The Party: The gripping new psychological thriller from the bestseller Lisa Hall
‘Not quite done yet, sorry, Rachel.’ Carrie appears in the doorway, obviously overhearing, and replies before Gareth gets the chance to. ‘I’d really like to get the doctor to give you a quick medical examination, and to take some photos of that nasty bruising, if that’s OK with you. We’ll also do some tests for STDs and a pregnancy test.’
God, I want to weep, the thought of someone pulling at me, inspecting the deepest parts of me, makes me want to throw up. I can’t even entertain the thought that whoever he is might have given me something else as well.
‘Rachel, please,’ desperation leaches into Gareth’s voice, ‘you’ve been really brave. Please just do this one thing; whoever did this needs to be caught.’ Fighting back the panic that seems to have been simmering under my skin since the night of the party I agree to the medical, despite feeling as though I might faint at the touch of someone I don’t know. Gareth is right – whoever did this needs to be caught, and if it means I need to do this, then I need to do it. Gareth kisses my temple, and then I follow Carrie along a corridor towards the back of the police station, and realize that this must be the rape suite – a block of three rooms, one for examination, another room similar to the one I have spent the morning in, and a bathroom, complete with shower. Carrie explains that after the medical, I can have a shower and she’ll give me clean clothes to wear home, if I want them.
‘Where are the clothes you wore that night, Rachel?’ she asks, as another officer photographs the bruises that stain the skin on my arms.
‘At home,’ I whisper, ‘in the laundry basket. I haven’t washed them yet.’ Carrie tells me she’ll come and collect them, that I don’t need to worry, just put them in a bag and she’ll drive over tomorrow to pick them up. She leads me into the examination room and I start to slowly slide my clothes off behind the paper screen, my heart thumping double time in my chest. Even the realization that the doctor examining me is a woman doesn’t stop the fear from clogging my throat, and I lie on the examination table, my muscles so tense they hurt. Finally, endlessly, it is over and I slide from the table, wrapping the paper gown Carrie has left out tightly around my body and dress in my own comfortable, familiar clothes, ignoring the jogging pants and sweatshirt provided by the staff. Back in the room, Carrie perches on the end of the coffee table, talking to Gareth, both of them looking up startled when I appear in the doorway.
‘All done?’ Carrie smiles and gets to her feet, moving towards the door. ‘Rachel, you’ve been fantastic – really helpful. I’ll be over tomorrow to collect the clothing, and as soon as I have any further information for you I’ll be in touch. Here’s my number, you can call me any time, OK?’ She presses a business card into my hand and I whisper my thanks. I don’t want her to come over tomorrow. I don’t want to have to call her. I just want this to never have happened.
We drive home in silence, the claustrophobic kind that you could cut with a knife. I have no words left to say, and after a few feeble attempts at starting a conversation, it seems that Gareth has run out of sympathetic phrases, something that I’m more than a little relieved about. Once back home indoors, he offers to take Thor for a walk, somehow sensing that I don’t want to leave the house, and he grabs the lead from where it hangs by the back door.
‘Will you be OK if I take the dog out? I won’t be long.’ He doesn’t look at me as he fusses with the lead, not quite managing to clip it in even though Thor isn’t moving.
‘What were you talking to Carrie about when I was in the examination room?’ I didn’t want to ask, but the look on his face when I re-entered the room puzzled me, and I want to know what was said. He sighs and ruffles a hand through his hair before he answers.
‘I asked her if it made a difference, the fact that you’d had a bath as soon as you got home that morning.’
‘And what did she say?’ My heart starts hammering in my chest and my mouth goes dry. I twist my fingers together to hide their shaking, but I already know what the answer will be, I knew straight away when I saw her face when I answered the question.
‘She said it probably did. That it will have massively reduced the chances of them recovering any useable DNA.’ He stands and clicking his tongue at Thor strides towards the back door, slamming it closed behind him. I stare after him, my breath coming in frantic huffs as I fight back tears, at the realization that despite seeming so supportive on the surface, perhaps my husband doesn’t really believe me.
6
LATE AUGUST – THREE AND A HALF MONTHS BEFORE THE PARTY
Ted slides a warm hand up my thigh under the table and I push him away half-heartedly, feeling guilty at the little thrill that runs through my veins at his touch.
‘Don’t, Ted. What if someone sees?’ I look over my shoulder but the people at the other occupied tables are engrossed in their own lives, no one is paying any attention to us. We are sitting in the beer garden of a pub twenty miles outside of West Marsham, chosen for its tucked away location. Over the past two weeks things have escalated between Ted and myself, starting when he called me two days after the barbecue, seemingly to check how my hand was. We’ve met for coffee twice, just to chat, and now … now, we’re sitting in a pub, tucked away from prying eyes, and Ted’s hand is on my thigh. I have cancelled this afternoon’s clients, a risk in itself, in order to be able to meet Ted and I have butterflies in my stomach at the idea that something more might happen, alongside shredded nerves.
‘That’s why we picked this place, isn’t it? Because it’s little known and secluded, so no one would see us?’ Ted turns his blue-eyed gaze on me and stares intently. I look away, feeling suddenly shy. Feeling noticed. My stomach flips as I breathe in the scent of his aftershave and for a brief second, I long to feel his mouth on mine again, before I pull away, reaching for my wine glass.
‘We can never be too careful.’ Smiling, I tip my glass towards him before taking a sip of the cold, crisp white wine, perfect for the warm summer afternoon. Despite the buzz of spending time with Ted, there is always the niggle of fear that someone will spot us at the back of my mind. ‘Where is Angela today?’
‘Apparently she’s at work. But she took her yoga mat and she was wearing her leggings, so I strongly doubt that that’s the case, unless she’s going in after her “class”.’ A shadow crosses his face briefly, as Ted makes air quotes around the word, convinced as he is that Angela isn’t going to yoga so often to work on her flexibility. Despite the rumours, and what Ted told me that day in the bathroom, Angela is still living at the family home. ‘What about Gareth?’
I shrug and bury my face in my glass to buy myself a few seconds. Who knows where Gareth is today? He’s stopped telling me anything about the business, dealing with all the properties himself, and now that he’s taken on an actual, proper secretary he doesn’t even need me to do his paperwork any more, all under the guise of leaving me ‘more time for your aromatherapy’.
‘I don’t know where he is,’ I confess, draining the last of my wine. ‘He’s always either out somewhere, or closeted away in his office at home.’ Even when he’s only in his office, the emotional barrier he’s put up between us means he might as well be a million miles away.
‘So, things haven’t improved much between you recently?’ Ted asks, his hand moving from my thigh to rest lightly on the table, a respectable distance away from my fingers.
‘Not really. They’re worse, if anything. I mean, we’ve barely spoken since the night of the barbecue.’ I flush a hot red at the thought of that night, the night this … thing between Ted and I started. ‘Every time I try to talk to him he tells me he’s too busy and he’ll speak to me later.’ Of course, later never comes. I quite often have clients come to me after they finish work, meaning that I spend most of the evening in the log cabin at the end of the garden that serves as my treatment room, and then I’m usually asleep by the time he comes up to bed, if he even comes to bed at all, and he’s gone by the time I wake up in the morning.
‘You don’t have to put up with it, you know, Rachel.’
‘The same way you don’t have to put up with Angela sleeping with her yoga teacher?’ Immediately the words leave my mouth I feel like a bitch, even more so at the way Ted’s face crumples slightly. He pulls it back quickly though, I’ll give him that, and the look is gone before I’m even really sure I saw it in the first place.
‘Rachel, I know that my marriage with Angela is over. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think that. I wouldn’t have let anything happen at the barbecue if I wasn’t sure that Angela was about to leave me.’ Ted’s voice is quiet, and deadly serious. His forehead creases in a deep frown as he speaks, as if it hurts him to say the words out loud. I wish I had another drink that I could nurse, a barrier that I could hold between us, so things don’t feel quite so intense. ‘Angela is sleeping with Devon, or Cornwall, or whatever the bloody hell his name is. I’ve found the evidence – she’s not exactly tried to hide it – and much as it pains me to admit it, she’s going to leave me … the signs are all there.’ I want to ask him what the signs are, what should I be looking for in Gareth, but he carries on speaking, his voice breaking slightly. ‘That’s the reason why I put up with it all – because when she does leave, when I am left behind, telling Sean that life as he knows it is changing, then I can’t be blamed. It won’t be me that my son can’t stand to be around. I might not have Angela, but I’ll still have Sean. Do you see?’ His eyes search mine and my heart flutters under his intense gaze.
‘Yes, I do see.’ I look away, my right hand moving to fiddle with my wedding ring. It sits fast on my finger, metal snug against skin. ‘It’s different for me though, Ted – do you see? I do love Gareth – I want things to work with him, but I am so sick of being pushed aside, ignored … treated like I’m nothing.’ I raise my eyes to meet his. ‘I’m lonely, Ted, but when I’m with you, I’m not. I feel like you notice me. Gareth … he doesn’t even know I’m alive sometimes, but he’s my husband, and deep down he is still that man I married. I love him and I want us to get back to the way things were, but I also want this, here, with you. For now, anyway. Does that make me a bitch?’
‘Some would say so,’ Ted laughs, before reaching over and brushing his hand through my hair, in that way that makes me forget about Gareth and his cold, brittle demeanour, and I force away the feeling of self-loathing that bubbles under my skin.
I should leave, I know that. But sitting in the sunshine with Ted, enjoying the alcohol, the sun beating down on my bare shoulders, the feeling of actually being listened to for the first time in I don’t know how long, I can’t resist staying for one more drink before I head back to real life.
‘Another beer?’ I get to my feet, swinging one leg over the seat of the picnic bench, and picking up my empty wine glass.
‘Wouldn’t say no … but don’t you have to get back?’Ted flicks his wrist to glance at his watch. Another thing I like about him – he’s just as aware of where I need to be and when I need to leave as I am, although that might be fear of being found out that makes him so conscious.
‘One more drink can’t hurt, can it?’ I smile down at him. ‘And it’s like you said, it’s not as if there’s anyone we know here.’ Stepping my other foot over the seat of the bench Ted brushes his fingers across my ankle, sending a shot of desire straight through me. I’m not sure I’ll be able to go straight home after this drink.
The inside of the pub is dark after the bright sunshine of the beer garden, and I squint slightly as I enter, willing my eyes to adjust. It’s busier in here now, and glancing at the clock behind the bar I see it’s almost six o’clock. Not that I have anything to rush back for, Gareth won’t be home until goodness knows when, and Robbie will be out with Sean. I jostle next to a couple of men in suits at the bar as I wait to be served; the speedy service of this afternoon gone now as people stop in on their way home from work to enjoy a drink in the evening sunshine. Definitely best to make this the last drink before I get Ted to drop me somewhere close enough to the house to walk the rest of the way, but far enough out that we don’t get spotted.
As I wait, the pub getting busier and busier, I feel less and less confident about staying. What are you doing, Rachel? Are you really going to risk everything with Gareth for a fling with Ted? Just as the guilty feeling that sits heavy in my stomach becomes unbearable and I finally make the decision to leave it, to go home to Gareth and forget about seeing Ted again, I catch the bartender’s attention and he mouths, ‘Same again?’ I waver for too long, and then it’s too late – he pours a beer for Ted and another glass of wine for me. Turning, my hands full, I am startled by a man standing right behind me, almost too close. Beer slops over my hand and I yelp, holding the glass away from me to avoid it spilling down my skirt.
‘Shit, I’m sorry …’ He raises a hand to steady me before he squints at me over the top of his glasses, recognition dawning on his face. ‘Rachel? What are you doing here?’
Fuuuuck. This is the last thing I need. I knew we should have left while it was still quiet, less chance of being spotted. Now it seems like I’ve blown everything. Keep cool, Rachel, he doesn’t know anything.
‘Aaron.’ I keep my tone deliberately on the icy side, hoping that he doesn’t want to stop and chat. ‘I haven’t seen you for years.’
‘It’s been a while,’ he smiles, crinkling his eyes at me, ‘so, is Gareth here? It would be good to catch up over a drink, if you guys have time.’ He looks pointedly at my full hands, both carrying fresh drinks, and my heart sinks down to my sandals.
‘Ermmm, no.’ I manage to force the words out through my dry mouth. The urge to sip at the wine in my hands is overwhelming. ‘Gareth isn’t here, I’m just … having a quick drink with a friend, that’s all.’
‘Ah. Shame.’ Aaron looks me up and down, and I remember how he used to make my skin crawl when he first started working for Gareth. Aaron and I had been at the same university together but had never really been friends, he’d just known some of the people that I had hung around with. I hadn’t seen him since graduation, not until his CV landed on Gareth’s desk. I didn’t remember him being creepy at uni, but when he started working for us he had this … unsettling air about him. Intense – to the point of making me feel quite uncomfortable.
‘We’ll have to catch up though, really soon,’ he’s saying, ‘I’ve just moved back over this way. I split up with Harriet, so I’m renting a place over in West Marsham, not far from you guys actually.’ Oh Jesus, I’m not sure things could get any worse.
‘Yes. Yes, of course. We’ll arrange something. If you’ll excuse me?’ Heart thundering so hard I swear Aaron can see my pulse jumping in my throat, I lift the full glasses and nod towards the door into the garden.
‘Nice to see you.’ Aaron stands to one side and I walk as casually as I can towards the beer garden, feeling his eyes on my back until I’m out of his sight.
‘Here.’ I thrust the not quite full pint at Ted and take a healthy slug of the rapidly warming white wine in my glass.
‘Easy tiger, what’s the rush?’Ted looks at me in amusement as I swallow, not even waiting to sit back down on the bench. ‘I thought we said one more drink would be OK.’
‘That was before.’
‘Before what?’Ted pats the bench next to him, but I shake my head and move to the opposite side, sitting to face him.
‘Before I saw someone I know. Someone who knows Gareth.’ I scan my eyes quickly over the garden, but I don’t see Aaron anywhere yet. Hopefully he’s decided that it’s too hot outside and taken a seat at the bar.
‘Shit,’ Ted swears, but still doesn’t seem fazed – he’s certainly not as worried as I am. ‘Don’t panic, Rachel.’
‘Don’t panic? Ted, we have to go – I don’t want us to be seen together!’ I start collecting up my cardigan and bag, tucking the strap under my arm, but Ted lays a hand over it.
‘Wait. If we rush off together it looks like we’re up to something …’
‘We are!’
‘… but if we just have a drink, talk and don’t panic, we look innocent, OK? Plenty of people go out for a drink completely innocently.’ He holds my gaze in a calm, steady look and I let myself take a deep breath. ‘Now, who is this person?’
‘Aaron. He used to work for Gareth, God … it must be five or six years ago now.’ Calmer now, I take another sip of wine. ‘He’s moved back here after he split up with his girlfriend apparently. He’s a creep.’ I suppress a shudder and peep over my shoulder, still anxious that he’ll come out into the garden at any moment and spot us.
‘Is he likely to tell Gareth that he saw you?’
‘I don’t know … maybe. I don’t know why he’s back, or what his plans are. I don’t know if he’s made any plans to see Gareth, although he did say it would be good to catch up. I was so rattled to see him that I forgot to ask.’
‘OK. If anyone asks … or more importantly, if Gareth asks, we were meeting to discuss a job opportunity.’
‘A job opportunity?’ I’m not quite sure where Ted is going with this, or how he’s going to make this convincing. ‘Ted, you’re a salesman. I don’t even know what it is that you sell. What job could you possibly have for me?’
‘I don’t know … part-time admin assistant at our offices? You used to do Gareth’s paperwork so I asked you to meet with me to discuss it. You turned me down. Too busy with your aromatherapy business. Honestly, Rachel, keep it simple and it’ll work, that’s if we even need it to.’ Ted’s hand covers mine, and I pull my hand away, too unnerved by Aaron’s appearance to even think of letting Ted near me.
‘OK. Oh God, what was I thinking, Ted? This is all wrong, I shouldn’t be here.’ Panic makes my heart stutter in my chest, and the burden of guilt sits heavily on my shoulders. ‘Please Ted, can you just take me home?’
Ted drops me a couple of streets away, behind the High Street that will still be busy even though it’s past seven o’clock. Digging in my bag for my key as I approach the front door my phone bleeps in my bag, but I ignore it, intent on getting indoors and into my usual slouchy outfit, one that I wear around the house, before Gareth gets home. Thankfully, there is an undisturbed air as I let myself in, telling me that I’ve beaten both Gareth and Robbie home.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I head upstairs, kicking my sandals to the back of the wardrobe and brushing my teeth to rid my mouth of the sour taste of the wine I’ve drunk. I tell myself that’s the reason – but deep down I know it’s so that Gareth doesn’t smell it on me and then question why I’ve been drinking in the afternoon. As I brush, I berate myself for being so stupid – how could I have let myself stay so long? Someone was bound to see us. And if Gareth finds out … well, it’s not just the two of us who will be affected. Am I really ready to jeopardize my marriage, to potentially lose Robbie who will no doubt take his father’s side, all for a quick fling? I spit out the toothpaste, eyeing myself critically in the mirror as I wipe my mouth. Stupid. Stupid and reckless, that’s what today was.
Comfortable now in yoga pants (I think of adulterous Angela when I pull them on) and an old Suede T-shirt I grab a glass of water and slump on the couch in front of the TV, wishing I’d just worked as originally planned. Tired from the stress of the afternoon and with a mild headache starting behind my eyes thanks to the wine, I huff in irritation as my phone bleeps again in my bag, before I get back up and grab it. A text from Gareth telling me not to wait up (no surprises there – my guilt lessens slightly as I read it), and a notification from Facebook telling me I have a friend request. Sighing, I text Gareth back, before opening the Facebook app and tapping the requests button. My heart sinks as I read the words on the screen.
‘Aaron Power has sent you a Friend Request.’
7
JANUARY – TWO DAYS AFTER THE PARTY
‘Are you sure you’ll be OK?’ Gareth pauses from where he’s stuffing paperwork into his laptop bag, running his eyes over me. He looks pale, washed-out, with dark circles like bruises under his eyes. I can only imagine how I must look – better than I feel, hopefully.
‘I’ll be fine. I know you’re busy.’ Too busy. The words hang in the thick silence between us. It’s the first proper working day back after the Christmas holidays and I know that Gareth is itching to get back to the office. In a way, I’m happy that he’s going for the day. I can’t shake the feeling that he doesn’t quite believe my story about what happened at the party; something about the way he looked at me when he told me Carrie said I had probably destroyed all the evidence. Almost as though he thought I’d done it on purpose. It’s hard enough trying to process it all, without feeling as though I have to convince him to believe me.
‘If you need me I can come home. You know that.’ I nod as he crosses the small gap between us, pulling me close for a quick hug before he lets me go again. ‘Or I can stay – if you want me to, I’ll cancel the meetings.’ He pulls the laptop bag over his shoulder and reaches for his travel mug of coffee, saying the words, but not really meaning them.
I shake my head, playing my part to perfection. ‘It’s fine, honestly. I’m sure Robbie will be home before too long, and I have Carrie’s number.’ Not that I’ll call her. ‘I’ll take the dog out for some fresh air and then maybe I’ll … I don’t know. I’ll find something to do.’ I force out a smile, shooing him towards the door and he scurries off down the drive, giving me a brief wave as he reverses the car out and heads towards West Marsham.
I sit at the kitchen table, hugging my mug of tea for warmth. I don’t seem to have been able to get warm since I woke up in that stifling, stuffy room in Liz’s house, the morning after the party. Closing my eyes, I tilt my head back and try my hardest to remember something, anything, about that night. I’m tired of not knowing what happened, tired of the fear that hovers every time I try to fill in the blanks. Music.That’s something that floats into my mind as I try and think – I remember as we walked in there was Christmas music playing, something old, maybe from the 80s, playing loudly, the bass line thudding in my chest. I remember Gareth rolling his eyes, laughing at me, as I started to dance my way into the house, grabbing at his hand to pull him along behind me. I still thought that I could jolly him into having a good time, that once he’d had a beer or two he’d loosen up and start enjoying himself. Did he, though? I can’t remember. Liz said she didn’t think we argued, but who knows? I should maybe start to think about talking to some of the others at the party, maybe they would know?
The shrill ring of the doorbell startles me, and I jump, slopping cold tea down the front of my dressing gown. Shit. I dab at it pathetically as the doorbell rings again, before giving in and getting to my feet.
‘Rachel. Hi. How are you doing?’ I open the front door to find Carrie on the doorstep. True to her word she is here, just as she said she would be. She looks me up and down quickly, as if she’s trying to assess me without me noticing. I notice.
‘I thought you would have called first. I’ve just got up.’ I feel as though I have to justify why it’s nearly ten o’clock in the morning and I’m still in a scruffy dressing gown.
‘I’m sorry, I was passing and I thought I’d pop in now, instead of having to drop back later. Is it OK to come in?’ She already has one foot on the threshold so I pull the door fully open to allow her to come in. She moves aside to let me lead the way and I take her through to the living room, aware that I haven’t tidied the kitchen after last night’s dinner.