December 2007 – The Party

Tom was sitting on the bench in the park bandstand, when he got the text from his friend. He replied quickly, then went back to looking at the photos he’d taken from last month’s parade. He was just imagining himself in uniform, when he was startled by a voice close to his ear.

“Have you got the money?”

From the strong whiff of perfume he gathered that his friend had arrived. She meant the money for the party. That was one thing his mother did provide, cash. Well not exactly provide. He’d nicked a tenner from her. It was a regular occurrence, but she didn’t seem to mind or even notice. As long as she had enough for her own fags and booze.

Tom grinned and held up a crumpled bank note like a trophy. His friend explained she knew someone who could get them sorted with beer. So he stretched himself off his seat and joined her in the search for some party fuel. An hour later, he found himself at the scene of the celebration. It was being held a few streets from his own, in a small terraced house.

The Stella was going down like liquid nectar. He’d had five bottles already. Now, he was lying on the cramped living room floor, with his back supported by an old tatty sofa. He supposed the house was a bit of a shit hole, but it was way better than the way his mam usually left his own gaff. Tom closed his eyes and was about to drift off when he felt someone slump down next to him.

“Fancy, one of these?”

Chloe was stretching out a hand in front of her, with two round blue pills in the centre.

“What are they?”

“Dunno. Sam brought them with him.”

Tom gazed across the gloomy expanse of the living room. There was a young couple snogging furiously in the corner. Three girls were making a desultory attempt at dancing on the threadbare carpet.

Then he spotted the boy with the long hair. He was propped up against the doorframe on the opposite wall. Sam was looking at Chloe’s hand and gave Tom a conspiratorial wink. He shrugged, picked up one of the pills and gulped it, washing the small circle down with beer. Then he resumed his prone position on the floor and closed his eyes again.

The next thing he remembered was flinching, as a ray of low, bright winter sunlight played across his eyes. They flickered open. Tom surveyed the scene. He was lying at the foot of the bed in a small back room. The wallpaper was patterned with grimy pink flowers, and was peeling away where it joined the ceiling. There was a sheet draped over the window in lieu of a curtain. It was ripped and the tear was letting in the light that had woken him up.

A crumpled pile of bedclothes was conspiring to push him onto the floor. Tom gave them a casual prod with his knee and elbow to try to get a bit more room. Something stirred, and a groaning sound broke the silence. Shit, Tom thought. What was that? A tousled head emerged, and Tom saw what it was, Chloe. Embarrassed, he grinned sheepishly, slipped out of the bed and made a swift exit from the room.

As he went into the bathroom to relieve himself, he tried to make sense in his mind of what had happened. Chloe was his best mate. Surely, nothing had gone on between them. I mean, that, he was bound to remember. Wasn’t he? He shook his head to try and evaporate the beer mist. As his mind began to clear, Tom had the distinct impression that this situation was going to get awkward.