Girls Out Late Read online

  ‘Hang on,’ he says, going to his bedroom. He brings back a little bag. Oh God. Drugs.

  ‘Yeah, great idea,’ says Nadine.

  I stare at her in horror – but she gives me a little wink. It’s just a quick fucker of her eyelid but it’s enough. Magda’s watching too, and gives a nod. We watch while Dave Skull and Ewan Drum and Ian Pig start rolling special cigarettes. Dave lights his, takes a deep drag, and then passes it to Nadine.

  ‘Cool,’ she says, getting up. She wanders over to the window. ‘This is such a great view,’ she says, turning her back as she stares out. She seems to be taking a deep drag but I think she’s bluffing. Magda joins her at the window.

  ‘My turn,’ she says, pretending to take a drag herself.

  Before I can join them Pig Ian is by my side.

  ‘Don’t say you’re into a little light relaxation, Miss Priss,’ he says.

  I giggle foolishly, trying not to antagonize him.

  ‘Here, I’ll show you how to do it,’ he says, taking the roll-up from Magda and waving it in front of me.

  ‘Sure. Great. In a minute,’ I say, jumping up. ‘I’ve just got to go to the loo.’

  ‘You’ve only just been. What’s the matter with you?’ he says, taking a long drag himself.

  ‘I’ve got a little bug,’ I say. ‘I’ll be right back.’

  I go out into the hall and stand in the loo again, trying to think of some way we can get out. I look up at the window. It’s too high up, too small. Much much too small. I could stand on the toilet but I could only get my arm out of the window. My head wouldn’t fit through, let alone my body. But . . . maybe we could get out of another window?

  I creep out of the loo and tiptoe across the hall to the kitchen. There are two large windows above the blocked sink. One hitch up onto the draining board. I could make it. And Nadine. And Magda.

  I think.

  I run the water tap. I splash it on my face. I throw cold water over my lovely pearl grey shirt. Then I take a deep breath and call.

  ‘Magda. Nadine. Can you come out here and help me a minute?’

  Pig Ian comes out. ‘What’s up with you, Little Priss?’ he says blearily. ‘What are you yelling for?’

  ‘Oh please, don’t look at me. I’ve been sick,’ I say. ‘It must have been the vodka. I don’t want you to see me like this, not till I’ve cleaned myself up. I need my friends. They’ve got tissues and stuff.’

  ‘God, you really are a kid,’ says Pig Ian disgustedly. ‘OK, OK, I’ll get your mates.’

  He goes – and Nadine and Magda come running.

  ‘Have you been sick, Ellie?’ Magda says.

  ‘This is all my fault,’ Nadine weeps.

  ‘Sh! Quick! Shut the door. We’ll get out of the window,’ I hiss.

  ‘Wow!’

  ‘Great thinking!’

  ‘Easier said than done,’ I gasp, hooking my leg way up onto the draining board and trying to heave myself up after it.

  Magda gives me a push, Nadine gives me a shove, and I’m suddenly up on the draining board. I grab hold of the window handle. The whole window frame is rotting and at first it sticks. I pull and tug at it, hurting my hand, and then take off my shoe and give it a last desperate bang. It moves – and the window opens.

  Nadine is already up beside me, and she helps haul Magda up.

  ‘Oh help!’ I say. ‘It’s a long way to jump. We’re all going to break our legs.’

  ‘I’d sooner break my neck than stay locked up with those creeps,’ says Magda, and she jumps first. She lands like a little cat, not even tottering in spite of her high heels. Nadine goes next, arms and legs kicking out wildly. She ends up on her bottom but manages to scramble up again unhurt.

  My go. Oh God. I stare straight out into empty space. What if I misjudge my jump, leap a little too far, and hurtle right over the balcony?

  I clench my sweaty fists.

  ‘Quick, Ellie,’ Nadine hisses.

  ‘Jump like Mrs Henderson says. Bend your knees and spring,’ Magda calls.

  I jump. I bend. I don’t exactly spring. I stumble and hobble and trip. But I’m down, safe on the cold concrete walkway.

  ‘Right, let’s get out of here,’ says Magda, pressing the lift button.

  ‘At least they’re all pretty wrecked. It’ll take them a while to react,’ says Nadine.

  ‘Come on, lift,’ I say, jabbing at the button. Nothing happens. We keep peering round desperately at their door. They’ll be after us any minute.

  ‘I think we’d better make a run for it, down all the stairs,’ I say.

  So we run along the walkway, making for the staircase. Something feels funny. I’m all uneven, hobbling sideways. Did I twist my ankle? Then I realize.

  ‘My shoe! I left it in their kitchen!’

  ‘Well, we’re not going back for it now,’ Magda gasps.

  ‘They were my best shoes from Shelleys,’ I moan.

  ‘I’ll save up and buy you a new pair, Ellie,’ Nadine puffs. ‘And I’ll buy you some too, Magda. Name your pressie! Anything to make it up to you.’

  ‘Shall we try the lift again on the next floor down?’ says Magda.

  ‘But what if they’ve got into it up at the top?’ I say.

  ‘Help, yes! OK, well, down we go.’

  Down and down and down and down. My tights are already ripped. My foot gets sorer each time it slaps down on the cold concrete. My knees ache, my chest hurts, I’m gasping for breath and we’re not even halfway down. Down and down and down and down. I’m wet with sweat, my hair hanging wildly, one pearly hairslide dangling loose. I snatch it up, terrified of losing it. I think of Russell. Down and down, unable to breathe, my foot hurting so. What if they’re coming after us? What will they do to us now if they catch us?

  ‘Quick!’

  ‘Can’t go any quicker!’ Nadine gasps.

  ‘I’ll never go to another step class again,’ Magda moans.

  Down and down and down and down – and then suddenly we round the last corner and we’re there, out into the courtyard, on ground level at last.

  ‘This way!’ says Magda, forging forward.

  ‘No, wait. Keep to the edges so that if they look down they won’t see us,’ I say.

  We skirt round the sides of the tower block, legs still wobbling after all those hundreds of stairs.

  ‘Which is the way we came in?’

  ‘Can’t remember.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get out.’

  We scuttle on, ducking through an archway, round a corner – and then suddenly stumble upon the lager lads.

  ‘Hey, look! It’s them stupid stuck-up birds.’

  ‘There’s the one that gave me the finger. I’ll have her.’

  ‘I’ll have the one with the big whatsits,’ says another, making a grab at me.

  My hand flies out, hitting his face. He screams and staggers, clutching his head. His mates stare at him in astonishment.

  ‘Quick,’ I say, and we start running again. We run right round the estate before we spot an exit, and then we’re right out in the road at long last.

  ‘Where now?’ I gasp.

  ‘We’ll make for the nearest tube,’ says Magda.

  ‘You certainly gave that guy a brilliant punch in the face, Ellie!’ says Nadine.

  ‘It wasn’t a punch, it was a jab,’ I say, showing them my hairslide.

  ‘You should have jabbed the guys in the flat too!’ said Magda.

  ‘No, they could have got really really nasty,’ says Nadine.

  ‘Hey, none of this seems real, does it?’ I say. ‘I mean, we should all be watching the Claudie concert, not wandering unknown streets with mad drunk druggies in hot pursuit.’

  ‘Don’t!’ says Nadine, looking nervously over her shoulder. ‘I can’t believe I could have been so stupid. Thanks so much for sticking with me, you two.’

  ‘That’s what girlfriends are for,’ says Magda. ‘Hey, where on earth are we?’

  ‘Ma