Do You Remember the First Time?

married. You were ticking a box. There’s nothing wrong with Max. OK, he’s a little bit boring, but you were OK with that, you really were.’
    I didn’t remember Tash being this bad the first time round.
    ‘Yes. And you were doing so much better with Olly. Now you’ll probably run off with Jamie Theakston or something.’ She let out a huge sigh. ‘Every day you get older, there are fewer choices. That’s what getting older is. A daily diminishment of options.’
    I stood up to go to the toilet, but the room was swaying.
    ‘I feel sick,’ I said.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Shit … I mean, I feel so pissed.’
    ‘You’ve had two and a half cocktails.’
    ‘Ohhh, Tash …’
    ‘Fuck. I don’t believe you have the drinking capacities of a teenager.’ Tashy started to laugh.
    ‘Oh, come to me, lovely fresh liver …’ I started to sing.
    ‘Shit.’ She put her drink down. ‘This really isn’t funny.’
    ‘Is everything alright here?’ The smooth maître d’ came over, pretending to be polite whilst fixing us with beady little eyes. ‘Are you together?’
    ‘We’re just leaving,’ said Tashy firmly, standing up and dragging me with her.
    ‘Yeug-bleh,’ I said.
    Tashy took the hood of my anorak firmly and marched me to the door.
    ‘Hff-nng mnay,’ I dribbled at her, staggering up the stairs, which she eventually managed to correctly interpret as ‘I don’t have enough money for a taxi’, and stuffed a couple of tenners into my pocket.
    ‘Call me tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll work something out.’
    ‘Blergff.’
    ‘Take her home,’ she said to the cabbie.
    ‘Will she be sick?’
    ‘No!’ I said. I wanted to say, ‘Actually, in no sense in my real life could I get inarticulate on two Mojitos, but clearly I have a very different body going on. It’s all a misunderstanding I’m sure can be worked out by some practice.’
    ‘Get her in then.’ He looked disapprovingly at Tashy. ‘Next time, leave your babysitting charges at home.’
    Through the back window I watched Tashy staring at the retreating vehicle, then remembered nothing else until I woke up outside the front door of my parents’ house. Not noticing all the other vehicles lined up outside, I blearily lurched inside, with the exaggerated gait of someone trying to pretend they’re not pissed. My parents were standing, staring at me. Next to them were the next-door neighbours, other people from down the street, and two policemen.
    ‘Oh my God!’ screamed my mother. ‘Oh my God!’
    The policemen looked at each other.
    ‘This,’ one said to my dad, ‘is why we don’t come out to over fifteen-year-old cases till after twenty-four hours.’ But my dad was already rushing towards me.
    ‘Where the hell …? You stupid, stupid little cow …’
    He dragged me up and enfolded me in his big arms. My dad hadn’t hugged me like this in – God, so long. It felt good. I nestled into him, smelled his familiar smell, of properly ironed shirts and bread, before he left and started to smell of aftershave and conditioner, if I got close enough to smell him at all.
    ‘Jesus. The stink off you,’ he said.
    ‘Oh my God, is she drunk?’ said my mother.
    ‘A sixteen-year-old girl drunk,’ said one of the policemen to another. ‘What an extraordinary event. Shall we head off and see if we can find any pigeons in Trafalgar Square?’
    ‘Perhaps there might be a bear in the woods who needs our assistance in a toiletry matter,’ said the other.
    ‘She was gone all day ,’ said my mother, tearfully trying to justify herself to the policemen. ‘She didn’t go to school. If something had happened you’d have had to read a poem at her funeral and get an OBE.’
    ‘Yeah,’ said the policemen thoughtfully.
    One came over to me. ‘You’re too young to drink,’ he said.
    ‘Not in a restaurant,’ I said, wobbling.
    ‘Who took you to a restaurant?’ barked my mother.
    ‘Don’t worry your mother,’ the policeman told me. ‘Do you hear? Be careful. There are lots of bad things out there. I know you think you’re an adult, but I can assure you, you’re not.’
    ‘Except in the eyes of the law,’ said his colleague. ‘Oh, no, forget I said that.’
    ‘Don’t you have a phone?’ he said.
    ‘Yes,’ I said, staring at the ground. I was definitely sobering up a bit. I had kept the phone switched off all day, terrified that someone I didn’t know might call me and ask me something I was completely unaware