First Date: An absolutely jaw-dropping psychological thriller

by Sue Watson

  ‘Do you keep in touch?’ I ask.

  He shakes his head vigorously, and takes a sip of coffee before answering. ‘No, not at all.’ He takes a breath. ‘So, enough of the Spanish Inquisition – let me interrogate you now. How long have you been single?’

  ‘About the same as you, twelve months,’ I say vaguely.

  ‘Why did you split?’

  ‘I just realised he wasn’t what I was looking for. My fault, we were together for two years – I should have realised sooner. Jas says I kept it going for too long, but it’s hard to break up with someone when technically they haven’t done anything wrong.’ I don’t point out that Tom hardly did anything right either, it feels disloyal.

  ‘What you’re saying about him is what Helen said about me – at the end.’ He looks at me with such sadness in his eyes, I feel that pang of guilt again. I’m even taking it on for bloody Helen now – is there no end to my capacity for self-flagellation?

  ‘Tom and I weren’t right from the beginning, we had nothing in common. I felt more alone with him than without him, it’s just how it was. But the longer I let it run, the harder it was to end it. He wanted me to tell him why, but it was hard to vocalise. He said it hurt to think I just didn’t love him, that there was no actual reason. His reaction surprised me – I didn’t think he’d be that bothered, but he was so upset he cried. I still feel terribly guilty about it.’ I deliberately leave out any mention of the way he’s been with me since we broke up. I’m tempted, but again, it’s too soon to hand Alex my baggage.

  ‘I think I’d have found it easier if Helen hadn’t been seeing someone else. Instead she lied and told me she wasn’t, but all the time she was – and I just knew it.’

  I can see in his eyes that he’s capable of feeling such pain, but also love, and real passion, which I crave. I just hope that won’t be dimmed by what Helen did to him.

  ‘Helen didn’t really understand.’ He sighs. ‘You see, I don’t want half measures, once I fall, I fall. And I’m totally committed – I’m afraid I’m all or nothing, Hannah.’ He touches my face with the back of his hand.

  ‘Me too,’ I say. ‘Being with Tom taught me that it’s better to be alone than with someone who can’t love me enough.’

  ‘Seems like you and I have both been casualties. I hope I can love you enough.’ Before I can answer or even consider what he’s just said, he kisses me, then pulls away slightly. ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this to someone I really only just met, but I do think I’m falling in love with you already, Hannah,’ he’s saying softly, and I dissolve into him, only vaguely aware that he’s slowly unbuttoning my blouse.

  His words have undone me and now his touch is adding to the effect. I am lost, all at sea on the velvet sofa, as he carefully takes my clothes off and kisses me all the way down my body. After teasing me forever with his lips, he finally pushes inside me, all the time kissing my mouth, then my neck. He’s saying my name, staccato murmurs in my ear, promises, desires. I hear his words, feel his body, as he moves into me, undulating, writhing – all I can think is how this is the most amazing sex I’ve ever had. Finally – finally – I’ve found what I’ve been waiting for. Alex is everything.

  Afterwards, in a tangle of limbs and spent lust, he holds me, still as loving as he was before, his eyes drinking me in, his hand on my face.

  ‘When I fall, it’s forever,’ he says. ‘I promise I’ll always be there for you, Hannah.’

  I reciprocate by touching his face. I can hear Jas’s voice in my head telling me it’s too soon, that I’m rushing in head-first. Well, maybe I am, but what he’s saying is just what I want to hear. Because I’m falling too – and I’ve always wanted forever.

  There’s no mention of me going home tonight, we both just move from the sofa to his bedroom upstairs. I barely take it in, but as we land on the bed, I’m aware of greys and blues, classy, tasteful, sumptuous in the lamplight. During the night, I wrap a blanket around me, and pad downstairs into the kitchen for a glass of water, feeling at home already. There’s a full moon, so bright I don’t need to turn on the kitchen light. I open several cupboards looking for a glass, and my eyes alight on the bin, where Alex put all the broken glass from my accident with the wine bottle. I peek inside to see the damage, wondering if there’s an engraved name on the base so I can buy him a replacement. But underneath the broken glass and dinner detritus, I see something that makes me a little uneasy.

  Very carefully, I put my hand into the bin and, clearing away the bits of dinner, my suspicions are confirmed. A screwed up Häagen-Dazs container. When I loosen it slightly, it’s clear to see the label – Pistachio Ice Cream. I really believed he’d made it specially for me. I guess he just wanted to impress, it isn’t necessarily a bad thing. After all, who hasn’t told a little white lie at the start of a relationship? And there are worse things to lie about than ice cream… aren’t there?

  Chapter Ten

  Today, Jas is, as always, keen to know everything about last night. And I’m happy to tell her all about my evening – mostly. I decide to leave out the bit about the photograph with the pen across it, and keep up the story that Alex actually made the ice cream for me, because I want her to know how much he likes me. I’m sure he would have made it himself, he probably just didn’t have the time, so it’s not an untruth exactly.

  ‘Did he say his ex is still around then?’ she says, when I tell her I think his heart’s still a bit broken.

  ‘Mmm, she really did a number on him, messed with his head.’

  ‘Is this your new guy?’ Sameera pipes up. There’s no privacy in this office, it’s just as well that we’re all friends.

  ‘Yeah, we had the most wonderful night,’ I say, remembering how I woke up in his arms; it felt so natural, comfortable. It was a shame I had to get up extra early and rush back to my flat to get a change of clothes, but worth it. ‘I just hope his ex doesn’t come back,’ I say to Sameera.

  ‘I don’t think you need to worry about that,’ she says kindly. ‘Sounds like you’re a perfect match, don’t you think Harry?’ she says dragging him into the conversation.

  ‘Yeah, absolutely,’ he replies – he clearly hasn’t a clue what we’re talking about.

  Alex’s ex has been playing on my mind ever since he told me he thought he’d seen her in Worcester. I feel slightly paranoid that he might bump into the bright, attractive lawyer – who may still hold a little piece of his heart.

  My doubts soon fade when I receive a text from Alex telling me what a wonderful time he had last night. It’s the first text of many, along with funny GIFs and heart emojis. I know it’s early days, but he makes me feel like a priority already, like I’ll always come first in his life. It was never like that with Tom. I can’t wait to see him this evening. I’m going to drive over to his, straight from work. I’ve already packed an overnight bag so I don’t have to get up at dawn again to schlep across the city to my flat for clothes. We talked about going to the cinema tonight, but I’d be quite happy to just stay in his lovely house together all evening. It makes me realise, all the times I nagged Tom about wanting to go out to places, it wasn’t our social life that was missing – it was us.

  It’s been a crazy day with lots of comings and goings. Sameera and Harry have been out all afternoon seeing clients, and it’s after six but Jas has only just returned from being at the police station with a client.

  I pop my head into Jas’s office on my way out. ‘I haven’t seen you all afternoon. I have to get off now, but are you okay?’ I ask. She’s sitting with her head in her hands and looks up, like she’s almost surprised to see me.

  ‘What? Yeah, it’s been quite a day.’ She sighs. ‘I was sitting in that place for six hours, six! What a waste of time.’

  ‘Ahh, sounds like a nightmare,’ I say, hoping she doesn’t elaborate, as I’m keen to get off.

  ‘Doing anything nice tonight?’ she asks, absently.

  ‘Yeah, I’m seeing Alex,’ I say, and wait for her
response.

  To my surprise she smiles. ‘Lovely,’ she says. ‘I’m now dealing with the sodding paperwork, so you get off, don’t keep him waiting. Have a good one, love,’ she says, and it seems like she genuinely means it.

  I call goodbye to the others, and Sameera, who’s obviously heard me tell Jas I’m meeting Alex, tells me to ‘go for it’ and Harry sniggers.

  I laugh, we all love taking the mickey out of each other, it’s like being back at school – in a good way.

  Hitting the freezing night air, I walk quickly to my car. It’s so frozen that I can’t even unlock it at first. After much jiggling of the key in the lock and breathing on it to attempt to thaw it, I finally get the key to turn and the door opened. I’m so relieved to get into the car, I don’t notice it at first, but after closing the door and putting my seat belt on I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of perfume. A strong, expensive smell – so strong it could be aftershave. Am I imagining this?

  I sniff the air, not that I need to – it’s filling my lungs. Shit. Someone’s been in my car. Goosebumps rise on my scalp as, terrified, without moving my head, I let my eyes drift to the rear mirror. It’s too dark to see, but… Oh God, is someone crouching on the back seat?

  I grab the door handle and, in my haste, almost fall out of the car onto the icy ground. I step away from the car, and watch from a short distance, ready to run straight back to the office if anyone emerges. I stand there for a few minutes but can’t see anything, so, holding my breath, I move closer and closer to the car. When I’m near enough, I slowly put my face to the back window and cautiously peer through, standing so still, my heart feels as if it’s almost stopped. I give it a few seconds, then leap forward and quickly rip open the back door, hoping to God whoever is in there doesn’t jump out at me. But there’s no one, nothing. Just nothing. I check over my shoulder, then take a closer look around the back seat and realise I am, after all, alone. I’m breathless, clinging onto the door to hold myself up. Knowing there’s someone out there who wants to hurt me is a horrible feeling, and it’s definitely playing with my head.

  Composing myself, I check the boot, but nothing. I’m overtired and anxious and it’s possible I imagined the strong scent. I get back in the car and take a deep breath, and allow my heart rate to slow down for a few seconds before I start the car. I need to get a grip, there’s no one here. But even if I imagined there was someone in the back seat, there’s no denying the stench of perfume that now pervades the inside of the car. How did it get here? Whose is it? It’s definitely not mine.

  I don’t want to hang around any longer, so start the engine and set off for Alex’s. My whole body is shaking with cold and fear, the acrid taste of perfume in my mouth – another person’s perfume.

  I pull away, and glance again in the rear mirror. As I peer into the darkness behind me I notice the thick blanket that I always keep on the back seat has been moved. I stop the car, put on the interior light and turn around to take it in. It’s spread across the whole of the back seat, covering it. And I know I didn’t do that. Someone else did.

  Arriving at Alex’s I get out of the car and walk quickly to his front door. I keep turning to check behind me, just in case.

  When Alex opens the door, I almost fall into his arms. He ushers me into the kitchen, soothing me with words and a hot drink, while I tell him about the strong smell in the car, the way the blanket was laid across the seat.

  ‘Do you think that was symbolic?’ I say.

  He is clearly concerned about this, but as confused as I am. ‘Are you sure it wasn’t your perfume? And are you absolutely sure you didn’t lay the blanket across the seat?’ he asks.

  ‘Of course I am. I’d remember doing that,’ I say. ‘And it wasn’t my perfume. I like light, floral scents, this was heavy – lilies and musk and dark notes – more like aftershave, really.’ I can feel it on me, a cloying stench that I long to wash away, if I was home I’d jump straight in the shower.

  ‘Have you any idea who it might be?’ he asks.

  For a moment I hesitate. I want to tell him about Tom, but is it fair to blame him for this too? Then again, I hurt him, he’s resentful. But why would Tom do that? And anyway, how did he get into the car without breaking a window or lock?

  ‘I don’t know, I had a weird delivery at work the other day,’ I say, and go on to tell him about the roses and the vile note.

  He looks shocked. ‘Do you really have no idea who might be sending you something like that?’

  ‘No. I wondered about Tom… But—’

  ‘Tom, your ex?’

  ‘Yeah, I mean he was upset when we broke up. He took it worse than I’d thought he would and there were some late-night calls. I think he might have come to the flat… hung around outside, but I don’t know,’ I add firmly when I see the look of horror on Alex’s face.

  ‘You’re not in touch with him, are you?’

  ‘No. But I left messages on his phone. He hasn’t responded.’

  ‘Well he wouldn’t, would he?’

  ‘He was hurt and angry with me, but that was ages ago, he moved on – at least I thought he had.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound like it to me.’

  ‘Mmm, but a nasty note, white roses. It’s all a bit melodramatic. It just doesn’t seem like something Tom would do.’

  ‘Shall we get the police involved?’ he asks.

  ‘Not yet, I’ll leave it for now. But if anything else happens I’ll call the police.’

  ‘Oh babe.’ Alex hugs me protectively. ‘I’m sorry you’ve been upset and scared, but you’re here with me now.’

  ‘Yeah, thank goodness,’ I add with a sigh, as we walk into the living room together. ‘Anyway, let’s try and forget about it for tonight. I might call the police tomorrow, just for advice if nothing else,’ I clarify, hoping I don’t sound too paranoid.

  ‘Yeah, tricky though. Not sure how you’d report a crime involving the unwanted scent of perfume and an unfolded blanket.’ He smiles, clearly trying to lift the mood.

  ‘Yeah, not sure how that would go down at the station.’ I try to play along but I can still feel the sickly scent clinging to me, and ask Alex if it’s okay to take a shower.

  He smiles, takes my hand and gently leads me into the shower, where he undresses me, then himself, and I stand under the spray of heat, thawing as he covers me in fragrant body wash. I can’t get enough of him, and soon the rhythm of his thighs against mine is working with the throbbing heat of the shower.

  Afterwards, as we lie naked on the bed, our arms and legs entwined, he says, ‘I’ve never been happier, Hannah. Being with you these last few days has been wonderful, and I never want it to end.’

  I smile, it’s too soon for promises, but I know I never want this to end either.

  I turn over and try to fall asleep, but then I remember the smell in my car. It fills my head and claws at my lungs. I know someone was in there, but who?

  I’m woken early the following morning by the shriek of my phone. I turn over, but remember Alex has gone into work early as he’s involved in a big court case today. It might be him on the phone, so I pick up, shocked to hear Tom’s voice on the other end. He’s finally responding to several angry messages I’ve left on his phone after the flower delivery the other day.

  ‘What the hell is going on, Hannah?’ he yells.

  I don’t want some horrible fight over the phone, while I’m half awake. So I ask to meet him before work, and ten minutes later, I’m sitting in the window of Costa Coffee in the centre of Worcester. The building is steeped in history, from the dark beams and the wonky wooden floor, to the unsettling death mask of a traitor from the Civil War looking down on me from the wall.

  Tom works opposite at the guildhall, a beautiful eighteenth-century building right on the high street, where this year’s Christmas tree will soon sit in its splendour. As I wait, I imagine the tree, the strings of lights along the high street, and I feel a rush of excitement knowing how different this Chri
stmas will be with Alex.

  I sit there a while. Tom’s late, he always used to be late for everything. Eventually he saunters in, wanders to the counter and orders himself a latte. He barely looks round to see me, or ask if perhaps I might like a drink. He hasn’t changed.

  I sip my gingerbread latte and wait.

  Tom finally sees me and, in no rush, he comes over to my table by the window and sits down. He doesn’t say hello, just stares at me. If I wasn’t so angry, I’d be amused – typical, laid-back Tom is clearly fuming that I threatened him with the police, but as usual he took his time to respond.

  ‘What the hell is this about? You don’t get in touch for months, and you don’t want to know when I’m in trouble – but suddenly when it affects you you’re straight on the phone threatening me with the bloody police!’

  ‘What do you expect me to do when I get shit like this through the post?’ I hiss, taking the card from my handbag and shoving it across the table at him. ‘And don’t pretend you don’t know anything about it.’

  He slowly picks up the card, reads it, and looks up. ‘That’s bloody creepy – you should call the police,’ he says, pushing it back across the table like it’s dirty.

  It’s not what I expected to hear. Maybe he’s calling my bluff. But in truth, he seems as amazed and horrified as I am.

  ‘Oh I will call the police, but I wanted to find out what you had to say first before I drop you in it.’

  ‘You really think it was me?’ He looks genuinely shocked.

  I roll my eyes. ‘Tom, who else could it be?’

  ‘Try your new boyfriend.’

  ‘How do you know I have a new boyfriend?’

  ‘I’ve seen you around. You were all over each other in The Orange Tree the other night.’

  ‘You’re not following me, are you?’ I ask, genuinely creeped out.

  ‘Hannah, I didn’t follow you when we were together, why would I start now?’

  I almost smile, and remember that sometimes he could be quite funny, I’d forgotten that.