Max sat at the table. He waved a dismissive hand at the women who’d climbed out of the pool and now pulled on his arm, dripping wet and giggling. The man who looked like Burt Reynolds – David – shook his head, too, but they didn’t let him off so easily. The women, including Eleanor, ignored his protestations and started to forcibly undress him. Like dogs on a carcass, they pulled at his clothes as if they were bits of flesh, discarding them as they came free. Then Eleanor ran back into the house, her arm placed ineffectually across her chest, her small bosoms bouncing as she ran. The other three women were dragging David, now dressed only in his underpants, towards the pool.

When they saw Eleanor they gestured for her to hurry up. He started to shake his head, laughter beginning to take hold of him. The women huddled around him. I couldn’t quite see what they were doing, but then I noticed Eleanor was holding a black handled knife from the kitchen. I watched as she slid it up and down inside the band of his underpants. My heart raced like a train. The women cheered triumphantly as they held the cut material aloft. David was stark naked but rather than look embarrassed he flourished a bow.

All of them, apart from Max, were in the pool now. Two of the women held bottles of champagne, and all were squealing and laughing. I carefully let the curtain drop and tiptoed back to the makeshift bed on the floor.

I don’t know how long passed, but eventually the music quietened, and voices said goodbye and an engine started up. Then a car drove away and voices and footsteps came up the stairs. Stage whispers. Giggles and shushes. Smothered laughs. Then finally there was silence as each of the bedroom doors closed.

There was no chance of sleep and, after a while, when my buzzing mind and body became unbearable, I sat up. I knelt close to Edie’s face. Studied her. Without her make-up she looked younger. She was sleeping peacefully – no ravaging nightmares for her – with a soft whistling sound coming from her as she breathed. I watched the rise and fall of her chest, allowed my breathing to fall in time with hers.

Reluctantly, I decided to go back to my box room. The floor was too hard to sleep on and I wasn’t sure I wanted to wake in the morning and come face to face with David or Barbie or any of them actually, not without clean clothes or a hairbrush, both of which I’d forgotten in my excitement to get there.

The sitting room was like a war zone. Empty bottles lay on their sides. Food, clothes, wet towels and spilled wine. It stank of cigarettes and alcohol. A tiny expensive egg was squashed into the sheepskin rug.