In at the Deep End. Kate Davies

But the doorman dropped his arm in front of us like a camp portcullis.

      ‘You know this is a gay club?’ he said.

      ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’m gay.’

      ‘You don’t look it,’ he said.

      ‘Why?’ said Cat. ‘What does a gay person look like?’

      ‘Even if you are,’ he said, ‘I can’t just let every gay person in London in.’

      Bo appeared in the doorway of the club. ‘Hey!’ they called to us. ‘You coming in?’

      ‘If we’re allowed to,’ I said. I gave the doorman what I hoped was a cold, hard stare.

      He swivelled around to look at Bo. The flamingo on his fascinator bobbed in the breeze.

      ‘Hey, Orson,’ said Bo.

      ‘They with you?’ asked Orson.

      ‘Yeah. Can you let them in?’ Bo gave him a golden smile. He didn’t stand a chance.

      ‘Sorry,’ said Orson. ‘I didn’t realize.’ He stood aside. ‘Have a great night.’

      We hurried inside, before he could change his mind.

      ‘That was really cool,’ Alice said to Bo, in a really uncool way.

      ‘He was in my year at uni,’ said Bo, shrugging. ‘His real name’s Tim.’

      Bo led us to the corner of the dance floor where Ella and Rebecca were dancing, their coats in a pile on the floor between them. Ella was dressed eccentrically again, in a jumpsuit that looked like a tuxedo. I was nervous introducing them to Cat and Alice, but I needn’t have been. The heat and darkness of the club made everyone stand closer together than they otherwise would have done, shouting into each other’s ears like deaf old friends. Soon we were on our second bottle of house red, and Rebecca was talking to Alice – I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but there was a lot of intense nodding – and Ella was teasing Cat about her advert audition.

      ‘Why are they auditioning British people?’

      ‘Maybe no one in Germany wants the job,’ Cat said.

      ‘Are you fluent in German?’

      ‘Do I look like I’m fluent in German? It’s a non-speaking role,’ Cat said. ‘I just have to look enthusiastic about sausages in a German way.’

      Ella laughed again, throwing her head back, showing her perfect teeth. ‘She’s brilliant!’ she said to me.

      ‘She is,’ I said, and I gave Cat a hug.

      The music seemed to get louder and the club hazier, though it’s possible it just seemed that way because of all the wine. People started dancing and we joined in, eyes closed, hands in the air. Bo and Rebecca were dancing together, trying out some lindy hop moves to the EDM.

      ‘We should go out more!’ Cat shouted in my ear, over a dance tune I didn’t know.

      ‘Yeah!’ said Alice. ‘I love lesbians!’

      ‘Me too!’ I said, draining my glass and trying to refill it, then realizing we had run out of wine. ‘I’m just going to the bar,’ I shouted.

      ‘What?’ Alice shouted back.

      ‘The bar!’ I did a drink mime.

      I pushed my way through the sweaty, smelly bodies, looking over my shoulder at my oldest friends dancing with my newest friends, feeling a surge of happiness and gratitude.

      I ordered another bottle of house red and was waiting, half dancing, when I noticed a woman at the other end of the bar, long curly hair, leather jacket, staring at me – a ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ sort of stare.

      I looked away, a bit put out, but when I looked back she was still staring, still apparently hating me for no reason. When she caught my eye, she tapped her friend on the shoulder and whispered something in her ear. Her friend turned and then started walking towards me, looking me up and down, like we were in a Western and were about to have a shoot-out. I clutched my glass of wine in what I hoped was a threatening manner.

      ‘All right?’ she said, raising her chin to me.

      ‘Yes,’ I said.

      ‘My friend – the one with the curly hair? Yeah – she thinks you’re hot. Are you single?’

      I turned the woman down – the staring put me off – and went to tell the others what had happened.

      ‘Don’t you know about that yet?’ said Ella, taking charge of the bottle and refilling everyone’s glasses.

      ‘About what?’ I asked.

      ‘About the scary lesbian eyes. It’s a thing,’ said Ella. ‘If you fancy someone in a lesbian bar, you have to stare at her like you want her dead. And she stares back like she wants you dead.’

      ‘And then what?’

      ‘Then you have sex,’ said Rebecca, shrugging.

      I looked at Cat and Alice. They seemed as fascinated as me. ‘Without speaking to each other?’ I asked.

      ‘Sometimes,’ said Bo.

      ‘But how does that work?’ I asked. ‘How do you go from death stares to kissing?’

      ‘You just do,’ said Ella. ‘Although I’ve never got past the staring stage, personally.’

      ‘Try it,’ Cat said to me. ‘Pick someone. See if it works.’

      I scanned the room. Several of the lesbians were wearing baseball caps at a jaunty angle. I noticed more than one undercut. I felt out of my depth. And then I saw a woman standing next to the DJ booth who seemed more sure of herself than anyone else in the room. She was probably in her late twenties, tall and angular, with golden skin and short, dark hair, curly on top and shaved at the sides. She was standing up, shoulders back, surveying the room like she owned it, which made her seem even taller; her posture was the first thing I noticed about her. The second thing I noticed was that I found her incredibly attractive.

      I looked at Cat. ‘Do it!’ she said.

      ‘She’s too cool for me,’ I said.

      ‘She’s not,’ said Ella.

      ‘She’s looking away now, anyway,’ I said.

      ‘Go on!’ Alice said.

      So I stared at the woman until she looked away from the woman she was talking to and looked back at me. I kept staring. The others sniggered and turned their backs, but they were obviously still half-watching us, because I heard Ella say, ‘She’s coming over!’