The taxi drops us off across the street from the club in the trendy part of Brick Lane. The nameless club is a black stone building, a sort of neo gothic looking affair with blacked out windows.  It looks like its been involved in a fire, but as I get closer I see the stone has actually just been painted a dark charcoal colour making it look fire damaged. It's set back from the road and seems to have a garden around it, kind of like a country mansion in the middle of the city. It must have been here for years yet I cant remember ever having seen it before.  Though its not as though I frequent Brick Lane a lot.  Or London at all these days for that matter, in fact I try to avoid the city unless absolutely necessary. I'm a country girl at heart.  And I have an ex and his new girlfriend here whom I want to be at least 50 miles away from at all times.

Of course the venue is ridiculously crowded and normally this sort of queue would put us off and we'd totter along to the next club, but these VIP passes get us to the left hand side of the doorway which is a much smaller line and moving down at a faster pace.  As we walk to stand in line the heavy thumping of the music from inside gets louder.

"God Alex, you really do need to thank Nick for these.  We don't even need to wait in the muggle queue," Robyn says craning her neck down the line and back up with wide impressed eyes.  "Oh my god is that Adam Smith?" she nudges me. Adam is stand-up comedian I vaguely remember seeing on one of those panel shows I hardly ever watch. As I glance ahead of us down the line in the direction she's indicating I nod. It is.  I think. He's one of those new young comedians who looks like a student, so I guess it could be him, or it could just be a student. From looking around at the people queuing it appears that the clientèle is mixed.  Those in the 'muggle queue', definitely look more like trendy student types whereas ours seems to be catering for yuppie city boys, who could also be footballers, and their WAGs; and possible stand-up comedians.   Our queue moves very fast and a few minutes later we're ushered into a dark moody foyer where several gorgeous maître 'ds are taking coats and signing VIPs in.

"Good evening Doctor." a 6ft tall, black-haired glamazon says to me after I hand over my invite. "Only 3 of you tonight?" She asks casting a friendly glance over Rob, Leigh and I.

"Yes, just the 3 of us.  Is that ok?" I ask, looking sideways towards Robyn and Leigh.

She nods, "Yes of course, it's no problem.  The invite admits up to 8 and most people take advantage of that. If I could I get you to sign in here please, and if we could have an address and contact telephone number for you - I assure you it wont be passed to any 3rd parties.  Its just to maintain our guestlist," she tells me professionally.  I hesitate briefly, I would never give out my details but since I don't want to appear rude or snooty by refusing I put my mobile down and scribble my address and hand the pen back to her. 

She takes it and smiles. "Thank you Dr Marlowe.  Ok, so we have you at one of our best tables this evening, number 3, on the mezzanine level.  It has a great view of the stage, and an elevator to the dance floor.   Our main guest DJ is on stage at 12 midnight and there is champagne chilling on the table for you right now.  Please help yourself.  There will be hosts on each floor should you need anything, and Kyle here will show you to your table," She says and indicates to an eager looking, incredibly attractive young guy who's smiling at us.  Kyle is pretty. "Oh and there are also cards on the table inviting you to pick a name for the club, so for fun why not submit a few – you never know.  The person who has the winning name gets a Magnum of Champagne and a VIP table for a year.  Worth a shot.  I hope you have a great night.  Kyle?" she turns to him, as the three of us look at each other and nod, with wide eyes impressed.

Kyle beckons us forward and we follow him up an elegant staircase to the mezzanine.  The inside of the club looks more like a mansion than a nightclub; it has lots of elegant features like gilded bannisters and intricate cornicing on the ceiling and dark red wallpaper along the walls.  So far I'm impressed.  The music starts to get louder as we're led down a carpeted, high ceilinged hallway that reminds me of a hotel.  Kyle stops at a door, which reads "Number 3" on it and slides a hotel style key-card into the lock and pushes open the door, revealing for the first time the main part of the club.  It's dark, with lots of exposed brickwork and modern neon strip lighting - it manages to look gothic, with an almost futuristic modern twist. The music is loud, and the lights are low and the booth is circular and raised with seats of dark leather and a contemporary black chandelier hanging low above the table.  The girls and I smile and nod at each other in appreciation as we sit down.

"Ladies, this is your table for the night.  You wont need to exit via this door again as everything you need is in the main part of the club now. The ladies toilets are across the walkway to the right," Kyle gestures beyond us to a lit glass bridge that goes across and above the main dance floor, which is already crowded with dancers. "If you need any drinks, just press this button and someone will come and take care of it.  The bar is just down to the left, and there is another across the walkway. There's also one the ground level.  At the end of the night this door you will unlock and you can leave the way you came in, or if you are down on the main dance floor you can just exit via the main entrance.  That ok?" he asks and we nod, somewhat awed by his pretty face and professional tone.  "Great. Now, can I open this champagne for you?"  He says reaching to lift the bucket from its ice bed.  God he's good.

"Yes please." we answer together, before breaking into stupid unified laughter. Kyle pours our drinks with a smile and wishes us a good night throwing a lingering look and a strange smile in my direction before exiting via the door we came in.  

"God, this place is amazing!  I'm definitely coming back.  Dan would love it.  Though maybe we need to bring you to get this kind of treatment huh Al?" Robyn says knowingly.

"You don't need to sound so put out by the idea of having to bring me." I say in jest.  "But seriously though, to think I almost binned these invites.   Who do you think the guest DJ is?  Anyone famous?" I take a large sip and lift the bottle out of the ice bucket to see that it's black label Lanson.  "God they must be spending a fortune on this launch night, this is good stuff, and not cheap."

"Well I'm glad they've spent a fortune." Rob says standing.  "Ok, I'm going to the ladies and to have a look around."

"Robyn, please don't spend hours chatting with random strangers in the toilet again." I shout to her as she steps out of our booth.  Robyn is notorious for striking up deep and meaningful conversations with complete strangers in bathrooms or supermarkets or DIY stores. She's that kind of approachable known you forever kind of person.

"Ha! Promise!" She laughs before teetering off across the bridge.  I slide round the booth to Leigh.

"So, what's happening with boss man?" I ask her, raising my voice slightly as the music kicks into something a bit heavier and louder. 

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "I honestly don't know Alex; I'm so confused about it all, about him.  I know I'm an idiot to think he'll leave her, even though he says he's miserable and it's pretty much over.  I don't get it – I don't get him.  I mean I don't see him for almost a week and then when I do it's at my place.  But when he's with me its like he's with me you know?" she says.   I say nothing, trying to keep my face impassive.  Leigh puts her hand on my arm, and drops her head.  "I know how you feel about all this, after what happened with Ben, but I just cant seem to convince myself that I'm better off without him. I'm trying though, really. But the sex is just..." she looks up at me her eyes wide then we giggle.   Sex.  Yes, well that wasn't something really single people did that often.  The last time was with Ben about a week before I found out he had been cheating on me, which by my count was about 10 months ago.  In any case, I've never met this boss of Leigh's but I think he must be a complete scumbag to cheat on his wife with a younger woman who works for him.  At least there are no kids involved. 

"Also, we're off to Paris at the beginning of August so maybe I'll wait until after that to properly end things." she finishes with a small laugh and a shrug.  She won't end things.  We both know that but it makes her feel better to think that she could if she wanted.  I smile at her.

"Oh yeah of course.  I mean we don't want him sleeping in that big 5-star hotel bed all on his own do we?"  We both laugh, just as Robyn returns from the ladies declaring that this is the best club she's been to since Pacha and that she's convinced she saw a Chelsea footballer going into the men's toilet. 

"Ok. My turn to pee." I say getting up.

I leave her and Leigh to chat while I weave my way through the VIP guests towards the bathroom.  There's been a lot of money spent on the interior, and although I'm not really the nightclub goer in general –hot sweaty people pressed together generally just makes me think germ transfer.  I prefer parks and museums and art galleries and wide empty spaces where you can breathe, I can still appreciate that it's a cool venue, and definitely one of the best looking clubs I've been inside.  The large gilded mirrors hanging around the upper walls gives it a spacious feel, yet the exposed brick and dark metal still gives it a dark, edgy vibe.  The music playing is current with a dance edge, rather than the heavy thumping bass that most dance clubs force on you.   As I wander across the illuminated bridge looking down at the mobbed dance floor, I get the feeling that I'm being watched.  I really hope it's not by some prospective chatter upper and I pray that I manage make it to the ladies without being approached, which I do.  

I'm coming out of the ladies and heading back across the bridge, when pretty young Kyle comes striding toward me smiling.  He looks pleased to see me, as though he was looking for me, though that's probably wishful thinking on my part most likely.   Too young anyway.

"Dr Marlowe. Hi, Kyle, do you remember?" he says.  He's smiling that smile he gave me when he left our booth, like he is in on some secret I'm not.  Or he's thinking naughty thoughts about me.  I'm hoping for the latter. 

"Of course Kyle, hi." I smile, flirtatiously.   Then, because he's clearly about twenty-one if a day, I immediately feel like some creepy cradle snatcher and pull on a more motherly expression.  In my defense - really really single.

"Eh listen, I'm really sorry to do this but one of our guys is feeling a bit under the weather."  He rubs the back of his neck as he looks at the floor.  What a strange turn of phrase for a young guy, 'under the weather' sounds like something my aunt Audrey would say.   "We were going to call a doctor but then we remembered from the attendee list that we had one here.   Any chance you could give him a quick once over?   Make sure he's not about to keel over on us?" He smiles nervously.  

It really is a twenty-four hour job.  Well at they least they didn't stop the music and call "Is there a doctor in the house" over the sound system.   A small mercy in this case.  I raise my eyebrows at him somewhat indignantly, but Kyle reads it as concern and smiles reassuringly.  "Oh I think he's probably fine.  He just took an ...um.... dizzy turn.  Our manager was a bit worried. You don't mind having a look do you?"  He doesn't wait for my response before he starts to walk toward a set of stairs across from the toilets.  He turns and gestures for me to follow him.  Which I do. 

"Well I mean I have been drinking and just so you know, I would never do a consultation after drinking, but I suppose I can look him over." I say as I walk toward him.

"Of course.  That's great thank you.  The boss will be delighted.  He's up in the office.  Sorry to interrupt your night like this.  I'm sure it wont take too long," Kyle mutters. 

I follow Kyle up a flight of stairs and along another carpeted corridor exactly like the one on the first floor.  At the end of the corridor there's a door marked "Private", which he knocks on twice but doesn't wait for a response before punching in a code and opening it.  He holds it open for me to follow him through.  It's a large stylish office, with more exposed brick, and dark grey walls.  In the center of the room is a solid looking oak desk and on it is and a phone and laptop, which is closed.  On the wall behind it are several monitors showing various parts of the club; the foyer, the bar, the stage, some corridors and two showing outside; front and back.

Across from the desk, on the wall behind me is a large flat screen TV showing the main stage downstairs, though the sound is muted.  The wall on my right is almost entirely made of glass and in front of it are two dark leather sofas, separated by a low table.  Through the wall of glass I can see the mezzanine level and down onto the dance floor two floors below.  This must be the other side of one of the large gilded mirrors on the inner walls of the club. What a view. The manager can see every single part of the club from here.  I immediately begin looking for Rob and Leigh and our table across the way.

"Em just wait here and I'll go let him know you're here."  Kyle says.  I smile politely nodding, and watch as he crosses the office to leave via another door from the one we came in.

As soon as he leaves I look around the room for some water, but see only champagne in an ice bucket on the desk, with two glasses sitting beside it.   There's a fridge over in one corner but I think it may be a little rude to go over and start rummaging through it.  Whilst I wait, I count the number of drinks I've had - 4 glasses of champagne at home, and half a glass here. Ok, definitely too much to practice medicine.  I'll make a brief assessment as to whether this guy needs the hospital or not and then go back to the girls.

I walk closer to the large wall sized window and out across the now very busy club.  Our table is almost directly across from where I am now, a perfect view of our table actually, and I can see Robyn dancing near the balcony whilst Leigh chats animatedly to a group of guys in the next booth along.   They really are beacons for men.  Behind me I hear the door open and I turn around to get a look at my dizzy barman. 

My heart stops dead in my chest. 

Oh god.  It can't be.  I can't breathe.  I'm not breathing.  Or has the air just evaporated from the room?  As he starts to move closer the less I can breathe.   My hot tattooed probable criminal is walking toward me and he looks as though he's about to devour me whole.