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  I remember how philosophical Portia was after her first one-night stand. She had lost her virginity the summer before starting university, on holiday, with a strapping Swede on the Greek island of Mykonos, and had said that one-nighters weren’t for her.

  I dragged her along to a pub crawl one evening, and tried not to look too horrified when she staggered up the road with a boy who had already worked his way through our entire hall of residence.

  And possibly more horrifying was seeing Portia drunk. She simply wasn’t the type. It didn’t suit her.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she slurred, throwing her arms around me just before she left, ‘I’vegoddacondom… hic’ and with that she was gone. I sort of knew what she was doing. When we talked about our own one-night stands, Portia always seemed to feel slightly left out, and I suspected she was trying it, just to see what it was like.

  I’m ashamed to say that I slept with pretty much anyone who wanted me at university – my self-esteem so low, that show some interest, the faintest bit of interest in me, and I was yours.

  I still vividly remember the craving for affection. It wasn’t the sex I wanted, it was the cuddling afterwards. It was the lying in bed, arms around one another, softly murmuring as they stroked your hair. I would sleep with them, then wake up, eyes pleading for one more taste of the affection I had had the night before. But invariably the orgasm of the previous night had taken the intimacy with it, and I would either be ignored, or have to indulge in polite conversation before getting out of there as quickly as possible.

  I was sitting in Portia’s room when I saw her walk up the road, still in her little black dress, high strappy heels swinging back and forth from her left hand. As she got closer I could see she had washed her face free of all make-up – something few of us did at home, never mind when away – and she grinned as she saw me, and waved.

  I switched on the kettle in her room and was scooping Gold Blend into a mug as she came in.

  ‘Well, I’ve done it,’ she announced, ‘and I don’t know what the big deal is. I walked home and on the way I decided that I could do one of two things. I could either feel dirty and ashamed, because, let’s face it, Cath, I’ve been well and truly used. Or,’ and she paused. ‘I can write it down to experience, learn from it, and move on.’

  ‘Need I ask which one you’ve chosen?’ I asked, impressed by her confidence, because, frightened though I was to admit it, after each one-night stand, each rejection, I felt more and more unworthy.

  ‘I’ll tell you one thing,’ she said, sinking into the chair and lighting up a cigarette, ‘the sex was terrible. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to sleep with a stranger. And he’s supposed to be one of the best lays in this whole bloody town.’

  There wasn’t anyone good enough for Portia, I decided. Not here at the university. But then, towards the end of the second year, when we were sharing a little house just off the high street with Josh, Si and Eddie, Sarah not yet having made her mark in the way she was evidently hoping to, Portia came home smiling. She said she’d met someone lovely at the library, and would we mind if he came over that night for supper?

  I did mind a bit, actually. It was the first time Portia had ever seemed interested in anyone, and I suppose I must have been jealous, but as soon as Matt walked in, we all fell in love with him.

  Matt really was the perfect man. He was funny, charming, kind, bright, and he adored Portia. Adored her. You know how some couples just look perfect together? That was Matt and Portia. And I didn’t lose her. Rather like fathers of the bride who say they’re not losing a daughter, they’re gaining a son, I gained another best friend.

  But it didn’t last. It never did, in those days, with Portia. For a year they were inseparable, and then, out of the blue, she split up with him. No reason, no explanation, nothing. She just decided it was time to move on, but what was an easy decision for her, left the rest of our tiny group devastated. And that was when it all started to go horribly wrong.

  Chapter two

  There was a girl called Elizabeth. A friend of Eddie. Someone with whom he had been to school, his best friend, who had opted for a job rather than university, and who had secured for herself the rather grand-sounding title of Marketing Assistant.

  Eddie adored her. Throughout the first term we kept hearing about Elizabeth: Elizabeth this, Elizabeth that. How Elizabeth taught Eddie to smoke, and borrowed her parents’ car while they were away, and how at sixteen Elizabeth and Eddie were driving, drunk, all over town, piles of their schoolfriends hanging out of the sunroof.

  Eddie admitted that when he first met her he had a huge crush on her, but then everybody did, he said. She was gorgeous. Far and away the most beautiful girl in school, and even at fourteen she was the talk of the sixth form.

  Elizabeth began to take on mythical qualities. She was the elusive beauty that we had heard so much about, but none of us was entirely sure that she really existed, at least not in the way that Eddie had described.

  We assumed that Eddie’s crush had blinded him to her actual attributes. We assumed she’d be pretty. Striking, even. But unassuming.

  And then Eddie announced she was coming to stay for the weekend. He was giving up his bed, he said, and would be staying the night at Sarah’s so that Elizabeth would be comfortable.

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ Josh ribbed him. ‘Bet you’ll be sneaking back into your bed in the middle of the night, Sarah won’t be too happy about that.’ Sarah was not, at that stage, a permanent fixture, but we could see that Eddie had, up until this visit from the infamous Elizabeth, fallen for her.

  Eddie looked shocked. ‘Absolutely not. I’d never dream of doing anything. You know how I feel about Sarah, and anyway Elizabeth is my friend. That’s all.’

  We all caught Eddie’s excitement in the days before Elizabeth was due to arrive. All of us except Portia.

  ‘Don’t you want to meet this paragon of female loveliness?’ I asked her, and Jesus, how clear this memory is. I remember asking that question. I remember exactly where we were, and the memory is so strong I can suddenly smell it.

  I can smell the old seaside café, perched on the side of one of the narrow cobbled streets running up from the beach. During term time it was filled with students, noisily chattering, shouting at one another, sitting for hours over one cup of coffee, but then during the holidays it was full of old ladies, scarves wrapped around their hair, gnarled fingers clutching iced buns.

  I loved it best during the holidays. I loved staying there, seeing the town in a completely new light, feeling like a local rather than an unwanted student. I loved sitting in the café by myself, often with a book, but usually the book was only for show, enabling me to listen in on their conversations.

  I remember that day with Portia. I was supposed to be at a lecture, but I skipped it, vowing to make up for it later. I remember queuing for two steaming mugs of sweet, milky tea, and debating whether to treat myself to a bun, but deciding against it because those were the days when I actually cared what I looked like.

  Portia and I were sitting at a tiny table with our lighters precariously balanced on our packets of Marlboros, the air smelling of smoke, and freshly baked cakes, and salt from the sea. I remember being full of the joys of a flirtation with a boy called Sam, and telling Portia everything about the night before, in minute detail.

  And, being Portia, she listened and laughed in all the right places, and encouraged me every step of the way, and when I had finished I said I couldn’t wait to meet Elizabeth. And Portia didn’t say anything.

  ‘You’re coming with, aren’t you?’ I asked, having told her that all of us were going with Eddie to the train station to pick her up. Portia shrugged.

  ‘Why wouldn’t you come?’

  She shrugged again, then smiled suddenly. ‘I’m sure I will,’ she said brightly. ‘I’ve just got to go to the library, so I might have to miss the grand arrival.’

  And it didn’t occur to me at the time that there might have been
more to it.

  ‘What do you think she’s like?’ I giggled. ‘Do you think she’s as perfect as Eddie makes out?’

  ‘She’s probably a total bitch,’ Portia said, which seemed out of character and took me by surprise, but then I entered into the spirit of things.

  ‘Or hugely fat,’ I chuckled, mentally applauding myself for resisting the bun.

  ‘Yup. She’s probably put on ten stone since Eddie last saw her, eating for comfort now that he’s gone. Either that or she’s balding.’

  I looked at Portia as if she were mad, and we both cracked up laughing.

  Portia didn’t come with to pick up Elizabeth, and in the end neither did I. Josh took Eddie and Sarah, as he was the only one of us with a car, and I sat in the kitchen at home, waiting for them, and waiting for Portia to come back from the library.

  I’d just made tea – which is all we ever seemed to do that year – when the front door opened and I heard a babble of voices. As soon as Josh and Eddie walked into the kitchen, I could see they were both in love. Their eyes were alight and they were laughing, excitement making their cheeks flushed. Right behind them in walked Elizabeth, and I understood what had caused their reaction.

  She was, simply, gorgeous. Not in the way that Portia was, in a slightly imperious, untouchable way. Elizabeth was the classic girl next door, and as soon as she saw me she came over with a huge smile – whaddya know, perfect teeth – and I could see how the others had fallen under the spell she had cast.

  Sarah had gone off to the library, but Josh whispered that even she seemed to think Elizabeth was lovely, and I remember being hugely impressed that she wasn’t racked with jealousy in the way that I’m sure I would have been had I been in her shoes.

  Si came back from a drama rehearsal soon after, and it didn’t take long for her to work her magic on him, but the person who was quite clearly the most affected was Josh.

  I hadn’t seen Josh like that before. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, and as the afternoon progressed I began to notice that she started paying him more and more attention. It started with a few looks – her eyes would come to rest on him slightly more frequently than on the rest of us, and soon she was laying a hand on his arm, begging him to stop teasing her. Because this was the only way that Josh, at nineteen, knew how to flirt.

  ‘Isn’t she amazing?’ Si said, when we left to go to the corner shop and buy some more cigarettes.

  ‘I didn’t think I’d say this, but she is. I totally understand what Eddie was talking about. She’s just so nice, and natural, and funny! I’ve been in stitches all day.’

  ‘And gorgeous,’ Si said as we stamped down the street, our breath clearly visible in the crisp, cold air. ‘If I were straight she’d be my perfect woman.’

  ‘What about Portia?’

  ‘Nope.’ Si shook his head. ‘Portia’s beautiful, but there’s something impenetrable about her, something slightly cold. Elizabeth’s just so natural. Jesus, what’s Portia going to think of her?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ We went into the shop and picked up the cigarettes, milk, and a Pot Noodle for Si.

  ‘She’s going to hate her,’ he said smoothly. ‘She’ll be eaten up with jealousy.’

  I stood stock-still and stared at him. ‘Portia? Jealous? Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘Cath, she won’t be able to stand not being the centre of attention, and have you seen Josh? He’s practically salivating over her. I adore Portia, but I wouldn’t want to be the one pushing her off centre stage.’

  ‘But what do you think she’ll do?’

  ‘Dunno,’ Si said with a wicked smile, ‘but, whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll make bloody good material for my improv.’

  When we got home Portia was there. She was sitting at the kitchen table, talking to Elizabeth, and, although I refused to admit that Si had been right, the atmosphere had definitely changed, and was I going crazy or did Portia suddenly seem to have a cold, flinty look in her eyes?

  ‘So what’s on the agenda for tonight, then?’ Si put his shoes on the table as he slurped his Pot Noodle.

  ‘We thought we’d do a pub crawl,’ Eddie said, looking at Elizabeth for her approval.

  ‘Sounds fantastic,’ she laughed. ‘Haven’t done a good pub crawl for ages.’

  ‘Elizabeth pissed is not a pretty sight,’ Eddie said as she hit him, but neither Portia nor I missed the fact that Josh had not joined in with the laughter, too busy gazing at Elizabeth’s lovely face.

  Portia came downstairs at seven o’clock, and Si nudged me to turn and look at her as she stood in the hallway, shaking out her hair in the hall mirror.

  ‘See?’ he mouthed silently. ‘She’s dressed for battle.’

  And she was. She was wearing a tight red dress that Josh once claimed gave him an instant orgasm just by looking at it, and what Si always referred to as her Fuck-me Shoes.

  Si raised an eyebrow at me and I shook my head, because I really didn’t want to believe Si, but all the evidence was pointing to Portia being very definitely up to something. I just didn’t know what it was.

  But it didn’t take me long to find out. Eddie had established that Elizabeth thought Josh was ‘cute’, and Josh didn’t need to say anything to anyone for his feelings to be established.

  Eddie told us this with a mixture of pride and jealousy. Pride because Elizabeth was everything he had described, and so much more, and jealousy because it was absolutely clear that a part of him would always have a crush on her.

  We started out at the King’s Head. Portia, as always, turned heads wherever we went, but Elizabeth was also generating a fair bit of attention, not just because of her undeniable looks, but because there was a sweetness about her, and of course it may simply have been that she was fresh blood.

  Nothing happened until we hit the club. At every pub we’d been to Josh had sat next to Elizabeth, and by the fifth pub they only seemed to have eyes for each other. Eddie shrugged resignedly, and Si and I just sat quietly, watching the blank look on Portia’s face, wondering whether she would dare to say anything to Elizabeth.

  Because of course Josh had always had a thing for Portia. From the moment we had all met, right through the first year, and on through the second. It had become a standing joke in our group, and even Josh was quite happy to be teased about it. Portia knew, and he knew that Portia knew, and he’d accepted that it was never going to happen. He used to joke with Portia, saying, ‘A guy can dream, can’t he?’

  But the strange thing was that out of all of us, Josh and Portia seemed to make the best match. Josh might have come across as a bit of an upper-class twit at times, but underneath he had a heart of gold, and he was the only one who came from a background that was similar to Portia’s.

  Up until that night, Portia had always laughed when Si and I teased her about Josh’s unrequited crush, saying that Josh was far too nice for her, but tonight I could see that she couldn’t deal with another woman in the picture.

  And sure enough, in the last pub we went to, the last one before hitting the local nightclub, Portia literally shoved Elizabeth out of the way, sidled up next to Josh and started whispering things in his ear, her coat flung casually on the seat to prevent Elizabeth from coming close.

  Poor Josh looked as if he’d been hit by a truck. Stunned. Here was the woman he’d lusted after coming on to him for the first time in his life, and yet here was this other woman, who was also gorgeous, who simply didn’t know how to deal with Portia.

  Elizabeth sat quietly next to Sarah, and Si tried to act as if everything were normal, even while Portia did her Mata Hari impersonation. In other words, as Si put it later, acting like a complete bitch.

  As soon as we walked into the club, Elizabeth went to the toilet and I joined her to tame my hair and put on some more lipstick just in case Sam should walk in the door.

  ‘Are you coming?’ I asked Portia, but she shook her head with a smile and followed the others to the bar.

  ‘Josh is lovely,
isn’t he?’ Elizabeth said, as she washed her hands. ‘Eddie thought that I’d love you all, but he never mentioned how gorgeous Josh was.’

  ‘He obviously likes you too,’ I said, smiling, as she turned to look at me.

  ‘Is there something going on with him and Portia, though? Eddie said absolutely not, but I feel like she’s defending her territory or something.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. Portia’s fine, she’s just not used to you, that’s all, and no, there’s nothing going on between her and Josh,’ and we left to go back into the club.

  Elizabeth saw it first. I heard this little gasp, and I turned to look at what she was looking at, and there was Portia. Well, Portia and Josh. Locked together in a passionate embrace in the middle of the dance floor, Portia entwined around him like a snake.

  I couldn’t tear my eyes off them, not least because I had never seen Portia do this, she wasn’t a believer in public displays of affection, and it was an extraordinary sight, to see such blatant passion in public.

  I knew Elizabeth was walking away, and I know I should have gone after her, but then Eddie and Sarah were tearing past me to reach her, and I found myself walking over to Si, never taking my eyes off Josh and Portia.

  ‘See?’ he said gravely, having to shout into my ear above the loud din of the Housemartins. He tried to look shocked, but the Gossip inside him was completely loving this drama. ‘Told you so.’

  I watched as Portia and Josh finally broke apart, and I could see that Josh, while thrilled to have finally got together with Portia, was also completely bemused. He looked like a little boy lost, whereas Portia was positively triumphant.

  She led him to our table by the hand and picked up a triple vodka, downing it in one before reaching up and whispering something into Josh’s ear, sucking Josh’s earlobe as Si kicked me hard under the table.