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The lift shuddered, then stopped. Shit. Not again. The lights went out, and I felt a hand search for me in the darkness before the dim emergency lighting came on.

“Don’t worry babe, we’ll be fine,” I said, pulling him close as he whimpered. It wasn’t the first time I’d ended up like this. Serves me right for choosing a crappy hotel. But then… who’d look for us in this shithole?

I quickly looked round for an emergency phone, but knew there wasn’t one. Next time, I take the stairs.

“Danny?” He whimpered.

“Shh, Doug, it’ll be all right.” I didn’t like it myself, but Dougie… well, he’s scared of enclosed spaces. But we were on too high a floor to drag ourselves up the stairs after a hard day’s slouching around on the beach. We’d got pretty tanned the past few days, and were still topless. I’d have preferred to be totally naked, but the woman at reception looks too scary to go past dressed like that. Think Margaret Thatcher. Add in that ugly bitch off Big Brother 2 or 3 or something, and multiply by ten. She’s like the nightmare teacher who chases after you down those never-ending corridors of your dreams…

So, I guess maybe I should explain why we’re here. We… well. Me and Doug… you know. Harry – Harry was fine with it. But Tom… he went fucking psycho on us when we told him. Before we could get out of the house he’d given me a broken arm and Dougie enough bruises for me to know we’d never be coming back. We spent a night at James Bourne’s house, until Harry could bring our wallets and phones, then… we went. Brighton – pretty nice this time of year, if a bit tacky. Figured we could survive on savings for a few months, then get jobs after our faces had faded from the public consciousness a bit. I could be a minicab driver, Dougie… hmm… good question actually. Maybe a children’s entertainer – a clown or something. No. He’s too dirty. I’d say lapdancer, but he only ever does that for me.