These complaints and the general feeling that his body was held together with paper clips and safety pins and would tear apart at the slightest strain, filled him with remorse and terror. It was always now, on the dawn of the third day, that he was filled with a disgusted desire to stop taking drugs, but he knew that the first hints of lucidity and withdrawal would bring an even greater horror of their absence.

Patrick was surprised to see Rachel standing miserably at the end of his bed. She had faded quickly from his memory while she threw up in the bathroom, losing her individuality and simply becoming Other People, someone who might interrupt his fix, or his contemplation of the rush.

‘I feel so bloated,’ she complained, clasping her stomach.

‘Why don’t you lie down?’ croaked Patrick.

Rachel sank onto the bed and crawled to the far end, groaning as she collapsed on the pillows.

‘Come here,’ said Patrick in what he hoped was a tender voice.

Rachel rolled over slightly and lay sideways. He leaned towards her, hoping she had brushed her teeth and wondering when he had last brushed his own, and kissed her. The difficult angle meant that their noses clashed and then, in their haste to overcome this awkwardness, their teeth clashed too.

‘Jesus, it’s like being twelve years old,’ said Patrick.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Rachel.

He sat back with his head in one hand and ran the other hand over Rachel’s knitted white dress. She looked drained and nervous. There was a bulge in her lower abdomen which had not been visible when she was standing up. Patrick skirted the bulge and brushed the back of his fingers gently over her hip and thigh.

‘I’m sorry,’ Rachel repeated, ‘I can’t go through with this, I’m too nervous. Maybe we can spend some time together, get to know each other.’

Patrick disengaged his hand and flopped back onto the bed.

‘Of course,’ he said flatly, glancing at the bedside clock. Four fifty. They had about two hours and forty minutes to ‘get to know each other’.

‘When I was younger I used to fall into bed with anyone,’ Rachel whined, ‘but it always left me feeling empty.’

‘Even after a plate of chilli and a banana split?’ said Patrick. If he wasn’t going to fuck her, he might as well torment her.

‘You’re a really hos-tel person,’ said Rachel, ‘do you know that? Do you have a problem with women?’

‘Men, women, dogs: I don’t discriminate,’ said Patrick, ‘they all piss me off.’

He rolled off the bed and went over to the desk. Why had he brought this tiresome lump of lard back to his room? It was intolerable, everything was intolerable.

‘Look, I don’t want to argue with you,’ said Rachel. ‘I know you’re disappointed, I just need you to help me relax.’