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‘One, then the other straight after,’ Adam instructs, and I do as I’m told.

Cheering up is exactly what I need right now so I’ll do whatever Adam tells me to do.

‘Yuck,’ I can’t help but announce when I’m done. ‘That’s like poison.’

‘Poison that’s going to put a smile on your face,’ Adam insists. ‘Right, I’ll meet you on the dance floor, I just want to say hello to the DJ, I know him.’

‘Of course you do,’ I call after him. ‘You know everyone.’

As instructed, I make my way to the dance floor on my own. After the drinks at the fundraiser, and the Ghost, plus the ones in here, I’m starting to feel a little unsteady on my feet.

The thumping club music makes way for something slow, something familiar – ‘My Heart Will Go On’, by Celine Dion.

Oh my God, he hasn’t?

Adam walks across the dance floor, to where I am, and takes my hand.

‘May I have this dance?’ he asks.

‘Have you really just asked them to play a ballad in a club?’ I reply. ‘The crowd will turn on us.’

‘I don’t think so,’ he replies.

As Adam pulls me close I notice everyone around us staring, smiling, and cooing at us. They think we’re cute.

‘How did you…’

‘I told you, I know the DJ,’ he says with a grin.

I love the feeling of his hands on my body. I get a real rush of… something as Adam and I gaze into each other’s eyes, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s from the alcohol, the spinning, or something worse. Much worse. Something there is no cure for.

I want him.

42

As we walk down the street, Adam bellows the lyrics to ‘My Heart Will Go On’ at the top of his voice.

The night has that harsh, late-October bite to it, but between the booze, the dancing and Adam’s terrible Celine Dion tribute act, I barely notice.

‘Shut the fuck up,’ one of his neighbours bellows from a nearby upstairs window.

‘You shut the fuck up, Mr Marsden,’ Adam yells back, before immediately backtracking. ‘I didn’t mean that, Mr Marsden, sorry.’

I have to admit, in my drunken state, I’m finding all this absolutely hilarious.

‘Grumpy old bastard,’ Adam whispers to me. Well, he tries to whisper, but it doesn’t come out that quietly.

‘I heard that,’ Mr Marsden calls back.

‘Quick, in the house.’ I chuckle as I push Adam up the driveway. The whole place is in darkness; then again, it is two o’clock in the morning – although I’m sure if Si was here, he’d be out yelling at us by now.

I grab Adam, who is doing some sort of swimming motion with his arms, by the wrist and drag him through the door, tug-of-war style. He only resists for a moment before submitting, but this sends us both crashing into the hallway, falling into a table, knocking it over and smashing the lamp that used to sit on top of it.

Of course, we don’t care. We find this hilarious. Adam grabs the lampshade and places it on top of my head.

‘Lia, what a lovely hat,’ he says in his fanciest voice.

‘Why, thank you, sir,’ I reply. ‘I bought it in Milan. It’s very light.’