The Date: An unputdownable psychological thriller with a breathtaking twist by Louise Jensen Read Free Book Online Page A

background noises reminded me I was not alone. The pain in my temples pulses. I wish a frazzled nurse would tip painkillers into my hand, handing me a warm plastic cup of water. Stupidly, I’ve left the co-codamol I was prescribed on the coffee table, in the lounge. I sit up.An engine outside roars and revs, there’s an angry slam of a door. A squeak. Our gate? Chrissy returning early from her break? The front door hasn’t creaked open but then I remember the new lock and I can almost imagine Chrissy chewing her lip in frustration, poking her key again and again, wondering if she’s drunk too much. If she’s got the right house. The right door.
    Jamming my feetinto my slippers and shrugging on my dressing gown, I traipse downstairs to the dark, narrow, hallway. Chinks of moonlight push through the gaps in the blind covering the small window to the left of the front door.
    I’m holding my breath though I don’t know why, afraid to flick on the lights, wishing now that I’d asked Ben to stay the night, but James and Jules are only next door. I’m okay.I am.
    There’s a shuffling outside. A muttering.
    ‘Chrissy?’ My voice is barely audible.
    The door handle rattles up and down. I step forward. My fingers grip the key but, instead of twisting it, I sidestep and hoist open the blind so I can look out of the window. A face presses against the glass. I stumble backwards in shock. The face stares back at me. It isn’t Chrissy, thismuch I know. Automatically I think it’s a man. It’s too dark to see clearly but there is no long hair poking out of his beanie, the type workmen wear. It can only be seconds that we stand, eyes locked together, but it feels like an eternity.
    He raises his gloved hand and slams it against the glass. Slowly, methodically, over and over. Thud-thud-thud – until the thumping on the window mergeswith the thudding inside my head. I clasp my hands over my ears and screw my eyes closed, praying this is a medication-induced nightmare, but when I open them again the face is still there.
    His hands still banging the glass.
    It’s like something out of the horror films Matt used to love. He’d wrap his arm tightly around my shoulders, plant kisses on the top of my head as I pressedmy face against his chest every time there was a scary bit. Stuffing toffee popcorn into my mouth, my crunching dulling the sounds of the screaming coming from the screen. But this isn’t fantasy, this man outside my window, fogging the glass with his breath. This is razor-sharp real, and utterly, utterly terrifying. If it were a movie I’d be yelling at the actress to move, to run, to do something . My legs feel like paper as I back down the hallway, slow steps, unable to tear my gaze away from the window as though it might shatter if my eyes are not on it. It must be him. Ewan.
    He can’t get in I tell myself but that doesn’t calm my frantic heart. It doesn’t dry the sweat that is running in rivulets between my breasts. Suddenly, I’m desperate to call the police. Fumbling behind meI twist the door handle to the lounge, and I stumble backwards, righting myself as I switch on the light. The landline we have for the broadband is on the bookcase and I swipe it from its cradle, the shaking fingers of my other hand clicking on the table lamp. I banish the dark but fear has still swallowed me whole. The tomato soup I had for supper rising in my throat as my thumb stabs the call button.Holding the handset to my ear, I wait for the reassuring whirr, picturing every bad movie I have ever seen. Is it really so easy to snip a phone line? The relief I feel as the dialling tone hums against my ears is immense. I lower the handset and press the first 9.
    The thudding stops.
    The second 9.
    The silence is louder somehow than the banging on the glass.
    Hesitating,I lower the handset, although I still hold it tightly in my hand as I edge back out into the hallway. Has he gone? It’s too dark to properly see. Pressing my spine