I push through the crowd again and this time it feels like I am shoving hard through crashing waves. Faces swim at me, laughing, drinking, kissing. Voices saying words I don’t understand. I see the woman who pushed me, and I push her hard out of the way. I hear shouts of ‘you fuckeeing beetch’ as I ignore the cacophony and stumble through the room, desperately searching for the way back out. I see Lev lurching towards me, and I have to dodge past a couple who are practically having sex against a bookcase in the corner of the room. I slide round the edges, until I find the door, ignoring the calls, ignoring Carrie’s voice in the distance, coming towards me, somewhere above the din, as I realise now what the DJ is playing.

It’s my song. ‘Violet’ by Hole. Courtney Love is shrieking her beautiful, grungy tones, telling me to take everything – she wants me to.

I think that might be my problem. I do want everything. But I can’t always get it.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: You’re freaking me out!!

Fucksake, Caz! I hope you’ve come down from whatever that shit was you were taking, and I REALLY hope you didn’t find your stash. Maybe Violet took it? I think you need to lay off the drink and the partying for a while. I think you’re right to be thinking about leaving Violet too – she doesn’t sound like a good person, Caz. Or, at least, she’s not doing you any favours. I’ve seen you like this before, remember? But that was a long time ago and you seemed to have really sorted yourself out, and now it’s going a bit mental again … Maybe you should come home? It doesn’t matter about the rest of the trip. If it’s not doing you any good, then sack it off and come back.

OK, I know you don’t want to talk about Greg, and that’s fine with me. You need a new job too – I know you weren’t happy before you left. But just come home, and we can sort you out, OK? I’m worried about you over there.

I do remember Keith, actually. You obviously don’t remember what I told YOU about him. He left our school when he was fifteen and got sent to a boy’s home – juvie, or whatever you call it. He burned his house down … his mum nearly died. There was a big article about him – all about the things he’d done as a kid. There was something wrong with him, Carrie. You didn’t bully him. He hurt us, and we tried to get him back. You seem to have stored this a bit differently in your head – or maybe the drugs and the trippy shamanic thing just made you mix things up.