By Jilly Cooper
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Extra info for Emily
He nearly tripped over the ugly American girl who was now snoring on the floor. �She ought to be moved, he said fussily. �Shes quite happy, said Rory Balniel. I expect she needs sleep. �Shes giving people a bad impression of the party, said the Australian. �Not nearly so much as when shes awake, said Rory Balniel. He was trying to balance a glass on one of his fingers. His eyes had gone out of focus. He looked like a Siamese cat. The glass crashed to the floor. Split Ends and Tiffany howled with laughter.
I dont just pick up men at parties and leap into bed with them on the first night. At least, not recently, I wailed. Slowly he clambered out of bed and started to get dressed. I was shot through with misery, but I tried to make a joke of the situation. �Dont think it hasnt been marvellous, because it hasnt, I said with a deliberate sniff. He laughed, and when he had dressed and cut himself shaving on Ninas pink plastic razor, he came back into the bedroom and said, Dont forget me, will you?
Stop the taxi, I wanted to scream. Let me out, take me to Liverpool Street, Ive got to catch a fast train back to East Anglia, back to Cedric and sanity. Youll pay for this later, Emily. Youll be sorry; yes, you will! No one could have guessed from the ecstatic, passionate, writhing form in Rorys arms that any sort of moral battle was raging inside me. Ill say goodbye to him firmly at the door, I told myself. Then when we got to the door I thought: Ill just give him a very quick drink to be sociable and then out he goes.