smiled, but too sweetly for it to be sincere. ‘Only family and close friends call me Nellie.’ Then her expression changed to frozen marble. ‘You’ve reached the status of neither…nor are you ever likely to, unless I’m very much mistaken.’
Henzey’s head was swimming, and Nellie’s aggressive attitude unnerved her. It seemed so unnecessary. She began trembling with embarrassment and disappointment.
He looked at Henzey with some sympathy. ‘That’s a bit unkind, Nell.’
‘Oh, er…this is Billy Witts. Nellie’s…er, Helen’s boyfriend,’ Andrew said meekly.
She looked at Billy Witts again, but this time in bewilderment. Her smile had disappeared, her blue eyes told of the hurt and humiliation she felt inside. Floundering, she looked to Andrew for support. But none came. He was too drunk to think straight. People were milling past Henzey, and the noise from the party seemed strangely overpowering. She was feeling queasy, hot, and her legs were shaking now.
‘Please excuse me.’ She turned away and heard Billy remonstrate with Nellie.
Andrew caught up with her. ‘Take no notice of her, Henzey. She’s probably jealous of you.’
‘Why should she be jealous of me? I’ve done nothing. All I did was call her by the name everybody else calls her by. She’s rude, your sister, and I thought she was so nice.’ Tears flooded her eyes. ‘I don’t feel very well, either.’
As she walked unsteadily past the kitchen, something clicked ominously in her mind. Something. She wasn’t sure what. It had some vital significance, but she could not pinpoint it in her perplexity. In the hall, she sat on the stairs and put her head in her hands trying to remember, trying to overcome the unaccountable swimming sensation in her mind.
Andrew said, ‘I’ll get you another glass of lemonade, shall I?’
She wanted water, but she was finding it difficult to form the words to say so. Lemonade would have to do. She closed her eyes and her head seemed to spin. With a start she stared around her and shook her head violently in an attempt to stem the awful sensation of giddiness. But she was so thirsty as well. Something was radically wrong. She must be ill. Andrew returned from the kitchen with another full glass and handed it to her. She quaffed the lemonade, staring vacantly.
‘I say! Are you all right? You look jolly pale.’
‘Oh Andrew, I feel terrible. I’ll have to get some fresh air. I think I’ll have to go home.’
He took her glass, put it down on the telephone table and helped her to her feet, as well as he was able in his own inebriated state. ‘Not yet. Come on, I’ve got a better idea. You can lie down on my bed and I’ll open the windows for you.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t go to your bedroom. What would people think?’
But she was incapable of further resistance. Andrew held on to the bannister with one hand and, with his other arm around Henzey’s waist, they lumbered awkwardly upstairs. He struggled to open the door to his bedroom. When at last he did, they entered and both slumped onto the bed. It finally dawned on her that she must be drunk. But she was by no means certain. She’d never been drunk before.
‘Have you put shomethin’ in me drinks, Andrew?’ she asked, not without some impediment to her speech. ‘Andrew, have you put anythin’ in me drinks?’
‘Oh, just a drop of Russian vodka.’ He sounded pleased with himself. ‘Just a teensy-weensy drop. George and I thought it would looshen you up a bit…help you enjoy the party.’
‘Oh, what you do that for?’ She sounded so disappointed. ‘I promished my mother…’
She passed out.
In her dream she was turning, revolving, spinning in a black velvet sky. Stars whizzed round her at a fantastic rate making her dizzy, and all she could hear was a high-pitched whistling in her head. She was searching, searching, but for what? She could not remember. The shrill whistling grew louder the dizzier she got. A burden of responsibility was hanging heavy upon her, she was aware. But the spinning, the endless turning, the stars racing by, the searching…this anxiety. If only she knew what she was seeking. It was making her feel sick.
An overwhelming need to vomit forced her to consciousness again and she sat up. She was surprised to see the hem of her dress round her waist and Andrew lying beside her, his hand stroking the bare flesh of her thighs between the tops of her stockings and her knickers.
‘Let’s have your clothes off, there’s a sport,’ he was saying. ‘Let’s shee you in the buff.’
She slapped his face with as much indignation as she could muster and, with an extraordinary effort, staggered off the bed. She opened the door and lurched from the room, stumbling. Just in time she found the bathroom, vacant for once, and retched into the lavatory. She shuddered at the awful bitter taste in her mouth. Almost at once, her head cleared. Again she heaved…And again. Her eyes were streaming…yet miraculously she felt better. But the spark of anger she’d felt was being fanned into a roaring flame by the thought of Andrew’s stupidity. What a downright cad to even think of lacing a girl’s drinks with vodka when she believed all along it was just lemonade? Had he and George done it just so they could take advantage of her and Alice?
Alice!
It was then she realised why she was so racked with anxiety.
She stood up. Her mind was clear. She washed her mouth and wiped the tears from her eyes, then cursed her own slowness of mind. ‘Alice! Oh, Alice!’ If anything had happened to Alice…She thrust open the bathroom door and stormed out. The door to Nellie’s room, the ladies powder room for the evening, was shut. Seeking Alice, she shoved it open angrily. It almost hit Nellie, who was just coming out.
‘Hey, I think “excuse me” is the expression you’re looking for, Miss.’
Henzey ignored her only because she had something more important to attend to. She rushed to the next door on the landing and thrust it open. In the darkness of the room she could just make out two people in bed. Instantly, they parted.
‘Is that you, Alice?’
A girl’s voice answered warily, ‘Hello, Henzey,’
‘Alice, you damn fool! What the hell d’you think you’re doing?’
‘Just talking.’ There was annoyance in her voice.
‘Get up, for God’s sake!’ But the sight of George in bed with her sister was too much. Henzey burst into tears, shaking with anger and disappointment at this lesson in human nature. ‘George, George! D’you know how old she is?…Do you?’
‘Sixteen, she told me. You were there, at the roller skating rink.’
‘I’ll tell you how old she is,’ she sobbed. ‘She’s fourteen. D’you hear what I said? Fourteen.’ Tears were streaming down her face.
‘Christ, I had absolutely no idea. She said she was sixteen. You heard her.’ He turned to Alice. ‘You told me you were sixteen, didn’t you? I distinctly remember.’
Alice shrugged, unconcerned. ‘I don’t see what all the fuss
