Oh I’m a boozy woozy floozy all right. Woozy, boozy, Floozy in the Jacuzzi. I’m singing along in my head to my own manic tune. Hey-ho, hey-ho, it’s off to work we go … The old guy with the grey hair is snaking his hand up Nico’s skirt. Hey-ho, hey-ho. I start to bray loudly. To my own ears I sound like a donkey, ok so, Luce, like a demented baby donkey. Hey-ho. Ho. Ho. My body is hollow and I am light. Mr Floaty is doing the trick. I see the man leading Nico out of the room, his veiny hand on her arse. I want to scream, till the world cries out … I want to follow her and say to the ole lecher, forget about her, have me, have me … but I don’t … I don’t and my insides are hardening, caked. I wonder if the blood flow is obstructed. I drink some more. The faces surrounding me are hazy, their voices muffled. They’re all clamouring for my autograph, telling me how beautiful I am, how talented. Superlative – in that role as the whore with no heart. Once Nico has left the room there is no reason to be afraid. The worst is happening to her right now and I haven’t tried to stop it.

Someone keeps filling my glass, there’s the sound of clapping as I swallow. I really am a wonderful actress, wonderful. I curtsy and the applause gets louder, ringing in my ears. The sensation of tongues in my mouth, hands on my breasts, inside me, I think. I drink some more. My stomach is burning from the booze. Ah, the wooze. Thank God for the wooze. I get it, Mother: edgy, but with the edges worn off. Black spots swim in front of my eyes. I am led to a room with a bed. White-out. Blankety blank. Thank fuck. Whatever is happening to me right now will not be remembered. No consciousness. None. Falling and flying, and laughing. That sound still comes.