A burst of annoyance pops inside me. Why can’t she just be here with me? Why does there always have to be a fucking man involved in her fun? Does she have so little self-esteem that the only way she can enjoy herself is to have male attention? I think back to the Gobi trip, and how she led Rory on – all for her own amusement. He was all mouth, when it came to it – all over her but not brave enough to see it through and make a proper move. I watch Sergei, at the way he is hulking over her, and I think she’d better be careful. I don’t think he’s going to be a fan of her little games.
I snatch up a bottle of lager from a cooler box on the worktop and take a long drink. Lev has gone. Disappeared into the crowd – I was clearly not up for the kind of fun he had in mind, and to be honest I’m glad he’s left me to it.
When I turn back, Carrie has gone.
Panic washes over me for a moment. I don’t want to be here. My heart thumps in time with the bassline that’s still pulsing through from the other room. I should go back to the hotel, forget this place. Leave Carrie to it. I don’t like the way she’s trying to play my emotions – one minute my best friend, the next she’s off with whoever takes her fancy. Why am I not enough for her?
Why am I not enough for anyone?
I down the beer and take another one from the cooler, then I wander back through to the main room, where all the action is happening. Maybe I should go with Lev – he’s keen enough for us both. But there’s something about this place, this party, the whole set-up, that makes my insides itch.
I hover on the edges, observing with disgust. Why are these girls so interested in these hideous men? I don’t believe that they can’t find any better options. Sergei and Lev are far from the worst here, but I’m just not feeling it. I take another mouthful of beer then push myself through the crowd. I spot Carrie on the other side of the room, near the DJ. She’s huddled close to Sergei and I can’t make out if they are kissing or doing drugs as I can only see the backs of their heads. An angry-looking, harshly bleached blonde elbows me out of the way as I walk further towards Carrie and Sergei, and I feel a rush of blood threatening to burst out. I need to get Carrie and get the hell out of here.
‘Hey.’ I touch her shoulder, and she turns slowly to face me, and then I see what she’s doing.
‘Oh, hi,’ she says, the ‘i’ long and drawn on her smoky outbreath. ‘Have some.’
She thrusts the small pipe into my face, and I snatch it away, peering at the lit end, not believing what I’m seeing.
‘What the fuck? Didn’t we just talk about this?’ My cheeks burn with fury. How could she do this – it could’ve been both of us banged up in some Asian prison, not just her. She snatches the pipe back from me and rolls her eyes.
‘Jesus Christ, lighten up, bitch.’
Sergei laughs, and I feel the rage boiling deeper inside me.
‘Carrie, this is insane. Don’t you remember what this stuff did to us?’
It’s her turn to laugh. ‘Not really, V. But I think it was something good, yeah? Anyway, thought you’d be pleased. I had to suck both of the guards’ cocks to get this stuff over the border without a fuss. You’re so fucking ungrateful.’ She turns away, and her and Sergei start laughing again. She whispers something in his ear, and then he leans across to the DJ, moving the guy’s headphones and cupping his hands around his ear.
‘Fuck you, Carrie.’
I push through the crowd again and this time it feels like I am shoving hard through crashing waves. Faces swim at me, laughing, drinking, kissing. Voices saying words I don’t understand. I see the woman who pushed me, and I push her hard out of the way. I hear shouts of ‘you fuckeeing beetch’ as I ignore the cacophony and stumble through the room, desperately searching for the way back out. I see Lev lurching towards me, and I have to dodge past a couple who are practically having sex against a bookcase in the corner of the room. I slide round the edges, until I find the door, ignoring the calls, ignoring Carrie’s voice in the distance, coming towards me, somewhere above the din, as I realise now what the DJ is playing.
It’s my song. ‘Violet’ by Hole. Courtney Love is shrieking her beautiful, grungy tones, telling me to take everything – she wants me to.
I think that might be my problem. I do want everything. But I can’t always get it.