The Leaving Party: An absolutely gripping and addictive psychological thriller

by Lesley Sanderson

  ‘Lena. I might have guessed you’d be here.’ Her eyes flick up and down my body. ‘My invitation appears to have got lost in the post. I bet Ava didn’t tell you she invited me to stop by.’

  I’m still staring in shock, unable to form any words.

  ‘Thought not. I could hear the music as soon as I got out of my car.’ She glances at the expensive-looking Fiat parked outside the house. ‘Sounds like a good party. Aren’t you going to ask me in?’

  ‘You weren’t invited for a reason,’ I say. Ava can’t have invited her; she would have said so earlier. Wouldn’t she?

  ‘I’m Ava’s sister, Lena, her blood sister, and it’s time we sorted things out. That’s why I’m here. I care about Ava, always have done. You don’t want to stop me coming in, do you? I wouldn’t recommend it. I can make quite a fuss.’ She puts the pointed toe of her boot on the doorstep, forcing me to step back.

  At that precise moment, my phone beeps with a text. I make a point of pulling it out of my pocket in front of her, my body blocking hers. When Ben’s name flashes up on the screen, I wish I hadn’t. Martha arches an eyebrow at me.

  ‘Interesting,’ she says. ‘What’s my sister’s boyfriend texting you for? I assumed he’d be here.’

  ‘Not yet. It’s part of the surprise.’ Why am I even telling her? It’s none of her business. I shove the phone back into my pocket and move aside to let her in. A blast of cold air wafts into the house at the same time.

  ‘At least she’ll be getting away from you,’ she says.

  Her words land like heavy raindrops. Ava doesn’t want to leave me, she doesn’t.

  ‘Martha.’ Ava has come out of the kitchen. She looks stunned to see her sister. It’s clear she doesn’t know whether to embrace her or not, as if unsure of the protocol after the past few frosty years. My hands itch to snatch her away, but it’s too late. Martha takes the initiative and holds out her arms.

  ‘Come here, you. I’m so happy to see my baby sister.’

  That last comment is for my benefit. Insincere. Don’t fall for it, Ava.

  Martha fixes her eyes on mine as she squeezes Ava to her. Ava’s words are running through my head: She’s always resented you; she told me once you were trying to take her place.

  My chest tightens as I hold her gaze.

  I won’t let you take my place either.

  Twenty

  2005

  Ava ran into the house, forcing herself to slow down as she looked for Lena.

  ‘Your mate’s gone to the bathroom,’ a girl said.

  Ava risked a quick look behind her, but Gareth hadn’t followed her in. Her chest puffed in and out and she helped herself to another glass of punch from the bowl on the table, willing her heart to calm down. The feeling of absolute mortification evaporated and was replaced by a burst of euphoria. She’d done it. Her body felt weightless as the alcohol slid into her bloodstream and the music swelled in her head. She was itching to get onto the dance floor as soon as Lena came back, and she had a little boogie by herself while she topped up her glass again.

  A girl came towards her holding an empty plastic cup, and Ava laughed aloud, not feeling nervous or self-conscious for once. Why shouldn’t she be dancing around the kitchen? She was a single girl and could do whatever she wanted. Lena had been urging her to lighten up for long enough, and tonight she was going to take her advice.

  The girl frowned, and Ava stopped dancing. Oh no. It was Tess, Martha’s best friend. Her stomach convulsed.

  ‘Hello, Ava, what are you doing here?’

  Ava held herself very still, Tess wasn’t as studious and boring as Martha, but Ava didn’t want her to know she’d been drinking. If Tess told Martha she’d been at this party, this party at an older boy’s house, she’d be in all sorts of trouble. Grounded for weeks. Lying is wrong, Ava. But Lena called it twisting the truth. Lena helped Ava to be fun, to be a better version of herself.

  ‘Ava?’ Tess said. She had such a friendly face, and she’d always been nice to Ava. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t get her into trouble.

  ‘I’m with Lena, it’s her friend Danny’s party. She didn’t want to come on her own.’

  ‘Does Martha know you’re here?’

  ‘Martha’s away.’

  ‘I know she is. That’s not what I asked. Does she know?’

  ‘Probably not. We don’t get on that well, you must know that.’ Please don’t mention Mum and Dad.

  ‘Do your parents know?’

  In the next room, the music track changed, sounding even louder. Ava’s feet itched to go and dance.

  ‘They don’t. Please don’t tell them. They don’t like Lena. Going to a party with anyone else wouldn’t be a problem, they wouldn’t mind that.’

  It was true. Her parents weren’t overly strict as long as she was sensible. But when it came to Lena, it was a whole other story.

  She had an idea. ‘Let me get you a glass of punch. It’s really nice. Sweet, fruity.’ She reached for the ladle and missed. ‘Whoops.’

  Tess shook her head, smiling. ‘I can see you’ve had some already. Don’t overdo it, Ava, will you? I can’t drink anyway, I’m driving.’ She grinned and jangled a bunch of keys. ‘I passed my test. First time. Dad bought me an old Mini and it’s parked outside. No way am I going to drink and drive, not one drop. I’ve been waiting years for this.’

  ‘That’s so cool.’

  ‘Are you still going out with Gareth?’ Tess asked.

  Ava shook her head. ‘He’s not right for me. I’ve just told him, actually. Was that terrible, telling him here? Look.’ She showed Tess the string of recent texts on her phone. ‘That’s just this evening.’

  Tess shook her head. ‘If it doesn’t feel right … Not that I’m an expert, but I’d say you’ve done the right thing.’

  ‘That’s what Lena said.’

  ‘There you go then. Great minds as they say.’

  Ava smiled. Lena was right, she was always right. ‘I wish you’d tell Martha that. She can’t stand Lena. But thanks. Please don’t drop me in it, Tess.’

  Tess twisted her car keys round, looping them on and off her finger, as if they might give her some answers. She liked to do the right thing and be responsible, but Ava was a good kid and there was a chilled-out atmosphere at the party, with teenagers chatting and laughing good-naturedly. Maybe they were drinking a little too much, but it was no drug-fuelled rave. And she liked Lena; the girl had a tough home life and deserved a break from Martha, who was too judgemental.

  ‘Don’t worry. I won’t mention seeing you. I promised Danny I’d drop by, but I’m not staying long. Just go easy on the punch, and keep yourself safe.’

  Lena appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on her thighs.

  ‘Come and dance,’ she said, before she spotted Tess. Her eyes rounded at Ava. ‘Oh.’

  Tess smiled. ‘You girls go.’

  Lena danced into the living room and Ava followed her, feeling a buzz of relief, then a burst of energy. This was going to be the best night ever.

  Twenty-One

  Ava

  Martha smells of expensive perfume, and the soft leather of her jacket is cool against my skin. As she folds her arms around me, the buttery smell of her skin jolts my memory and the last few years fall away. Unexpected tears spring into my eyes.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I say, stepping back and looking at her. The rounded cheeks of her teenage years have settled into a heart shape, and not a line creases her forehead. Must be Botox; she’s the kind of woman who hates ageing, and she’s got the money to do whatever she needs to keep the lines from her immaculately made-up face.

  ‘Mum rang me, said I should get my arse down here before you leave the country. New York – get you. It’s a fabulous place; that city has a vibe like no other. And it’s about time, too – you and Ben have been an item forever. Don’t look so surprised. Mum’s always kept me updated on what you’re up to.’ She leans in and whispers in my ear. ‘I told the
lovely Lena a little white lie, that you’d invited me. I couldn’t resist – she’s so easy to wind up.’

  ‘Martha!’ I glance at Lena, who sighs loudly. Martha laughs, and I’m transported back to my childhood bedroom, my sister entering without knocking in that infuriating way she had, interrupting my homework to warn me against the ‘undesirable friend’ I’d been hanging round with at school. The rows that ensued. The air of frostiness that evaporated when Martha packed her bags and left hovers for a moment, and I’m a teenager again, caught between the two of them.

  ‘Come into the kitchen,’ I say. ‘Let me get you a drink.’

  Martha produces a bottle of champagne from her bag. ‘I brought you this by way of apology, if you’ll accept it.’

  ‘Thank you.’ The gesture thaws the atmosphere a little, but the cold touch of the bottle reminds me that we still have lots to sort out.

  Esther and some of the other guests have congregated around the table, filling the air with loud voices. I wonder if anyone will recognise my sister. Outside, I can see people moving around near the shed, sorting out the fireworks, no doubt. The small garden table is empty.

  ‘Let’s sit in the garden,’ Martha says. ‘It’ll be easier to talk out there.’ She’s taking charge, just like she always did.

  I glance behind me to see whether Lena has followed us, but there’s no sign of her.

  ‘I’ll just get some glasses,’ I say. Unable to see any clean ones, I wash a couple in the sink. Perhaps Lena was right about the plastic glasses being naff – especially having to re-use them. I wonder if my parents knew when they were here earlier that Martha was planning on coming.

  ‘I see you’ve still got your piano,’ she says. ‘Mum said you were playing again. I’m glad for you.’

  I’m just about to step outside when Dave from work appears.

  ‘Ava, there’s a woman who’s been taken ill upstairs. I thought you’d want to know. Sorry to bother you.’

  ‘Anyone would think this was a teenage party,’ Martha says, and I see a flash of my old condescending sister, followed by an image of me hurtling inside from a garden. A reminder of teenage parties I do not need. ‘I’ll come up with you. Our celebration will have to wait.’

  Celebration is not the word I would have used; typical Martha getting ahead of herself. Lena certainly won’t be celebrating, judging by the look on her face when Martha arrived. I want Lena to be OK after everything she’s done for me this evening; for her to laugh and dance and enjoy the party with me. For her to give me her blessing. The importance of this tugs at my heart. Martha’s only been here two minutes, and I’m caught between the two of them. New York can’t come fast enough.

  I keep my head down as I walk back through the kitchen, not wanting to be drawn into conversation with the group round the table. When I get to the top of the stairs, I see Lena in the bathroom doorway with Kate, and another woman kneeling on the floor, groaning.

  ‘Is she OK?’ Martha asks.

  Kate has a strange look on her face. She frowns at Martha, then glances away quickly, avoiding her gaze. She’s recognised her, that’s what that look is. The crinkling of the forehead, the quizzical eyes. It must happen all the time. Martha completely ignores her, smoothing her hair back with her manicured nails.

  ‘Give her some space,’ she says. ‘She doesn’t need loads of people crowding her.’

  ‘You chose to follow Ava up here,’ Lena says, without making eye contact. ‘How are you feeling, Sharon?’

  ‘I want to go home,’ the woman says. I didn’t recognise her without her Lycra vest and leggings, hair tied up in a high ponytail. Zumba class on Tuesdays. Sharon is one of the handful of women I invited from the gym, in a fit of enthusiasm after they’d admired my engagement ring over a post-exercise smoothie. I couldn’t resist showing them the velvet box, with the ring nestling inside, swearing them to secrecy. Now I run my fingers over the smooth skin of my naked ring finger, the delicious knowledge making me tingle all over, followed by guilt at keeping it from Lena.

  ‘Is your coat in the bedroom?’ Kate asks.

  Sharon nods. ‘It’s a leopard-print jacket.’ She splashes water on her face and groans. ‘Sorry, I’m so sorry, this is so embarrassing. But that punch – what on earth did you put in it? I only had two glasses and it made me throw up.’

  ‘I think someone added a whole bottle of rum to it,’ Lena says.

  ‘Classy,’ Martha says, and Lena visibly bristles.

  ‘God, no wonder it made me sick.’ Sharon pushes straggly hair out of her face and takes her coat from Kate, who leads her off down the stairs, holding her arm as if she might break. ‘I’ve called you a cab,’ she tells her. Martha stays in the doorway, her nose wrinkled at the smell. Lena crouches down and wipes the floor with a cloth.

  ‘Let me help you,’ I say.

  ‘I’ve got it sorted.’ Lena doesn’t look up. Her shoulders are taut, her muscles straining. A plaster peeps out from under the strap of her dress; her tattoo. She swipes at the tiles with jerky movements, knocking against the side of the bath.

  ‘Does this remind you of anything?’ she asks.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You leaning over the toilet spewing your guts, me holding you steady, wiping sick from your hair. It used to happen a lot when we were teenagers. Your mum looked down on me then; she didn’t realise how much time I spent looking after you.’

  ‘I wasn’t used to drinking.’ We both laugh at the shared memory. ‘And you know Mum hasn’t seen you in that way for years.’

  She sighs. ‘But now that you’re leaving, everything is going to be so different.’

  ‘Change happens, deal with it,’ Martha says, and Lena glares at her.

  ‘Don’t be like that, Lena,’ I say. ‘My parents will never stop loving you, and neither will I. But this is happening. You can’t just ignore it and hope it will go away. You need to live your own life now.’

  ‘Let me come with you,’ she says.

  Martha hoots with laughter.

  ‘Maybe you could wait outside?’ I suggest to my sister, not wanting to be stuck between the two of them in this enclosed space.

  ‘I’ll be on the landing,’ she replies, leaving the room and shutting the door.

  ‘It wouldn’t work,’ I say quietly to Lena. I can’t help feeling sorry for her. I stand up, catching sight of my face in the mirror. My hair has gone limp, and I fluff it up, pinch a little colour into my cheeks. I look like I need a good long sleep. ‘You’ve got your job here, your friends. You can’t just leave your life behind.’

  ‘But as a make-up artist I can work anywhere. And anyway, none of that means anything to me if you’re not here. We need each other, Ava. I worry you won’t cope on your own.’

  ‘Won’t cope? How old do you think I am? Besides, I’m with Ben now.’

  Her cheeks flame. ‘I don’t trust him. He doesn’t know you like I do. We go back years; think of how much history we have, everything we’ve been through. You’re my family, Ava, you’re like a sister to me.’

  I can’t believe what she’s saying. ‘Why don’t you trust Ben? You hardly know him.’

  ‘Have you ever wondered why it has to be you who moves to New York? Why can’t he come back to London? He puts himself first, always has done. I just want you to be sure. I’m not convinced he’s committed to you.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong.’ Again I touch my empty finger. ‘The thing is …’ my throat seizes up, but I force myself to say it, ‘we’re getting married. We’ve set the date and everything. I want to spend the rest of my life with Ben, and nothing you do or say will change that.’

  The words are out and it’s too late to take them back. Ben and I agreed we wouldn’t tell Lena until I was in America. He’s been saying for ages that she’s too clingy. Instead of seeing her constant presence in Cambridge as supportive, he saw it as odd, couldn’t understand why she didn’t want to make her own life and her own friends. Of course he would
see it like that; he doesn’t know how much I need her, how beholden to her I am. What she did for me. Which is, ironically, why I need to get away from her. But it’s so hard.

  She gazes at me, lost for words.

  ‘Married? And you didn’t tell me?’

  ‘Ben wanted us to announce it together. It makes sense now; he must have meant at the party, although I don’t get why he isn’t here yet.’ A niggle of doubt wriggles up like a worm from the soil.

  ‘You’ll be getting married over here, right?’

  ‘No, we’d like to get married in New York.’

  ‘Why get married over there? You hardly know anyone in America; all your friends and family are over here.’ Her lips plump into a pout and I try to ignore the sting of her words. Wrenching myself away from Lena was always going to be a challenge. After everything we’ve been through, when she literally saved my life, it was never going to be easy leaving her behind. Ben and I spent hours talking it over, planning. He was dismissive of Lena’s feelings; he said she needed to grow up and stop being so childish. The protective feeling I got when he said that sweeps over me now, my fists curling automatically in her defence. Only one more day to get through.

  ‘It’s not going to be that kind of wedding. We’re keeping it small. Just the two of us and witnesses.’

  ‘You could have done that here.’

  ‘This way is more beneficial.’

  ‘In what way?’

  I should never have started this conversation.

  ‘Beneficial for who?’ She’s persistent, fixing me with a steely glare.

  ‘For me. It gives me more rights.’