‘I know you feel awful right now, but it’ll be better by tomorrow,’ she babbles on. ‘I don’t know what got into you last night, but I’m guessing you’re on a comedown? Hmm… I probably have something that will help. Two secs. Let me check.’

As Poppy leaves the room, a frowning Faith appears at the doorway. ‘Well? What happened last night? If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect you were on drugs.’

I won’t lie to Faith.

My silence is telling.

‘Jesus. It explains the state of you. Do you remember getting home? You were a total mess. You’d fainted on Harry. His sisters were worried sick.’

‘Whose sisters?’

‘Harry’s sisters. Half-sisters. The girls you spent most of the night with and who obviously fed you drugs.’

It’s not the point Faith’s trying to make, but I can’t believe I missed the fact the girls are Harry’s half-sisters. It all makes sense. They’ve known him forever – since they were born. They’re practically inseparable, and Harry is clearly protective of them. Yet they were instigating a romantic relationship between him and me. How mortifying that I basically accused him of fancying them last night at The Tricycle Club! Harry must have mentioned their relationship when he introduced them, as it isn’t news to Faith. I was obviously too busy fantasising about him, then falling off my chair, to have paid attention.

‘The bouncers helped us get you out a side entrance and into a cab. Gracie, I found a set of false eyelashes between your boobs.’

For a moment last night, I’d imagined Harry mesmerised by my batting lashes and my heaving cleavage – not dumbstruck by the false lashes on my squished in boobs. Whatever the girls insisted he felt for me before, whatever must he think of me now?

Sober, Faith needn’t remind me of the mess I was. I remember all too well – give me the blackout of a hangover over this total recall of a comedown any day.

‘I’m sorry, Faith.’

‘I almost called an ambulance. Please don’t ever do that to yourself again.’

Faith leaves the room, mad as hell at me, and clearly upset, and I break down completely. Poppy returns and I sob, uncontrollably, into her lap.

‘It’s okay, Faith was up all night worrying about you, that’s all. She’s just tired.’ Poppy wipes at my tears with her sleeve. ‘We were all worried about you.’

‘But you’re not cross with me, Poppy. Or are you?’

I’ve never felt so sorry for myself in my life. I can’t understand why anyone would become a regular drug-taker? From start to finish, my experience was less than pleasurable – the good bits were a big fake. I swear to God, I won’t be touching anything like it again.