“Hey, how are you feeling? God, my head hurts,” she says. “I am so sorry about last night. I’m mortified.”

“Don’t be – we drank a lot. I need to pee though,” I say, more because I can feel my cheeks flushing than anything else.

She climbs back into bed and I disappear into the bathroom. She has cleaned up all the vomit, washed out the bath and rinsed the towel, which is hanging over the shower door to dry. I take a minute, stare at myself in the mirror, tell myself to be cool.

I climb back into bed. “You didn’t need to clean all that up. Martha would’ve sorted it.”

“No, that’s not fair on her. It was my mess to clean.” She snuggles down under the duvet. “I hope I didn’t say anything embarrassing. I was really drunk.” I thought back to her telling me she loved me and how warmed I had felt, how something in my stomach had shifted and rolled over.

“No, no, you just went straight to sleep.”

“Ok, good, because I really like hanging out with you. I’d hate it if you didn’t want to be friends after this.”

“I do. It’s all good. I gave you the booze anyway, so it’s my fault.”

“You didn’t force me to neck it though.” She closes her eyes, her hair fanning around her on the pillow.

“We just need to build up your resistance a bit, that’s all.”

“No, I’m never drinking again!”

“We’ll see… Come on, a bacon sandwich and a cup of tea from Martha will sort you out.”

“Does Martha ever get a day off?”

“Not many.”

*

Martha has her back to us, washing pans, but she turns when she hears us, smiling around a yawn.

“Hi, girls, did you have fun?”

“Yes, thanks, but we would kill for a bacon sandwich and a cup of tea,” I reply.

“Um, would that have anything to do with the bottles I saw someone sneaking upstairs last night?”

“You saw me?”

“Eyes in the back of my head, Helen. Just be careful. Your father will be fuming if he finds out.”

“He won’t care.”

“Well, I care – and you should take better care of your lovely young bodies. Now then, bacon sandwiches coming right up.”

*

Tracey leaves soon after, the house immediately quiet and sombre without her in it. I go up to my attic and sit, listening to music, thinking about her, us. I have revision to do, but I can’t concentrate on anything concrete, so I let my mind wander.