‘Shit, have you got the digital camera?’ Kate asked, in a hoarse whisper, as soon as she’d closed her front door. Her parents’ room looked on to the street, which was deserted and dark, though punctuated by pools of warm light from the street lamps that snaked down the long, curved road.

Ellen unzipped her tiny bag and riffled through it. Lipstick, purse, BlackBerry, ten-pack of cigarettes, camera.

‘Got it.’

‘Phew,’ Kate said, linking Ellen’s arm. ‘Fuck, it’s freezing – let’s walk fast.’ Neither of them wore a coat, in order to avoid having to buy cloakroom tickets with money that could be better spent on shots. It was a rule that the cloakroom was never worth it, but shots always were. They set off at a trot, the vodka warming their veins, though occasionally making one or both of them veer off the kerb.

The queue snaked down the road and Ellen was anxious, but tonight was one of the alchemical nights when they got into Pulse. The key, Kate whispered as they approached the fleet of brawny bouncers, was to pout and stick your boobs out. Ellen didn’t think she’d done it right, but while she was still trying to work it out, the brawniest one grunted something about ‘having a good night’ and Kate was tugging on her arm before he could reconsider.

They could taste the smoke machines as soon as they walked into the club, and feel the bass in their feet. Pulse was basically two big rooms, both with sticky bars and white pleather couches bordering square dance floors, each illuminated by strobing lights. The soundtrack in both rooms was the Top 40, occasionally remixed with an R ’n’ B beat.

Ellen cupped her hands and spoke into Kate’s ear. ‘Bar?’

Kate hooked Ellen’s arm again and took the lead. As they forced their way through the crowd, trying not to touch too many sweaty backs in polo shirts, Ellen spotted Harry Grahams and a couple of the other Rainham boys sitting on one of the banquettes. They were all holding bottles of beer. Harry was smirking while another boy whom Ellen didn’t recognize shouted something into his ear. She nudged Kate, who whipped round and then nudged her back. At the bar, they ordered two Malibu Cokes and then weaved their way into a spot on the dance floor where they knew that Harry and his group would be able to see them.

As the Malibu and Coke hit her empty stomach, it suddenly struck Ellen that she was an exceptionally good dancer. As was Kate, who was currently rubbing her hands up and down her own thighs in time to the beat. Ellen loved this song. She loved every single one of the songs.

‘Shall we get a shot!’ Kate squealed into her ear, her breath hot, after fifteen or so minutes of dancing.