The Leaving Party: An absolutely gripping and addictive psychological thriller

by Lesley Sanderson

  The sound of chatter filters down the path and the doorbell rings before she can interrogate me any further.

  ‘Looks like your first guests are here,’ Dad says.

  Lena goes to answer and comes back in with the young couple from across the road. We exchange greetings and Lena starts preparing their drinks.

  ‘Thanks for the cake, Mum,’ I say. ‘It’s gorgeous as ever.’

  She pulls me into a hug and I sink into her warmth as she rubs my back.

  ‘You look beautiful in that dress,’ she says. ‘Are you sure you’re all right, darling? You seem a bit distracted.’

  I gesture towards the table. ‘It’s all this. It’s really sweet of Lena, but I’d rather slip away without a fuss, what with everything that’s been going on at work lately.’ I had to tell Mum about Pete when she was giving me a hard time about packing in a good job to move to an uncertain future. ‘And she won’t tell me whether Ben’s coming or not. It would be so awesome if he was. Do you know?’

  Mum glances at Dad to see whether he’s listening.

  ‘I can’t say, love, I promised. You know how excited Lena gets.’ She lowers her voice. ‘But I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.’

  ‘Ooh, thanks, Mum.’ I squeeze her to me again, inhaling her lavender fragrance. ‘I promise I won’t say anything.’

  The doorbell rings again, and Dad waves at Mum.

  ‘We won’t be staying long,’ she says. ‘You’ve got everything you need here, haven’t you? And Dad can always pop over in the morning if there’s anything you’ve left behind.’

  ‘He’s already arranged to come back anyway. There’s a shelf of books and paperwork we couldn’t fit in the car earlier. And he wants to supervise the piano removal. Did I tell you Ben’s going to get me one? I’ve finally convinced him it won’t ruin the look of his flat.’

  Mum laughs. ‘I knew he’d come round eventually. We’re so happy you’re playing again, darling.’

  ‘Me too. I never thought I’d want to again. Mum, before you go, I just wanted to say I’m sorry I’m going so far away, but you do understand, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh darling, of course we do.’ Her voice is thick with emotion. ‘Your dad and I think it’s marvellous. And we love Ben. Please don’t feel guilty; you’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime already. Anyway, it could be worse; it could be Australia!’

  The doorbell rings again, giving me an excuse to compose myself. My mother and I have always been close, but she understands why I need to go. It’s hard for me to leave Lena too – we virtually grew up together – but the time has finally come. This party is our celebration.

  A dog is yelping in the distance when I open the door, and a burning smell fills the air. Bonfire Night is one of my favourite times. Fiona, my old friend from university, pulls me into a hug. A car draws away from the kerb.

  ‘I’m so happy to see you,’ she says. Her shoulders are bare in her little black dress.

  ‘You must be freezing.’

  ‘I came in a cab so I wouldn’t have to bother with a coat.’ Of course, she’s still wearing woolly tights and sensible Mary Janes. The same shoes she wears for her job as an accountant. I smile. She never changes.

  Lena appears in the doorway. ‘Fiona, hey. Let me get you a drink.’ I feel a rush of emotion at the effort she’s making.

  During my first year at university, Fiona was in the next room to me in college. Over the years, she’s become a close friend, but she and Lena have never got on. Fiona can’t understand my bond with Lena, and often mentions how unusual our friendship is, given how different we are. I can’t explain it to her. I don’t talk about that time; it’s how I cope. Lena thinks Fiona is stuck up, with her love of horse riding and her clipped upper-class accent, but I’ve managed to keep my friendships with them separate and so appease them both.

  Lena leads Fiona inside, but the noise of fireworks popping behind me makes me turn and watch the yellow and green showers in the sky. A cold breeze blows, and I catch sight of the black rose sticking out of the dustbin. I march over and push it down as hard as I can, but as soon as I replace the metal lid, it springs out again. I shudder, wishing it would go away, along with the mystery of the sender that is never far from my mind.

  I turn back to the house. Light spills out through the open slats of the blinds and muffled music plays. I watch the figures moving behind the windows and think of all those yet to arrive, wondering if the sender of the roses is amongst them.

  Seven

  Lena

  I open the door to Lorraine, who lives down the road. Immediately she swoops on Ava, who is chatting to Fiona, and engulfs her in an embrace.

  ‘I can’t believe we’ll never run together again,’ she says. ‘You know I’ll never get out of bed now that I know you’re not going to be there, always at exactly the right time, without fail.’

  ‘That sounds like our Ava,’ David says. ‘Ever the perfectionist.’

  ‘Well you’ll have to come and visit me and we can run round Central Park.’

  ‘Oh, you darling. Don’t you look fabulous? Shall we take a photo?’ Lorraine pulls out her phone and grins at the camera, showing lots of teeth, her cheeks flushed. Ava holds her empty glass in the air. ‘Do you want to take one?’ Lorraine asks her.

  ‘Sorry, I don’t know where my phone is. Send it to me.’

  ‘Let me get you both a drink,’ I say, taking Ava’s glass. ‘What would you like, Lorraine?’

  ‘Gin and tonic, please, easy on the tonic. I plan to enjoy myself tonight. We’ll give Ava the best send-off this street has ever seen.’ She raises an eyebrow at me. ‘This is going to be such a great party.’

  Once I’ve sorted Lorraine out and made sure the rest of the guests have got drinks, I check everything’s how I want it to be. Tonight has to be perfect. It’s dark outside now and I dim the lights so that the fairy lights sparkle like it’s Christmas. Not that Christmas was ever a big deal in our house; Dad had a drink every day of the year, so Christmas was more of the same. In the kitchen, the food is set out to one side, and I put Sue’s chocolate cake in the fridge for later. A little thrill ripples through me whenever I think about what I’ve got planned. I’m so pleased the canapés were delivered on time – one less thing to worry about – but the plates aren’t how I imagined. In my mind, I had it all laid out on Ava’s fancy dinner set with the elegant silver edges. I let out a breath, reminding myself not to get agitated.

  The lighting is right now and I start my party playlist from the beginning. No slow songs; pure dance music. Every song Ava and I have ever danced to – the soundtrack to our lives. Yelling out the words to ‘Crazy in Love’ in Lena’s bedroom every day after school for weeks; listening to Christina Aguilera’s ‘Beautiful’ on shared headphones, mouthing the words to each other; me playing ‘Marry the Night’ over and over at my twenty-first birthday party, Ava struggling to share my excitement. It was too soon, back then. The thumping beat makes me vibrate inside, and I see David wince, so I turn it down a bit. Ava’s having another intense conversation with her mum, and I wander into the kitchen, where the bottles glint in my bar area. I’m going to miss this amazing house and all the memories we’ve made.

  Looking around, I’m transported back to the day I first brought Ava here. I couldn’t believe my luck when Kerry at work mentioned that her brother was looking for someone to rent his house. He didn’t want to go through an agency; wanted someone he could trust. Kerry forgot to tell me about the designer spec, left that as a surprise. And what a shock it was. I knew Ava would fall in love with the place. I went to meet her from work that day, telling her that the property was made for us and she just had to see it. The location was perfect, not far from a mainline train station and the Tube, with access to both of our workplaces. The wide street was lined with trees and there was a park at the end of the road, perfect for running and summer picnics.

  From the front, it looked like an ordinary Victorian terrace in a street ful
l of similar-looking houses. It had a glossy black front door and a brass knocker. We walked through the long hall, with its high ceiling and stark white walls, moving left into the airy living room. White lights hung from the ceiling and the furniture was minimal: a black leather sofa and an expensive-looking chair. The room formed an L shape, leading into the kitchen, which gave the house its wow factor. A large open-plan space with pale grey walls and spotlights in the ceiling, globe lights hanging over the island in the middle of the room. Beyond that was a glass extension at the back of the house, looking out onto the garden, with a table and chairs set out on grey marble-effect tiles. Upstairs was equally airy and light.

  We stopped off for a coffee afterwards in a hipster café in a little row of shops that wouldn’t have looked out of place in Shoreditch. The street was home to artisan bakers and stylish boutiques, giving the place a village feel. Ava adored the area straight away, just like I knew she would.

  ‘Are you sure we can afford it? It’s such an amazing house,’ she said.

  ‘No need to worry about that. Kerry’s giving us a special rate. I told you it was perfect, didn’t I?’

  And now she’s leaving this perfect house, and all the memories we’ve made here.

  The fairy lights catch the glass, and the pink and green liquids make pretty dancing patterns on the table. The room looks good, and I grudgingly admit to myself that the minimalist decor is perfect for a party, although the sofa looked better with Ava’s cushions scattered on it, pops of colour against the dark leather.

  The beat of the music makes me long to dance. I want throbbing music and moving bodies like the parties we used to go to, and I want to forget for one night why we are throwing this one. I don’t want an evening of standing around and having boring conversations. The fireworks will help with that – one surprise I’ve actually managed to keep from Ava.

  Back in the lounge, Sue is still talking to Ava, so I go over to David. I’ve always found him easy to talk to.

  ‘Looks meaningful,’ I say, glancing across at his wife and daughter.

  ‘Sue is taking her leaving hard,’ he says, ‘but it’s just the idea of it. She’ll be fine. She’s pleased Ava’s found such a great guy to spend her life with. It’s probably a good idea for her to have a fresh start.’ He gives me the look and doesn’t need to explain what he means. Since the accident, it’s always a subtext to any conversation. ‘And what about you? I’m surprised you’re not staying in this fabulous house.’

  ‘You and everyone else.’

  ‘Where are you moving to?’

  I shrug, watching Ava out of the corner of my eye. ‘Stacey’s flat. She’s a friend.’

  ‘You know,’ he slings his arm round my shoulder, ‘Sue and I have been talking, and we do understand how tough Ava’s leaving is for you, but you have to let her go. She needs this break, a new chapter. It will be good for you too, trust me.’

  His words catch me unawares and I reach for my plastic cup. So that’s why they’re not asking me to come and live with them. To toughen me up. I was sure Sue would have invited me by now, just like she did when I was sixteen.

  ‘Ava mentioned Martha earlier,’ I say.

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘Apparently she wants to get in touch.’

  ‘And you find that difficult.’ His eyes are kind.

  I nod. ‘I get it – I mean, they’re sisters – but …’

  ‘What’s upsetting you?’

  ‘It’s the fact that she didn’t tell me before. We used to tell each other everything, and I thought she still did. We’re like sisters.’

  ‘I know you are. Our family is indebted to you; that’s why we took you in when we did. You deserved a stable home life after everything that happened. Martha isn’t easy to get on with, but she has Ava’s best interests at heart too. You both want the same thing; you just clash. You’re very alike, you know.’

  I pull a face, and he laughs.

  ‘Careful, that’s my daughter you’re dissing.’

  ‘She’s not coming tonight, though, is she?’

  ‘Not as far as I know. Stop worrying, and enjoy the party. You’ve done a great job.’

  We both look around us. The fairy lights are flickering, casting pretty patterns across the walls and floor.

  ‘Sue and I should be getting off now. We don’t want to outstay our welcome.’

  I grin. ‘We’ll turn the music up again the minute you’re gone.’

  ‘That’s my girl,’ he says, giving my arm a squeeze. ‘Sue,’ he calls, and she comes over. ‘Time we were leaving. We need to let these young people go wild.’

  ‘This isn’t a rave,’ I say with a laugh. ‘Where’s Ava gone?’

  ‘She popped upstairs to look for her phone … Ah, here she is. Did you find it, love?’

  ‘No,’ Ava says. ‘I had a quick look in both our rooms, but it seems to have disappeared.’ She shrugs. ‘I’m sure it will turn up.’

  ‘Bye, everyone,’ David says, and the four of us go into the hall. It occurs to me that I don’t know when we will be together like this again, and I want to stop time, keep us all here where I feel safest.

  David takes out his car keys as Sue gives us both a hug. Her lavender perfume is as familiar to me as Ava’s, and it takes me back to that dark street where she put her arms around me for the first time, holding me until I stopped shaking and managed to tear my eyes from the terrible scene in front of me. But for how much longer will the lavender scent linger? Do they really want me to keep in touch? David meant well with his kind words, but he’s reminded me that Martha is his daughter and I’m not. No matter what they say, everything is changing.

  We stay on the doorstep until the car has disappeared from sight, but my feelings of unease don’t shift.

  ‘It’s freezing,’ Ava says. ‘Let’s go in.’

  Back inside, I turn up the music, but I’ve only just picked up my drink when the doorbell goes again. This time it rings for a long time, as if someone is holding their finger against it.

  ‘Maybe we should just leave the door open,’ I say to nobody in particular.

  As I open the front door, a high-pitched noise fills the air and a rocket explodes in the sky.

  ‘Jesus,’ says the man in front of me. He’s wearing a high-vis vest and holding a parcel.

  ‘Ava Thomas?’ he asks.

  ‘No, but I can take it for her. Do you need a signature?’

  He places the box on the ground and hands me a device, which I sign with an electronic pen, my signature a flourish.

  ‘Good party?’ he asks.

  ‘Yeah, thanks. It’s rough for you having to work on a Saturday night.’

  ‘This is my last delivery of the night, then I’ll be partying too, don’t you worry about me.’

  I laugh and take the box, which is surprisingly light. I wonder if it’s from Ben, but there’s a UK delivery label on it, with no indication of what it is.

  ‘Ooh, presents,’ says a man, coming out into the hall. ‘Ava, delivery!’ he calls. He leads the way back into the living room, where people are laughing and chatting. Ava looks over from her conversation with Lorraine and comes across, grinning. Lorraine follows her.

  ‘What’s this?’ she asks. ‘Lena, you have to stop giving me things.’

  ‘Not guilty. I just took this in at the door.’

  ‘Maybe it’s from Ben,’ she says, and her eyes sparkle. We go through to the kitchen and I put the box on the table. ‘He already sent my dress, though. I wouldn’t expect anything else.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s from him,’ I say. ‘It looks local.’

  She gets some scissors and cuts the top.

  ‘Who’s it from?’ I ask. ‘Does it say?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She rummages around. ‘There’s no card, which is weird.’ She lifts the lid of the inner box to reveal a single-tiered cake covered in black icing, a white band around the edge. Her silver-painted nails are a stark contrast to the unusual dark frosting.
On top of the cake, piped in white icing, is the number 13. She gasps and almost drops the box to the floor.

  ‘Whoopsy,’ says Lorraine, holding out a hand to steady it. ‘Do you know who it’s from?’

  Ava shakes her head in a robotic fashion, staring at the cake with glassy eyes.

  ‘It’s gorgeous, so classy.’ Lorraine peers at it, oblivious to Ava’s reaction. ‘Although the black is quite unusual. Look at the detail on those roses. I wonder what flavour it is. And what does the number signify? Obviously it’s not the thirteenth anniversary of you and Ben being together.’

  Her words fade into white noise and I can’t take my eyes off Ava, who is gripping the edge of the table, her fingers taut. One possible significance of the number has leapt into my head, and I gulp.

  ‘I do love a mystery,’ Lorraine says. ‘You look as if you’re in shock, Ava. Too much excitement, I reckon, I’ll get you another drink.’

  ‘It’s OK, I’ve remembered who it’s from,’ I say, my thoughts racing, the lie tripping out. ‘It’s supposed to be a three, not thirteen, for the three happy years we’ve lived in this house.’

  ‘How sweet,’ Lorraine says, putting a glass in Ava’s hand. ‘Oh look, there’s Yasmin. Excuse me, ladies.’ She moves away and I take Ava’s arm. She’s shaking.

  ‘Let’s put this in the fridge.’

  ‘Please tell me that’s true, about the three years,’ she says as a blast of cold air from the fridge hits us.

  ‘I wish I could. I just said it to stop Lorraine’s questions. You know how she goes on. I have no idea who this is from.’

  ‘Oh God,’ she says, taking a large sip from her glass, fear filling her eyes. ‘You know what thirteen means, don’t you?’

  Eight