The Tall Tales of Daphne Monroe

Sunday 8th March

11:00am

I take it all back.

I am NEVER going to be a wild child. This is so not worth it. I can't live like this.

I'm DYING.

Here's to my very short-lived drinking career- a full eight hours. I don't know what was in that punch, but I would hazard a guess that poison was one of the key ingredients.

And I'm not the only one who is suffering. A minute ago, I rolled over and nearly threw up at the sight of Fiona, drooling like a gremlin on the other side of the bed.

Actually, I did throw up when I tried to make it to the bathroom for water, but I don't think there was a correlation.

I don't remember her being in the bed when I went to sleep. Then again, I don't actually remember making it into bed at all.

There's a good chance that Fee might be dead, I'll find something to poke her with in a minute, just to make sure.

But first the room needs to stop spinning.

Another little lie down will help, I'm sure.

1:00pm

We finally manage to take turns sticking our heads under the shower and washing away the alcohol and bad memories of last night enough to head downstairs in search of food. The smell of bacon and coffee leads the way into a state of the art kitchen at the back of the house where we find Uncle Fester, still in his penguin suit but with an apron covering it, frying up some eggs.

When he turns around I nearly throw up again. Written across his chest it says 'Kiss the Cook.'

I'd rather die, but thanks.

'Food for you ladies?' he asks, without a hint of emotion. His eyes are like looking into a dark pit, they are almost all black. I don't like it; I can't tell if he's judging us.

Just then I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window behind him and immediately know that OF COURSE he is judging me. How could he not? I look like the Wicked Witch of the West.

I quickly try to brush through my hair with my fingers but know deep down it's a lost cause.

Uncle Fester is just dishing up two plates of steaming breakfast and handing them over to us when the other members of the gang come lurching into the kitchen, sitting cautiously down next to us and grappling for the coffee like ravage wolves.

I take one glance at Alex and wordlessly slide my plate over to her. She looks like she could use it more than me.

'How you doing?'

'I feel great.'

'Really?'

Alex shakes her head.

'No, apparently I threw up in my shoe.'

'Eugh.'

'That's what I said when I went to put it on this morning.'

Eddie leans forward next to me to rest his forehead on his arms, groaning loudly. I move a cup of coffee towards him; emptying two spoons of sugar into it the way I know he likes it.

'Thanks Scooby.'

That damn nickname will be the death of me.

I wait until he takes a sip.

'I spat in that.'

'Wondered why it tastes so good,' Eddie grins at me over the rim of the mug as he takes another sip. 'How you feeling this morning?'

'Like Lucifer himself is taking a wee on my brain. You?'

'As soon as I come back from the land of the dead I'm going to kill Jack.'

This surprises me. What on earth could Jack, the man of so few words, have possibly done?

'Why?' I ask.

'He's the one who created that blasted punch.'

That BASTARD.

'Then let me be the first to offer a helping hand in his decapitation.'

'Interesting choice, I'm impressed Monroe. Can you remember anything from last night?' Eddie questions as Uncle Fester slides a plate of food towards him. I move my arms when Uncle Fester then leans forward to hand me my second helping. We both tuck in before I answer.

'From about one in the morning it's a little hazy. Why?'

'Because I have something to ask,' Eddie says, sounding sheepish. 'Did I throw up anywhere?'

I grin like the Cheshire cat. Eddie groans.

'Yes, my friend, you did.'

'How bad?'

'Year three, middle-of-the-assembly- bad.'

Eddie and I share a look; both trying not to laugh because we know it will make our brains explode.

'So, I guess we are even then, huh Scooby?'

I can't believe he's started to call me that. But oddly I find that it doesn't annoy me as much as when my Dad does it.

'Yes, Edward, it does.'

We have nearly finished our food when Théo walks through the door and my heart skips a beat. Dangerous in my fragile state, let me tell you.

'Hi,' I say with a smile, trying to keep it cool whilst knowing my hair looks like a bird's nest.

But then the strangest thing happens. Théo turns around from pouring a coffee and the FILTHIEST look crosses his beautiful face, right as he looks at Eddie and me.

It literally blows my mind. But that could just be the remnants of that nasty punch.

Théo doesn't say anything, just leaves the room and the rich scent of hatred behind him is so strong I might throw up again.

Eddie turns to me with a confused expression I know is mirrored on my own face.

'What the hell?'

6:00pm

Gerard drives us all back home in silence, dropping us at the pub and helping with the bags before leaving with an apologetic face.

What?? Does the DRIVER know what's going on but we don't? Eddie's right, what the hell?

We all crowd round one of the corner tables in the pub and I make tea for everyone in the kitchen whilst they start discussing what we could possibly have done to Prince Dreamboat.

'Hey kids, did you have a nice time last night?' Dad wanders over during a slow period, leaning against the back of my chair and staring round at all my friends all innocently.

Oh, Father, if only you knew...