Back I am, with a deplorable little story from the other night. So the hotel guy? Me being me, I slept with him, obviously. It was pretty good sex. Franki was right to say that sex with a grown man is a completely different experience, so I texted her that, straight after. No reply. Probably high. After he went to take a shower, like grown-ups do after sex, you know? So I took out my phone and typed ‘Goodnight, Mikey,’ then I blocked Mike’s number. I was done. He came back in a white towel and I thought he looked pretty hot. I was pretty pleased with myself. I took a shower straight after him, because he had taken one so I felt I should too. When I came out he was nowhere to be seen. I waited for an hour in his room reading through the messages saved on my phone, and when he wasn’t back yet I thought I should leave, so I put on my clothes and went back to our room.

And guess what, Beadle is sitting up in bed, with these black eyes looking bigger than usual. It creeped the fuck out of me. I ask what’s up and she pushes a fucking sugar sachet into my hand, with something written on it. A name and a number.

[NEIL: 07972839547]

He’d gone and given her his fucking number. While I was sitting in his bed, waiting for him to come back. Told her to ring him ‘whenever she needs someone to talk to’.

I’d quite like to go home now.

TEABAGS

Ruth

Now

It’s been over a week since I last spoke to Alanna, and just when I thought I’d imagined it all, the Lolitas ambush me. I am sitting at my desk and my tea has become blacker than I like it, when their signature high-pitched call sears through the hallway. So often, these days, I lose track of time. I squeeze the bag into the cup and toss it in the paper bin. The Lolitas scramble in. ‘Ruth! Rise and shine, honeybee!’

It is too early. I am not prepared to be seen by others. This is why I come in an hour before my shift starts, to allow myself enough time to adjust. They scramble through the Bowl door, jangling and chiming, stretching their limbs, shaking their hair out of their hoods.

‘You!’ One Lolita points her finger at me. There are several diamond bands around it, probably fake but extremely sparkly. They make my eyes water. ‘You’re in charge of the hen-do!’