The rest of them were chatting and laughing, Liv serenading them from time to time with short bursts of her favourite songs. I just stared out the window, the sun blinding me from time to time as it came into view from behind the cityscape.

I didn’t twig where we were going until we passed the Angel.

‘Not Jackaroo’s, Liv,’ I said, as realisation dawned. ‘Please, no.’

‘They’ll love it.’ She brushed off my protest with a flourish. ‘You’ll love it, guys.’

I didn’t say anything else until we were getting out the cab. ‘I want to go home.’ It sounded lame, even to me.

‘No you don’t,’ she murmured in my ear. ‘Men are to be used, remember? This is our night. Enjoy it.’

I followed her into Jackaroo’s, wishing she was right but knowing, in my heart, it was all a horrible mistake.

It was barely less packed inside than it’d been on the Thursday. For some reason, I’d expected it to be less so, but backpackers didn’t live for the weekends. Every night was a Saturday night to them.

Steve and the others were clearly less comfortable here than they’d been at the wine bar. They stood there, looking around them and practically shuffling on the spot. To be fair, they did stick out against the lumberjack shirts and tees that were more or less the required uniform of the place. I felt for them. I was feeling pretty much the same, and I’d been there a few times before. They got drinks upstairs, before Liv led the way down into the depths of the main bar. I followed behind them all, wondering why the hell she’d been so set on coming here again.

Once downstairs, it didn’t take too long to figure it out. Gav was on stage, Celeste standing at his side, and I couldn’t help myself. ‘Christ, Liv,’ I said, aloud. They were looking at his guitar, as he fiddled with a string or something. ‘What the hell?’

‘What’s the matter, Grace?’ said one of the guys – Mark I think his name was – at my exclamation.

‘It…doesn’t matter.’ I took a bottle of beer from him, and took a sip. It was hot downstairs, already, and more people were filtering down from upstairs all the time.

‘You want to go outside?’ He took my arm.

‘No.’ I pulled away from him and made my way over to Liv.

She was talking to Steve, his arm leaning on the pillar above her. I looked away for a moment, the memory of being pinned to that same pillar strong in my mind. I steeled myself and went up to her.

‘What are you playing at, Liv?’ I murmured in her ear.

‘What?’ She looked at me, affronted. ‘Nothing. I don’t know what…’

‘If this is all about Gav…’ I glanced up at the stage. Gav was facing Celeste now, talking intently and running his hand down her cheek. She was looking up at him, her eyes wide in what looked like fear. ‘Look, just forget him, Liv.’

‘Gav?’ she said, taking a swig of beer. ‘Who’s Gav? See? I’ve forgotten him already. Tonight’s all about Steve. Well…’ She looked up at him with a naughty smile. ‘…and his friends, of course.’

He smiled back at her, and bent his head down to nibble at her neck. The rest of the guys were milling around us, still looking around the bar awkwardly, and occasionally kicking at the sawdust with their polished, black shoes.

‘Come on, guys,’ called Liv, encouragingly, to them. ‘Don’t be shy. Let’s have some fun. Cheers!’

She held her bottle up to them, and they came closer to crack theirs against hers. She held it out to me, and I reluctantly followed suit. One of the guys tipped his bottle drunkenly as he struck mine, and the beer tipped out of it and down my arm. I held it away from me, shaking the drops off it, but it was soaked.

‘I’m going to the Ladies,’ I said to Liv. ‘Try to behave yourself till I get back.’

    Fifteen

Her

I pushed my way through the crowds into the grime-filled stench-hole that passed for the Ladies, and rinsed off my arm. Christ, there was even sawdust on the floor in here. I hated to think what I was standing in. The dryer wasn’t working, so I leant against the wall and flicked off the water, my mind racing. Liv was a nightmare, and I didn’t know what to do about it. What did she think she was playing at? She was going to end up causing a scene, just like…

I almost wailed aloud. God, was that really what I’d been like? What had I even been thinking of? I hadn’t been thinking at all, I realised now. I’d just been on some kamikaze mission, bent on destroying myself. I had to stop Liv before she made the same mistake. After all, she didn’t have a Filth Monger, waiting in the wings, ready to pluck her from danger at a moment’s notice.

At that thought, I felt my heart squeeze in my chest. I missed him – oh God, I missed him – and I wanted him back, whatever he’d done. Ronnie’s words came back to me again. This time I knew the answer. Despite everything, regardless of my fears and doubts, I was willing to take a chance on him, if he’d only let me.

I pushed my way through the queueing, giggling girls, back out into the bar. The music had begun – Gav picking out notes assuredly on his guitar, against the steady percussion of the drummer. As I neared Liv, Celeste started to sing. I say sing – it was more of a trembling wail. I glanced up at the stage to see Gav looking over at her, nodding almost pleadingly. As the music grew louder, her voice continued to wobble and quaver. It was nothing like as good as Liv’s, but I got the feeling she could probably have held a tune, if she’d been less nervous.

Liv was watching it all with a hawk-like fascination, batting off Steve’s attentions as her focus fixed on the stage. I could almost feel her holding her breath. As the song ended, there was a deathly hush. I’m not sure the audience knew how to react. Celeste looked so awkward, staring back at the audience, almost transfixed. I actually felt sorry for her, she was shaking so much.

Liv broke the silence. ‘What a crock of shit!’ she shouted, at the top of her voice.

I was mortified and dodged behind the pillar, but I couldn’t help peeking out to see the reaction. It was like a car crash. You couldn’t help but watch. Gav peered out into the crowd and Liv waved back at him, her arm around Steve. He glared back at her, before turning to Celeste and the drummer, nodding to them to start the next song.

‘Be gentle,’ he said into the mic. ‘It’s her first gig, singing, and she’s a bit nervous.’

The audience seemed to accept that. Anyway, they got back to drinking and stayed at the stage. Whether they were hoping it’d get better, or they were just hanging around to see how low it could sink, I couldn’t tell, but I suspected it was the latter. If so, they were disappointed.

By about halfway through the second song, Celeste seemed to have got a grip of her fear, and her voice was stronger and less traumatised. This clearly didn’t please Liv, because she started talking loudly, wresting the guys’ attention away from the stage. By the third song, they were all clustered around her, with me slightly apart from them, watching the band.

Celeste wasn’t such a bad singer. She was carrying the notes well now, and I was starting to enjoy it, despite myself. I’d just caught myself actually singing along with Personal Jesus, when I felt someone squeeze my shoulder. I didn’t even need to turn round. I recognised the smell of beer and aftershave. I carried on watching, trying to ignore it, but they started tapping on it, insistently. In the end, I turned to face them. It was Stef, Chris standing behind him with the rest of the crew.

‘Don’t you want to talk to us tonight?’ he said.

I didn’t reply, so he pushed forward until he was standing so close to me I had to step back, knocking into Mark, who was in the circle around Liv. He turned around and, when he saw Stef fronting up to me, he put his hand out to me.