For a moment I watch, waiting for her to come back up to the surface, hoping to see her laughing at her clumsiness.

But she doesn’t.

Jason comes up behind me, slides an arm around my waist, his cheeks flushed, his smile wide.

I push him away and take a step forward, peering into the water. I can see Tracey on the bottom of the pool, but she doesn’t seem to be moving. A ghastly feeling of dread crawls over my tainted skin as I realise she is not coming back up. I drop the cup, feel the vodka splash across my toes. I dive under the water and swim as hard as I can to where she is floating, her eyes closed. I loop my arms under her armpits and pull her to the surface.

“Help!” I cry out to someone, anyone. Heads turn, disinterested. Someone actually turns the music up.

“Help!” I shout again. “Jason! Jason!” He looks at me vacantly. “Help me get her out!” I am kicking as hard as I can to stay afloat, to keep her head above the water, but I can’t keep it up for long. Jason walks around the edge of the pool and leans down to pull her from my arms onto the wet tiles. I pull myself out of the water and check to see if she is breathing. I can feel the panic in my throat.

El’s voice carries over to me as she says, “Looks like someone can’t handle their drink.”

“Jason, can you carry her into the changing room? Please?”

He nods and scoops her up into his arms like a doll. I follow him and lay a towel down on the bench before he lays her on top of it. “Turn her on her side,” I say. Her chest is rising and falling, so I know she is breathing, but she is out cold.

“Tracey! Tracey! Can you hear me?”

There is no response. I try slapping her cheek. Nothing. I grab an empty cup discarded on the floor and go into the toilet to fill it with cold water from the basin. I let the water run for a bit to get it as cold as possible.

Then I feel like I’m going to pass out myself. I crouch down, put my head between my legs and breathe deeply for a moment, willing the spinning to stop. It takes a few moments though. The world is on a fast rotation.

By the time I return to Tracey, a little group has gathered around her. El is standing over her with my Polaroid camera, taking photos. It looks like someone has posed her, manipulating her limbs so that she is exposed. She is on her back, her legs splayed, pubic hair sticking out from the bottom of her swimsuit obscenely and one breast falling out of the halter neck top.