His mind made up, he turned his attention to Edward. ‘Looks interesting,’ he commented, nodding at the bottle of wine he was wrapping up in old Christmas paper, doing his bit for recycling.
‘Aye, it is that,’ Edward said with a wink. ‘It’s water.’
Perplexed, Jake knitted his brow. ‘That should make sure no one’s drunk while in charge of their ducks. Might be a few disappointed winners, though.’
‘No, they’re all getting into the spirit of it,’ Edward quipped, adding the bottle to a row already wrapped and picking up another. ‘It’s a good fundraiser, this. It’s called Water into Wine. The winning ticket gets a nice little …’ He paused, squinting to read the label at arm’s length. ‘Sauvignon Blanc. And everyone else is happy in the knowledge that all proceeds are going towards maintaining the sports centre.’
‘Fair enough. Count me in.’ Managing to locate his jeans pockets under his dungarees, Jake fished out some cash. Handing over a ten-pound note, he marvelled at how Edward kept smiling despite his wife’s recent illness and his accountancy business going under last year – something he hadn’t told his wife, he’d confided. There was also his recent dementia diagnosis, which he really did need to tell Joyce about, though Jake guessed it wasn’t going to be an easy thing for him to do. Joyce and Edward had been together for forty-five years. They weren’t joined at the hip, both of them determined to stay independently active, but he’d noticed how close they were, always holding hands whenever they were out walking together, which was a sure sign of a strong relationship.
A stark image of his mother seared itself on his mind, reminding him how devastating the psychological consequences of feeling trapped in a bad relationship could be. He drew in a sharp breath. Jesus. Where had that come from? In his nightmares he couldn’t avoid it, but during waking hours he tried hard not to think about the day he’d walked in from school to find his mother’s body hanging limp and lifeless in the hall. Her eyes had been bulbous, bloodshot and haunted, looking right at him. He drew in another breath, tried to shake the image from his head. He’d been frozen, paralysed with fear and incomprehension. He hadn’t cried. Eventually backing into the furthest corner of the hall, he’d sunk to his haunches. He’d been shaking, he remembered that, trembling incessantly, but he hadn’t shed a tear. Because deep down somewhere he’d expected it. Even as a teenager, he’d seen the signs that his mother was becoming unbalanced after discovering the extent of his father’s adultery. Now it seemed as if his own wife was behaving erratically, which was obviously down to him, and it scared him. He wondered how to broach the subject, try to get to the bottom of what she was thinking.
‘Here you go,’ Edward was saying, offering him a raffle ticket along with his change, Jake realised. ‘You never know, it might be the winning ticket.’
‘That’s okay, Ed. You can keep the change.’ Feeling hot and clammy suddenly, Jake wiped away the perspiration dotting his forehead. The dungarees were a bad idea with the temperature soaring. ‘The raffle ticket too. You might as well sell it on. The more funds, the better,’ he added, arranging his face into a smile. ‘I’ll catch up with you in a minute. I just need to have a quick word with Emily.’
‘That’s very generous of you.’ Edward smiled delightedly. ‘You’re a good man, Dr Merriden.’
Yeah. Pity his wife didn’t seem to think so. She’d definitely been off with him. He had to find out why. Glancing towards her again, he gave her a minute to finish serving a customer, then headed in her direction.
His progress was impeded, however, by Steve Wheeler, who ran the DIY store, and whose wife he’d recently treated. ‘All right, Jake?’ he asked, stopping in front of him.
‘Yes, good, thanks,’ Jake replied, one eye still on Emily. ‘How’s Jennifer?’
‘Better. Much,’ Steve said, a relieved look on his face as he glanced towards her.
Jake followed his gaze to see Jennifer bending to talk to one of her pupils from the primary school she taught at. She looked better, smiling and relaxed as she chatted to the little boy and his mother. Jake had been extremely concerned for her at one point. After losing her mother closely followed by the child she and Steve had both desperately wanted, he’d been sure she might be heading for a breakdown. He’d wanted to refer her for counselling, but she’d refused, worried that it would get back to her employers. The medication certainly seemed to be helping. That was good.
Seeing her notice him and give him a cheery wave, Jake waved back. ‘Give her my regards,’ he said. ‘And tell her to come and see me any time if she needs to.’
‘Will do,’ Steve assured him. ‘Catch you in the beer tent for a pint later?’
‘I think I’ll need one.’ Jake indicated his attire with a despairing smile.
Steve laughed. ‘I’ll get them in, and remember, if you have any trouble with those ducks, give Jenny a shout. She’ll keep them in line.’ Giving him a wink, he headed jauntily off towards her.
‘I just might,’ Jake called after him, feeling pleased that he’d helped them get their lives back on track. It would be quite nice to do the same to his own, he thought, bracing himself to finally approach Emily. ‘Hi,’ he said, stopping in front of the barbecue, where she couldn’t avoid looking at him.
‘Morning,’ Emily replied, and turned away to pick up a batch of burgers.
That worked well then. Jake sighed. ‘Can I come in now?’ he joked tentatively. ‘It’s getting a bit lonely out here.’
Emily’s eyes flicked to his, her expression puzzled.
‘In the doghouse,’ Jake clarified.
‘What makes you think you’re in the doghouse?’ she asked, glancing away.
‘The fact that you seem to be avoiding me,’ Jake suggested. ‘We barely exchanged a word at the surgery yesterday.’
‘I was busy. I spent my lunch hour looking at catering for Edward’s birthday party.’ Emily concentrated on the burgers she was placing on the grill. ‘Plus, I’m not sleeping well. I’m a bit tired and preoccupied, that’s all.’
‘I gathered.’ Jake studied her carefully. She looked flustered, her cheeks flushing the way they did when she was embarrassed. Or angry. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘There’s something you can stop doing,’ Emily mumbled, now looking definitely upset. She really was angry with him then.
‘Such as?’ he asked apprehensively.
To his frustration, she didn’t answer.
‘Em, apart from the fact that I didn’t get back the other night, which was unavoidable, have I done something wrong? Because if I have, you’re going to have to tell me what.’
Taking her time, Emily turned the burgers. Then, ‘I’m not stupid, Jake,’ she said, her eyes filling up as she looked back at him.
Extremely worried now, he stepped towards her. ‘Emily, I have no idea what’s going on here. You’re talking in riddles. Please …’ Leave the bloody burgers alone and talk to me, he was about to say when someone twanged the braces of the ridiculous dungarees he was wearing from behind.
‘Hiya!’ a female voice said cheerily.
Sally. Jake’s heart plummeted.
‘Only me.’ On cue, Sally draped an arm around his shoulders and leaned to press a kiss to his cheek. Jake had known her since childhood. It was the way she was, bubbly and outgoing, but he really wished she wouldn’t. She’d been all over him at the ‘welcome back to the village’ party Edward had organised for them when they’d first arrived – five years ago now, he could hardly believe it. Emily hadn’t been very impressed. Having realised she might have upset her, Sally had worked at gaining her friendship. They went out together, got on well at the surgery together – Jake nearly fell over when he’d arrived to find Sally was employed there – but the mood Emily was in, he wasn’t sure Sally being so overtly tactile would go down well.
‘Ooh, look at you, all dressed up for the part.’ Her eyes travelled over him as she came around to his side. ‘I do like a man in yellow rubber.’
&
nbsp; Jake glanced down, trying to quash his irritation as she made a great show of patting his hind quarters.
Sally, though, seemed oblivious to the awkwardness she was causing. Walking across to Emily, who was now looking considerably upset, she hooked an arm through one of hers. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said, helping herself to a burger with her free hand. ‘I know I promised to help you set up, but Dave had an emergency call-out, a sewer to unblock – ugh – and my car’s still in the garage so I had to cadge a lift with one of the neighbours.’
‘It’s okay. We managed without you,’ Emily assured her, fixing a bright smile on her face and trying for normal, where normal seemed to have been suspended – between her and Jake, anyway.
‘I knew you would. I said to Dave, you two are a team,’ Sally gushed in between mouthfuls of burger. ‘I wish my husband would take a leaf out of Jake’s book and make a bit more of an effort. His face was like a wet weekend when I told him we were coming to the fair, miserable old—’ She stopped, her eyes growing wide as her gaze shot past Jake. ‘I see Tash is on form,’ she hissed, nodding in the direction of whoever had caught her attention.
Jake followed her gaze to see one of his patients, Natasha Jameson, waving at them.
‘God, what is she wearing?’ Looking the woman over, Sally scowled disapprovingly. ‘The village fair is hardly the place for full sex-siren gear, is it?’
Intrigued, Jake glanced again at Natasha and noted the high leather boots over tight jeans. Her T-shirt was low-cut, he noticed that too, but he would hardly call it ‘sex siren’.
‘She’s obviously on a manhunt,’ Sally went on judgementally, and Jake couldn’t help but feel sorry for Natasha. Relatively new to the village, she’d moved here after marrying Michael Jameson, who ran Apple Tree Farm. The tongues had started wagging the minute she’d arrived, the fact that she was fifteen years younger than Michael and didn’t tend to dress in clothes suitable for hop-picking fuelling the gossip. Speculation was rife that she was only after his money. Jake guessed she would be on the receiving end of the tittle-tattle whatever she wore. A pretty woman with a good figure was a prime target for jealousy, he supposed.
‘Question is, which man?’ Sally pondered, her eyes roving derisorily over Natasha again. ‘I’d gird your loins if I were you, Jake.’ She looked amusedly back at him. ‘She’s definitely making fluttery eyes in your direction. She obviously knows a good thing when she sees it.’
Glancing away, Jake shook his head. When he looked back at Emily, her eyes were shooting venom-loaded daggers at him and Natasha both. ‘Obviously,’ she said, her voice strained as she scooped her bag up from under the table.
‘Emily, hold on.’ Bemused, Jake reached for her arm as she turned to walk past him, eye contact now nil.
‘I’m busy.’ Emily pulled away from him. ‘I’m sure you have important things to attend to as well, don’t you? Like impressing fluttery-eyed women with your rubber-duck-saving skills?’
‘Oh dear. I’ve obviously put my foot in it,’ Sally said worriedly, standing alongside Jake as he watched Emily walk away. ‘You haven’t, have you? Been trying to impress fluttery-eyed women?’ She looked pointedly from him to Natasha and back.
‘Not funny, Sally.’ Jake sighed tiredly.
Six
Emily
She was being absurd. Risking a full-on argument with Jake over an email that had probably been sent by some nasty individual who was quite clearly jealous of what she and Jake had together. The past was the past. Ancient history. They were a family now and they were a team. Sally had been right. They worked together, laughed together. Or at least they had until recently. They’d always been there for each other. She was being completely irrational. If she carried on like this, it would be a sure way of driving a wedge between them, which was obviously the aim of the email sender.
She would talk to him. She would have to. If she didn’t, her suspicion would eat away at her and she would end up driving him away again. Her heart skipped a beat as she imagined it. And then another when Jake’s foot slipped as he waded about in the water, causing him to stumble. He wasn’t concentrating, busy watching her watching him, no doubt wondering why she was being so horrible to him.
She breathed a sigh of relief as, planting a hand behind him, he saved himself, the crowd cheering him on as he hauled himself up and reeled in a meandering duck to steer it back into line. She couldn’t fail to notice Natasha, whose breasts were in danger of spilling over her top as she leaned over the bridge just ahead of Jake.
Jake glanced up at her when the woman cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled, ‘Go the good doctor!’, making sure to attract his attention. He looked away quickly enough, though, Emily noted, another surge of relief washing through her, concentrating instead on the slippery terrain underfoot.
He’s not interested. She tried to resist finishing her thought with you trollop. It was plain that the woman was interested in him. It was also clear that Natasha Jameson had to be the owner of the email address beginning ‘nja123’. She was one of the female patients Tom had mentioned who had transferred from his list to Jake’s, clearly preferring to disclose her most intimate details along with her anatomy to someone young and good-looking. Recalling how she’d turned up for her last appointment wearing much the same look-at-me outfit she was wearing now, Emily felt her green-eyed monster unfurling dangerously inside her again.
She watched as Natasha pulled herself away from the bridge to head along the road and pick her way precariously down the slope to the riverbank in her high-heeled leather boots. And then laughed in disbelief as, acting more like one of the children she’d squeezed in between than an adult, the woman clapped her hands gleefully and shouted, ‘Oh well done, Jake!’, as if he were herding wild buffalo rather than inanimate plastic ducks.
Feeling miserable and dowdy by comparison, Emily moved from where she was standing on the road just before the bridge. It was possible Natasha wasn’t aware she was here, watching her. Deciding to make sure she realised, she followed her, heading down the slope after her in her unsexy rubber flip-flops.
She was almost at the foot of the slope when her ankle turned over, a sharp squeal of pain escaping her as she pitched helplessly forwards. It was a squeak compared to the shriek Natasha let out as Emily lurched into her, sending her plunging into the icy-cold river.
Assaulted by a petrifying sense of déjà vu, Emily stared, horrified, down at the woman. And then it was as if the world had slowed down, the alarmed cries of those around her receding as she was sucked back to another time, another place, standing waist deep in murky water, another woman frantically thrashing before her; floundering as her muscles cramped and her efforts grew weak. There was someone there. Memories she’d pushed to the deepest recesses of her mind crept back. A figure darting through the foliage.
She heard herself shouting, ‘Help! Help!’ Over and over she shouted, wading further out, mud sucking at her feet, twisted metal tugging at her clothes. Minutes later, minutes lost, she saw someone on the canal bridge. A glimpsed silhouette. A man, backing away. Was he coming down? Why wasn’t he coming down to help? Where was he? ‘Help her! She can’t swim! Please …’ She heard someone screaming, a terrified, heart-jolting scream that came from the soul. Emily wasn’t sure whether it was her. Had it been? Her mind hovered somewhere between then and now. She tried hard to remember, snapped her gaze back to the water.
Natasha. She wasn’t moving.
Emily’s chest constricted with confusion and fear. She wasn’t flailing. She was floating, face down. Seeing the thin trickle of crimson bleeding into the water, a tight lump clogged her throat. She wasn’t conscious. The jagged rocks …
She’d hit her head. Oh dear God! ‘Someone help her!’ she cried, her stomach knotting with panic as the man next to her scrambled into the river. Get her out, Emily prayed silently as another man plunged in after him. Please get her out.
Instinctively she limped forward, her feet teetering on t
he edge of the bank, and then faltered, relief crashing through her as she realised Jake was there, wading towards the woman. Efficiently he took control, crouching beside Natasha, quickly assessing the situation. Checking the alignment of her body. Emily’s blood froze as she guessed he was checking for spinal damage. A beat later, he moved around to support Natasha’s head.
‘We have to get her out. We need to roll her,’ he said, his face taut, his voice calm. ‘Can one of you take hold of her torso and someone else take her legs?’ He glanced at the men in the water. ‘Ready?’ He checked everyone was in position, then, ‘On my count,’ he said, his face set with grim determination.
A minute later, she was lifted onto the bank. People were milling around, trying to help, getting in the way. ‘Has anyone called an ambulance?’ Jake yelled.
‘On its way,’ Edward answered, stepping forward, and then turned to the gathering crowd. ‘Come on, everybody, let’s move back, shall we? Give the doctor some space,’ he suggested, herding people away as Jake focused on Natasha.
‘Natasha?’ he called, feeling for a pulse. Turning his attention to her face, he scanned it, looking for signs of life, and then brushed her bedraggled hair aside to apply pressure to her ear. The woman didn’t stir.
‘Tash?’ he tried again, then, ‘Dammit!’ He swiped at the droplets of sweat on his forehead and looked up to the heavens.
He seemed indecisive, and Emily guessed he was weighing the risk of tilting her head back, possibly causing further damage to her spine, against losing her to drowning. Please God, no. Her heart banging against her ribcage, she prayed hard as she watched him listen over Natasha’s mouth for breaths. A turmoil of emotion twisted inside her as he moved his attention to her chest: guilt threatening to rise up and choke her; fear; jealousy. She’d felt something close to hatred as she’d witnessed the woman ogling her husband, but she hadn’t wished her dead. She hadn’t.
Had she? She swallowed hard. Her mother was right. She was evil. She heard it distinctly, her mother’s hissed condemnation as she’d lain alone in her room, dark shadows flitting in and out of her dreams as the days after Kara’s death drifted into nights, into days … ‘She’s a monster.’
Trust Me: An absolutely gripping and unputdownable psychological thriller Page 5
