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Soulmate: Chapter 1

Page 3 of 7

"A fortnight." Nigel's grin made serious inroads into his chubby cheeks. "It's a long time for you to be on your own. You know, if you get lonely -"

The sharp burr of the telephone interrupted. Saved by the bell.

I darted out of the bathroom. It had to be Georgina, phoning from the airport, checking I was alive. Compared to my fellow party-goers, I was very much alive. They were now starting to rise from the floor, lurching and swaying, moaning and groaning, like the living dead in a late night horror film, summoned to life by the ringing tone. I pushed past them to get to the stairs, and tried not to step on anyone as I descended. I faced more of them downstairs. They fixed their glazed eyes on me. They had a very limited vocabulary. Tea. Coffee. Water. Loo. And, alarmingly, bucket.

"Excuse me. Pardon me." I pushed my way past. "Gotta get to the phone."

In the living room, I trod even more warily, trying to avoid discarded CDs, yet more wine glasses and empty beer bottles, and dark stains of a suspicious nature. I began to appreciate the party-hardy nature of Georgina's ultra-modern living room: all easy to clean glass and chrome, though the upholstery was going to need industrial cleaning if Georgina wanted the dazzle put back into her blue and cream striped three-piece suite. I reached the far side of the couch and found an empty phone cradle. The phone was still ringing, but the receiver had gone walk-about.

I twirled round. It was time to be the bossy Yank. "Okay, listen up, people!" I shouted, trying not to wince as pain lanced across my forehead at the sound of my own voice. "That's Georgina on the phone, and I need to talk to her. Your breakfast, and endless cups of coffee and tea depend upon it. So look around you NOW!"

I have to give it to the Brits. My dad, who's an ex-pat, has told me endlessly about the British wartime spirit and how everyone pulled together. And here was a houseful of young adults who wouldn't know the meaning of the word 'rationing', yet they all set about diligently searching for the source of that persistent buzzing. I would have been pretty impressed if I hadn't been so worried that Georgina would give up before we could find the darned thing.

"'ere, I've got it!"

Georgina's best friend Zara raced in from the kitchen. I was rather amazed to see she was still here. She could have had a lot more privacy at her place just across the road with the guy whose dress shirt barely skirted her slender ebony thighs. She hurried towards me, shirttails and black braids flying.

The receiver was covered in ice crystals. I didn't need to ask where she'd found it. Tentatively, I held it near my ear.

"Hi, Georgina?"

The voice at the other end said something, but I didn't catch it. The zombies around me were clamouring a chorus of greetings. "Hi, Georgina!" "Hello, Georgina!" "Great party!" And "When's the next one?"