The Art Guy (18+) COMPLETE, FREE to READ

The Party

London, summer 1993

To Katrina's relief, Ghastly Graham turned down the invite. He pretended he was too sophisticated to think an invite to a celebrity (well, sort of celebrity) party was beyond him. Turned out, he had an essay deadline to meet.

He tried the 'you shouldn't go' shit with Daisy, but Katrina made sure she asked Daisy to come to the party in front of her parents, emphasising what a treat it would be, and how she would make sure Daisy was introduced to people who might be useful to know.

Graham didn't dare push his controlling act half as much when Tony and Debbie were watching him.

Miriam clapped her hands in glee. "Can I come too? This is the most exciting thing that has happened to me all year."

I'll bet. Katrina kept the thought in her head. Why deny the old woman some fun? Tony and Debbie refused, Matthew needed babysitting (he growled at that), they were too old blah blah.

Tony did press a handful of tenners into Katrina's hands though. "This is your emergency money," he said. "You use it if you need to get a taxi home suddenly."

Impulsively, she leant forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks, Tony. I'll make sure we're no' in any emergency situation any time soon."

In the cab, Daisy chattered excitedly to Miriam. Katrina had feared that she might go into paroxysms of guilt because she'd left Ghastly Graham, but her friend was too fired up with excitement about seeing Mick and going to a very adult party. With any luck, there might be a nice guy there, a not Graham guy.

"Tonight's the night!" the words sang in her mind. "Everyone finds out about us AND Mick and me'll finally, finally, finally have sex together!"

The taxi got them there in forty-five minutes. Miriam tried to pay, before Katrina reminded her that the fare was on Dee's production company. The cab had taken them to a venue in the east end, once the bastion of the poor, now up-and-coming super trendy.

The taxi driver had uh med and ah'd as he got closer to the destination. The Knowledge he'd learned thirty years ago was well out of date. Thanks to a few phones calls and studies of the latest London A to Z, he eventually found them their destination: a huge bar/club house close to the Docks.

They stepped out, Katrina, Miriam and Daisy. A red carpet had been laid out. Earlier that evening, it must have been pristine. Now, it was marked with muddy footprints, and rolling up at the edges. It wasn't straight either.

It led the way to a door, the opening to what looked like a warehouse. Once upon a time, maybe it had been where merchants docked their sacks of spices, sugar, cotton, tea and all the other things that had reputedly made Britain an empire. Nowadays, it was a venue—a place where people in the businesses that prospered in the late 20th century gathered and celebrated.

Inside, Katrina noted a huge bar that stretched across an entire wall. A dance floor marked out the centre of the space and otherwise, little booths occupied everything else. The place was busy, but not crammed. Maybe Dee had extended the invite because she wanted the after-show party to look crowded. As Dee made her way over to them now, she looked disappointed. Perhaps she had meant Katrina to bring more people.

"Where's the big star?" Katrina asked, scanning the room for any sign of Mick. She hadn't seen him in six weeks, and it prickled at her.

Dee shrugged. "No idea," she had to shout over the noise the DJ's sound decks generated. "He's pretty far gone, though. Drunk as a skunk. Anyway, help yourself to a drink. The bar's free."