First Date: An absolutely jaw-dropping psychological thriller

by Sue Watson

  Chapter Twelve

  Picking up the bag of porcelain shards, I don’t take my eyes off Alex and the woman as they continue to walk down the street. The noise of the traffic probably drowned out the sound of crashing crockery, so he didn’t hear it and hasn’t seen me. I guess he thinks I’m back in Worcester, safely at my desk, where I can’t see him arm in arm with a strange woman. Had he been with her when I called? Was the sound of running water not from the bathroom at the courts, but from a bathroom in a house? Her bathroom? Who is she? More importantly, what is she to Alex?

  I desperately try to think of an alternative to the obvious. She may just be a friend. She might be a colleague or client he’s helped and she’s showing her gratefulness by linking arms with him. I can’t say I’ve ever had a client link arms with me, and whilst I’d link arms with Jas or Sameera, it would be weird to do so with Harry, and he’d definitely think the same. I want this woman to be Alex’s sister, but he’s an only child. I can’t bear this, I need to know what’s going on, so I manage to cross over to their side and follow at a discreet distance. It feels weird and wrong. Shouldn’t I just trust him, and ask him about it later? Or call out to him and go up to them, rather than sneak behind them? But that would be mad. Along with all the happiness, the anticipation, the warm feeling permanently flooding your veins – this is what love does to a person. It makes you crazy, your judgement becomes clouded and irrational.

  They slow down slightly and the woman steps out into the road. For a moment I think she’s going to walk in front of a car, but she runs across quickly while looking both ways. My heart lifts slightly, perhaps they’ve said goodbye? But before I can recover, Alex follows her across the road.

  Only half aware of my actions, I take out my phone and call him. It’s instinctive, I don’t think about it, don’t even know what I’ll say when he answers. Even though he’s run to the other side of the road, I’m close enough to be able to see him react to the ringtone, and take the phone from his coat pocket. He looks at the screen, and I hold my breath, waiting for him to pick up. But he hesitates, then must end the call because the ringing stops and he puts the phone back in his pocket.

  I’m devastated. I thought he always answered the phone to me, whatever he’s doing. So why is he not answering now?

  I stand on the pavement opposite, watching the woman flash her keys at a red shiny soft-top. It’s then I get my first glimpse of her face. I know immediately who she is. It’s the woman in the photo whose face was defiled by his furious pen. And not only has he just had lunch with her, he’s told me he’s somewhere else.

  I’m not even being discreet now, I’ve stopped in the middle of the pavement, on a freezing winter’s afternoon, openly watching them, as people pass me, giving me angry stares because I’m not moving out of their way. Part of me wants Alex to see me, to rush over, take me in his arms and explain what the hell is going on. But because he’s chatting to her, he doesn’t see me. Then the woman climbs into the car, Alex gets into the passenger seat, and they drive off. Just like a couple out for a romantic afternoon.

  A man walking past almost knocks me into the road, but before he can apologise, I move and stand in the doorway of a charity shop, clutching my bag of broken crockery, feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck.

  After a few minutes, I turn off my phone and head back to the car park. I have to compose myself. Regardless of my problems, I need to go to this meeting with Chloe. I have to be there for this girl who’s been let down already by those she trusts. But right now I wonder if it would be in her interests for me to pass her case to someone else, someone who can be more committed, more focussed than I can at the moment.

  I think about calling Jas to say I’m ill and need to go home, but I can’t do that to Chloe. She has already been passed around the department. Harry was her social worker before me but when she turned sixteen, Chloe had to be moved because Harry only works with kids aged between thirteen and fifteen. She’s only just getting over the trauma of not having Harry, how would it feel to dump her because I’m too involved in my personal problems? I couldn’t live with myself. No, Chloe’s safety is paramount. I have to focus.

  I drive to Chloe’s house and take lots of notes, make some suggestions, and put a pathway plan together in my head. But it’s futile, really, because I know there’s something she isn’t telling me, so I can’t get to the bottom of her problem however much I want to help her. She’s recently become surly and uncommunicative, and it hurts my heart and my brain to contemplate what’s going on with this troubled sixteen-year-old, who has struggled through school and will probably continue to find life extremely tough. Along with the frustration and limits of a learning disability, Chloe has an addict for a mother, not to mention her mother’s new boyfriend. In addition, she’s dealing with all the other things a teen has to cope with, from friendship issues, to raging hormones, to boy trouble and there’s the ongoing question of sexual abuse, which I can’t ignore.

  As much as I tried to probe, to my frustration Chloe’s mother was present and answered most of my questions on her daughter’s behalf. I asked if Chloe wanted to be seen alone, but she just shrugged, so I couldn’t insist – but back at the office I’ll make an appointment to meet Chloe alone next week.

  When I leave the Thomsons’ just over an hour later, I get back in the car and immediately check my phone. Alex has called me seven times, and sent five texts. The first reads: Hey, are you there? Think you called me. You okay? Love you.

  There are four more texts of variations on this. I have never ignored his texts, or not returned his calls. But for once I put the phone back in my handbag without responding, start the car, and head back to the office.

  As I’m driving, I find myself trying to work out why my boyfriend was having a secret liaison with another woman. Alex adores me, or so he says, but the truth is, it looks like he’s been lying to me – and Jas was right all along.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Are you okay?’ Sameera asks as she wanders over to my desk.

  I’m back at the office, throwing myself into work and ignoring Alex’s texts and calls. I daren’t pick up or I’ll lose it. I’ll be upset and angry and I need to concentrate on Chloe.

  I nod. ‘Yeah, just busy… I’m having a rubbish day, to be honest.’ I’m tempted to tell her about seeing Alex in Pershore, but then see Jas pop her head up over her screen and decide against it. I won’t be a weeping mess in the middle of the office for Jas to feast her eyes on and say, ‘I told you so.’ Not yet anyway.

  ‘Did you ever find out who sent those roses?’ Sameera asks, leaning tentatively on my desk.

  I stop typing and look up. ‘No – Tom said it wasn’t him.’ I shrug.

  ‘Well, he would say that wouldn’t he?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s not something anyone would be proud to claim as their own.’

  ‘I liked Tom, he was – funny, nothing seemed to rattle him. I can’t imagine him sending a note like that. Could it be someone more random, someone you’ve pissed off and don’t even know you have? Like a client, a parent of a client…’ The note with the flowers had shocked Sameera. It’s obviously been playing on her mind.

  ‘Yeah could be – they can hold a grudge, but then so does Tom.’ I sigh.

  ‘Who holds a grudge?’ Harry gets up from his desk and joins us, he’s eating a sandwich and dropping crumbs everywhere. Sameera reprimands him, and he shrugs. ‘You look upset, Hannah.’ He’s looking down at me, concerned, then he’s back to his sandwich.

  ‘I’m okay, just busy,’ I say. For now, I’ll keep my worries about Alex to myself until I know from him what the truth is. I change the subject. ‘I just had a meeting with Chloe and her mum. I reckon something’s going on,’ I say to Harry as Sameera goes off to make us all some coffee.

  ‘With Carol’s boyfriend?’ he asks, finishing his sandwich and leaning on the desk.

  ‘Yes, and Carol was in the meeting, so I couldn’t speak to Chloe alone. I’ll
have to though. I really need to get to the bottom of all this.’

  As her previous social worker, Harry’s all too familiar with the case, and he rolls his eyes. He sighs, and gestures to the files. ‘Have you waded through all those yet?’

  ‘No,’ I say, feeling guilty. ‘I started, but am still wading. I should have gone through them weeks ago, when I first took the case off you. Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t apologise, I’m not sure I read every little detail either. I mean, let’s face it, they go back years.’

  ‘Mmm, Chloe’s had such a tough start. And Carol bringing a guy like that into her home, with a troubled teenage girl – I don’t trust the situation at all.’

  ‘God knows what’s going on. That poor kid’s going to be so messed up.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. As if things weren’t challenging enough, her mum is incapable of ever putting her child first.’

  ‘Absolutely, but it’s a minefield, be careful,’ Harry warns.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I ask.

  ‘That kid’s been in the system so long, she knows what to say, knows what we’re looking for, and if her mother’s speaking for her, that might just be because Chloe wants her to.’

  ‘Wow, I hadn’t even considered that.’ Harry’s good at his job, and he understands how young people tick. Plus, he was Chloe’s social worker for two years, so he knows her well.

  ‘Just let me know if you’re worried about anything – or you need me to translate Chloe-speak for you.’ He laughs, wandering away.

  ‘Thanks, Harry.’ I smile. ‘What would I do without you?’

  He sits back at his desk, giving me the thumbs up.

  My phone is flashing, I pick up and Margaret says, ‘Alex on line one, my lovely.’

  He can’t get me on my mobile, so he’s trying the landline. Shit. I don’t want to speak to him yet, I need to think and I want to let him sweat. ‘Oh, I’m so busy this afternoon, Margaret. Would you mind telling him I’m out of the office?’ I ask.

  ‘Actually, love, this is the third time he’s called. I thought you liked this one?’

  God, even Margaret has a take on my bloody love life. I know she means no harm, but I just wish everyone would butt out.

  ‘I do, but I’m busy and it doesn’t do to be too available, does it?’ I try to sound light-hearted, don’t want her to think it’s anything more.

  Seeing Alex today with that woman has knocked me for six. I know I should face it, take his calls and ask him, but I’m scared to hear what he has to say. And, besides, I can’t have that kind of conversation in the office in front of everyone. I’ll call him when I’m ready.

  By 6 p.m. the weather’s freezing and the forecast is threatening snow.

  ‘Don’t stay too late, hon,’ Jas calls, ‘your drive home won’t be much fun if this sets in.’ She walks towards me, coat on, holding her scarf, about to leave. She’s obviously forgiven or forgotten about our little row this morning, so I will too.

  ‘I won’t stay too late, love – just working out the Chloe conundrum,’ I say and give her a smile.

  ‘Ah that! Do we need a meeting?’

  ‘Not tonight, let’s talk tomorrow, once I’ve waded through all this. There’s loads of handwritten notes from her recent interview with the mental health worker that need to be input.’

  ‘Margaret will do that for you.’

  ‘No, it’s fine, I think it will help me get to grips with everything if I do it.’

  ‘Okay, babe, but don’t work too hard.’ She wraps her woolly scarf round her neck several times and blows me a kiss. But before she leaves, she says, ‘Sorry about earlier, I need to keep out don’t I?’

  ‘Yes, you do!’ I say, longing to tell her about Alex at lunchtime and how I feel, but knowing it would simply be providing her with ammunition and I don’t need that right now.

  ‘I’m really sorry.’

  ‘It’s fine, we’re good. You and I go back too far for a little fight over a man to make a difference,’ I say.

  ‘Thanks for saying that, means a lot,’ she says. ‘Love you, babe.’ She blows me a kiss.

  ‘You too,’ I say and blow a kiss back as she skips off, whipping open the door, allowing a blast of the frosty evening in.

  And then I’m alone in the silence, there’s nothing save the clicking of my keyboard. You could hear a pin drop.

  My brain is whirring. I should be focused on Chloe Thomson, but I’m too worried about what Alex was doing today to allow anything else in. I may have blown it out of all proportion in my head, but I need to speak to him.

  I pick my phone up and put it down several times, before finally summoning up the courage to call him and find out once and for all what’s going on. Is he the perfect man I thought he was, or has this whole thing been a lie?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alex sounds pleased, and so relieved, to hear me when he answers the phone.

  ‘Hannah, I’ve been so worried about you, I’ve been calling all day. Didn’t you get my messages? I sent texts too – where are you?’

  ‘I’m still at work,’ I reply in a monotone.

  ‘But it’s after six. I thought we were having dinner at yours tonight. I went to your flat, but you weren’t there.’

  Christ, with everything that’s happened today, I’d forgotten the glorified ready meal for two still sitting in the office fridge. ‘Sorry I… I’ve been really busy… I just have loads to do.’

  ‘Can’t you bring the work home?’ he asks.

  ‘No.’ I’m stalling. I want to ask him what the hell he was doing linking arms with a beautiful woman today. But I don’t want to have the difficult conversation and I don’t want to hear him lie to me.

  ‘What’s wrong? You sound different. You’re scaring me.’

  I feel nauseous, I don’t know where to begin.

  ‘Why didn’t you return my calls, Hannah? I’ve been in court all day and had to keep coming out to use my phone.’

  ‘You – you’ve been in court all day?’

  ‘Yes, that’s what I said.’ So he isn’t going to tell me. ‘I could barely concentrate on the case. An important one too…’ he adds as an afterthought.

  There’s an edge to his voice which makes my hackles rise. How dare he! He’s barefaced lying and has the cheek to be irritated by me.

  ‘Well, I’ve spent the afternoon looking at safeguarding options for some poor teenager who’s probably being sexually abused.’

  His voice softens at this. ‘I’m sorry. Is that why you haven’t been responding to my—’

  ‘It’s one of the reasons. I’ve had to discuss the case in detail with Harry.’ Once I’d gone through the files I sat down with Harry to see what else I could gauge; he was really helpful, and Sameera added some insight too. I was glad of their input, my head was all over the place. ‘So, as I said, I’ve had a few things on my plate today too,’ I say.

  ‘Good that you had Harry to chat to about things though.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ I snap, knowing full well what he means. He seems to have a problem with Harry, or is it any man I happen to be friends with?

  ‘Nothing, just – you don’t talk to me all day, you ignore my calls and texts, but apparently you have time to discuss things with Harry.’

  ‘You’re being an idiot,’ I hear myself say. I can’t believe he’s jealous of bloody Harry. He’s totally barking up the wrong tree and, besides, who the hell is he to be pissed off with me for talking about a case to a colleague when he hasn’t even told me who he had lunch with? ‘Look, I don’t want to have this conversation over the phone – I feel spacey, think I need to eat,’ I say, segueing nicely into, ‘Did you have lunch today?’

  ‘Not a proper lunch, I’ve been in court – as I said.’

  ‘You didn’t even pop out?’

  ‘No. Didn’t have time, just grabbed a sandwich in the canteen, never left the bloody building.’

  So now I know, Alex Higham, my Mr Right, the gorgeous, perfect
man who’s clearly husband material tells me lies. And it hurts like hell.

  ‘But I still managed to make time to call you,’ he says in a hurt voice, which winds me up even more. ‘We’re both busy people, Hannah – but I found the time.’

  I don’t respond to this, I’m too angry.

  ‘Hannah?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Surely you could have found two minutes in your day to return my calls. I don’t understand.’

  ‘You don’t understand? Then that makes two of us,’ I snarl.

  ‘What do you mean? What’s the matter?’ He waits a few seconds, then says in a more panicked voice, ‘Hannah, what is it, what’s wrong?’

  ‘You said you never left the court today,’ I hear my voice reading from the script I’ve been mentally preparing all day.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you didn’t even pop out?’ I feel like I’m the lawyer, sashaying around the court, questioning the defendant.

  ‘No. Darling, what is this?’

  ‘This? This is I know you did leave court, in fact you left Worcester. I saw you. In Pershore. With a woman.’

  Silence.

  His silence is proof he’s lied. But why is he lying to me?

  I’m vaguely aware the threatened snow has begun to fall outside. Thick, swirling, twirling flakes. I think about the drive home. I think about Chloe Thomson and hope she’s okay tonight.

  ‘Oh God, Hannah, I should have told you,’ Alex says now.

  ‘Yes you should.’ My voice is croaky.

  ‘I’m not hiding anything from you,’ he murmurs.

  ‘It doesn’t look that way, Alex.’ I can barely hear my voice.

  Silence, inside and out. No vehicle sounds from the street outside. The snow is covering the windows, as if someone’s thrown a big grey blanket over the world, smothering it into an eerie calm.

  I’m waiting. I’m scared of what he’s going to say. I have to know, but I’m not sure I’m strong enough to hear it.