The voices carry on and are oblivious to me lying helpless over here.
‘He’s a good-looking idiot.’
‘Yes, he is. He keeps calling me Emily but he’s a good kisser. We got a taxi home and it’s been nonstop Emily this and that.’
‘What do you want to do? Shall we kick him out?’
I can hear someone yank a curtain across a window. ‘Have you seen the snow?’
‘Yes, it’s coming down fast. The taxi driver, when he wasn’t moaning about the idiot over there looking like he was going to throw up all over the inside of his car, was telling me how the forecasters are saying it is definitely going to be a white Christmas.’
‘Maybe we should let the idiot sleep on the sofa? He wouldn’t survive outside,’ says the new voice.
I hear Emily screech. ‘Kate, he’s a stranger and we’re going to let him sleep down here? He could attack us in our beds tonight.’
‘Hang on a minute, Cassie, when I came downstairs about ten minutes ago you were busy kissing his face off on the sofa and we both know what would have happened next if he hadn’t have called you Emily.’
Emily or Cassie is sighing again.
‘Rob’s coming over in a bit,’ says the new voice. ‘By the time the idiot comes round my rugby-playing boyfriend will be here to protect us.’
Cassie giggles. ‘Won’t you and Rob be busy doing something else?’
‘What’s that on the floor by the idiot?’
I can hear footsteps get nearer. Someone is close. It’s either Emily or Cassie, I can’t see properly, they’re just a blur of colour.
‘It’s a gold chain with a locket on it,’ says Cassie. ‘The idiot has good taste in jewellery. Emily is a lucky lady if this was meant for her.’
‘Right, stick it back in his pocket. I’m off to bed.’
‘Shall we leave the idiot down here?’
A blanket is thrown over me and a pillow hits me in the face. ‘Right, idiot from bar, as my flatmate and I are feeling festive you can sleep on the sofa. If you try anything on you will be escorted out into the snow by Kate’s six-foot-five, weightlifting, rugby-mad boyfriend. Do you understand?’
My world goes dark.
The vomit flies out of my mouth and spatters against the sofa cushion before I have a chance to properly open my eyes. Fuck! My head feels like someone has been hitting it with a shovel for hours. The stench of my own sick is making me heave again. Rubbing my sore eyes, I see it’s still dark, but a thin slice of silvery moon has lit up where I am sleeping. In front of me is a dark fabric sofa cushion adorned with my yellow puke. Where the hell am I?
Hauling myself to my feet I stand and stare at the sick. Why did I drink so much last night? Whoever owns that sofa is not going to be impressed with me. I need to clear it up and I need to drink some water. Staggering towards a door I almost fall into a tiny galley kitchen. After drinking a pint of ice-cold water, I grab the kitchen roll and by the light of the moon clear up my mess. After putting the kitchen roll in the bin, I return for a cloth and some washing-up liquid. Desperately trying to not be sick again I dab at the cushion and fight waves of tiredness.
Come on, Rory, you need to get out of here.
Opening the front door, I gasp. The world outside is covered in thick, white snow. An icy wind whips at my face and nearly knocks me off balance. I’ve no idea where I am or which part of Leeds this is. Instead of venturing outside I close the front door and rest my head against it. Fuck. Reaching into my pocket I find my phone. My heart sinks as I realise it’s out of battery. My wallet is still safe in my jeans. What about Vivi’s locket? Oh God, I hope it’s still there. As I slip the phone back into my pocket my fingertips touch the locket.
‘Ugh – have you been sick?’ A voice behind me makes me jump and so does the blast of the yellow living room light. ‘It stinks!’
Turning around I see a young woman, wrapped in a fluffy pink dressing gown and snowmen pyjamas. She looks familiar with her shoulder length auburn hair, her almond shaped brown eyes, and her wide smile. She also has a look of Emily about her.
‘Erm, yes, I’ve cleaned it up,’ I say, sheepishly. ‘I’m really sorry.’
She nods and points outside. ‘Is the snow bad?’
Rubbing my forehead and wishing the pain radiating out of it would ease I nod.
‘Fancy a cup of tea or coffee before I call you a taxi?’
I’m led away from the sick-stained sofa and into the blue galley kitchen. At the far end there’s a tiny breakfast bar with two red leather stools.
