Lisa Hall - The Party

‘I don’t remember very much. Only arriving at the party, maybe having a drink or two? It was hot in there. Busy.’ I glance at Gareth who is chewing on the inside of his lip.

‘Would you rather do this on your own, Rachel?’ Carrie sees my glance and follows my gaze over to Gareth.

‘No,’ I say hastily, not wanting to be alone with her, afraid of the questions that she might ask me. ‘It’s fine. I just can’t remember anything about that night. Not past the first hour or so of the party.’

‘Do you think there’s a possibility that something could have been put into your drink?’ Carrie asks, her pen scratching away at the notepad in front of her.

‘I … maybe. I don’t know.’

‘How did you feel when you woke up?’ Carrie asks me gently, and Gareth gives my knee a tiny squeeze, letting me know he’s still there.

‘Rough. Really, really poorly. Like the worst hangover I’d ever had. Everything was a bit foggy … I was sick and dizzy, a bit unsteady on my feet.’

‘And when did you first start to think that perhaps you had been raped?’ Carrie’s voice is kind, her tone soft and it makes tears jump to my eyes. I was so frightened that they wouldn’t believe me, that they’d think that I was just a woman who’d drunk too much and stayed out all night and needed to concoct a story for her husband, that the fact Carrie seems to believe what I’m saying makes me feel almost faint with gratitude.

‘Not until last night, not properly. It’s not the kind of thing that you think will happen to you, you know? When I woke up the morning after the party … my whole body was sore, and there was bruising to my thighs and my upper arms. Also, I was sore, you know …’ I gesture downwards towards my lap. ‘I was trying to think of a reason why I would feel like that, but I know I wouldn’t have … not, you know. I wouldn’t have wanted to.’

‘Is there anybody who you think might have … had something to do with this?’ Carrie asks gently.

‘What? I don’t …’ The words won’t come and I grip Gareth’s hand tightly, my whole body starting to shake.

‘It’s OK, Rachel, I don’t mean to upset or confuse you,’ Carrie says, with an anxious glance at Gareth,‘what I meant is, is there anyone who has upset you lately, anyone who might have a grudge against you? Have you fallen out with anyone? Friends or colleagues? Basically, anyone you might think would have a reason to want to hurt you. The reason I ask, Rachel, is that acquaintance or date rape is much more common than stranger rape, do you understand what I mean?’

‘No … not that I can think of. I don’t have any colleagues – I’m an aromatherapist. I work from home.’ I say, my voice barely above a whisper. My brain is foggy and I can’t think straight.

‘There’s nobody that would want to hurt Rachel,’ Gareth’s voice is strained and he runs his hand through his hair again, like some sort of nervous tic, ‘she gets on with everybody. There were lots of people at that party – every room was crowded. There were lots of people that we knew there, but also lots of people that we didn’t know. Presumably friends and acquaintances of Liz and Neil.’

‘Rachel?’ Carrie gives a brief nod to Gareth, but clearly wants to hear it from me. ‘Nobody at all?’

‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘There isn’t anyone that I can think of who would ever do something as awful as this.’

The interview, the statement, whatever you want to call it goes on and on, Carrie asking me questions about every little aspect of the party. Who else was there? I have to tell her that I don’t know, I only remember seeing Neil and Liz, although I know other people were there. What time did I think the party finished? I don’t know, I can’t remember anything past the first hour. Did anyone see me spending time with anyone in particular? At this I utter the same words for the hundredth time, I don’t know , tears of frustration streaming down my cheeks. If only I could just remember something, anything , that could give Carrie a lead. Eventually I manage to stop the tears, my eyes feeling raw, and Carrie apologizes for causing me any distress. As she leaves the room to fetch tea, I turn to Gareth.

‘Please, can we just go now?’ Exhaustion is tugging at my bones and all I want to do is go to sleep. ‘I’ve done what you wanted, I’ve reported it.’

‘Not quite done yet, sorry, Rachel.’ Carrie appears in the doorway, obviously overhearing, and replies before Gareth gets the chance to. ‘I’d really like to get the doctor to give you a quick medical examination, and to take some photos of that nasty bruising, if that’s OK with you. We’ll also do some tests for STDs and a pregnancy test.’

God, I want to weep, the thought of someone pulling at me, inspecting the deepest parts of me, makes me want to throw up. I can’t even entertain the thought that whoever he is might have given me something else as well.

‘Rachel, please,’ desperation leaches into Gareth’s voice, ‘you’ve been really brave. Please just do this one thing; whoever did this needs to be caught.’ Fighting back the panic that seems to have been simmering under my skin since the night of the party I agree to the medical, despite feeling as though I might faint at the touch of someone I don’t know. Gareth is right – whoever did this needs to be caught, and if it means I need to do this, then I need to do it. Gareth kisses my temple, and then I follow Carrie along a corridor towards the back of the police station, and realize that this must be the rape suite – a block of three rooms, one for examination, another room similar to the one I have spent the morning in, and a bathroom, complete with shower. Carrie explains that after the medical, I can have a shower and she’ll give me clean clothes to wear home, if I want them.

‘Where are the clothes you wore that night, Rachel?’ she asks, as another officer photographs the bruises that stain the skin on my arms.

‘At home,’ I whisper, ‘in the laundry basket. I haven’t washed them yet.’ Carrie tells me she’ll come and collect them, that I don’t need to worry, just put them in a bag and she’ll drive over tomorrow to pick them up. She leads me into the examination room and I start to slowly slide my clothes off behind the paper screen, my heart thumping double time in my chest. Even the realization that the doctor examining me is a woman doesn’t stop the fear from clogging my throat, and I lie on the examination table, my muscles so tense they hurt. Finally, endlessly, it is over and I slide from the table, wrapping the paper gown Carrie has left out tightly around my body and dress in my own comfortable, familiar clothes, ignoring the jogging pants and sweatshirt provided by the staff. Back in the room, Carrie perches on the end of the coffee table, talking to Gareth, both of them looking up startled when I appear in the doorway.

‘All done?’ Carrie smiles and gets to her feet, moving towards the door. ‘Rachel, you’ve been fantastic – really helpful. I’ll be over tomorrow to collect the clothing, and as soon as I have any further information for you I’ll be in touch. Here’s my number, you can call me any time, OK?’ She presses a business card into my hand and I whisper my thanks. I don’t want her to come over tomorrow. I don’t want to have to call her. I just want this to never have happened.

We drive home in silence, the claustrophobic kind that you could cut with a knife. I have no words left to say, and after a few feeble attempts at starting a conversation, it seems that Gareth has run out of sympathetic phrases, something that I’m more than a little relieved about. Once back home indoors, he offers to take Thor for a walk, somehow sensing that I don’t want to leave the house, and he grabs the lead from where it hangs by the back door.