CHAPTER THIRTY
Back on the terrace, Justin sat at the iron table making a joint. He had already thrown his few belongings into his bag and was waiting for the others to finish packing. He was trying to smoke all his dope. He didn’t want to leave any behind; it would have felt like some kind of mini defeat. So there were great clouds of smoke drifting lazily above his head. He was like a man possessed, making joints before even finishing the one he was smoking.
In her room, Trudy braced herself. She fixed a smile in place and stepped through the doorway onto the terrace. Justin looked up immediately and grinned as she approached.
“All finished are we?”
“Almost,” she said and came round the table until she was facing him.
She leant forward, rested her hands on the back of a chair, then,
