The entire cardiology department had gone out to dinner at a local tapas restaurant. I’d managed to out-manoeuvre Tom yet again, making sure that Rosie and I were ensconced firmly amongst the nurses and cardiac physiologists at the opposite end of the table from most of the consultants. As there was a mess night out that night, we had all decanted to a cocktail bar to join the rest of the hospital after dinner, and it was there that I was leaning up against the bar with Lou.
‘Sperm or ferrets?’ I asked as I grabbed Lou’s arm on the bar.
‘Whatsat?’ she slurred.
‘I could either buy some sperm from Norway or start buying ferrets to keep me company in my old age,’ I replied, attempting a serious expression, which was slightly spoilt when I missed my mouth with my cocktail glass. Lou looked intently at me for a moment, almost like she was having trouble focusing on my face.
‘Ferrets smell,’ she said sagely. ‘I once went on a home visit to a lady’s house with ferrets, and believe me theystink.’
‘A con.’
‘But they do kill rabbits.’
‘Sorry Lou, but I think that’s another con.’
‘What the hell are you two on about?’ Dylan had drawn up next to us at the bar and to my annoyance I noticed that he was served immediately by the female bar staff. He studied us closely after taking a swig of his beer. ‘Oh shit,’ I heard him mutter under his breath.
‘Finally!’ Lou cried as she put in our order. Five shots of tequila were slammed down in front of us. Lou screeched and frantically signalled Lizzy and Rosie over.
‘Got you one too, Dildo,’ she informed him with a sweet smile. Dylan looked exasperated.
‘Lou, you’re off your face. Got to be honest with you, I don’t think downing shots at this point is the best idea,’ he told her.
‘Pah!’ she replied, lifting her shot and indicating for me to do the same. One of our favourite films wasThe Long Kiss Goodnight. Anyone who’s seen that film knows that it features the absolute hands-down coolest way in history to drink a shot. Lou and I had spent many a wasted hour learning this unbelievably useless skill, but it did mean that we looked awesome drinking shots (in our humble opinion).
In unison we both put the shot to one cheek, rolled it across to our mouth, downed it and rolled it to the other cheek, dropping the glass into the other hand. Unfortunately the coolness factor of this was always limited, owing to our inability not to collapse in fits of giggles after we had completed the manoeuvre.
I caught sight of Dylan and saw he was shaking his head at us but still throwing back his shot, and then my eyes were drawn over his shoulder. Tom was standing with Cassie; his arm was draped casually around her shoulders, but his eyes were fastened on me. He wasn’t looking at us with amused exasperation like Dylan. There was no smile on his face and he seemed weirdly intense. Maybe he and Cassie were arguing?
No, seemed she was still smiling up at him.
Lucky cow.
Anyhoo.
‘More tequila,’ I cried, slamming my hand down on the bar. ‘And ferrets!’ I added.
Lucky for us we had managed to attract the attention of the one male bartender, who was more than happy to refill our shot glasses. After a brief tussle with Dylan, who had decreed our drunkenness out of hand (which I thought was rich coming from him), the two of us managed to down a couple more shots before moving to the dance floor.
In general I didn’t dance in public when sober. In the shower? Yes. Whilst cooking alone? Yes. In front of other people? Not so much. I was finding that after some tequila, though, it was a different story, especially if some cheesy music was playing.
The four of us moved into our own little zone on the dance floor. Even when steaming (a rare occurrence in itself for me), I could never completely lose my inhibitions. My preferred mode of dance was a standard stationary shuffle/hip sway. Lou on the other hand is well known for pulling some serious shapes.
I was busy laughing at her, so I didn’t notice a large figure approaching me from behind until big meaty hands landed on my hips. Turning sharply, I found myself face to face with an extremely worse-for-wear Mr Fletcher.
‘Hey, princess,’ he breathed into my face. His breath smelt of beer and curry. Yuck. One of his hands snaked up my back and secured me to him. The other went into my hair and I could see he was zeroing in on my mouth. His eyes were bloodshot, and I could tell that he was pretty far-gone.
I strained back against his hands and turned my head, frantically avoiding his mouth and looking for Lou. Unfortunately Lou and the others were zoned out with the music, and Mr Fletcher had pulled me away from them, so no help there. I pushed at his shoulders and struggled in his arms some more, which I think in his drunken state he took as encouragement. His hand was now inside my top and pushing up to my chest. My struggles turned frantic and he tightened his grip, making it difficult for me to breath.
‘Get off!’ I wheezed as he dragged me further away from the others.
‘Come on, princess, you’ve been teasing me for weeks,’ he said in my ear. His hand was about to touch my breast and I had just decided to knee him in the balls when suddenly he wasn’t there anymore. I staggered back and looked up, to see Tom holding both Mr Fletcher’s arms from behind.
‘What the –’ Mr Fletcher cried, struggling against Toms hands, only to be whipped around to face him.
‘Don’t youevertouch her again,’ Tom roared, his face a mask of fury.
‘You’re such a goddamn hypocrite, Longley,’ Mr Fletcher sneered, twisting violently out of Tom’s grip and giving him a small shove on the shoulder. ‘You want in there as much as me –’ harder shove ‘– maybe more.’ Even harder shove. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at her. She probably already spreads for you anyway. You just don’t want me having your sloppy seconds.’ With that Mr Fletcher used both hands to shove Tom, sending him back on one foot. Despite all the provocation Tom didn’t resort to physical violence, which was impressive. That was until Mr Fletcher realized that he wasn’t going to get round him to me and muttered, ‘Stupid slut,’ under his breath.
