“Sorry, Martha, but I need your help. Do you think you could come down to the pool house and tell everyone to leave? It’s getting a bit out of hand and I’m scared.”

“What do you mean, out of hand? Of course!” She draws herself up to her full five-foot height and storms out of the kitchen in her slippers, her back straight and her shoulders squared.

I remain in the doorway, cowardly, holding my breath and listening intently. The music cuts out abruptly and soon I see bodies scurrying from the pool house like little ants. When the last little ant has fled, I see Martha helping Tracey up the garden.

“Oh dear, oh dear! You didn’t tell me there would be alcohol, Helen!” She shakes her head and tuts under her breath. “Let’s get both of you up to bed and we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

We help her up to my bedroom and I run a hot shower. Tracey is shivering and deathly pale.

“I’ll go and lock everything up,” Martha says.

“Thanks Martha – and… please don’t tell my parents about this.”

She looks at me for a moment and I try to read her expression – disappointment maybe, or sympathy? Then she smiles and pats me on the arm before heading back downstairs.

I help Tracey to the shower. “Can you get in yourself? Do you need me to help you?”

“I’m ok, I think. Just feel very sleepy.”

“Ok, get in the shower. It’ll help.”

I leave her for a moment and go into the bedroom to take my bikini off. I bundle it into a ball and throw it in the bin. I’ll never wear it again. I throw on my dressing gown and go back to her when I hear her thin voice call out.

She is wrapped in a towel and sitting on the toilet seat. I perch on the edge of the bath and we sit in silence. I can see she is struggling to stay awake, her eyelids heavy and drooping.

“Come on, let’s get you into bed. I can sleep in another room if you want?”

“No, please, stay with me.”

She gets up to her feet and the towel gapes open. I look away, Eloise’s voice loud in my head.

Once she is in her pyjamas and tucked into bed, I tell her that I think she may have got some sick on me so I’m going to climb into the shower too. She nods, but is already closing her eyes. I close the bathroom door, shed the gown and turn on the taps.

The water is immediately hot and I turn my face to the spray. Then I start to cry, big gulps of air that I swallow down with the water so that she can’t hear me. I feel like someone has ripped my insides out, hollow, bruised, thumped.