The three of us passed inspection just before seven when the stylists declared us ready.

“You look lovely, darlings,” Susie’s mother gushed.

Her father had arranged for his chauffeur to drive us, and better still, pick us up. At least we wouldn’t be fighting for a cab later.

The ball was being held at a country hotel fifteen miles away. Its drab stone façade was at odds with the raucous guests parading up the steps, and as Susie and Hayley beamed and pouted for the official photographer, I ducked to the side. No, I didn’t want a mugshot.

In a stuffy anteroom, white-jacketed waiters offered around trays of champagne. Well, prosecco more likely, but the guests seemed to prefer quantity over quality. Susie and Hayley skipped the bubbles entirely and started on the hard stuff while I sipped a glass of orange juice—one of us had to stay upright.

I studied the partygoers out of habit and spotted a few people I recognised, including Portia and Arabella. What were they doing here?

“Aren’t those two underage?” I asked Hayley, jerking my head in their direction.

“Sixteen and seventeen-year-olds are allowed in as long as they’re accompanied by an adult family member. They’ve got to wear a pink wristband to show they shouldn’t be served alcohol.”

The bands of shame would be lucky to last five minutes. If I’d had one, it would have been snipped off the second I got through the door. As if to prove my point, a piece of jailbait wandered past holding a cocktail and tripped over a chair. Yes, this evening promised to be carnage. Someone save me now. The icing on the cake came when I spotted Henry-the-turd from the corner of my eye. You know, that disgustingly thick icing you peel off and hide in a napkin?

He swaggered around with his mates, beer in hand. This evening, he’d swapped the cravat for a wonky bowtie and a tuxedo that might have fitted once, but it hadn’t kept up with his expanding waistline. Nice.

With nothing better to do, I worked my way around the room, chatting. I’d always treated gatherings like this as a challenge to find out as much information as possible while revealing as little as I could about myself. I’d become pretty skilled at it, but it was always amusing when I went to a work function where everyone else was playing the same game. This evening was good practice, although I had it easy because this crowd loved to talk about themselves.

Then at eight o’clock, we were called into the dining room. The three of us from Hazelwood Farm were at a table with another girl and four guys.

The new girl was obviously with the short, ginger-haired guy—the way she kept searching for his tonsils with her tongue was a giveaway—and two of the others paired off with Susie and Hayley. That left me with one man to talk to, and I quickly realised he was gay. He didn’t mention it, but I’d spent enough time with Bradley to know the signs.

Gay dude was nice enough, but we had nothing in common. There was only so much I could talk about with an accountant who spent his weekends fly fishing.

By the end of dessert, boredom had set in. Hopping into a cab was oh-so-tempting, but Susie and Hayley were past three sheets to the wind and well on their way to double figures. The responsible part of me said I should stick around to make sure they got in the right car at the end of the night.

Once the tables were cleared away, the DJ came out and the dancing started. Not a good idea for me to join in. I always drew attention when I set foot on a dance floor, no matter how much I tried to tone it down, and I wanted to keep a low profile tonight. I’d slunk back into the shadows by the bar when I felt a presence behind me and hot breath on my neck. Breath that reeked of whisky. Delightful. As I turned, Henry ran his hand up my bare back.

“Managed to lose the boyfriend then? How about trying a real man?”

“I assume you mean yourself? It was just that the ‘real man’ part confused me.”

“Yeah.” He reached out and stroked my hair. “Girls always get confused.”

Fuckwit. Too drunk to pick up on the sarcasm?

I tried again. “Not even if you were the last man on earth, there were no more batteries, and my fingers were paralysed.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be frigid. I won’t disappoint.”

He pressed himself up against me and wrapped his arms around my waist. Fuck, my reflexes had slowed. He’d attempted to kiss me before I got my brain in gear and kneed him in the crown jewels. As he doubled over, clutching his balls, I sidestepped neatly as he threw up. A rare smile played across my lips as he collapsed on the floor, and there was a satisfying rip as the back seam of his trousers split to reveal Winnie the Pooh boxer shorts. Classy. I melted into the gathering crowd and watched from a distance as two waiters helped the bastard out of the ballroom. Boom. Henry was done for the night.

An hour later, I’d had enough. The only thing worse than arseholes hitting on me was drunken arseholes hitting on me. That count ran into double figures. Worse, the DJ clearly had an auditory problem because not only did he have crap taste in music, it could be heard in the next hemisphere, meaning the staff should have been handing out earplugs instead of bar snacks.

Our car wasn’t due until 2 a.m., three and a half miserable hours away. I’d rather have been caught in the middle of a battle with the Taliban than spend another three and a half hours there. A gunfight would be easier on my ears too.

Another inebriated guy wobbled past, patting me on the arse as he went. He attempted a smile, but the overall effect was of a lunatic who’d just escaped the asylum. I didn’t even try to point out that his zipper was undone. I’m sure he’d have taken that entirely the wrong way.

A sigh from the bartender as he handed over another glass of iced water told me he found this as painful as I did. At least now I had something to empty over the head of my next overzealous admirer. I went back to my spot, only to find it occupied by a couple auditioning for their own porn film.

Why had I agreed to this? The old me would have had enough backbone to say I wasn’t going. Now I was stuck in the tenth circle of hell.

Through the disco lights, I spotted the doors that led back to reception. Surely there must be somewhere else I could hang out until it was time to leave? This was a hotel, after all.

Time for plan B.