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“To true friends” came back the roar from around the table.
“To you, April,” Hannah said, holding her own glass high, and April did a slightly theatrical bow, her wig slipping over one eye, and grinned back.
“And now, if you will forgive me, I am retiring to my boudoir to change,” she announced.
“Isn’t it rather late?” Hannah said doubtfully. “It’s getting on for eleven. They’ll be chucking us out soon.”
“Not a bit of it,” April said grandly. “And as for you”—she stabbed a finger at Hannah—“none of your slipping off to bed while my back is turned, young lady. I’m coming back down to party on until I’m thrown out, and I’m expecting you all to be here. That goes for the rest of you too,” she said, swinging her gaze accusingly round the little crowd huddled around the table. “It’s Saturday, and it’s almost the end of term. You swots can afford to let your hair down for once.”
With that, and a dramatic swirl of her toga, she disappeared out the door. Hugh raised one eyebrow at Hannah, who laughed, feeling a little disloyal.
“I know, I know. But you know what she’s like. It is her big night. And she was so disappointed about Will not coming.”
“I don’t blame him for scarpering,” Ryan muttered. “She’s treated him like shit all this week.”
“Yeah, I gotta say, she may be a great actress but she’s a royal pain in the butt,” one of the actors from the play said. Hannah wasn’t sure of his name, but thought he might be the one April had referred to as Luis. “A week was about all I could take of her. Respect to the dude who’s put up with that drama queen for the best part of a year.”
“Maybe they’ve broken up?” Clem put in. Hannah had the impression that she was trying to steer the conversation away from April’s failings. “I mean, that speech—all that stuff about friendship. It felt a bit sisters before misters to me. It’s the kind of thing you say when you’ve just been dumped.”
“Does that mean April’s back on the market?” asked Rollie. “Should I join the queue? I mean she’s a pain, yeah, but she’s still hot.”
“What d’you mean back on? The way I hear, she was never off it,” his friend said, pulling a drolly lecherous expression. They both burst out into guffaws of laughter, but Hannah wasn’t laughing. Nor, she saw, was Ryan. In fact, his face looked like thunder.
Across the room, the first bell rang out, and Hannah stood up.
“I’m going to the bar for last orders. Anyone want anything?”
“I’ll have a pint,” Ryan said rather shortly.
“Anyone else?”
“I’ll have a Guinness, ta,” Luis said. Clem shook her head.
“I’ll have a bottle of something,” said Rollie. He spoke like he was addressing a barmaid. “What have they got here? Sol? Estrella?”
“I’ll find out,” Hannah said curtly.
“I’ll have a lager,” Hugh said, “but let me come with you, you’ll need a hand carrying.”
Hannah nodded, waited as Hugh extricated himself from the narrow bench, then turned and threaded her way through the crowded room to the bar. It was three minutes to eleven, according to the clock over the counter. April had been gone for nearly twenty minutes, and the bar would be closing soon. It didn’t take more than a couple of minutes to walk to New Quad and back. Add on a generous ten to remove her wig and makeup—had she changed her mind? Invited someone back to the room instead?
“What can I get you?” the barman shouted across. Hannah raised her hand.
“Hi, yes, I’m next,” said a big bloke in a rugby shirt, shoving into the gap beside her. The second bell went, and Hannah made up her mind.
“I think we’ve missed the boat,” she said to Hugh.
“Agreed. What are you going to do? Turn in?”
Hannah nodded, and she and Hugh made their way back to the table where Ryan and the others were still sitting.
“I’m really sorry, I couldn’t get near the bar.”
“Should have sent a bloke!” said Luis’s friend. “You need a bit of muscle to make last orders.”
Hannah felt her smile thin.
“I think I might turn in, actually, I’m really knackered. Sorry to be a party pooper. It was really nice to meet you guys,” she said to the little group of actors.
