‘Nightclub toilet?’ Leila dropped her face into her hands. ‘Poor jinxsy girl.’ She reached out to pat Minnie’s head and stroke her cheek as though she were a pet. ‘Happy Birthday, Min.’

‘Thanks,’ said Minnie, pinching the bridge of her nose then taking a loud inhalation of breath.

‘Look at you, you’re soaking – come in, come in. I’m impressed you braved a club, you must really like Greg.’

Minnie followed her friend down the narrow corridor through to the bathroom. Leila pulled a greyish-pink towel from the rail and handed it to her. It was stiff like cardboard, as though it had been washed at a million degrees five hundred times too many.

‘Have a hot shower then borrow some dry clothes,’ Leila suggested.

‘Happy Birthday, Minnie,’ came Ian’s voice from the other room.

Minnie poked her head around the living-room door. Ian was sitting on the low beige sofa in his boxer shorts playing the Xbox. He had his feet resting on the upturned orange crate that served as their coffee table. His short shaven hair was hidden under a red baseball cap and he had a new, angry-looking tattoo on his upper arm that read ‘Player One’.

‘Thanks, Ian. New tattoo?’

‘Christmas present from Leils,’ Ian said.

‘I didn’t wrap it,’ Leila called from the bathroom, ‘and I didn’t choose it, or approve it.’

‘Wanna play two player? You can break my losing streak,’ said Ian.

‘Maybe when my fingertips have regained some sensation,’ said Minnie.

Leila came back out of the bathroom and pressed a small white bottle into Minnie’s hands. It had coconuts and pink flowers on the label.

‘You can use my good shower gel,’ Leila said in a whisper. ‘I hide it from Ian or his balls smell of coconuts for weeks.’

Minnie stepped into the shower and let the warm water stream down her face. She scrubbed at her skin, trying to wash the day-old make-up and smell of the club from her pores. Her neck still felt stiff from sleeping on the toilet floor, and she rubbed it from side to side between her palms. Leila’s hand reached around the bathroom door.

‘Just leaving you some clothes for when you’re ready,’ she said.

Minnie looked over at the door where Leila had hung a red and white polka-dot dress. Leila was not a conservative dresser; most of her outfits were even more colourful than her kaleidoscopic hair. She was like the child who insisted on using every colour in the Crayola box.

Twenty minutes later, Minnie presented herself in the living room.

‘I cannot wear this,’ she said.

Ian burst out laughing. ‘It’s Minnie Mouse!’

‘Don’t be rude. You look lovely,’ said Leila, scowling at Ian.

‘You’re not taking me to Disneyland, are you?’ Minnie asked, hands on her hips.