One Night Only (140 page)

“
I
a
m
s
o
hung-ove
r
,
”
sh
e
said
.
“Wha
t
tim
e
i
s
it
?
Get
m
e
somethin
g
t
o
drin
k
quickl
y
.
”

“
V
odk
a
shot
?
Cocktails
?
W
ine
?
W
e
hav
e
everything,” sai
d
Ruth
.

“Shhh!
”
sai
d
Gina
.
“No
t
funn
y
.
Quick
.
Fluid
.
Liquid. Mout
h
lik
e
sandpape
r
.
”

“It
’
s
jus
t
gon
e
nine,
”
sai
d
Ruth
,
handin
g
he
r
a
glas
s
of wate
r
.
“Ho
w
ar
e
yo
u
feeling
,
apar
t
fro
m
hung-over
?
I
don
’
t
kno
w
abou
t
you
,
bu
t
I
a
m
dreadin
g
goin
g
home
.
I
hav
e
a
majo
r
cas
e
o
f
th
e
heebie-jeebie
s
an
d
it
’
s
not pleasan
t
a
t
all.
”

Gin
a
thre
w
hersel
f
bac
k
ont
o
th
e
pillo
w
.
“
Ouch
!
Oh no
!
O
h
God
,
wha
t
di
d
I
d
o
yesterday
?
Ruth
!
Thi
s
i
s
a
nightmare!
”

Rut
h
gathere
d
som
e
clea
n
underwea
r
an
d
he
r
outfi
t
for th
e
da
y
–
a
lon
g
blac
k
jerse
y
dres
s
an
d
fla
t
silve
r
pumps
.

“Don
’
t,
”
sh
e
said
.
“Don
’
t
thin
k
abou
t
i
t
no
w
.
Don
’
t think
about
an
y
o
f
it.
No
post
mortems
,
remember?
What
happen
s
i
n
.
.
.
what
happen
s
i
n
.
.
.
wher
e
ar
e
we again?
”

“
I
hav
e
absolutel
y
n
o
idea,
”
sai
d
Gina
.
“Somewher
e
in Donegal
.
That
’
s
abou
t
a
s
muc
h
a
s
I
eve
r
wan
t
t
o
kno
w
.”
“Fai
r
enough,
”
sai
d
Ruth
,
headin
g
fo
r
th
e
showe
r
.
“What
happen
s
i
n
Somewhe
r
e
i
n
Don
e
ga
l
,
s
t
ays
i
n S
om
e
wher
e
in Donegal
.
I
won
’
t
b
e
long
.
No
w
,
pul
l
yoursel
f
togethe
r
.
”

“
Y
o
u
nervous?
”
Poll
y
asked
.
Sh
e
wa
s
applyin
g
he
r
make-up an
d
wa
s
surprise
d
tha
t
sh
e
looke
d
almos
t
normal
.
Almost
.

“Brickin
g
it,
”
sai
d
T
ess
.
Sh
e
wa
s
findin
g
i
t
a
littl
e
harder t
o
recove
r
som
e
o
f
he
r
usua
l
get-u
p
an
d
go
.
Sh
e
ha
d
managed
a
showe
r
bu
t
th
e
tas
k
o
f
choosin
g
somethin
g
t
o
wea
r
was
makin
g
he
r
dizz
y
.

“
W
ea
r
th
e
blu
e
dress,
”
sai
d
Poll
y
,
no
w
applyin
g
lipstick.
Sh
e
wa
s
mile
s
ahead
.

“
Y
o
u
thin
k
so?
”

“
I
kno
w
so,
”
sai
d
Poll
y
.
“
Y
o
u
nee
d
somethin
g
t
o
bright
e
n
yo
u
u
p
an
d
th
e
yello
w
on
e
wil
l
mak
e
yo
u
loo
k
lik
e
you’re
abou
t
t
o
b
e
sick
.
Y
ou’r
e
yello
w
enough
,
believ
e
me.
”

“
I
am
abou
t
t
o
b
e
sick
.
Honestl
y
.
Breakfast
?
D
o
I
have to?
”

Poll
y
giggle
d
a
t
ho
w
th
e
role
s
ha
d
reversed
.
I
t
wa
s
only th
e
evenin
g
befor
e
tha
t
T
es
s
wa
s
tellin
g
he
r
wha
t
t
o
wear an
d
wha
t
t
o
d
o
an
d
ho
w
t
o
d
o
it
.

“
Y
o
u
shoul
d
tr
y
an
d
ea
t
something,
”
sh
e
said
,
“eve
n
if
it
’
s
onl
y
som
e
te
a
an
d
toast
.
W
e
nee
d
t
o
ge
t
o
n
th
e
road soon
,
I
suppose
.
S
o
muc
h
fo
r
sp
a
treatments
!
I
couldn
’
t
be bothered
.
Coul
d
you?
”