𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐈𝐬 𝐀 𝐋𝐨𝐰. ⁽⁽⁽ᵐᵃᵗᵗʸ ʰᵉᵃˡʸ⁾⁾⁾

A Party Full of Everyone You Know.

Track List:

It Ain't Me Babe, Joan Baez
Imaginationcy, Goth Babe
I Wonder Why, Josef, Loyle Carner
Plastic and Flashing Lights, Professor Kliq
I Wouldn't Ask You, Clairo
Saviour Complex, Phoebe Bridgers
Dissolved Girl, Massive Attack
ILYSB - STRIPPED, LANY

~

In the afternoon sun, the sleepy Cotswolds villages between London and Oxford are painted a sentimental and honeyed shade. The bucolic scenery is the perfect setting for Lydia's birthday party, far enough away from central to feel like an escape. Ray's never been particularly struck by the Cotswolds; one single-street village lined with sandstone buildings looks a lot like the next, the people all given to a territorial superiority that sets her teeth on edge. But Lydia likes the space, the greenery, the change. So Ray packs her overnight bag and catches the train out towards the countryside, arriving at Littlewick House, Hazleton, before evening. The house itself was once a manor or country pile, filled with bustling servants and home to some minor gentry. Ray can imagine smart traps being drawn by sleek ponies to deliver guests for a ball, or boxy 1920s Bentleys speeding towards elegant dinner parties held for the upper echelons. And now Ray, following in their footsteps in a Toyota Prius branded with a local cab company's advertising, leisurely pulling up in front of the imposing Georgian facade. She hands over a crumpled twenty pound note to the cab driver, who doesn't bother helping with her bags from the boot of the car. She's barely reached the steps to the front door before he's spinning his tires through the gravel and speeding back towards the train station.

She doesn't resent Lydia for throwing this party. It's a great way to bring together her various social circles, to celebrate without having to pay mind to licensing hours or club capacities or extravagant fees to book out tables. They have the place to themselves, a roster of forty guests, and a whole weekend to let loose. But Ray's never been the best at busy social events. She prefers fading into the background, enjoying herself by observing the myriad little stories unfolding around her. No such luck this time; as Lydia's best friend she has a duty to stand by her side and stay up to the very end, as Lydia would for her. She steels herself before ringing the doorbell, quirking a brow at the anachronistic electronic video system ignominiously plastered onto the wall.

***

"I didn't realise you were already here." Well that's self-evident, Matty thinks, feeling stupid as soon as the words leave his mouth. He had assumed Ray would arrive at Lydia's party late, likely caught up in her work and arriving only to knock back a few glasses of champagne and fire some cursory jibes in his direction. But here she is, stalling on the landing by his bedroom door a whole hour early, blinking at him like an interrupted woodland animal. It's an odd expression on a woman so tall, particularly with the large and tastefully designed gift bag hooked over her elbow.

"Yeah, I'm in that room," she gestures to the door opposite his. With little else to do, he caught an early train and assumed he'd be one of the first here. Lydia had answered the door and taken him to a large room chiefly occupied by a king-size bed decked out in white linen sheets so clean they almost glowed. He'd left his bag on the floor and headed straight for the bathroom, shaving in preparation for the evening. Sweat trickles down his spine, collecting in beads across his skin despite the shower he took. He's affronted with the image of Ray showering in her en-suite, presumably a mirror image to the one in his room. He breathes in, unsure if he imagines the smell of fresh shampoo floating in the air between them.

"I'm opposite," he volunteers without thinking.

"Did you get the silk brocade wallpaper or the stripes?"