Читать книгу The Party: The gripping new psychological thriller from the bestseller Lisa Hall - Lisa Hall - Страница 12

4

JANUARY – NEW YEAR’S DAY

A dip in the mattress as somebody’s weight leans against the back of my leg pulls me from the uneasy doze I’ve fallen into. I’ve slept for a while – the light is almost gone, the bedroom swathed in darkness with just a faint orange glow from the streetlights outside – but it’s not been a restful sleep; dark images and shadowy thoughts exaggerated in my dreams. Turning from where I lay on my side, I roll over to see Robbie perched on the side of the bed. He leans over to switch on the bedside lamp and I squint slightly as the yellow warmth chases the last of the shadows from the room.

‘How are you feeling?’ He hands me a glass of water and a packet of paracetamol as I struggle my way into a sitting position, the duvet tangled around my legs.

‘Better,’ I lie, swallowing the pills with two huge gulps of water. The insistent thumping in my head starts up again as my brain protests at being upright, but the nausea seems to have subsided a little, so I’m not completely lying. ‘Where’s Dad?’

There is only silence from downstairs.

‘He’s gone out. He said you were up here sleeping it off, but when you didn’t come down for dinner I thought I’d just better check that you were OK.’

‘Dinner?’ I look at the clock on the bedside table, squinting at the numbers in the dim light. ‘Oh Rob, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was so late. Did you eat? I can get up now and make you something.’

‘No, Mum, it’s fine, honestly. Dad made a curry earlier – he said you always like a curry when you’re hungover. We saved you some.’ I give him a grateful smile, even though the thought of food makes my stomach roll.

‘And now Dad’s gone out?’ I frown, the chalky aftertaste of the pills thick on my tongue. ‘Did he take Thor for a walk?’ Thor, our ancient beagle, and possibly the most inappropriately named dog in England. A splatter of rain hits the bedroom window and I frown again, knowing how Thor hates to go out in the rain, and hates to go out in the dark even more.

‘No, I don’t think so. He just said he was going out. Look, Mum, are you OK? You look really pale.’

‘I’m fine, honestly. Just a little bit hungover, like Dad said.’ I can’t tell him the truth – not yet, anyway – that deep-seated maternal urge to protect my child from knowledge that will hurt him is in full swing. I smile to make the lie seem more like the truth, but my mind is whirring away in overdrive.

It’s New Year’s Day – where on earth would Gareth have gone? Surely everything is closed, it’s not like he’s got shopping to do. There is a little tickle at the back of my mind, a familiar one from the summer – the voice that whispered to me that maybe the reason why Gareth was so unbearable – snappy, irritable and secretive – was because he was having an affair. Then that makes me think about Ted, and the party, and what could have happened last night – no, not what could have, what did. My stomach turns over, and I have to swallow down the saliva that spurts into my mouth.

‘I could make you some tea?’ Robbie says tentatively, looking like a small boy again, and I wonder exactly what Gareth has told him about last night. Judging by Rob’s reaction to me, he thinks I’ve just overdone it on the wine and I’ve got a raging hangover.

‘That would be lovely. I’ll be down in a minute.’ Robbie leaves the room, thundering down the stairs like a baby elephant and I lie back on the cool pillows for a moment, before I force myself from the safety of the bed, the comfort of the bedroom, downstairs.

It’s almost midnight before Gareth comes home. Our roles are reversed, and this time it’s me sitting in the dark, nursing a lukewarm cup of tea, with Thor snoring at my feet. Robbie asked me if I minded him spending the night at Sean’s again tonight, and I told him to go, secretly relieved that he wouldn’t be home when Gareth came in, wouldn’t be there to hear what I have to say. My head feels less foggy now after my sleep, and the more I think about things the more I am convinced that whatever happened to me last night happened against my will. I wouldn’t have done that to Gareth – not after Ted, despite what people may think about me now, the thought of an affair never crossed my mind before Ted – and the fact that I can’t remember anything past the start of the evening fills me with terror, especially as I don’t think I drank that much. I hear the front door close, the lock engaging with a snick, and a few seconds later Gareth stealthily creeps into the living room, where I sit, waiting. He gasps as I flick the lamp on, clearly expecting me to be upstairs sleeping.

‘Shit, Rachel, you scared me.’ He holds one hand to his chest and I can imagine that, yes, I did scare him, sitting here in silence, in the dark. ‘Jesus, you look awful.’

‘Thanks.’ I am fully aware that I look dreadful – a glance in the hallway mirror as I made my way downstairs confirmed that for me. My hair is wild and frizzy, thanks to my falling asleep with it still wet after my bath, and my eyes are ringed with dark circles despite my nap. Now, I am sure, they are red-rimmed and puffy, as I’ve tried and failed to stop the tears that seem to leak in a constant stream, every time my thoughts turn to the previous evening. ‘Where have you been?’

‘I went for a drink. With Neil.’ He shuffles past Thor’s sleeping body and slips onto to the couch beside me. ‘I needed to get out for a bit … I had a lot to think about, you know?’ He takes a deep breath in, before he speaks again. ‘I’m sorry for how I reacted earlier.’

I lean down to stroke the dog, using him as the perfect excuse not to look at Gareth, just for a moment. I don’t know what to say in response, so I don’t say anything, not yet. Gareth fumbles for my hand, pulling it away from Thor and tucking it into his lap.

‘I spoke to Neil … asked him about last night. He told me that you stayed in their spare room. On your own.’ So, he can believe Neil, but not me. I squash the thought down, pushing it away to deal with it later. ‘So … I’m sorry. It’s just hard, you know? After everything that’s happened this year.’ He huffs a tiny puff of laughter, and I think I see a tear shining in the corner of his eye. ‘Last year. You know what I mean. After all the stuff with Ted, and us … I’m just finding it hard to trust you, and when you didn’t come home …’

‘Gareth, I need to tell you something.’ I talk over his words, not wanting to hear how he doesn’t believe me, not when I am about to tell him something that I desperately need him to believe, that I desperately need him to listen to, without questioning whether I’m being honest or not. ‘It’s important, I need you to listen to me.’

He stops talking and frowns at me, his hand tightening on mine, a warm comfortable squeeze that reminds me of the way he used to hold my hand, before we were married.

‘Gareth, last night … something happened. I think …’ I pause, my throat thickening so much that for a moment I struggle to get a breath and the sharp, bitter taste of panic floods my mouth. ‘I think someone raped me.’

As soon as I say the words hysteria washes over me, and I want to laugh at Gareth’s reaction. His mouth drops open and the blood drains from his face, leaving his skin pale and washed out.

‘What?’ He manages to force the words out, and as the hysteria leaves me I find that I am crying again. ‘Rachel … what do you mean? Someone … Jesus. Are you sure?’ Dropping my hand, he gets to his feet and starts pacing the living room floor, shoving his hand repeatedly through his hair. Thor squeaks indignantly as Gareth trips over his back half, before scuttling over to his basket to stay out of the way. I stand, drawing my dressing gown tightly around me until it digs into my waist, and step into the middle of the rug, hoping to stop Gareth’s frantic pacing. As he reaches me, I grab both of his hands in mine, pressing my palms against his skin.

‘No, I’m not sure. I think so. I don’t … Gareth, please listen to me.’

‘What happened, Rachel? Is this why you didn’t come home? Who did this to you?’

I shake my head, trying to deflect the torrent of questions. ‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know? Oh, Rach.’ Gareth pulls me towards him, wrapping his arms around me and I wince, aware that my wrists are sore too, I just didn’t realize earlier thanks to the heavier bruising on my upper arms. Tired, I rest my cheek against his chest for a moment, letting him hold me, before I look up at him. He smooths the hair away from my face. ‘What do you mean you don’t know? How can you not know? I don’t understand.’

I pull away, rubbing at my wrists and sit back down on the couch, my legs feeling strangely jelly-like.

‘I just … don’t know. I don’t remember. I remember getting to the party, Liz opening the door. Maybe having a glass of red wine?’ I look up at him and he gives a small nod, his face pale and his mouth pinched into a tight line. ‘Then I woke up in the spare room at the Greenes’ house, feeling like shit. Like, the worst hangover I’ve ever had. I don’t even know how I got home this morning, I felt so awful.’ I choke back a sob at the memory of coming to in Liz’s spare room.

‘But you think someone raped you?’ He kneels in front of me, the scent of stale beer on his breath wafting up as he speaks, making me feel sick. I smell a faint whiff of smoke on him, and know that he’s smoked a sneaky cigar with Neil.

‘Yes. My … I hurt. My thighs, at the top and … inside.’ Taking a deep breath, I slide the dressing gown off my shoulders to reveal the bruising at the top of my arms, the delicate skin underneath so purple, it’s almost black. ‘And I wouldn’t have done that to you, Gareth, not willingly, not after all we’ve been through.’

‘Fucking hell, Rachel.’ His gaze sliding away from my bruises, Gareth breathes out hard through his nose and I see the skin across his knuckles whiten as he clenches his fists. ‘And you have no idea who did this? No memory of it at all?’

I shake my head, fat drops hitting my knees and leaving wide, dark patches on the fabric of the dressing gown.

‘Nothing. It’s just black, like it’s been wiped from my brain. A black hole. I’ve tried and tried to think, to remember anything about the party, anyone that might have done this but I don’t know. I don’t know anything.’ I can barely swallow, my throat is so thick with tears and I am powerless to stop them from pouring down my cheeks, scalding as they drip from the end of my chin.

‘Oh God, Rachel, come here.’ Gareth pulls me to my feet and into his chest again, his arms tightening around me. The crush of his chest against mine takes my breath away, and for a moment I enjoy the sensation of not being able to draw breath. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers, ‘I’m so fucking sorry that I left you there alone, I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to protect you. I should have stayed. I shouldn’t have left you there on your own. I should have made you leave with me.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ I mutter into his chest, despite feeling that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t left me there, if I hadn’t been so stubborn, apparently, about staying. ‘I don’t know what to do, Gareth. I don’t know how to deal with this.’ Fear rises up and I pull away slightly, fighting to catch my breath, black spots dancing at the corner of my vision, panic making my heart beat frantically in my chest like a caged bird.

‘We’re going to the police,’ his voice is firm, ‘and we’re going to let them catch the bastard that did this.’