You see, Myfanwy Lewis is trouble.
I first realised it when she asked Adam to make it official between them.
It was after a month of being with us. Of course it is possible that she did not quite know what she was asking. But it is just as possible that she did.
Adam was group property. It was an unspoken agreement. We were none of us exclusive anyway, but Adam, as the irresistibly hot group member, was the person who we knew in our souls could not be tied down.
Myfanwy, apparently, did not feel this.
By asking Adam to make their relationship official, and therefore exclusive, she was picking a fight with all of us.
What made it worse was the fact that Adam said yes.
The easy, open dynamic we had was ruined.
Adam and Myfanwy were one of those incredibly, irritatingly couple-y couples. They did everything together and began to skip group nights out in favour of couples nights in.
That's when we really started hating her, but by then it was too late.
She was in, and getting rid of her would mean getting rid of Adam, too.
Myfanwy Lewis was also the only one with a holiday home in Brighton.
We usually spent our time dossing around and getting as far away from sobriety as possible.
We all knew we were fuck-ups; even Adam, even gorgeous pristine Myfanwy. It didn't matter that, when she was lucid, Marie was a genius, or that Serenity was an heir to a small-but-ever-expanding chain of North London based fast food shops: we had all failed in some way or another.
We all had our own reasons for being the way we were, but what they all bown down to is that living life without having to give a fuck about anything is just easier.
No one can deny that.
So we spent our free time carousing.
One day, a Saturday, Adam says he's sick of London. Adam gets sick of Londonat least three times a year, this is nothing new.
He suggests we go to his family cottage in Cambria, which is what we always do.
We're all fine with that except Myfanwy.
She doesn't want to go to Cambria where she'd freeze her tits off.
Marie's the one who speaks.
"Well, have you a better idea?" she asks, in a snappy way.
"Yes," Myfanwy says. "Actually I do."
And that's how we got to Brighton.
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