The Party: The gripping new psychological thriller from the bestseller Lisa Hall

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‘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 (#ulink_4ca48da1-f5e0-5ebd-a325-4c034e78c85f)

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.

‘Here,’ I gesture towards the couch for her to take a seat. ‘Would you like tea?’

‘No, thank you.’ Carrie sits, and digs in her bag for her notebook and pen. ‘I’m going to be your dedicated officer, Rachel. That means that I’ll be the one keeping you informed of everything that takes place during our investigation. I know you gave us a statement yesterday, but do you think I could ask you a couple more questions?’

‘Yes, of course.’ I draw in a shaky breath. ‘Sorry. It’s difficult to keep talking about it, you know?’ Picking at the threads on my dressing gown, my stomach flips with nerves at the thought of having to talk it all through again.

‘I know, I do understand and I’m sorry that I need to ask you more. I just want to check and make sure that you haven’t remembered anything else, anything that might be significant.’ I shake my head, fighting back the wave of frustration that rises up in me at the thought of the black hole in my memory.

‘Just that there was music. There was music playing really loudly when we walked in. That’s it, there’s nothing else. What have you done so far?’ The question blurts out before I think. ‘I mean … how are you investigating this? What are you doing to find out who did this to me?’ The words tumble out and I raise my hand to my mouth to try to stop them. ‘Sorry, I’m sorry … I just …’

Carrie leans forward and lays her hand on mine, squeezing in some gesture of reassurance.

‘Rachel, I promise we’re doing everything we can to get as much information as possible. We’ve spoken to the party host and asked for a complete list of guests. We’ll be talking to every guest individually, asking them questions to see what they can tell us. Sometimes people see things that they don’t even realize are relevant. Any information can be useful.’

‘OK,’ I nod, already feeling a little calmer, now I know that even if Gareth doesn’t necessarily believe me, Carrie does. ‘And you’ll speak to everybody that is on the list?’

‘Of course, we will.’ Carrie makes a point of writing in her notebook, almost as if to prove to me that she’ll do what she says she will. ‘Once we have the results of your medical examination I’ll be able to give you more information, but the truth is …’ Carrie breaks off for a moment and I feel a swell of horror, as I know what she’s going to say. She swallows hard, as if finding it difficult to speak. ‘The fact that you had a bath won’t have helped … it might make it difficult for us to pick up any DNA.’

‘I had to! I had to have a bath … I felt …’ the words stick in my throat,‘I felt filthy. And anyway … I didn’t know, not at first. I thought … I don’t know what I thought; I just didn’t think it was that. Everything was so … confused, blurry. Things like that don’t happen to people like me.’ I break off, the words unable to force their way out past the lump in my throat.