He had nothing in his cupboards. There was only white wine and chocolate left from last night – and the wine was slightly tainted by the four cigarette stubs, kindly left by Marnie. It was probably just as well, Colin thought. He didn't really like white wine anyway, and he would only have drunk it if it wasn't filled with ash and paper. Last night had been eventful in many ways, but he was having a great deal of trouble trying to remember what those events were.

There was a cloudy remembrance of someone dressing up in some sort of costume – possibly involving a pink stocking. Colin was not sure if the someone had been him, Marnie or some other person. There had not been many people at the party – there hadn't been enough time to plan it properly – but somebody had stayed the night. He couldn't remember letting them stay – but the heap of duvet and hair slumped in the corner indicated that whether permission had been given or not, someone had taken advantage of his hospitality.

"I'm switching the lights on," he shouted.

The heap moved a little and the tiny groan it emitted seemed to indicate it was female. Not Marnie – she was blonde. This was a redhead.

"Leave me alone. Sleepy... head hurty," it wailed, quietly.

"Yes, well, I need to clean up – so you'll have to move," Colin was not going to let baby talk stand in the way of his mission. The house had to look untouched before Steve got back. One of the disadvantages of living in the same house as your landlord was the lack of freedom. Any party had to be well hidden, any mess had to be cleaned before Steve saw, and there was no opportunity to watch crappy reality TV (even though the television belonged to Colin) because Steve had threatened eviction if he found out. "Not in my house," he kept saying, every time Colin tried to broach the subject. Steve preferred porn and sport.

"Not moving." The girl sat up. She was still wearing her clothes from last night. Colin vaguely remembered her now.

"Jon's friend, aren't you? Where is he?"

"Left me here. We broke up." The girl pouted childishly.

"Well, I am really sorry about that – but I still need to move you."

The girl picked up a red-stained tissue hammock and offered it to Colin. "You should get rid of it before it starts to go rotten. They spread diseases you know. You should call someone in."

Colin made a small "eurk" sound and took the dead mouse, making sure he didn't touch the body, holding the hammock from the top. He was glad Steve had bought the stronger three-ply toilet tissue this time. Usually he economised with cheaper, more friable, brands.

"I'm hungry – do you have anything to eat?"

"Not unless you count the mouse," Colin said.

"Ew. No, I'm a vegetarian."

Colin nodded – unsure if the girl was making a joke. He was trying not to acknowledge his hangover, but the sight of the rodent carcass was making him nauseous.

"Are you a friend of Jon's then?" the girl, Carol, had started to roll up the duvet.

"Yes. He's an old friend. Excuse me, I need to dispose of this." Colin left the room. When he returned, Carol had turned on the television and was watching a programme from Steve's verboten list. Colin grabbed the remote control and switched channels.

"I was watching that." The girl grabbed the remote back.

Colin decided not to argue. If Steve came home before the house was clean, he would have a lot more to say than if he caught some strange girl watching television. Possibly. It was always a little difficult trying to predict Steve's reactions to anything.

He started to collect the empty beer cans and half-empty glasses. From the smell of some of them, the lavatory had been too far away for some people last night.

Instant coffee was not Colin's favourite drink – but it was all he could find. It was Steve's – but maybe he wouldn't notice the missing teaspoonful. Colin checked to see if there were any marking on the outside of the jar – just in case.

"Hey – are you making coffee – can I have some?" Carol had obviously tired of the reality show. Colin had hoped she would just leave if her own accord eventually – but that didn't seem to be happening.

"You're very old, aren't you? Older than you look. Although you look quite old. Is this your house? It's crap. Hope I can get somewhere better than this when I am your age."

Colin frowned at her. He was only 33 – not that old.

And most people seemed to think he looked a lot younger.

Colin didn't really want to talk to her – but she seemed to be demanding a response. "It's not my house. I'm a tenant."

"Oh, I am sorry. Are you very poor, then?" The girl walked over to Steve's cupboard and looked inside. She grabbed his good coffee – the stuff his girlfriend had brought back from South America, that he had not yet opened.

"Put that back – it's not mine," Colin said, panicked.

Even if she didn't open it, Steve was sure to have some sort of fingerprint detection kit, to check if his things had been touched. Colin had made sure he was wearing rubber gloves when he helped himself to the instant.

Carol ignored him and started opening the packet with her teeth. Colin jumped up and tried to grab it from her – but he was too late, as he grabbed the packet opened – and the force of his impact onto the girl sent coffee grounds flying.

Colin rushed to grab a cloth to clean them up.

"You knocked my tooth out you bastard." Carol started hitting him and Colin noticed there was indeed a white shiny thing, encrusted with blood, among the grounds. He picked it up and held it out to her, trying to stop the impact, and hoping she would stop screaming at him if she got her tooth back.

He was a little surprised when it worked, but even more surprised when she stuck the stumpy thing back in her mouth.

"It's not going to hold," she sneered, blood flecking her lips. "I've only just had that put in. I can't believe it came out so soon." She started running the tap, rinsing her mouth.

"I'm sorry – I didn't mean to do that." Colin hoped she wasn't the litigious type.

The sound of the key in the door was something of a relief. Steve's wrath was at least more familiar than that of this girl.

"What the...?" Steve's heavy footsteps came closer, down the uncarpeted hallway towards the kitchen.

"Colin – there are mud prints in the hall," Steve bellowed.

"Are there? Um, I am sorry, I just got in – this is Carol, Jon's friend." He picked up the cloth and rushed past Steve, into the hallway. Steve followed him.

"What do you mean, this is Jon's friend?"

"He must have gone out to get milk or something. Left his girlfriend here. I don't think he told her not to touch your stuff though."

"I'll kill the bugger."

"No – don't. It's not his fault. It's that girl – she seems a little, you know, not all there."

"You just met her, and you can tell that?"

"You know – sometimes you can just tell things about a person when you meet them. First impressions and stuff. I think she was watching that show you hate, too, so the TV may be switched to a dodgy channel."

Steve shook his head. "I knew I shouldn't have left him in charge of the house. "

Colin wiped off the mud print. "Don't be hard on him. No harm done – just a little stain – and look, I have taken care of that. And I don't think Jon is going to see that girl again. It's obviously her fault."

The girl came out of the kitchen. "I'm going. Tell Jon he's a shit." She squeezed past Steve and Colin and left, pausing to give Colin an extremely dirty look. The door slammed behind her.

"Probably best not to mention any of this to Jon," Colin said. "You know how sensitive he is."

Steve sighed. Colin decided to ask his permission next time he had a party.