The Leaving Party: An absolutely gripping and addictive psychological thriller

by Lesley Sanderson

  ‘Rights? You mean …’ Lena’s face drops as realisation dawns on her. ‘You’re not planning on coming back, are you?’

  ‘No. I don’t know. This way gives us options. You know what the United States is like. It’s really complicated – so much red tape to get through – and Ben is looking into the possibilities. Nothing has been decided, Lena, honestly. It’s bound to take ages. Think about the positives. Who wouldn’t want a best friend in New York? You’ll always have free accommodation. Steph is already arranging a Christmas shopping trip. You know you’ll be welcome any time.’ Ben will come around, I’m sure.

  Lena remains crouched on the floor, an anguished look on her face. She drops her head into her hands.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ she says.

  ‘Lena, please …’

  ‘Just go.’

  Twenty-Two

  Lena

  I’m crouched on the floor, wiping up sick. Ava has told me she’s getting married, and my world is spinning with all these changes. And Martha is prowling around on the landing, keeping tabs on my every move. Ava moves towards the door.

  ‘No, wait,’ I say. ‘I want you to explain this to me. Were you even going to invite me? Would I just have got a text saying oh, by the way …? I can’t believe you’d hide this from me.’

  She looks at me guiltily.

  ‘And I’m worried. I’m worried that you’re making a huge mistake. How well do you really know him?’

  She sits down on the side of the bath, twirling her hair round and round, pulling it tight.

  ‘You know exactly how well I know him. Why are you doing this? Why are you saying these things all of a sudden?’

  A sigh escapes me. During the party isn’t the best time to bring it up, but I can’t hold back any longer. Not after this revelation.

  ‘Because I’m concerned for you, OK? He should be here by now. He arrived in London hours ago, said he’d be here early, and I’m not sure where he is.’

  ‘What?’ Ava stands up, her face creased with concern. ‘Why didn’t you say something earlier? Give me your phone, let me ring him.’

  ‘Sure, as long as you know his number.’

  ‘Not by heart, but you have it, don’t you?’

  ‘Why would I have it?’

  ‘To organise the party, of course.’

  ‘You’ve never given it to me. I’ve been emailing him. I’m surprised you don’t know the number. Especially as he’s your fiancé.’

  ‘Oh you’re impossible.’ But she’s rattled now, I can see it, roaming around the small space, rubbing her arms as if she’s cold. The smell of vomit lingers in the air. The door opens and a whoosh of air sweeps through, blowing the smell into my face. I stand up, needing to get out. Martha sticks her head around the door. She must have been waiting outside.

  ‘Are you two OK in here?’ she asks, and Ava pulls a face. I barge past them, not wanting to witness this sisterly reconciliation, slamming the door behind me.

  The thud of the music fills the house, adding to my hyped-up mood. Seeing Martha was bad enough, but the news of the engagement sticks in my throat. How could Ava had hidden it from me? My chest is heaving as if I’ve run a marathon and my throat is tight. Is this what a panic attack feels like?

  I kick the door of my room shut behind me and survey the mess. Coats have been thrown in a heap on the bed and some have slid onto the floor. The dressing table is covered with my make-up from earlier and my rumpled clothes are strewn over the floor. The wardrobe is crammed, and I’ve got at least twenty boxes of shoes, mostly my trainer collection. My hair and beauty products fill three shelves. All of it has to be packed away and moved out tomorrow. And I don’t really want to stay with Stacey. David’s words from earlier come back to me, telling me it was for my own good. Did Ava know about it too, did she agree? The thought stabs at my soul. Everything Ava has told me tonight makes me think I can no longer trust her, if I ever could. Her getting married is the last straw. She’s not even wearing an engagement ring. Is that because she’s been hiding that from me too?

  Something shifts inside me and I lose it completely, sweeping my arm across the dressing table and knocking everything to the floor. A mug of half-drunk cold tea bounces off the wall and I scream at my surroundings, kicking at the piles of clothes on the floor. My voice is swamped by the party sounds that rumble under the floorboards. I hate, hate, hate my life and I hate her for doing this to me. I catch sight of my contorted face in the mirror, my mouth pulled into a snarl, and I can’t help comparing it with Martha’s twisted sneer. I hurl the mirror to the floor, where it smashes to pieces. Seven years’ bad luck – what do I care?

  Someone knocks on the door. I ignore it. Another knock, louder.

  ‘Go away,’ I say. The door opens and Martha appears. I go to close it in her face, but she leans against it.

  ‘Leave me alone.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Lena.’ She pushes forward into the room until we’re facing one another, my chest heaving in and out. ‘Are you all right?’ she asks.

  ‘What do you care?’

  ‘Let’s try and be adult about this. We should talk. I care about my sister.’

  ‘Not for the last … how many years is it? About twelve. I’m the one who cares about Ava, who’s been there for her no matter what. You just left her to it.’

  ‘Because I couldn’t stand to stick around and watch the way you wheedled your way into our family, conning my parents, making yourself out to be such a hero. Look at you now, showing your true self, throwing a tantrum and trashing your room. I’m thrilled Ava is cutting herself off from you.’

  Her words send a chill through my body. ‘Cutting herself off’ sounds so final, like a head under the guillotine. A sense of dread is creeping into my mind. Would she really abandon me like this?

  Martha stands there looking poised and glamorous in the chaos of clothes and shattered glass. She looks around at the mess, then stoops to pick up a framed article that I’ve knocked from the wall.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ she says. ‘You’ve had this on your wall all these years. I bet you look at it and congratulate yourself every day. You just can’t let it go, can you?’

  We both look at the newspaper cutting she’s holding, the paper yellowing with age, the glass cracked, only the metal frame still in one piece.

  ‘“Teenage hero”,’ she reads, in her precise, clipped voice. Rage swirls. How dare she mock me?

  ‘You’re just jealous because you weren’t there for her and you hated your sister preferring me,’ I say.

  ‘Listen to yourself. I left that stuff behind years ago. You’re still a disturbed teenager, stuck in the past. You haven’t featured in my mental space for years.’

  ‘Get out,’ I tell her. ‘I don’t want you and your lies in my room.’

  ‘But it’s not your room for much longer, is it, Lena, and then where will you go? Don’t even think about coming begging to my parents. Have you been wondering why they aren’t opening their arms to you for a second time, welcoming you in? I’ve made them see sense; that it’s time for you to make your own way in the world.’

  ‘Get out.’ I step towards her, my arm twitching like it does when I’m at my Boxfit class, Martha taking the place of the red leather punchbag in front of me. I clamp my hands together to stop myself from lashing out. I know too well the consequences of acting on my instincts and thinking later.

  ‘You need help. Now stay away from my sister.’

  She slams the door and I focus on the grooves in the wood as it rattles in the frame. Voices from outside draw me to the window. Out in the back garden a small group of people are crowding around. A man shifts, and I see orange flames flickering. I realise I no longer care about the smooth running of the party. I shrug, even though there’s nobody to witness my indifference.

  But I do care about this house. I care deeply. From the first sighting of it, I knew it was the perfect house for Ava, the house to entice her away from her parents, who
made it too easy for her. Easy for me too, undoubtedly, though the threat of Martha was never far away. She didn’t stop visiting when I was there; just made it clear I wasn’t welcome. Sue would encourage me out of the house, cheeks pink, words falling too fast out of her mouth, apologetic about her elder daughter and knowing I wouldn’t – couldn’t – make a fuss. This house got me away from that threat; it was Martha-free. As I stand here with my possessions in disarray around me, anger rises in me like the smoke that coils up from the bonfire, the smell creeping through the open window and filling the room. Martha has invaded this space too.

  Loud voices rise from the garden and I watch as Steph hands out sparklers, looking towards the house, calling for Ava, who emerges from the kitchen, unsteady on her heels. The slingback stilettos were another present from Ben, a surprise in the post. She knows I don’t have the money for such grand gestures, but I’m here for her and that’s what she needs. Steph hands her a sparkler and they all write words and patterns onto the black of the night sky. In their midst, the fire is burning steadily, consuming the hours we have left this evening, yellow sparking like the flash from a camera.

  A figure catches my eye. Martha is standing in a corner of the garden, smoking a cigarette. Steph passes a sparkler to a girl who has just joined the group. Dark hair, leather trousers; Kate. She shouldn’t be here. She moves closer to Ava as they chat and nod, Kate laughing at something, throwing her head back, moonlight picking out the sheen of her jet-black hair. Then she glances upwards and catches sight of me in the window.

  She says something to the person next to her and moves away from the fire. Holding her sparkler high, she starts to writes a word in the air, her movements slow and precise. I know straight away what it is going to be. The whole time, Martha looks on, eyes flicking between Kate and me as if watching the ball fly across the net at a tennis match.

  I blink, and Martha is gone, her presence replaced by a cold dread in the pit of my stomach. Does she know?

  Twenty-Three

  2005

  ‘What were you talking to her for?’ Lena asked Ava. ‘She’s one of your sister’s stuck-up friends.’

  ‘She’s not stuck-up, she’s really nice.’

  ‘Aren’t you worried she’ll go running to Martha?’

  ‘No, she won’t.’

  ‘That’s what you think.’ Lena had been brought up not to trust anyone outside of her family, and those inside it – well they were even worse.

  ‘Don’t, Lena.’

  ‘Don’t what?’

  ‘Push everyone away. Tess is really friendly. I’ve just had a nice conversation with her; she was telling me about her driving test and everything. She’s got a car, that’s why she’s not drinking. That doesn’t make her boring. She knows what she wants in life. She’s got a place at Cambridge. That’s where I want to go.’

  ‘Don’t you have to be really clever to get in there?’

  ‘Hmm.’ Ava nodded.

  ‘You’ll get in, Ava, no problem. You don’t have to do any work and you still get good grades. Unlike me.’

  ‘You could do better if you put your mind to it. You’re smart, you just can’t be bothered. Tess likes you too, she told me.’

  Lena shrugged; compliments were missiles to be lobbed away. ‘Anyway, this is a party, Ava. Why are we talking about school grades and all that boring stuff? The music is great and we can drink whatever we like, go home whenever we want. And most importantly of all, there’s a roomful of hot boys next door.’

  ‘Yes, and Gareth.’ Ava’s shoulders slumped as if she was carrying a huge rucksack, weighing her down. Then she straightened. ‘I’ve done it,’ she said, smiling. ‘We’re over. I told Tess about him, and she was really understanding.’

  Lena was sick of hearing about Miss Goody-Two-Shoes Tess.

  ‘Gareth isn’t happy, but I don’t care,’ said Ava. ‘Let’s go and get some more drinks, then come back in here and have some fun.’

  ‘That’s more like it,’ Lena said. ‘Let’s try a drink we haven’t had before. Have you ever tasted gin?’

  Ava giggled. ‘You know I haven’t. I’ve only ever drunk with you. I’ve had Cinzano and martini and vodka. Oh, and wine, but that was at a dinner party my parents held when I was about ten.’

  She remembered the leftover red liquid glimmering in the adults’ discarded glasses. Drinking it had made them laugh like she’d never seen them laugh before, throwing their heads back, real belly laughs. When they were all off enjoying themselves doing a silly dance to some old records, she’d picked up a glass and taken a large sip. She’d almost choked, putting it back down quickly on the table. The liquid had tingled all the way down to her tummy, followed by a warm glow. She’d drunk the whole thing and spent the rest of the evening secretly giggling to herself under the table.

  Twenty-Four

  Ava

  Nobody notices as I slip back into the house, glancing at the kitchen clock as I head upstairs. It’s almost ten; what if Ben isn’t coming after all?

  I lock the bathroom door behind me. Through the frosted glass of the small window the dark sky flashes with bursts of colour and loud popping noises from firework displays elsewhere. It’s still early, I reassure myself; there’s plenty of time for Ben to get here yet. A blast of red illuminates the window and I can’t help thinking of roses, red roses gone bad. I shake the thought away. My worried eyes look back at me from the mirror and my cheeks are flushed. Ben always tells me I have beautiful eyes; he says the deep blue shade is unusual and unique. Why isn’t he here?

  Someone bangs on the door and I wash my hands with cold water before going back out. Fiona is waiting outside and we exchange a few pleasantries before I go into my bedroom. I check first under the bed for my phone, even though I know it’s not there, then take everything out of my case again. I drag the duvet off the bed, followed by the sheet. A tissue falls on the floor, an old sock. Nothing here.

  When I step out onto the landing, I see Martha coming upstairs. She motions to me to go back into my room.

  ‘Lena’s gone mad,’ she says, pointing to Lena’s room. ‘Smashed a picture and everything. Maybe she’s finally had a good look at herself and seen what I see. If I ever needed proof that there was something wrong with that woman, I’ve had plenty this evening. Mind you, what’s going on in here?’ She looks at the bed.

  I shrug. ‘I was looking for my phone. Lena’s having a tough time with me leaving. Try and have some sympathy. This is a huge change for both of us.’ I sit down on the bed and she pulls up a chair next to me. ‘What were you even doing in her room?’

  ‘Stupidly, I thought I’d try and have an adult conversation with her. That was a waste of time.’

  ‘What did she say to you?’

  She smooths her hair with her immaculate nails, dark polish against alabaster skin. ‘The usual jealous diatribe. She hasn’t changed. And that was after she’d chucked a few things around. Do you know what sparked this off?’

  I take a deep breath. ‘I let slip that Ben and I are getting married and I’m not planning on coming back. Ben will go mad; we’d agreed I wouldn’t say anything until I was already there. He wanted us to make the announcement together. She’s taking all this harder than I thought.’

  ‘Congratulations, little sister. I’m thrilled for you. Will I get to meet him tonight, do you think?’

  ‘I hope so. When I found out about the party, I thought he must be planning to surprise me by showing up and then announcing our engagement.’

  ‘How romantic. Your eyes sparkle when you talk about him, so I hope he does come. Lena must want that for you too, surely?’

  I nod, biting my lip. ‘After everything … I think it’s hard for her to let go. It’s hard for both of us. When we were younger, we were so … entwined.’

  She walks over to the window. ‘Well she needs to realise it’s time to move on. This is such a beautiful house, by the way. I see you got the best room. It’s twice the size of Lena’s.’
>
  ‘She insisted I take this one. She knew I’d want Ben to stay over; she encouraged it.’

  Martha looks sceptical. ‘Is she dating anyone?’

  I shake my head. ‘None of her relationships have lasted very long. She likes to be in control and always says it’s too much hassle trying to find someone who measures up to her ideal.’

  ‘Did you know she has that newspaper cutting on her wall? She’s still getting off on calling herself a hero.’

  ‘She’s always had that on display. I deliberately never look at it. I don’t want to be reminded.’ But the words dance in front of my eyes. I did what anyone else would have done. Ava is my best friend and I was terrified of losing her.

  ‘If you ask me, she wants you never to forget how indebted to her you are. It’s crazy; she has to let go for her own sanity, too. Honestly, Ava, she’s a nutcase.’

  ‘You’ve never liked her, though, have you? Let’s not forget what’s happened between us.’

  ‘No, I haven’t, I admit that, and I know it wasn’t an easy time for any of us. I was grieving, you were in a terrible state and Mum and Dad inviting Lena to live with us was the worst thing that could have happened as far as I was concerned. She was always there, glued to your side, and she wouldn’t let me near you. I missed you. We were so close when we were younger; you were my little shadow.’

  A lump slips into my throat. ‘It wasn’t deliberate. Think about how it must have been for her, too. Being ripped from her family, no matter how dysfunctional they were, was hard. And I wasn’t there for her either, too devastated by what I’d done.’

  ‘Maybe not, but it felt intentional. Heading off to university saved me, but I’m sorry it ended with that argument.’

  ‘Me too. You were so angry.’ My voice shakes as I remember the fear that gripped me when she turned on me, my throat seizing up, rendering me speechless.