“What are you doing out here?” Marty yelled in her ear. “Don’t you want to dance?” He had been on the dance floor half the night, obviously at home among the gyrating bodies, keeping time and moving fluidly with the beat. Keely had ventured out onto the floor with him a few times, but she’d felt cumbersome and often lost sight of him as he danced through the crowd.

She swayed again and gripped the rail for support. Nausea pushed up into her chest and little beads of sweat formed on her brow and around her lips. When the others had eaten their meals she’d only picked at a plate of wedges and she’d only had two drinks all night, neither of which she’d finished.

“Are you okay?” Marty leaned closer, a concerned look on his face.

“Hey, you two, what are you drinking?” Steve elbowed his way onto the balcony. “It’s my shout.”

Keely peered at him over Marty’s shoulder. She gagged, pushed away from the rail and past the two men, and made for the toilets.

“Someone’s had a bit much already.” She heard Steve’s chuckle behind her as she forced her way back into the heat of the club. She didn’t care what he thought; she just had to get to the toilets.

In the relative quiet of the ladies’, she leaned back against the bench and gripped it with both hands, praying for the pain to ease and for a cubicle to be empty soon.

Two girls followed her in. They wore short skirts with skimpy tops over flat chests and their faces were heavy with too much make-up; unsuccessful attempts to make them look older. They both eyed her up and down with interest.

“You don’t look too good,” the taller one said.

“Have you got someone with you?” the other asked. She had brilliant red lips and bright eyes that darted quickly around the room.

Keely didn’t answer. She feared if she opened her mouth she’d vomit right there. They pressed in on either side of her. Why hadn’t she stayed back at the hostel?

A toilet flushed and the door opened. Keely pushed past the startled woman trying to get out and just made it inside the cubicle as the vomit rose in her throat. She wasn’t sure how long she half lay, half sat by the toilet as the nausea and pain continued to sweep over her. She hadn’t even locked the door but she didn’t care. She was vaguely aware of flushing toilets, banging doors and chatting voices, before her surroundings began to recede as her vision went dark.

On the edge of the blackness voices asked if she was okay. Rough hands tugged the strap of her purse over her head. Keely groaned as her insides cramped up and she collapsed on the floor.