Page 46 of Dancing Fools and All That Jazz
‘It’s not one of those sex toys you showed us at your party the other year, is it?’ Bonnie peers across from her bed to see if she is right.
‘No, look.’ Ruby pulls out her electric toothbrush, which has switched itself on in the case. All the other ladies, well apart from Fay, squeal with laughter.
Bonnie, looking rather glassy-eyed, turns to Asha. ‘You came to that party, Asha. As an upright Indian lady, were you not shocked to see all those naughty sex aids?’
‘You forget, Bonnie, theKama Sutrawas written by an Indian.’
‘Was it? Who wrote that then?’
‘Vatsyayana.’
‘Ha ha. Don’t expect me to remember that. I couldn’t pronounce it, let alone spell it.’ Bonnie howls with laughter bordering on hysterics.
I keep my head down and quietly check my phone for messages as the others gleefully chatter away.
Ruby is on the other side of the room and nowherenear me, thank heavens. We have barely spoken although she tried to engage with me while we waited for Ingrida at Passport Control in St Pancras.
‘Monica, please talk to me,’ she had begun.
I had merely stared at her.
‘You have to know we can’t go on like this. We’re mates, best friends. Six years have to count for something.’
I had maintained a stony silence.
‘Look, friends stick together through thick and thin. I get that you’re annoyed with me, I get that I hurt you, but you know it was unintentional and anyway, if we’re true friends we should forgive each other our silly mistakes…’ Her speech was slightly slurred. ‘And also, in the whole sch… scheme of things, this was a ridiculously petty frigging reason to fall out…’
When I said nothing, she looked as if she was going to cry and then suddenly stamped her foot on the ground and shouted, ‘Fine. Have it your way. I’m sorry I’m not frigging perfect like you. I’m sorry I mess up all the time, and I’m really sorry you don’t appear to value our friendship…’
She had then stormed off to wait at the Eurostar gates and we’ve not so much as looked at each other since.
Ridiculously petty. The words sting. She really does have what my mother would call low morals if she thinks petty is an adequate word to describe her behaviour.
‘Ta da,’ Bonnie shouts, and my mind lurches back to the present.
Bonnie produces a large bottle of brandy from her case and suggests we all have a night cap.
Given the circumstances, I readily accept. Anything to send me to sleep quickly.
‘Have you had that wee bottle with you all the time?’ Cath asks before singing something about Brandy.
‘Oh, I don’t think I’ve heard of that song.’ Bonnie pulls a number of plastic shot glasses onto the bed.
‘“Brandy”… O-Jays.’
‘Well, there’s no need to be rude.’
‘What? It’s the name of the group, Bonnie. The O-Jays.’
Bonnie snorts with laughter. ‘Ha ha. And I thought you were blaspheming.’
Ruby laughs and glances at me, but I turn my head away.
Bonnie pours us each a measure.
‘The authorities would have confiscated that bottle at Manchester Airport you know.’ Fay waggles her finger. ‘You are not allowed liquids over one hundred mils in your hand luggage.’
‘Really? Oh, it’s a good job we came by train then. Here we are, Fay, one for you too. You deserve it as you managed to save the way.’
