“You’re taking up too much room,” I said, kicking Esther for the umpteenth time.
She fought her way out of the musky sleeping bag. “I need to pee.”
“You can’t go by yourself, you’ll fall into the bunker.” I stood up too quickly, and hit my head on a tent pole.
Esther laughed. “Spastic.” She was still dressed as Snow White.
I couldn’t tell her that I was the one who didn’t want to be left outside by myself because of the bunker, so I followed her across the dark patio in my clown suit. We had no torch, and stumbled on a stack of clay pots, which clattered over and broke. At first I thought the French doors at the back were locked, but after an extra-hard pull they came open. Inside, it looked like an elephant was asleep on the bed, and I was startled before remembering it was only the coats. We took turns going to the toilet, then heard giggling from the adjacent bathroom. I told Esther to keep quiet and squinted into the keyhole to get a better look. Behind me, Esther tugged at my clown suit, and tried to peer over my shoulder.
“Don’t stand so close. You’re making it all wobbly.” I shoved her away. Through the keyhole, all I could see was the mist on my glasses—steam from the bathroom had made them fog up. I wiped the lenses and looked again. One corner of avocado bathtub was visible and a gold tap, or half of it. If I closed one eye, I could see a bit more of the wall and a bit more of the taps. Disappointed, I pulled back to let Esther have a look.
“I can’t see anything,” she said after a spell at the keyhole.
“Maybe they’re taking a bath?”
Esther frowned. “In the middle of a party?”
We skulked away from the door, but hadn’t gotten far when a groan sounded from the bathroom—followed by a tidal wave of water hitting tiles. We rushed for the keyhole at the same time but I got there first, grabbed the door handle, and elbowed Esther out of the way.
“It’s my bathroom,” I spat. “You’re just a guest—remember?”
She shrank back and I looked through the keyhole but couldn’t see the tap—a tangle of buttocks and legs was in the way. Briefly, a gap opened up and I glimpsed what looked like a golf ball in a sock, then the whole lot slammed together as though powered by pistons. I was mesmerized, and wanted to look through the keyhole forever, but a dark shape fell across it, as if someone had pulled down a blind.
“What is it? What can you see? Let me look!” Behind me, Esther grew frantic. She yanked the yellow pom-pom on top of my clown hat until I fell backward, clutching at my neck where the chin strap dug in like a garrotte. Esther leaned forward and spied through the keyhole then recoiled in shock, screamed, and sprang from the door. She gave me a fright, and I screamed even louder than she had. A lumbering, splashing sound came from the bathroom and we hurtled from the door, tripping over each other to be the first to get away.
We made it as far as the bed, and hid behind the coat elephant. In the scramble, my glasses came off, but I couldn’t see well enough to find them. I clutched at Esther. “Can you see where my glasses went?”
“Shhhhh,” she said. “Someone just came in.”
Whoever it was knocked on the bathroom door, then when he or she wasn’t let in, they left.
“Let’s go back to the Wendy house,” said Esther.
I stuck my head above the coats just as a lock turned in the bathroom door. “Wait,” I said. “They’re coming out.”
A vast hulk walked out of the bathroom then split in two—one half tall and thin, the other short and curvy.
“Who is it?” said Esther.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t have my glasses on!”
The two halves rejoined and made a sucking sound.
“They’re kissing,” said Esther. “It’s disgusting.”
I tried to shut her up with a sharp look that was more of a cross-eyed squint and stuck my head over the ramparts. I willed the two figures to come into focus, or better still, to turn on the light. The short figure was a girl in a miniskirt. She held what looked like a cat—which she put on her head.
“Is that Pippa?”
“I think so,” whispered Esther.
The cat was a wig. I had glanced away at Esther for only a second but in that time the two figures had become three—Pippa and two men. I grabbed Esther’s hand in surprise. I wasn’t sure if the other man had come out of the bathroom or if it was the same one who’d knocked on the door. They huddled together and laughed, and I thought I saw the outline of a pilot’s hat. Trying to make out if that’s what it was, I strained my eyes to the point of popping—but to no avail. By daylight the world was a blur without glasses, and by night I was legally blind.