I feel my hair flutter against my cheek as the girl in silver spangles sweeps above everybody’s heads. There is a collective gasp as she gracefully arcs above them, one foot extended in its sparkly shoe, the other leg tucked neatly behind her, and then she is standing on her trapeze, her peroxide hair short as a boy’s, her face pale and her mouth red, her eyes huge and dark, dusted all over with some kind of shimmering powder as she spins and arches elegantly above the room. The band begin to play again, a sad kind of rocky ballad, and slowly the crowd get used to her being there and begin to drink and talk again, although many are transfixed.

And for a moment, I feel a kind of jealousy for her freedom as the ethereal form turns upside down effortlessly, and then almost immediately upright again on the swing entwined with ivy leaves and tinsel, answerable to no one but herself. Her gaze seems to be fixed on someone – though from this angle I can’t quite tell on whom. There’s another smaller gasp as she hangs precariously by one foot, and all eyes are back on her. I think I hear a kind of banging outside but it is drowned out by the music and I am almost mesmerised. I enjoy watching this supple girl as she passes before me and then back again. Then suddenly I become aware of some kind of commotion in the corner by the door downstairs: raised voices. I look over, I see James there fleetingly and then he’s gone again, and standing in his place is a small cluster of men whom I don’t recognise, stocky, all in casual jackets and jeans, and Liam is trying to placate them, and I suppose I’d better see what they want – and then there is a scream.

I turn; I see the girl grappling with the flimsy trapeze – and I watch as if it’s slow motion as she twists desperately through the air – as her hand clutches emptiness. The band breaks off and the crowd are realising that the figure who moments ago soared above them like some bird of paradise has in fact lost her footing and has tried and failed to hang on but now is falling, is plunging upside down, is spiralling like a heavy feather on the breeze.

There is no safety net, of course – J wouldn’t have thought of such a thing. And I realise the girl is lost; there is no time to save her. She is lost. And the silence is broken only by a crunch, the hideous thud of a body crumpling on the floor.

I wake up. I run down the stairs, my heart beating frantically, tripping in my high shoes.

‘Ring an ambulance,’ I yell at someone, and I see Alicia’s great eyes wide with shock.