by Lisa Hall
12
The night is long; feeling never-ending as I toss and turn in bed, convinced that every little noise I hear is my rapist, back to hurt me again. The darkness feels thick and invasive, not at all comforting, and an insistent tapping has me huddled up; shaking under the duvet, my heart racing and my eyes squeezed shut as I wait for the inevitable footsteps creeping up the stairs towards my bedroom door.
When they don’t come, I force myself out of bed and down the stairs, only to find a bare, wintry branch tapping against the living-room window. I try to force out a laugh, but it won’t come, sticking somewhere between my chest and my throat, as if it can’t get past the lump of fear that sits heavy inside me, weighing me down. Wrapping my dressing gown tightly around me I give up trying to sleep and head towards the kitchen for a hot drink and my laptop, deciding to use this time to carry on my investigations.
After speaking to Gareth the previous evening, the lies tripping off my tongue easily as I told him that everything was fine, and that of course I would seriously look into the Open University counselling degree while he was away, I waited for Ted to contact me. He promised he’d call after he’d spoken to the police, but my phone has stayed silent all evening. And when I called his phone it went straight to voicemail.
I grab the laptop and mug of tea and carry them both upstairs, checking on the way up that the front door is double locked. Once upstairs, the branches of the bare tree outside tap against the window again making my heart leap into my throat, so I run back downstairs, this time double checking all the windows are locked and snatching up a bread knife from the block that sits on the kitchen counter. I can’t be too careful.
Now, back under the duvet, laptop screen perched on my knees and illuminating the darkened room, I take a deep breath. I’ve updated my notebook with the events of yesterday and I’ve come to a conclusion. I can live in fear – waiting for him to come back, suspecting every man I come into contact with of having something to do with it, afraid of my own shadow – or I can properly look into this myself, find out exactly who did this and why, and actually do something about it. Only then do I think I’ll be able to move on.
I remember Ted’s words about how I was behaving that night, and without pausing to let myself think about it any more I type ‘Rohypnol’ into the search engine and wait for the results to load.
Two hours later, my eyes gritty and sore from lack of sleep and staring at the computer screen for so long, I look up as Robbie peeps his head round the door. Fingers of light are starting to creep in through the curtains as the sun starts to rise, and I hear the click of the central heating as it turns itself on. A quick glance at the clock on the nightstand tells me it’s seven fifteen.
‘You’re up early, Mum.’ Robbie grins at me, his face marked with pillow creases, hair standing on end.
‘I could say the same about you.’ I smile and lower the laptop lid, hoping he can’t see how shaken I feel.
‘College trip,’ he explains, ‘I’m a bit late actually. Do you want a cup of tea or anything before I go?’
I shake my head and wait for him to leave, straining my ears to hear the click of the latch as he locks the front door behind him, before I open the laptop again. There’s no doubt about it. I am sure that Rohypnol – the date rape drug – was used to spike my drink at the party. The symptoms are shockingly similar to those I experienced – the loss of memory, and the way Ted says I was staggering and slurring are prime examples of how the drug takes effect. Plus, it didn’t show in the tests carried out by the police, which fits, as according to the websites I’ve checked it only stays in your system for a short while.
Weirdly, this information is reassuring on one hand, as it tells me that I wasn’t so drunk I could barely stand – someone must have spiked my drink. On the other hand though … I shudder as I allow the thought to form fully. This means that whoever did this planned it. They planned to do this to me at the party, and they made sure they came prepared.
An hour later I am out of bed, showered and dressed, despite the exhaustion that hangs over me like a thick, oppressive cloud. I force myself to smear concealer across my face, to hide the dark circles under my eyes and my grey pallor, but draw the line at mascara and lipstick. I don’t want to feel pretty – just human. I’ve made a decision, and now I have to see it through, even though my palms are sweaty and my heart thunders in my chest at the thought of it. I get into my defaced car and take a deep breath, before reversing off the drive and heading in the direction of Gareth’s offices.
‘Rachel, hello.’ Tina, Gareth’s receptionist looks nervous as I stand in front of her desk. ‘Errr … how are you? You do know Gareth isn’t here?’ Her words tumble out in a rush and her hands flutter around her collarbone before her fingers seize on the butterfly necklace she wears around her neck.
‘I do know that, Tina, thank you.’ Her nervousness is making me more jittery and I just want to do what I came here to do, no fuss. ‘I’m here to see Aaron.’
‘Oh. Aaron. Of course, I’ll just …’ She reaches for the telephone.
‘No need,’ I say, with a confidence that I’m not feeling. ‘I’ll let myself through.’
Aaron looks up with a sly grin as I push the door open to his office, with my best brave face on. I refuse to let him see how frightened I am by what has happened.
‘Rachel.’ He stands and comes around to the other side of the desk. ‘What a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?’
‘I want to talk to you about Liz’s party.’ My voice shakes on the last word and I cough to try and disguise it.
‘What about it? I heard a good time was had by all, some more than others.’ He raises an eyebrow and I have to fight the urge to flee, fear beating at my breastbone.
‘You know what happened to me. At the party. The police came and spoke to you.’ It’s a statement, not a question.
‘Yes, they did.’ He has a mildly amused air about him and I think for a moment how there is no one on this earth I despise more than Aaron right now.
‘Stop fucking me about, Aaron.’ This time the words come out steady and firm, and I draw strength from that. You are not a victim, remember that, Rachel. In order to finish this, you have to remember – you have to KNOW. ‘Liz says you were there, but you told the police you weren’t, so were you at the party or not? Did you see anything on New Year’s Eve?’
‘Oh, Rachel.’ His eyes narrow as he looks at me, raking over my unwashed hair and tatty jeans. ‘I saw lots of things on New Year’s Eve.’
My skin prickles with discomfort under his gaze, and I know he’s toying with me. Changing tactic, I pull out the card.
‘What about this? What do you know about this?’ I shove it under his nose, but instead of drawing back as I thought he would he leans in closer to me, so close I can see the tiny blackheads that dot his nose, the smell of his aftershave making my pulse pound in my temples and sending a rush of saliva to my cheeks.
‘Pretty. It looks like you have an admirer.’ He is so close I can feel his breath on my cheek. ‘I don’t know about the card. It’s nothing to do with me. But you know what? Sometimes, Rachel, we reap what we sow.’
Shaking, almost faint with fright, I rush back to my car, desperate to get away from Aaron and the scent of threat and danger that filled my senses in that office. Afraid that Carrie won’t answer her phone if I call her, I drive to the station, clutching the print out of all the information I could find on Rohypnol, and the card that was left under the door mat yesterday.
On arrival, I march into the reception area before I can change my mind. The reception area is busy, and I wait my turn to see the desk officer, the thin, antiseptic smell on the air making my stomach roll as I remember coming that morning for the examination. Finally, I am seen and I ask for Carrie by name, remembering at the last minute that she might not even be on duty today. I don’t know what I’ll do if she’s not here. Thankfully, she is, and I only have to wait a short while before she
comes striding towards me, her hair scraped back from her face into a short ponytail. She looks tired, and nowhere near as pleased to see me as I had hoped.
‘Rachel.’ She smiles wearily, not holding out a hand for me to shake. She gestures for me to follow her and for a moment my heart seizes in my chest as I think she’s going to take me through to the room she took me to that morning. Instead she guides me through to a grey, bland interview room, taking the seat opposite me.
‘What can I do for you?’ she asks, folding her hands on the table in front of her. ‘You know we still don’t have any new information, don’t you?’
I can smell her perfume on the air, something sweet and childish that a teenager would choose.
‘I know,’ I say, pulling the bundle of papers out and laying them on the table in front of her. ‘I’ve been … looking into things for myself. I went to see Aaron Power at his office this morning.’
‘Rachel, that isn’t how these things work …’
‘Did you really speak to him? Did you question him about the party? Because you said he wasn’t there, only I think he’s lying.’
‘Lying? Rachel, please …’ Carrie looks as though she wants to put her head in her hands, before she pulls herself upright and opens her notebook. ‘OK. Why is he lying – did he say something that contradicts what he might have told us?’
‘Well, no. He didn’t say anything concrete, it was more a feeling … like he knows more than he’s letting on.’
‘Rachel, a feeling isn’t evidence. I know you want to find him, I do too, but we can only move within the law. You can’t go and do your own investigation.’ She closes the notebook and I get the vibe that she thinks we’re done here. We’re not done. Not yet. I will never be done, not until whoever did this is caught and punished, stopped from ever hurting anyone again.
‘But I found out something else … Jason, the gardener for the Greenes?’ Panic that she’s going to leave before I can tell her everything makes my words tumble over one another. ‘He was at the party. I don’t know why, I don’t think he was invited, so Liz wouldn’t have put him on her list … but Ted saw him there, he told me himself, and then he saw him again outside my house yesterday afternoon. He said he was going to call you, but I don’t know if he did … and then there’s this.’
Grabbing the card by its corner I pull it out and show it to her.
‘What’s this?’With the tip of her pen she opens the card and reads the sinister poem inside. ‘Where did this come from?’
‘It was pushed through the door, I think. It was under the doormat, so at first, I thought it was from Gareth,’ a rueful laugh escapes me, ‘maybe an early Valentine’s Day card. But obviously it’s not. I think it’s from him.’ I bite my bottom lip hard on the inside to try and stop the tears that threaten.
‘And when did you find it?’
‘Yesterday afternoon.’
‘Could anyone else have put it there?’ She turns the card over and runs her eyes over the front of it. ‘You don’t recognize the writing?’
‘No.’ The writing is all in neat, evenly spaced block capitals. There’s no way anyone could identify it. ‘I know it doesn’t look like much … but there’s something else as well.’ I tell her about the word carved into the side of my driver’s door, and we head outside for her to see it for herself. Crouching on her heels, she runs her finger over it much the same as I did the first time I saw it, before sighing and standing up.
‘Look, Rachel, I’m going to be really honest with you.’
My heart sinks and I know she’s going to tell me she can’t help.
‘I saw the article on the Echo’s website and on their Facebook page this week – I think a lot of people have. And West Marsham is a tiny place, there’s going to be some backlash. I don’t mean to sound cruel …’ I must look devastated as she reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. ‘I’m going to log this, the card and the vandalism, but it could be anyone who did this. You might want to think about having CCTV installed at home, if you feel unsafe it can be reassuring to know that cameras will pick up anything that does happen.’
‘Right.’ I give her a brief nod, disappointment clogging my throat and making it hard to speak. ‘Thanks anyway, I guess.’ Turning, I pull my hand away, but Carrie tightens her grip.
‘Wait a minute.’ She glances towards the building, as if making sure no one will come out and overhear us. ‘I do believe you, Rachel. I know there isn’t enough evidence for us to get any strong leads right now, but I want you to know that I won’t let this go, OK? I do believe you.’
‘You do? But I thought …’
‘I do. You’re not the only woman this has happened to, Rachel, and it’s so difficult to make these accusations stick, especially when there isn’t enough evidence – and in your case, you don’t even know who was involved. But if you can bring me evidence – something solid – then I’ll do anything I can to get the investigation back up and running at full capacity, understand?’ Her eyes bore into mine and I get the distinct feeling that there’s something personal in this for her.
‘OK.’ I offer up a watery smile, and she drops my hand, walking away towards the police station without a backwards glance. I can do this. I can totally do this.
Fired up by Carrie’s words, I jump back into my graffitied Mini and turn towards The Vines and home. The first person on my list of people from the party to talk to is Melody, seeing as she arrived later and was probably (hopefully) more sober than anyone else by the time I was taken upstairs.
Hurtling along, traffic lights with me for a change, I see Amy walking up the High Street towards her flat, and I beep and wave. She turns, but I think she can’t see me behind the wheel, as she doesn’t wave back, instead putting her head down and hurrying off.
Anxious to reach Melody before I chicken out, I zoom along the High Street, adrenaline making my nerves hum and buzz before it fades as I pull up on the drive, leaving me feeling drained and empty. I slide out of the driver’s seat and take a deep breath, before I make the short walk over to Melody’s front door. OK, Rachel, you can do this. Just go in there and ask her what she remembers. Tentatively I knock on the slightly cheesy lion’s head knocker, before banging it down properly. I don’t have to wait long before Melody yanks the door open, clad in an expensive looking yoga outfit, blonde hair teased high on her head.
‘Rachel! How are you?’ She leans over to kiss me, and I smell the flowery, tacky scent of pressed face powder with a hint of cigarettes.
‘I’m … fine. I just wondered if we could have a chat?’ I resist the urge to stamp my feet – despite the feeble sunshine that fights through the clouds, the temperature has dropped and the adrenaline buzz has left me cold and tired.
‘Of course, sweetheart. Come in, you look half frozen.’ She shows me through to the living room, plushly carpeted and littered with photo frames, all depicting her and Jonno swooning over each other. ‘What’s the problem?’
I fidget in the large, squashy armchair I’ve found myself in, feeling the cushion suck me down into its depths, before I manage to squirm free to perch on the edge. The room is uncomfortably warm and as fast as my toes thaw out, beads of sweat start to prickle under my armpits.
‘It’s about the party … the New Year’s Eve party, at Liz and Neil’s house.’ I watch as Melody’s eyes slide away from mine and she finds a piece of lint on her sleeve more intriguing than necessary. ‘You know what happened to me, don’t you?’
‘I did hear … and I’m so sorry, I’ve been meaning to call you …’
‘I’m not worried about that,’ I cut her off, so many have been ‘meaning to call me’ but haven’t got around to it, it seems. ‘I wanted to ask you if you saw anything, noticed anything … did you see Gareth and me together at the party?’
‘Oh.’ She looks relieved, flicking the imaginary lint from her sleeve and meeting my eyes again. ‘Yeah … I mean, yeah, I did see you two together, not that I saw anything. You know.�
�� The hint of an Estuary accent peeps through as her enunciation slides.
‘So, you didn’t notice anybody acting strangely, everything was normal?’
‘Yeah, just normal. You were dancing in the living room when we arrived, and you waved at me. You had a glass in your hand, but I don’t know what you were drinking. You were fine, then at least anyway. You were quite … flirty, if you don’t mind me saying.’
‘Flirty? Flirty how?’ This is the first mention of my behaviour before Ted found me and I feel nauseous at the thought of someone thinking that my having fun, dancing and drinking meant that I wanted something else entirely.
‘Just dancing a bit close to some of the chaps, that’s all, nothing serious. Gareth wasn’t very happy when he left …’ Melody jumps as a door slams, and Jonno’s voice booms out. Instantly she is jittery, her knee starting to bounce up and down as she rubs her hands along her expensive yoga pants. ‘Jonno! We’re in here.’
Jonno’s bald head appears round the doorframe, a scowl lifting from his face as he sees me sitting in the armchair.
‘Rachel. How are you, love?’
‘Rachel was just asking if we saw anything at the party,’ Melody jumps in before I can speak. ‘I told her we didn’t see anything. She’s just off now.’ Melody gets to her feet, but I’m not done yet.
‘Wait,’ I say, ‘you said Gareth wasn’t very happy when he left? Why?’
‘Maybe you should ask him that,’ Jonno says, the welcoming tone gone now from his voice, a hard look on his face. ‘There’s probably a few things you want to be asking him about.’
I frown, confused by what is meant by his comment, but Melody butts in again before I can ask him what he means. ‘He was a bit cross with you before he left, that’s all Jonno means.’ She looks nervously at him, her fingers picking at her cuticles.
‘Why? Did we argue?’ I knew there was something that night, some vibe that made me feel as though things between Gareth and me weren’t one hundred per cent right.