‘Would you like to dance?’ Elaine turned to face the man who had spoken. He was about fifty-five and fat, but jolly with it. She had already danced with him three times. Someone had put on a Roy Orbison album and she slipped into the man’s arms to the strains of ‘Crying’. She loved Roy Orbison, and she loved all the attention.

‘I’m ever so sorry, but I’ve forgotten your name.’

The man grinned, showing pristine but ill-fitting dentures. ‘It’s Hector . . . Hector Henderson. And you’re the lovely Elaine.’

She felt a tingle going down her spine that could have been romance or could just as well have been the drink. Whatever it was, she liked it.

George was pushed from her mind as they took to the tiny space allocated for dancing in Margaret Forrester’s front room.

Joey Meeson watched as Lizzy danced, her body undulating to the thumping rhythm of the acid house music. About an hour earlier they had each dropped an Ecstasy tab. He could feel himself ‘coming up’ now. Everything around him had taken on a rosy hue and he felt excitement in his guts. Lizzy’s hair was flying around her head as she danced faster and faster. Since he had been going with her he had been having a great time. No one would think her mother was an Old Bill. Lizzy wanted to try everything and she did it in style.

Joanie also watched her. Joanie was cold and fed up. She glanced at her watch and sighed. She was supposed to be sleeping at Lizzy’s house tonight and Lizzy was supposed to be staying over at hers. That meant they had to stay out all night whether she liked it or not. Lately Lizzy was getting on her nerves. All she was interested in was getting out and getting laid.

A black boy with extensions on his hair walked over to her and asked her to dance. Joanie bucked up. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be such a cop-out after all . . .

Lizzy went over to Joey and put her hand on his arm.

‘Enjoying yourself, Liz?’

‘Oh, it’s great. Really great. Look at the lights!’

To Lizzy, with her heightened awareness, the lights were a swimming halo of blues and red.

‘How about we go to my car for a while?’

Lizzy giggled. ‘OK.’

She was so far gone that Joey had to help her walk across the field to where he had parked. As they made their way through the throng of people, boys and girls laughed and joked with them. One boy, dressed like a refugee from Woodstock, was spinning around in circles. His hair was braided with flowers and he smoked a large joint. Lizzy and Joey laughed at him. The further they got from the rave the more bodies they had to step over. Some were making out; others were just tripping out of their skulls, lost in their own world.