The Keeper

All Set to Flirt

Martha woke on Sunday with a cracking headache. Amy came into her room with a glass of water containing two fizzing tablets.

"What time is it?" asked Martha.

"10 o'clock."

"Blimey. I got up earlier, but must've fallen back to sleep."

"Yes, I heard you spend ages in the toilet..."

"Yeah. I don't think I have anything left to throw up now."

Amy handed her the glass.

"Thanks," said Martha, drinking it as fast as the fizz allowed.

"Mum and Dad have gone out; I think we should too."

"Where to? And can I have a shower first?"

One shower and a short walk later, the girls were in the railway café with two full Englishes and fat mugs of tea.

"I feel so much better," Martha said, her hands wrapped around her mug.

"Good. But what got into you? You're supposed to be the sensible one!"

"I know. I guess I'm tired of it."

"Are you going to be like that every time we go out now?"

Martha grimaced. "No way. Hey, thank you for looking after me."

"No drama. It was kind of nice to be needed by you for once."

* * *

Martha reined in her drinking and found a new way to let loose. After a couple of glasses of wine, wearing make-up and figure-hugging clothes approved by Amy, Martha was all set to flirt. The boys came flocking, and this time Martha didn't turn them away. Before each evening was out, Martha was kissing someone. Tall or short, stocky or slim, with dark hair, ginger, brown or blond, she had no preference. She wasn't picky about how they looked, because when she closed her eyes, she was thinking of Dean. But none of them kissed the way he did, with that mixture of softness and strength, with the feel of a beard pushing through a close shave. None of them smelled quite the way he did. None of them were a match for Dean, and she would pull away, apologise and say she had to go.

Amy went from glad to impressed to horrified. It was now the run up to Christmas, with tons of parties and opportunities to let their hair down, out of the gaze of parents and bar managers.

"I've been looking forward to Carlie's party for weeks," said Martha, putting on another layer of mascara and adjusting her top to make sure it showed off her assets.

"Me too, but take it easy, eh?"

"What do you mean?" Martha smoothed down her skirt.

"You're getting a reputation."

"What kind of reputation?"

"Every week you snog a new guy, sometimes two."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Not all the guys are nice, Martha. And when they are, you leave them hanging anyway. You must have a fist full of phone numbers and you never give out your own."

"You're just jealous because you and Marcus are going out and you're missing the single life."

"Maybe. But don't go crazy, okay?"

"Okay, Mum."