They all lay on the bed

The party bustled on downstairs. Sky could hear the claps from Another one bites the dust echoing around the living room. Jonathan would be telling his story about the time he met Freddy Mercury, probably for the 3rd time by now. She slurped at her champagne, not bothering with manners in this dark room, away from the other guest. She placed her glass on the window sill. She stood with her hands on her hips and looked down at the mountain of coats lying on the bed, wishing the light was working.

She picked up her jacket and rifled through the pockets for her lipstick. She was wearing plum this evening, partly to go with her black velvet dress but also as cover, in case she hit the old vin rouge a bit too hard. She couldn't find it and why was there an apple in her pocket? This probably wasn't her jacket. She was very curious about the party-apple-bringer though so she thoroughly searched through all the other pockets and found a set of keys on a key-ring from the south of France; this must be Sally's. That would explain the apple to as she was on the Atkins. It was working too; Jonathan had definitely noticed. She tried to put on the jacket but couldn't and, in a moment of spite, hid it under the bed.

Where was her Burberry? Everyone seemed to have brought very similar coats, she had to hold up most of them to check the size so she ended up just searching all of them, telling herself it was the easiest way. Most of them had one of Jonathan's new business cards stashed from when he'd been throwing them out like bloody confetti earlier. Why didn't he give Sally one? Or had he and she'd slipped it intimately into her purse rather than ignore it like everyone else? She continued looking and came across Jonathan's Barbour. She glanced at the door in a fleeting moment of guilt but it passed.

Ten minutes later, Sally pushed the door open to find Sky crying softly, sat on the floor with an empty glass and something clenched tight in her right hand. Downstairs, the single scream was drowned out by the mass sing-a-long to We are the champions. Jonathan wasn't singing, he was in the kitchen, propped against the black marble breakfast bar, staring into his drink. He smiled to himself, running over the words in his head. He'd wait till the veranda was clear then he'd bring her out there and do it. He wondered nervously what she would say.