Straight Bacardi. She splutters/ wipes her mouth and offers me the bottle. *Nah.* I shake my head and zip up the trousers. *Youre a fuckin girls blous... Rach. Jen up* she snears in mock disgust. *I feel sick.* Jan shrugs and gulps back the remains of the alcohol. *You ARE sick girlie.* *Whats this like?* Ive pulled on a huge baggy black woollen jumper that reaches down to my knees. *Its awright* says Jan without looking up. She is very carefully and delicately applying pink nail-polish to her. Lord Winsom.”“Jesus Christ,” Helen muttered, stepping back and away. Then she held out her hand to Fireheart. Another tableaux snapped in then. Lucas couldn’t see Fireheart from where he stood. He could just see Helen’s tired, battered expression, see her hand reaching down. Her hair had become mussed and rainbow spikes thrust into random directions from her scalp. Blood dripped from her chin despite her many heroic attempts to sniffle it up into her nose again.Fireheart grabbed onto her hand. More

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