But as they shut the door quietly behind them, Lana opened her eyes again, waited as the footsteps of her two friends faded away, then promptly sat up.

Eight hours later, she was aware of a boxing match going on in her head. Bam, bam, bam, thud. Without opening her eyes, she reached out desperately to the bedside table, where she was sure she’d left half a can of Diet Coke the evening before. When she’d been getting ready. Getting ready for a night out.

Last night.

Oh God.

Her hand lighted upon the can and she brought it, shaking, slowly to her lips as she lifted her head from the pillow. The flat, sweet mix of chemicals and cola was like nectar in her parched mouth and, in that moment, the most beautiful drink she’d ever tasted in her life. She hauled herself up in bed and tentatively opened her eyes, daring to look.

He wasn’t in the bed. She breathed a huge sigh of relief. But she knew she wasn’t out of the woods yet. Clearing her throat, she called, ‘Hello?’

Nothing.

She couldn’t remember his name. ‘You still here?’

Nothing.

And finally, when she was satisfied he’d gone, she moved to the edge of the bed, preparing herself to stand up. She’d have to do it in stages. No sudden movements or she was likely to throw up. Jesus, who invented tequila?

Hideous, hideous.

She tried stretching her arms in front of her, gradually easing herself on to her feet. ‘That’s it,’ she whispered. ‘You can do it.’ She padded slowly over to the window and cautiously pulled back the cheap, brushed-nylon drape, letting daylight intrude.

Outside, Athens was gently coming to life. A sun-kissed summer morning, in a beautiful city, in a beautiful country, on the final day of her holiday with her two best friends, and she should really be feeling on top of the world.

Instead she felt as if she’d fallen into the deepest pit of dark and disgusting despair.

What the fuck had she done?

11

Judith

‘Can I have a break for a minute?’ Lana said after swallowing another mouthful.

They were sitting in the shade outside Paulina’s café next door to the hotel, and Catrin and Judith were feeding omelette and chips, very, very slowly, to their very, very hungover friend.

Satisfied that Lana had eaten enough for now, Judith moved her plate away and Catrin handed her some tea.

‘I just can’t believe it,’ Catrin said.

‘It’s tequila. It makes me lose the plot.’

‘You can’t blame the drink, Lana,’ said Judith, aware that she was being far harsher on her friend than Catrin was. But she was annoyed. She couldn’t help it. When they’d left Lana the night before, they’d both been convinced she was out for the count. Only it turned out that, far from enjoying golden slumbers, Lana had sneaked out again, back to the tequila bar, where the party was still in full swing, in search of the Irish guys, in particular Damian or Dorian or whatever his name was – Lana wasn’t exactly sure. She’d then brought him back to her room with a bottle of Metaxa and had sex with him all night.