He’d had a far-reaching impact on her life. Emily had thought that, in a devastatingly ironical way, her experiences had stood her in good stead. They had taught her not to judge people, as she had Kara. Yet here she was judging Jake based on a single email. But was she? He’d said he hadn’t slept with the woman she’d seen him with years ago, but there was definitely an intimacy between them. She was clearly flirting with him, touching his hand as they’d sat at the table, threading an arm around his shoulders as they stood, one hand resting on his hip as she’d kissed him goodbye. Emily had avoided seeing him for a while, because after what had happened to her, she hadn’t known how to face him.
She had no idea how to face him now. If she asked him outright whether he was seeing someone else, he would hardly be likely to admit it. She couldn’t do it. She had to wait, be vigilant. Arm herself emotionally. To look into his eyes – honest eyes, she’d always thought – and see the lies there would kill her.
Frozen with indecision, she tried desperately to compose herself. He would know she’d seen it, that she’d opened the email. Panic gripping her, she glanced again towards his office. Her finger hovered uncertainly over the keyboard as she agonised, and then she deleted the email. She needed time. She needed to think what to do.
She needed to find out who it was he was meeting.
Four
Jake’s expression was wary when he finally came home, which only increased the cold foreboding that had been churning away inside Emily since she’d left the surgery.
‘The rescue service came then?’ she asked him, searching his face carefully. Would she know if he was lying? He’d held eye contact with her the last time he’d assured her that her suspicions were unfounded. Would he now? His car had broken down on the way back from an urgent call-out, he’d said. He’d had to wait for the recovery service. With every fibre of her being she wanted to believe him, desperate not to give in to the tears that had been sitting close to the surface since she’d seen that damn email. More so since Millie had chosen to stay out late, despite having promised she wouldn’t. It was nearly eleven, an hour after her weeknight curfew, and Emily was beginning to worry. She’d promised herself she would remain the epitome of calm when Jake got back; that she wouldn’t overreact, hurling accusations at him without establishing the facts first. That she wouldn’t ‘bang on’, as she apparently did to Millie. Now, though, feeling agitated and more light-headed and nauseous than ever, her resolve was waning.
‘Eventually.’ Jake sighed tiredly, dropped his case on the hall floor and shrugged out of his jacket.
He wasn’t looking at her. Apprehension crept the length of Emily’s spine. ‘What was the problem?’ She tried to keep her voice casual.
‘An electrical fault,’ he said, hooking his jacket on the peg, collecting his case and heading up the hall. ‘I’ll take it into the garage tomorrow.’
Look at me, Jake, Emily willed him as she stood aside, allowing him to pass. He did –but just a brief glance. ‘And the call-out?’ she asked, hating the mistrust she could hear in her voice as she followed him into the kitchen.
‘Rachel Brown’s little boy.’ Jake parked his case in its usual place on the island and went across to the kettle. ‘She said she was reluctant to call, but it’s a good job she did. Tea?’
‘No thanks.’ Emily watched him guardedly. ‘I cancelled the table.’
Jake knitted his brow in confusion. ‘Table?’
‘At the pub,’ she reminded him. Clearly he’d forgotten. Her spirits sank. ‘I booked it so we could have that chat we were going to have, remember?’
‘Christ.’ Jake squeezed his eyes closed. ‘Sorry. I didn’t realise you’d—’ He stopped, cursing quietly as his phone rang. Fumbling it from his pocket, he checked the number and then, giving Emily a weary smile, accepted the call.
‘Hi,’ he said, pressing the phone to his ear and turning away from her to head for the conservatory.
Watching him, Emily’s heart dropped like a stone. Clearly he wanted privacy, and this, combined with the fact that he hadn’t introduced himself as Dr Merriden, was a pretty good indication it was a personal call.
‘No problem. I’m happy to be of service,’ she heard him say in that selfless, reassuring way of his as he slid the door closed behind him.
What bloody service? Trepidation twisting her stomach, Emily checked the wall clock. It was ten past eleven. Who would be ringing him at this time of night? Not his father. Jake wouldn’t have greeted him so cordially. And if it were Millie, he would hardly have shut himself in the conservatory.
Hearing the front door open behind her, Emily breathed a sigh of relief. Cautioning herself to stay calm, she tore her gaze away from the conservatory and went into the hall. Millie was home safe. That was all that mattered. Her determination not to launch into a confrontation with her flew out of the window, though, as her eyes lighted on her daughter, who was creeping unsteadily towards the stairs.
‘Millie!’
She stopped in her tracks but didn’t look round. It was obviously catching, Emily thought angrily.
‘Do you realise what time it is?’
‘Need the loo,’ Millie mumbled, and took another step towards the stairs, almost reeling into the hall wall as she did.
Emily’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Where in God’s name have you been?’ she demanded, moving towards her.
Millie met her eyes at last, her own slightly unfocused, Emily noticed. ‘Anna’s,’ she said shortly. ‘Why?’
‘Why? It’s way past the time we agreed,’ Emily pointed out, staring hard at her. She’d obviously been drinking, and Emily doubted very much she’d been doing that at Anna’s house. ‘I’ve been trying to ring you. I’ve left you umpteen messages. I also called Anna. She didn’t answer either.’
‘We were watching TV.’ Millie shrugged indifferently. ‘It’s no big deal.’
Shocked that her daughter was apparently lying to her face, Emily attempted to call her bluff. ‘What were you watching?’
Millie widened her eyes indignantly. ‘The Sinner, a rerun. What is this? The Inquisition?’
‘It’s a school night.’ Emily’s voice rose. ‘We discussed this, Millie. If you’ve any hope of getting the five GCSE grades you need, you have to apply yourself to your school work.’
Folding her arms, Millie rolled her eyes languorously. ‘Right, so I’m not supposed to chill out occasionally then?’
‘You can chill out as much as you like.’ Emily tried hard to hold onto her temper. ‘But you do not stay out late without clearing it with me or your father first.’
Millie’s expression was now one of belligerence, which only increased Emily’s annoyance. Did she not realise how worried she’d been? Yes, she was only an hour late, but anything could happen in an hour, as Emily well knew. ‘And you do not lie to me, ever,’ she added. ‘Understand?’
Millie boggled at that. ‘That’s way out of order, Mum,’ she muttered, her face creasing into a scowl. ‘I am not lying. I’ve been round at Anna’s. Ring her now if you don’t believe me.’
‘I just might,’ Emily threatened. ‘But I think I’d much rather talk to her mother tomorrow. How much have you had to drink?’
‘I haven’t been drinking.’ Millie dragged her hair from her face and eyeballed her defiantly. ‘What the bloody hell is up with you anyway? It’s not like I’ve been out the whole night.’
Enough. Emily saw red. ‘That’s it, Millie. No more going out during the week, no TV …’
‘What?’ Millie laughed, disbelieving.
‘… no mobile top-ups and no computer time, unless it’s for homework. Not until you learn to act like an adult.’
‘You have to be joking.’ Millie gawped at her, stunned.
‘I’ve never been more serious in my life,’ Emily assured her. ‘You can carry on up the stairs now, assuming you can negotiate them.’
‘God! You’re being totally unfair. Ben’s still out.’ Millie splayed a hand to
wards the front door.
‘He’s older than you,’ Emily argued, stopping short of pointing out that she would also always worry more about Millie simply because she was a girl. She was acutely aware that this was partly because of her own experience at the hands of the man who’d manipulated her and then taken what he wanted anyway when she’d said no. The fact was, though, that Millie was young, beautiful and vulnerable – more so for having been drinking.
‘I’ve only been at my friend’s,’ Millie retaliated, her cheeks flushing furiously. ‘I rang Dad on his mobile and told him I was going to be a bit late. He said it was fine.’ Her gaze went past Emily to where Jake was making an appearance now he’d finished talking to whoever it was he was perfectly happy to take calls from this late, leaving her to deal with their daughter. ‘Dad?’ Millie appealed to him.
Jake glanced at Emily, as she turned to face him, and then uncomfortably back to Millie. ‘I said it was fine as long as you checked with your mum, Mils,’ he said, at least backing Emily up.
‘Right. Thanks for your support, Dad.’ Swiping a tear from her cheek, Millie threw him a mutinous scowl, and then flounced onwards to the stairs. ‘I hate it here. I’ll be glad when I can leave,’ she growled, thundering up them, half tripping. ‘You treat me like I’m three years old and then expect me to act like an adult? How does that work?’
Shaking his head, Jake gazed despairingly after her, and then looked back to Emily. ‘She’s been drinking again, I take it?’ he asked, his face etched with concern.
It was a pity he hadn’t been concerned enough to come home when he’d promised to, Emily thought, with a mixture of fear and frustration. She so wanted to believe his car had broken down, but after seeing that email, she just couldn’t make herself. ‘Obviously,’ she said, now perilously close to tears herself. ‘That was one of the things I wanted to talk to you about tonight, but of course you had more important things to do.’
Jake looked at her, perplexed. ‘It was an emergency, Em. It’s clear we do need to sit down and have a talk, preferably also with Millie, but I had no choice but to go.’
Emily nodded, trying very hard not to cry in front of him. ‘I gathered,’ she managed, turning back to the stairs.
‘Em …?’ Jake called worriedly after her.
‘I’m going up,’ she said, a treacherous wobble to her voice. ‘Can you check how long Ben will be, please?’
Pausing on the landing, she took a breath, and tapped on Millie’s door. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say to her. She couldn’t apologise. She just wanted her daughter to know that she loved her.
Getting no answer, she tapped again. ‘Millie?’
‘I’m sleeping,’ Millie mumbled moodily, which Emily supposed meant she didn’t want to speak to her.
The tears fell as she went into the bathroom, bolting the door behind her. Was she wrong about all of this? Wrong to wade in so heavily with Millie, despite her gut feeling that she hadn’t been at Anna’s house? Wrong about Jake, despite her instinct telling her that something wasn’t right? She’d been so off colour lately, stressed and anxious, her heartbeat so rapid she’d felt it like an actual pain in her chest. Millie kept accusing her of saying things she couldn’t remember having said. She should talk to Jake. But he would want to examine her. Feeling as vulnerable as she did, could she bear for him to be that close to her?
‘Emily?’ His voice came through the bathroom door. ‘Can we talk?’
She wasn’t sure she wanted to, with her emotions so fraught. She could hardly avoid it, though. She would be the one acting childishly if she stayed in here. Taking a second to wipe her smeared mascara from under her eyes – make-up she’d foolishly reapplied when she’d thought they were going out – she braced herself and opened the door.
Jake was sitting on the bed, his head bowed, his hands draped between his knees, looking utterly exhausted. ‘Ben’s on his way,’ he said, glancing up at her as she came into the bedroom. ‘He should be here in five minutes. I’ll go down and wait for him and then lock up.’
Emily nodded. ‘Thanks.’
‘He’s my son too.’ He frowned pensively. ‘You don’t need to thank me.’
Emily’s heart caught in her chest, as it was prone to every time she was reminded what a good father Jake had been to Ben. ‘I know. I …’ She faltered. ‘I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.’ Offering him a weak smile, she turned to the dressing table to remove her locket and earrings.
‘Look, I am sorry, Emily.’ Jake met her gaze finally, albeit in the mirror. ‘Tonight was clearly important. I can see you’re upset, and I can see why you would be, but the call-out really was an emergency.’
‘I’m sure it must have been.’ Emily tried to keep the weary facetiousness from her voice, but couldn’t quite manage it.
Jake evidently picked up on it. ‘He had appendicitis,’ he said, his forehead creasing into a curious frown. ‘Ethan, Rachel’s little boy. I thought the appendix might be close to rupturing. I didn’t want to risk peritonitis, so I got him straight into the hospital.’
Oh no. Emily closed her eyes. She’d been a millimetre away from accusing him of using his call-outs as cover for an affair. All because of a silly email. She’d leapt to conclusions, but perhaps there was some other explanation she hadn’t considered. She should tell him about the email. How was he supposed to explain if she didn’t? The whole thing was ridiculous. She trusted him. Apart from that one blip in their distant past, which she couldn’t blame entirely on him, she always had. Turning from the mirror, her heart jolted.
Jake was on his feet, tugging off his shirt, his back towards her.
‘What are those?’ she asked, her blood running cold.
Half in and half out of the shirt, Jake paused and glanced over his shoulder. ‘Scratches,’ he said, looking at her cautiously as he turned to face her. ‘I got caught up while I was trimming the Leylandii at the weekend. I told you, remember?’
Emily stared at him. She didn’t remember. Her stomach turned over. She had no recollection at all of him coming in from the garden injured. Surely she would have? She scrambled through her memory. There was nothing. Nothing at all. She couldn’t even remember him being in the garden. But the Leylandii, they had been trimmed recently. Hadn’t they? Oh dear God. Fearing now for her sanity as well as his fidelity, a hard knot of panic twisted inside her.
Five
Jake
Jake had no idea how he’d let Edward talk him into this. He wasn’t sure how they’d got on to the subject of swimming, let alone how that had ended up with him volunteering to wade about in wellington boots in the river. The water was low, but it was still bloody cold in there.
‘We need someone competent,’ Edward had told him with a hopeful smile. Jake doubted a high level of competency would be needed to make sure a raft of plastic ducks crossed the finish line without coming a cropper on the rocks or getting snarled up in flotsam. He’d agreed to do it, though, when Edward had pointed out that the majority of the spectators would be small children, who would sit up and take notice of him as he was the local GP. Jake didn’t think the kids in the village were that in awe of him, but he would hate to think of a young child slipping past one of the marshals and sliding into the water. It was all for a good cause, he supposed; the money collected from sponsorship of the ducks would be put towards repairing the roof of the sports hall, which would also go some way to keeping the kids dry. And at least this way he would be on hand – numb from cold probably, but on hand if he was needed.
‘All right, Jake?’ someone shouted as he glanced around for Emily. Turning to the local produce stall, he spotted Dean Miller with his arm around his wife, Zoe, who was expecting their first child.
‘Didn’t think there was a dress code,’ Dean said, looking him over with an amused grin. ‘Liking the natty attire.’
Jake glanced down at the yellow waterproof dungarees someone had loaned him and decided ‘natty’ possibly wasn’t the right descrip
tion.
‘Dean, stop it.’ Looking highly embarrassed, Zoe gave him a nudge with her elbow. Clearly she thought Dean was being overfamiliar. She was always shy when she came to see Jake, always addressed him as Dr Merriden, as some people tended to.
‘What?’ Dean looked at her, now highly amused. ‘Jake’s all right. He has a sense of humour.’ He gave her shoulders a squeeze. ‘Must have to be wearing those, hey, Jake?’
‘Clearly.’ Jake smiled wryly and gave him a wave as the couple moved on, Dean now being severely chastised by his wife.
He’d located Emily and was about to go across to her when Edward called to him from one of the stalls. ‘Ah, Dr Merriden. Glad you managed to get here in plenty of time for the off. And looking the part, I see.’ He chuckled as Jake walked across to him. ‘Very trendy.’
Thinking he was possibly going to be the main source of entertainment at the fair, Jake shook his head good-naturedly. Then, glancing across to where Emily was manning the bar and BBQ stall, and pointedly not looking in his direction, he buried a sigh. She was still annoyed with him for not coming home early when he’d promised to on Thursday. He didn’t blame her. They clearly did need to sit down together and have a discussion about Millie, and think about maybe speaking to her tutors. He wished Emily would talk to him in the meantime, though. She wasn’t exactly not talking to him, but she wasn’t being very communicative. She was upset about Millie, understandably, but he couldn’t escape the uneasy feeling that it was more than that. Perhaps he should suggest they go out tonight? He could book a table at the Italian restaurant in Hereford that was Emily’s favourite, and ask Tom to cover any call-outs. If his father was going to insist on being hands-on, he could step in during out-of-surgery hours occasionally. It wouldn’t kill him.
Trust Me: An absolutely gripping and unputdownable psychological thriller Page 4
