Why did he care about her? She'd be doing him a favour if she wrote off an old banger like that, the insurance was probably worth more than the car. If Abbey had her way, only people like her would be allowed to drive, people of means, people with cars that looked beautiful, driven by beautiful people, not rusty old things like that.
The cyclist she'd come so close to hitting rode past her towards the front of the lights, shaking his fist as he went by. She tossed her hair and blew him a kiss, revving away as the lights turned green.
Reaching down into the passenger footwell as she drove, she grabbed her phone, adding a caption to her photo as she mounted the kerb and then bumped back down again. "This city girl is ready for one last night of madness before the country life beckons."
When her father had first announced they were moving to the countryside, she'd been furious with him. The news had completely spoilt her eighteenth birthday. "You have to tell me this today?" she asked, kicking out at the convertible he'd just bought her, denting the wing and breaking the heel off her shoe at the same time. "First you get me the wrong colour car, then you tell me we're moving?" She leaned towards him as he mumbled an apology. "I hate you."
She'd stormed off to her room, vowing never to speak to him again. But that had been three months ago and in the intervening period, he'd bought her the right colour car, promised her a new horse when they moved and even taken her to Scotland by chartered helicopter to go to that spa she loved, the one that helped her soothe away the stresses of life better than anywhere else.
The more she thought about moving, the more the idea grew on her. The city was loud, noisy, and full of plebs. She could become an earth child, get the toxins out of her pores, live as simply as the peasants did, chopping wood and plucking apples from an orchard. She might even write an organic cookbook while she was at it.
There was just time for one last night out before the move and she intended to make the most of it. The queue outside the club was enormous and it wasn't even nine yet. She drove to the garage her father had rented just for her, feeling a strange sense of poignancy that she might never use it again.
The garage had cost a quarter of a million to buy but as she'd pointed out, "Would you rather I have to walk, Daddy? Why not go all the way and make me take the bus? Or get me a council house somewhere so I can get pregnant from some drug addict?" He complained, he always did but batting her eyelids and having a huge tantrum whilst he tried to entertain the Chancellor of the Exchequer and his wife was enough to ensure the deal was sealed. Besides, he'd just arranged to sell the garage for three hundred thousand so he should be grateful, she'd made him a decent profit on the place.
Climbing out of the car, she smiled to herself. It was so good to not have to worry about parking by her favourite club. Perhaps she should have made him keep it so she could come back when she wanted. No, time for a fresh start. Can't be an earth child and go clubbing at the same time.
She stepped out of the garage and onto the street as the door closed silently behind her. The unwashed masses gave her admiring glances as she sauntered by with a spring in her step. Yes, that's right, she thought, it is that dress you saw at the movie awards last week. It might have looked good on the winner of the best actress award but it looked better on her, though the chill of the wind wasn't helpful, making her quicken her pace as she headed for the door.
Someone wolf whistled and she ignored them. Plebs, they were all the same. When would she meet a real man, not some gutter scum?
"I'm not sure it's entirely suitable for someone your age," her father had said when she modelled it for him.
"It'll get me a husband," she replied, using the sweetener she'd used so many times before. All her father had ever wanted was for her to find a decent man and get married, not something she intended to do any time soon. Still, it was a useful excuse whenever he needed pacifying.
"Isn't it showing off a bit much of you?"
Abbey looked down at the slit up to her left hip, the cut of the chest, the missing panel that exposed most of her midriff, leaving her needing sticky tape to hold it in place below her belly button.
"A bit much?" she parroted back, stamping her foot and folding her arms. "Rather I go out in sackcloth and string? Is that what you want? Am I too ugly or too fat or is it both? Shall I put a bag over my head while I'm at it?"
"No, darling," he replied, admitting defeat. "It looks lovely."
"It had better, I'm wearing it out tonight."
She could feel the eyes of the queue on her, the men wanting her, the women wanting to be her. She smiled to herself as she walked past them all, pausing to give the slightest of nods to the doorman before stepping inside to enter a heaving mass of people, lights flashing in the darkness, music so loud she could barely hear herself think. It was incredible.
The heat of the place took away the chill of the outside in an instant. Looking around her, she ran her eyes over some of the people she knew. She would miss seeing Jocasta drunk and making a fool of herself, surrounded in her corner by men in suits, like a doe surrounded by wolves. If she got home without every hole sore, it'd be a miracle.
Edwina and Tamsin were sitting together though they were both tapping on their phones, no doubt uploading images of their night out. They could try all they wanted, they'd never look as hot as her.
Making her way to the bar, Abbey felt good. No, she felt better than good. She felt great. Then someone bumped into her, sending an entire glass of wine down the front of her dress. "You fucking idiot," Abbey snapped, sneering at the cheap suit in front of her, the middle aged occupant of the shiny fabric looking back at her in horrified shock. "Do you have any idea how much this dress cost?"
"Sorry, love," the man replied, brushing his hand down her front. "Didn't see you."
"Get your hands off me," she replied, batting him away. "It's ruined."
"Never mind, eh. It'll come out in the wash."
"That's it? That's your apology?"
"I said I was sorry. What more do you want?"
"I should make you pay for it but by the look of you, it'd take years."
He went to brush her down again and she shoved him backwards. "Get away from me!" she snapped as he bumped into a group of people behind him, stumbling and falling to the floor as she spun on her heels and stormed off.
She marched over to the ladies bathroom, doing her best to ignore the pointing fingers and giggling faces of Edwina and Tamsin. Pushing open the door, she shoved past the woman coming out. "Move!" she shouted, ignoring the queue for the cubicles and darting into the first one to open, locking it to the sound of protests from the queue. "This is urgent," she called out to them, looking down at the red stain that covered her chest, dripping down onto the bare skin of her stomach. What the hell was she supposed to do?
Chapter Two
When someone knocked on the cubicle door, Abbey didn't answer, she was too busy trying not to cry.
"Are you in there, Abbey?" a voice asked.
She fumbled for the lock. "Kate, thank God it's you. Get in here." Swinging the door open, she grabbed her best friend by the arm, yanking her inside the cubicle. "It's a disaster. Look at me. I might as well kill myself."
"It's not that bad, honestly."
"Don't lie to me, it's ruined."
"Look," Kate said, taking Abbey's hands in hers. "It's really not that bad. We just need to give it a rinse." She pulled open the door and led a reluctant Abbey over to the sinks, twisting the tap until water began to pour downwards towards the plughole. "Watch," she said, gathering up a handful of tissues and dabbing water onto the front of the dress.
"Hey, that's cold," Abbey snapped. "What's the point. Oh, my God, it's working."
"Designer fabric," Kate replied. "There's some chemical in it that repels stains, can't remember the name."
Abbey nodded. Kate knew everything there was to know about designer labels, from which assistant cut the cloth to what continent the threads came from. If she said the stain would come out, it would. She was right, as usual. Within minutes the red had faded to a barely visible pink. "Just need to let it dry and then it'll be good as new. Lucky the club lights are forgiving. Let's go get a drink, shall we?"
"I can't go back out there, not like this."
"It's a dark nightclub, not a catwalk. No one will notice at thing. Now, you're coming with me. I haven't had any alcohol for ten minutes and if I don't get some in me soon, I might start to sober up. That would never do."