Date Night: An Absolutely Gripping Psychological Thriller With a Jaw-Dropping Twist

by Samantha Hayes

  Then she went over to Sasha’s bedside table, still hearing Jan’s voice on the phone downstairs. Slowly she opened the little drawer, discovering a couple of old phone chargers, a few pens, hand cream, several birthday cards. She leafed through the cards, seeing they were mostly from friends, with one from Matt. On the other side of the room the wardrobe door was slightly ajar. Libby went over and eased it open slowly, trailing her hand across familiar garments – things she’d seen Sasha in. When she was working, she asked her to wear plain black trousers or a skirt and a white top. She always looked smart. Libby smiled when she saw a couple of dresses at one end of the wardrobe – clearly saved for sentimental reasons. They were little party dresses that looked as though they’d fit a four- or five-year-old – one in pale pink with sequins, the other in peach velvet with a lacy high neck.

  Libby froze, catching her breath as she spotted something stuffed at the back of the wardrobe, behind the shoes and other crammed-in clothes. It only caught her eye because she thought she recognised it – a navy sweater that was clearly way too big for Sasha. She pulled the garment out, holding it up in front of her. It was a man’s sweater, and she instantly recognised the label in the collar, plus the slightly frayed right cuff and the mended hole on the shoulder. The hole that she’d darned a year or so ago. She’d occasionally wondered what had happened to the jumper but Sean had told her that he must have left it at a client’s place while on a house visit. She’d believed him. Why wouldn’t she?

  She listened out again. Jan was finishing the call, hanging up the phone, making her way back upstairs. Libby stood there, stunned, before quickly shoving the sweater back where she’d found it. She closed the wardrobe doors and went back to where she’d been standing.

  ‘News?’ she asked when Jan came in.

  ‘No, no…’ she said quietly. ‘Just a friend calling to see how I am.’

  Libby nodded, her mouth burning with questions, but she didn’t want to worry the poor woman even more by telling her that her daughter clearly harboured strong enough feelings for Sean to have his sweater hidden away. Though what concerned her most was how she’d got it. Either she’d taken it from the cottage when she’d been babysitting or, worse, Sean had given it to her. She imagined Sasha wearing it in bed, snuggling up in it as she read her romance novels, breathing in his scent, waiting for the next chance they’d have to be together.

  ‘I come in here every night,’ Jan said, tears welling in her eyes. ‘Sit on her bed, talk to her in the hope she can hear me, say a little prayer. I’m hoping somehow it will help.’

  ‘I… I’m sure it will,’ Libby replied.

  ‘Did you see this?’ Jan went over to the windowsill and plucked a photo frame from a group of others. ‘Sash loved taking pictures, though this is a rare one of her. She mainly takes nature shots and gets the best ones printed out.’

  Libby took the glossy white frame from Jan, looking at the selfie of Sasha and Matt. It looked as though they’d gone for a walk somewhere; Sasha’s was hair blowing everywhere, Matt was wearing a beanie hat. They were both laughing, pretty scenery behind them. ‘She looks so happy,’ Libby said, about to pass it back. And then she saw Sasha’s necklace – a little pendant on a silver chain. She’d never seen her wearing it before.

  ‘Here,’ Libby said, finally passing the photo back, her stomach knotting and churning. She turned away, forcing the image of the pendant from her mind – the Scorpio pendant – trying not to believe the worst as she followed Jan back downstairs: that the person her husband was having an affair with was a missing seventeen-year-old girl.

  Thirty-Seven

  Libby stared at Sean. Sean stared at Libby. Home didn’t seem like home any more, especially with Alice spending more time at the farm since they’d moved back to the cottage. Marion still thought it best until things settled down. And this afternoon, things were far from settled.

  Sean glanced at his watch. ‘Three o’clock, you say?’

  Libby nodded. ‘That’s what he said.’ She felt like drumming her fingers on the table while glaring at Sean, but resisted. How could her husband – her beautiful, gorgeous, funny, caring, kind and selfless man – turn into a virtual stranger overnight? If anyone had asked her several weeks ago if she thought her feelings towards him would ever change, she’d have said a big fat no. Or, actually, yes – in that she could only fall more in love with him. But now, she wasn’t so sure. She had seen a completely different side of him and her feelings were adrift.

  Or perhaps she’d seen a different side of herself.

  ‘He’s late, then,’ Sean said, making a show of standing up before refilling the kettle. ‘There’s only so much tea you can drink.’

  ‘You’re not going to tell me, are you?’

  Sean swung round, his hand on the kettle.

  ‘About why you went to Fran’s the other night.’ Libby folded her arms.

  ‘Oh Christ, not that again.’

  ‘But it’s always “not that again”, isn’t it? You never want to talk about anything. You just go into emotional lockdown, hoping these things will go away. If you’d just talked more, put my mind at rest, then we wouldn’t have needed to go out for a bloody make-up meal and Sasha wouldn’t be—’

  ‘Missing.’

  ‘Yes. Then Sasha wouldn’t be missing.’

  ‘So you’re saying it’s my fault? That I have complete control over nutters who choose to leave notes on your car? How, exactly, am I supposed to prove I’m innocent?’ He shook his head while grabbing their mugs, swilling them out under the tap. ‘None of this is my fault, Libby.’

  She stared at his broad back as he waited for the kettle to boil. The same back she’d seen in that navy sweater stuffed in Sasha’s wardrobe yesterday – the back that she’d traced her fingers over countless times, making him shudder in a way no one else could. None of it made sense. Sean and a young girl – their babysitter, a schoolkid, his mate’s daughter. Surely that kind of thing only happened in the news or in bad movies that made you want to switch over. None of it had a place in her life.

  Except, somehow, it did.

  ‘I can’t wait around much longer,’ Sean said, putting two more cups of tea on the table. ‘I’ve a farm visit to make.’

  Libby nodded. All they knew was that DI Jones wanted to have yet another informal chat with them. She wasn’t sure what more they could tell him. They’d cooperated willingly throughout the investigation, and yet it felt, somehow, as though they were now in the spotlight. The ones under suspicion.

  ‘I think we need to wait for him, however late he is,’ Libby said. ‘I mean, it doesn’t look good if you’re not here. I’ve got things to do too but—’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Sean said, sitting down again. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘And I’ve no idea how I’m going to cope serving fourteen people on my own tomorrow. It’s not as though I can call on Sasha to help.’ Libby hung her head.

  ‘You’ll manage somehow,’ Sean replied, peering out of the kitchen window as a car cruised past. ‘Just make sure you don’t serve up the wrong dish or something careless.’

  ‘I should probably just cancel the event,’ she said, touching her temple. ‘It’s all such a mess. But then we’ve got the final payment on the kitchen build falling due soon, not to mention other bills.’

  ‘Don’t think about that now,’ Sean said, standing up. He went to the front window, one knee on the window seat, staring up and down the lane. ‘Where the hell is he?’

  Libby screwed up her eyes, her mind swimming with everything – coping with tomorrow’s dinner party alone, dealing with the police, Sasha’s face the last time she saw her, jealousy, neglecting her daughter… It was all overwhelming.

  ‘Thing is,’ Libby remembered Sasha saying to her as they were setting the table for a dinner party around a month ago. ‘It’s not as though I’ve done anything wrong.’

  ‘So why does Matt give you all this grief?’ Libby had asked, going round with the gl
asses, polishing each one. It was a large house with important guests, and Libby had ordered several special flower arrangements for the table. It was going to look stunning.

  ‘Dunno,’ she’d replied, wistfully. ‘He’s like, always accusing me of things with other boys. Saying I’m looking at them and stuff. But I’m not. He’s the one being all lovey-dovey with that girl. If I say anything, he calls me jealous and crazy. It hurts, you know?’

  Oh, believe me, I know, Libby had wanted to say – the way her ex, David, had treated her suddenly on her mind – but she kept quiet. ‘That sounds unfair,’ she’d said instead. ‘Have you told him you don’t like it?’

  ‘Yes, but he believes what he wants to believe.’ Sasha had dropped some cutlery then, bent down to pick it up before washing it, but Libby hadn’t failed to notice the tears in her eyes.

  ‘Hey,’ she’d said, going up and taking her hands. ‘Leave that a moment. We’ve got time.’ Libby put her arms around her, noticing how thin she felt. She rubbed her back, concerned that her ribs were prominent, her waist tiny. She pulled away slightly and tipped up Sasha’s chin. Tears were streaming down her face.

  ‘It’s just I’m so scared I’ll lose him. I love him to bits. He’s even talked about getting married in the future so why does he do this?’

  ‘Honest answer, love, is I don’t know,’ Libby replied, pulling out a dining chair each for them. ‘But it’s probably his own insecurities surfacing, rather than anything you’re doing wrong. People do that. What hurts them most, the things they’re scared of, they sometimes push out onto other people.’

  ‘So you think he’s cheating on me?’ Sasha said, wiping her face on the tissue Libby had given her.

  ‘No, not necessarily. But he may have some worries about you leaving him. So he might say these things out of fear, to protect himself maybe.’ Libby felt out of her depth.

  Sasha thought about this, giving a little nod. ‘That makes sense,’ she said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. She thought for a while longer, staring down at the dining table, biting her lip. ‘I hate growing up,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to be a proper adult. I’ve seen what they do to each other.’

  ‘Your mum and dad?’ Libby hadn’t wanted to pry but it wasn’t the first time Sasha had mentioned their troubles.

  ‘They’ve been together forever,’ Sasha said, sniffing. ‘Like from when they were only a few years older than me and Matt. How can you be with someone so long then, several decades later, decide that you hate them? Wouldn’t you have known during that time? I don’t want to have that happen to me.’

  ‘People change over the years,’ she said. ‘The person you fall in love with isn’t always the same person a long time later. Surely if your mum and dad don’t get along, then it’s best they part ways?’

  ‘But they do get along,’ Sasha said. ‘I mean, they do love each other. But it’s Dad…’ She hung her head again. ‘He’s always accusing Mum of things. It’s so wrong. I’ve overheard stuff. Seen stuff.’

  ‘Well, like I said, maybe your dad’s got insecurities that he doesn’t know how to deal with and he takes it out on your mum?’

  ‘It’s just…’ She stared at Libby as though she wanted to say something else, as though whatever it was, was stuck deep inside her. Her face betrayed more worry than a young girl should have. ‘Yeah,’ she said, wiping her nose, shaking her head. ‘It’ll probably all work out fine.’

  ‘You’re right, though,’ Libby went on. ‘It is hard being an adult, and we do get things wrong sometimes. But just because your parents are going through a hard time, it doesn’t mean it’ll be the same for you and Matt, OK? You’re young and you’ve got so much life ahead of you.’

  They’d shared a warm hug then, ending in a laugh when Libby accidentally sent more cutlery onto the floor.

  ‘I got it,’ Sasha said, smiling and bending down to pick it up.

  So much life ahead of you…

  ‘He’s here,’ Sean said. ‘And you’re crying. You need to wipe your face.’

  Libby lifted her head from the table to find her cheeks wet with tears.

  ‘Go and clean yourself up. I’ll see him in.’

  She nodded and hurried upstairs before DI Jones came in. As she passed the window, she caught sight of him. A different officer was with him this time – another woman, but older than the last PC. And this one wasn’t wearing uniform either.

  ‘Please, come in,’ she heard Sean saying downstairs as she leant over the basin in the bathroom. She felt light-headed as her shoulders heaved up and down in time with her short, sharp gasps. She stared at herself in the mirror, listening to the detectives’ muffled voices punctuated intermittently by Sean’s monosyllabic responses. Her eyes were dull and sunken in their sockets, the grey circles beneath even more pronounced. She ran the tap and leant down, splashing warm water on her face. She closed her eyes, wishing that she was underwater, drowning, slipping away into a peaceful place where none of this nightmare existed.

  Because, as things stood, she was drowning anyway.

  She dabbed at her face with a towel and quickly fixed her hair, smoothing down the crumpled top she was wearing, wondering if she should change. She looked a state. But then she heard Sean calling up to her.

  ‘Coming…’ she called back. As she went downstairs, she heard their voices getting louder and, at one point, she thought she heard the detective laugh, as though Sean had made some kind of joke. She couldn’t imagine what.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, glancing nervously at DI Jones then at the woman standing next to him. Sean came up to her, draping his arm around her and pulling her close.

  ‘It’s OK, love,’ he said, kissing the top of her head. Libby looked up at him, wondering why his mood had suddenly changed. ‘My wife is finding this particularly hard,’ he explained. ‘As you know, she worked with Sasha. They were close.’ He kissed her head again.

  ‘Well, I—’

  ‘This is DC McCaulay,’ Sean said, interrupting and pulling a chair out at the kitchen table for Libby. ‘We’ve just had a brief word but DI Jones would like a quick chat with you now, Lib. I’ll be in the courtyard loading up the Land Rover if you need me. I’ve got an important call-out to make.’ Sean headed off, stopping in the doorway to give Libby a look over his shoulder, making a reassuring face. At least, she hoped it was reassuring.

  ‘Is there news?’ she said after Sean had closed the back door behind him. Her heart was still thumping.

  ‘We need to take your car for forensic examination,’ DI Jones said, ignoring her question and getting straight to the point.

  ‘What?’ Libby said, sitting forward. ‘My car – why?’ She wished Sean was still with her.

  ‘Mainly routine,’ he continued. ‘You took a taxi on the night Sasha disappeared, yes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘As your car was here at the house all evening, we will now be including it in our investigation. We have the necessary paperwork.’

  ‘I… OK… but I need it for work,’ she said, touching her forehead. ‘And taking Alice to playgroup and her swimming class. Will it take long?’

  ‘All depends,’ the detective replied. ‘But we’ll keep you updated.’

  ‘Are you taking the Land Rover, too?’ Logistics were going to be a nightmare. ‘Sean’s a vet. How will he do his job?’

  ‘Your husband just mentioned his vehicle was in the garage for repairs at the time Sasha went missing. We’ll need to confirm this, of course, but there’ll be no need to take both cars for now. So you can relax a little.’

  Libby’s eyes widened, almost to bursting point. She swallowed, thinking, weighing up what Sean would want her to say.

  ‘I see,’ she said quietly. ‘Yes, yes, you’re right. That’s fine, then, if we still have one car between us.’

  She clasped her hands in her lap, her eyes unable to settle on anything for more than a second. In her head, she heard herself screaming hysterically, remembering how she’d tried to sn
atch Sean’s keys from his hand after they’d arrived home from the pub that night.

  ‘Don’t be an idiot,’ she’d snapped at him. ‘You’ve had way too much to drink. You can’t do this!’ She was choked up with tears, pacing about, covering her face. ‘Just sit down and let’s think.’ She remembered how much she was shaking, how her head thrummed from the stress of it all, how it gradually dawned on her that things would never be the same again. How the Land Rover, for most of the evening, was parked right outside the cottage.

  Thirty-Eight

  It was a rare moment – Dan and Alice sitting at the kitchen table together. Alice was colouring, her little tongue winding its way around her lips as she concentrated. Libby had fetched her from Marion’s earlier, not wanting to be without her for yet another afternoon and evening. Libby felt as though she’d hardly seen her daughter these last couple of weeks. It was time to get things back to normal as far as possible. Besides, it wasn’t Dan’s night to stay – though he’d called his dad and asked to come over a day early – and Libby thought it was a good opportunity for half-brother and sister to have some time together. She wondered if things were tense between his mum and him.

  ‘Dan, you do some colouring,’ Alice said, sliding her box of felt pens closer to him. ‘Help me with this tree and the birds.’

  Libby took a large pot from the oven, lifting the lid and stirring the contents. She’d made enough bourguignon to last several days. She added some more red wine and another handful of herbs, stirring in some French mustard as an afterthought. She put it back in the oven and closed the door again. For the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, she felt a few tendrils of warmth spreading through her as she heard Alice and Dan chattering behind her.