After he washed his face and cleaned out his mouth, he returned to the lounge and almost stopped dead in his tracks. There, lying on another sofa, was the party girl – Jennifer – barely dressed, her hair covering her face. His mind went back to the events of yesterday evening and his heart sank. Zara. Where was she? He suddenly panicked and hurried up the stairs. Once he reached the top, he swooned. The hangover was still harsh, even though he’d thrown up a year’s worth of drink and food. He paused and slowly opened the bedroom door, but tension gripped his shoulders. Empty. He dashed into the bathroom: ditto. She’d gone. Every possible thought shot through his mind. Zara must have seen him here with Jennifer, half-naked on the sofa. She would then have deduced that he’d shagged the woman, especially since he’d been drunk and after the abstinence of any sex for twelve years and counting. But no way would he do that, not to Zara.

Shaking with worry and reeling from his hangover, he returned to the lounge and roughly shook Jennifer. ‘Oi, wake up.’

She stirred, farted, and breathed stale breath into his face.

‘Oh, Jesus, give me strength.’ He shook her again. ‘Listen. Get your arse up and off this fucking sofa, will ya!’

Jennifer opened her eyes, and on seeing Mike’s face, she tried to pass off a sexy, seductive look, yet her false eyelashes had stuck to her cheeks, and her hair was like a net over her face. ‘Morning, Mikey,’ she replied, her voice croaky.

‘Get up and get out!’

He wouldn’t usually talk to a woman like that, but if she was the reason that his Zara wasn’t in the house, then he would snatch her by the hair and physically remove her. ‘Fuck me, what the hell are you doing crashed out in the lounge anyway?’

He paced the floor, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

Jennifer stood up, tugged her skirt over her hips, straightened her hair, and sighed. ‘Blimey, don’t I even get a cup of coffee?’

‘No, ya fucking don’t!’ he hollered. ‘Why are you even here?’

She looked Mike up and down. ‘What the fuck, Mikey. You used to be fun. Eric invited me. Bloody hell, we’re practically family, ya know.’

Rifling through her bag, she pulled out a packet of cigarettes and lit one up.

Mike was irritated. ‘Put that fucker out. Have some respect. This is my mother’s house. Now, before I raise the fucking roof, I wanna know what the fuck you’re doing ’ere, and, for the record, you ain’t family. You’re Teddy’s niece by his sister who fucked off to Manchester, so what are ya doing ’ere?’