Pack Up the Moon Read Free Page B

MONEY” printed on it. I smiled when I saw it and told Anne I liked her style. She, disgusted at her husband’s sense of humour, asked me not to remind her while attempting to keep her
    back to it.
    The music was loud, people were standing about chatting, some were dancing and all were drinking. I didn’t really know most of them, they were the workmates of the two hosts, so I returned to the kitchen to find the two lads bleary-eyed and John choking.
    Sean looked at me and smiled stupidly. “Have a drag,” he said.
     
    So I did and I felt the back of my head blow off. “Sweet Jesus! I need a hat.”
    They both laughed and Sean told us how a friend of
    his had posted a sample selection of differing strains of
    cannabis from Amsterdam. The little plastic bags were name-tagged and accompanied by a menu. We were busy being sincerely impressed when Anne burst into the room
    with an empty tray. She took one look at us.
    “Oh lovely, what a pack of wasters! You’re only here five minutes and look at the state of you!”
    I smiled at her. Anne was Den Mother. John used to say that she was born an adult. She was the one we all relied on to be sensible and she never failed to deliver.
    “Got any glasses?” I asked, unable to move.
    She handed me two large pint glasses before leaving
    the room, with her tray now stacked with sandwiches. I filled my glass with wine and John’s with beer. I looked at the wine for a few minutes before taking a sip and made
    a mental note never to put wine into a pint glass again. Having said that, it tasted fine. Sean had started to skin up again and I was really beginning to relax after my stressful
    day.
    “Where’s Clo?”
    “She’s here,” said Sean, while dispersing tobacco with expert hands.
    “Where?”
    “Upstairs with some guy,” he answered, grinning.
    I felt suddenly alert.
    “I tried to get into the bedroom to leave my coat,” he continued. “The door was locked and Clo’s voice told me to fuck off.”
     
    John started to laugh. I wanted to check it out, but my legs wouldn’t work. Anne kept entering and restacking her tray, only staying long enough to warn us about overdoing it. Richard, who was pissed, was holding court in the sitting-room. We remained in the kitchen drinking, smoking and laughing at rubbish.
    After a while Anne arrived back into the room. “How’s it going?” I asked.
    “Richard is on his fourth we’re-filthy-rich speech. I really don’t know what’s got into him,” she said and suddenly I was reminded of my mother.
    Sean was laughing. “Haifa bottle of vodka, four Slippery Nipples and at least two joints,” he noted as though reading a shopping list.
    Anne remained unimpressed. “Yes, very funny, Sean. You’re a fucking comedian.”
    Sean was so inebriated he was fully sure that her jibe
    was a compliment. “Cheers!” he said, lifting his glass and John and I followed suit.
    “You’re a bunch of wasters,” Anne said and we fell about the place laughing, delighted with our title. She smiled and threw her eyes up to heaven like an amused
    parent admonishing bold children.
    She was piling more food onto trays when Clo walked
    into the room with a guy trailing behind her.
    “Hey, folks,” she said, relieving Sean of his fresh produce. The guy just stood there, not sure where to put himself. She parked herself on a chair and patted the one beside her. “Sit here,” she said, smiling at her new friend again.
    But he didn’t see her, as he was too busy looking at us,
     
    who in turn were staring at him as only stoned people
    can. He sat, appearing perturbed. We were waiting for an introduction. Clo smiled at us, as if forgetting about the sexual object beside her. Eventually _John asked her to introduce us.
    “Oh,” she said, “this is Philip.”
    Anne, now finished piling the tray, welcomed him to her home and headed off into the sitting-room. We all just smiled at him until he excused himself to go to the
    loo. The second the