A beam of light falling through a gap in the curtains disturbed my restless, fitful sleep.
It hurt! Oh God, it hurt!
My head felt as if an elephant was using it as a trampoline; my eyes seemed to be glued shut; my mouth had been used to store old sawdust and as for my tummy...
Was it morning? If I could open my eyes, I might find out but they remained stubbornly closed. I raised my fists to my face and rubbed my eyelids. The grit holding them closed fell away but not without a few malicious grains falling into each eye.
"Owwwww!"
I gingerly opened one eyelid, wincing as the early morning light struck me full in the face, burning into my head. I blinked, closed my eyes again and breathed heavily, trying desperately to think.
I was lying face down on a bed in a darkened room. The bed was familiar. The room was familiar.
I felt bad; very bad.
Tentatively, I opened both eyes, raised my head from the pillow and blinked again. The room was spinning and my stomach was churning. My mouth was dry; very dry and there was a vaguely familiar taste in my throat.
I raised myself on my elbows and felt the churning in my stomach increase.
Oh God! Move, Debbie move now!
Throwing myself out of bed, I leapt unsteadily to my feet and clasped my hands to my mouth as I rushed across the room, through the bedroom door, across the landing and into the bathroom where, falling to my knees, I hung my head over the toilet bowl and was violently and noisily sick.
My rather chubby body contorted with powerful spasms as I held onto the rim of the bowl, the smell and taste of vomit in my nose and mouth. The spasm passed then came again, I was sick a second time; it subsided.
I held firmly to the bowl to steady my trembling body, and tried to breathe my way back to sanity.
After what seemed a very long time, the room stopped spinning and my tummy felt a little more stable. With super-human effort I managed to flush the toilet; the slight spray of cold water revived me a little more and slowly my body came back under my control.
I closed the toilet lid and, still on my knees, breathed in deeply again, feeling my stomach settle a little more then raised one arm to the sink and with a hand on the edge of the bath, lifted myself up and round until I could sit on the toilet seat.
The coldness of the seat against my bare buttocks made me jump. I was naked from the waist down! How the hell had that happened? I was still wearing the tight yellow top I had worn the previous evening - though no longer with a bra.
Where was it? And where were my skirt and knickers? What had I being doing last night?
Nervously raising my head, I stared blindly at the ceiling as the memories began to come back into my mind.
Oh shit! The party! Would I never learn?
I filled a toothbrush beaker from the cold tap and downed it in one, then did the same again and again. The cool water seemed to reach out through my body bringing relief in its path. Both the room and my head had stopped spinning but my stomach was still threatening to erupt so it was with great care that I rose to my feet and tottered, still naked from the waist down, back into my bedroom where I threw myself back onto the bed and went back to sleep.
It was past lunchtime when I finally dragged myself downstairs dressed only in my bathrobe. I had thrown my dirty top into the washing basket and was running a deep, hot bath to try and help me recover at least some humanity.
While the tub was filling I padded downstairs intending to make myself a large pot of strong black coffee but the sight that greeted me as I reached the foot of the stairs froze me to the spot.
The house was a pigsty!
Dirty glasses and crushed beer cans adorned almost every surface in the lounge, kitchen and dining room; half- empty take-way food trays cluttered the tables and lay on the floor with predictable stains on the carpets. There were empty vodka and tequila bottles in the waste bins and on top of the television.
Would I never, ever learn?
Of course it had seemed a good idea at the time; all my friends had told me so. With my parents away for the weekend and my brother at University, I had the house to myself.
Mum hadn't been keen but Dad had assured her that at eighteen I was an adult now and could be trusted at home alone.
So what had I done on my first night alone?
Of course, I had arranged a party, straight away on the Friday night. No more than three hours after Mum and Dad had left for their romantic weekend a dozen teenage hooligans masquerading as my closest friends had descended on our home.
And the results were all around me. If I hadn't felt sick already, the sight of our lovely home trashed like this would have made me retch.
Worst of all, the whole house stank of cigarette smoke and, in some places, of other less legal smoke too.
Standing in the lounge, I looked around the room in despair only to find my skirt draped around the reading light behind Dad's favourite chair.
What in God's name had happened?
One thing was clear; with my parents coming home the following evening, there was no time for self pity; I had to start cleaning and start cleaning straight away. The bath would have to wait until I had made some kind of inroad into the devastation all around me.
I ran upstairs and turned off the taps then opened all the windows in the house, thanking God that the day was warm and I wouldn't freeze.
I grabbed a roll of bin bags from the kitchen drawer, pulled one open then went from room to room throwing all the most obvious rubbish into it. Beer cans, bottles, stale food; all went straight into the one bag despite my normal obsession with recycling and the environment.
A second bag followed swiftly but by the time it was full, I could see a toxic-smelling mixture of beer and curry beginning to leak out of the first bag and onto the kitchen floor.
Shit!
Grabbing the bag in one hand I searched for the door key but it wasn't in the door and I couldn't find it in the mess but I did find my bra on a hook behind the kitchen door.
Shit! Shit! Have to use the front door instead.
For a moment I hesitated; going out this way would let any nosy neighbours see me dressed only in my bathrobe but this was an emergency.
Holding my hand underneath the leaking bag I walked quickly and carefully into the hallway and towards the front door. It was closed but only on the latch; no key was needed. Releasing the bottom of the leaking bag I turned the handle, pulled the heavy door open and carried the bag outside.
I looked quickly around the street.
Shit again! Billy Thomas and his teenage friend were across the road on their bikes. They were staring at me too with broad grins on their lustful faces but I had no choice; I walked slowly and casually around the house to the bins where I calmly dumped the bag of rubbish. Then, moving as quickly I could without looking suspicious, I returned to the front door. I was about to enter and continue my cleaning when something distracted me.
What was that? I hadn't seen it when I had gone out but there, partly concealed by Mum's favourite plant pots was a good-sized display of fresh flowers.
Thinking that they must be a surprise present from Dad to Mum, I carried then into the house and placed them in the middle of the kitchen table. I was just about to re-start my cleaning when I noticed the name on the little envelope that contained the card.
'To Debbie'
