‘Can you give me a moment? I just need to have a quick word with Emily.’ Massaging his forehead and now looking extremely stressed, Jake turned towards her.
‘Right. Yes, of course.’ Tom glanced warily between them.
Emily felt her heart drop. Was the breakdown of their relationship really that obvious? If so, it would certainly also be obvious to the woman who was intent on stealing her husband. Her eyes pivoted towards Sally.
‘Do you have a minute?’ Jake asked, as Tom headed off to his office, Fran heading purposefully after him. Emily tried to decipher the look in his eyes. He looked guarded, uncertain. Under the circumstances, he would be, but was his uncertainty about her?
‘Yes. I just have to check on Nicky and make sure the desk is cleared and the PCs are closed down,’ she said, wanting to remind him that that was what she did every single evening before she left.
Jake looked her over searchingly. ‘I’ll be in my office,’ he said.
Nerves knotted Emily’s insides as he turned away. Why was he being so formal? Of course he would be in his office. Where else would she find him?
In Sally’s, said a nagging little voice in her head.
Nineteen
Finding Nicky still upset, Emily sent her off home and did her usual checks. She was making Jake a coffee when Sally poked her head around the kitchen door behind her. ‘I have to dash. Dave will be wondering where I am,’ she said – something she said often. No doubt because Dave often had occasion to wonder where she was. ‘I’ll give you a ring later, hun.’
‘Don’t bother,’ Emily replied, more shortly than she’d intended. Forcing a confrontation now after the terrible events of today would be beyond insensitive. She didn’t want to do that. She was sorely tempted, though, to suggest to Dave that next time he was wondering where Sally was, he might find her tucked up with Jake, cosily reminiscing.
Stirring the coffee vigorously, and sloshing liquid over the sides of the mug in the process, she made a valiant attempt to be civil. ‘I’m out with Millie and Ben tonight,’ she said, and then cursed herself for announcing she was otherwise engaged, leaving the field clear for any extracurricular activities Sally might have in mind.
‘Oh. Right.’ Sally sounded taken aback. ‘Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’
‘First thing.’ Turning around, Emily smiled brightly. ‘We’ll need to have a meeting before the surgery opens to discuss this vile correspondence someone has been sending.’ She held Sally’s gaze for a second, then headed towards the door.
Sally looked at her uneasily as she squeezed past. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said, her eyes skittering down and back. ‘I’ll make sure Dave drops me off early. It’s dreadful, isn’t it, what happened to poor Zoe?’
‘Shocking,’ Emily agreed, carrying on to Jake’s office. ‘Just goes to show, no matter how well you think you know someone, you never really know what they’re capable of, do you?’
Glancing back as she tapped on Jake’s door, she noted Sally’s puzzled frown. She couldn’t say what she would like to – that she was fully aware of what her friend was up to. She wouldn’t, not with Jake and Tom – and worst of all Fran – in earshot, but at least she’d given the two-faced cow something to ponder. Hopefully Sally might glean that she should watch her back, since she seemed to have no qualms about digging the knife into other people’s.
Pushing into Jake’s office, she relaxed her face into a more genuine smile. ‘I grabbed you a coffee,’ she said. ‘I thought you could use one after …’ Seeing the steaming mug on his desk, she trailed off.
‘Thanks,’ Jake said, with a semblance of a smile in return. ‘Sally’s already brought me one.’
Emily drew in a breath. ‘So I see. That was very thoughtful of her, wasn’t it? I sometimes wonder what we’d do without Sally selflessly offering her shoulder whenever it’s needed.’
Clearly picking up on her facetiousness, Jake eyed her quizzically, and then got to his feet, walking around her to close the door, while Emily parked the coffee she’d made next to Sally’s.
‘So,’ he said, dragging a hand over his neck as he came back towards his desk, ‘I think we need to talk.’
Emily looked him over carefully. Was he going to confide in her? Confess to what he’d been up to? Or was he going to maintain it was all in her mind, which, if he was cheating on her, was possibly the cruellest thing he could do, amounting to emotional abuse in her book? And she knew about abuse; she had survived physical and emotional abuse that he had no idea about. She would fight back harder this time.
‘Would you like to sit?’ he asked.
This made her feel as if she were in the headmaster’s office, a place she’d often been as a teenager, pulled up for her waywardness, her inability to live up to being a replica of her perfect twin sister. She’d been frequently reprimanded for her failing grades and her inability to concentrate – which was due to the marijuana she’d smoked under the canal bridge with the man she’d thought she could be her true self with. Except she hadn’t been. She’d been who he wanted her to be. She’d done the same thing with Jake, she realised now. She’d tried to be someone she thought he wanted her to be: supportive, the perfect mother, the perfect wife. Quite clearly she wasn’t any of those things. She was imperfect.
‘These letters,’ Jake said, scrutinising her guardedly. ‘The information they contained obviously came from here.’
‘I know. I’ve no idea how or when anyone could have …’ Emily looked away, cursing herself as tears pricked her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was give in to her emotions and cry. She had to appear in control, competent. Show him that she was capable of doing her job.
‘They’ve had devastating consequences,’ Jake went on. ‘The General Medical Council will need to be involved, obviously. I imagine the impact on the surgery will be pretty dire.’
Emily was well aware of that. Patient trust would be broken, which was all the more devastating since it was something Jake had worked hard to build up, especially after Tom’s indiscretions, which Jake considered would have impacted on patient relationships. A GP should be someone the community could rely on, after all.
‘I’ve told Nicky to make sure to be in early tomorrow. Sally, too,’ she said, forcing herself to say the woman’s name. ‘I think we need to have a meeting and go through all the guidelines together before casting aspersions. Nicky’s distraught. She—’
‘Is it you, Emily?’ Jake asked bluntly, stopping her mid flow.
She looked at him, astounded. ‘What?’
‘Is it you?’ he repeated, his expression guarded. ‘I have to ask. Are you doing this, leaking information, because of this ridiculous obsession you have that I’m cheating on you, which, quite frankly, utterly confounds me?’
Emily felt the blood drain from her body. ‘Are you serious?’ She could barely get the words out.
Jake said nothing. His blue eyes as dark as thunder, he simply stared at her.
‘You are, aren’t you?’ Nausea rose hot in her throat. Was this what he thought of her? What he’d always thought? He hadn’t suddenly imagined her a monster, had he? He’d obviously been harbouring bad thoughts about her for some time.
‘Anyone could have sent them!’ she yelled, biting her tears back. ‘As for leaking information, do you honestly think I would do that? I’m constantly on at Nicky for flouting data protection. Do you realise how many times I’ve had to reprimand her for forgetting to blank her screen or shut her computer down? Not to mention the files she leaves on her desk. Tom too, come to that. It’s certainly not me who’s allowing all and sundry free access – delivery men, the postman, patients. Fran’s always floating about the place, peering over people’s shoulders. As far as gossip goes, I’m only surprised she hasn’t got a loudhailer.’
Jake continued to study her. Still he didn’t say anything, which spoke volumes.
He’d made up his mind. Did he really have such a low opinion of her? Or was this a way for him
to justify his own despicable actions?
‘Have you considered that it might be Nicky who’s sending the letters?’ Emily asked, careless of the tears now spilling down her cheeks. As was Jake, it seemed. He saw them, looked agonised for a second, but didn’t move towards her.
Massaging his temples, he glanced down. ‘That’s not likely,’ he said, looking confusedly back at her. ‘She hasn’t been here that long. Why would she do such a thing?’
‘I don’t know. But that’s my point, we don’t know her,’ Emily said, determined now to fight her own corner since she seemed to have no one else in it. ‘We don’t know who she is. She could have any number of personal issues.’
Jake looked highly sceptical, which fired her temper further. He believed his wife – someone he’d lived with, someone he loved, or so he’d said – capable of doing something so deplorable, clearly, but not Nicky, a woman he’d known for five minutes.
‘You do realise her initials are NJA, don’t you?’ Emily couldn’t let him go on making – and possibly believing – these accusations against her. Whether he truly believed it was her, or whether he was using it as an excuse to get rid of her, she didn’t know. She wouldn’t creep off meekly, though, from her marriage or from her job. Being her husband’s office manager hadn’t been what she’d wanted to do with her life. She might not have been the clever one, as her parents had made patently obvious, but she’d had talent. Over the years she’d convinced herself that her ambitions of picking up her art training had been unrealistic, and had channelled her energies into this instead: into her marriage and her family. She’d given everything she had to give. She had loved Jake unconditionally, with her whole heart and soul. He might want to throw her love away, but she wouldn’t just simply abandon the relationship. She couldn’t.
Jake looked at her askance. ‘And?’
‘The emails I believed you were exchanging with Natasha.’ Her heart pounding, Emily reminded him of what she’d asked him after the summer fair. ‘I saw one sent to you from an address beginning “nja123”. It wasn’t quite as calculatedly nasty as the letters sent to Dean and Michael, but it was definitely of the same ilk, threatening to expose secrets.’
‘Secrets?’ Jake’s expression was now a mixture of incredulity and wariness. ‘What bloody secrets? You need to show me.’
‘I deleted it.’ Realising how implausible that sounded, Emily felt her cheeks flush. ‘But I remember it, every single word,’ she added quickly. ‘“Unless you want a certain person to find out about your extracurricular activities, meet me in the designated place, 3 p.m. tomorrow”,’ she recited.
Jake narrowed his eyes. ‘And you’re sure it was addressed to me?’
‘It was addressed to you, yes.’
‘And you deleted it?’ He looked sceptical again.
‘Because I panicked,’ Emily tried to explain, though why it was her suddenly in the position of having to defend herself, she wasn’t sure. ‘I didn’t want you to know that I’d seen it. I … needed some time. To think.’
‘I see.’ Jake faltered for a second, glancing away and back. ‘It was obviously some kind of prank or scam,’ he said, raking his hand through his hair and dropping heavily into his chair.
‘Like the letters?’ Emily reminded him of those. ‘Because of the address, I thought Natasha Jameson had sent it, as you no doubt gathered.’
‘Jesus.’ Shaking his head, Jake looked hard at her. ‘And you really believed that I … With Natasha?’
Emily searched his eyes, looking for the lies there. Jake seemed totally bewildered. But then it was all a bit bewildering, she supposed. ‘I did, but then she was targeted herself, wasn’t she? I’m thinking it must be someone closer. Sally, for instance, who is definitely close and who we do know. Intimately. Or at least you do.’
‘Excuse me?’ Jake squinted at her, disbelieving.
‘Sally,’ Emily repeated calmly, despite her manic heartbeat. ‘She has access to files and computers, doesn’t she? Information at her fingertips. It occurs to me that she might have wanted me to see that email. She also wouldn’t have wanted Natasha to get her claws into you, would she?’
Paling visibly, Jake scanned her face. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Emily,’ he said shakily. ‘You’re really beginning to worry me.’
Emily scanned his face in turn. Don’t lie to me, Jake, she willed him, fear piercing her heart like an icicle. Please don’t do this to me.
‘You’re making no sense whatsoever,’ he went on. ‘First I’m supposed be involved with Natasha, and then … what? What are you saying? I can’t keep up with you.’
She held her nerve. ‘Sally’s still in love with you,’ she said quietly. ‘Quite obviously.’
‘Christ.’ Running his hands over his face, he got to his feet and started around the desk towards her. ‘You’ve got it wrong, Emily. She’s—’
Emily stepped away from him. ‘Have I, Jake?’ she asked, her eyes fixed on his. ‘Have I really?’
‘Em, I …’ He spoke her name with affection, but it was too late. Much too late. With as much dignity as she could muster, Emily tore her gaze away and headed for the door.
‘Emily, wait, please. We need to talk. I need to … I—’
‘How, Jake?’ she asked, her hand poised on the door handle. ‘The thing about lies is, you can’t unsay them.’
‘I haven’t lied to you,’ he insisted, so close to her she could feel his frustration. ‘I—’
‘Omitted to tell me the truth?’ She pulled the door open. She couldn’t listen to this any more. It was too painful. He must know that. The Jake she’d thought she knew would.
Grabbing her bag and coat, she was halfway out of the surgery when she heard Tom behind her. ‘Everything all right, Jake? We couldn’t help overhearing.’
We? Tom and Fran, Emily realised, her heart disappearing without trace.
Twenty
Jennifer Wheeler
‘What do you say?’ Poppy Freeman’s mother prompted her little girl as Jenny delivered her safely into the woman’s care and handed over her Peter Rabbit school bag.
‘Thank you, Mrs Wheeler,’ Poppy said obediently, her eyes big and beguiling as she took hold of her mother’s hand.
‘My pleasure, Poppy.’ Jenny smiled. ‘Thank you for helping me tidy up the classroom. It will be all bright and clean for tomorrow now, won’t it?’
‘Uh huh.’ Poppy nodded, a pleased smile lighting her face.
‘Thanks for taking care of her,’ her mother said, smiling gratefully. ‘I hate being late for her. The thought of her standing on her own in the playground …’
‘No problem at all,’ Jenny assured her, pressing a hand to her forearm. The woman was a care provider at the Haven hospice. Jenny could imagine the dilemma she’d had trying to decide whether to stay with a dying patient or leave her to pick up her little girl. She might not have children herself – something she and her husband had yearned for, tried endlessly for, eventually realising it wasn’t meant to be after a third failed IVF treatment – but she loved every one of the children in her care as if they were her own.
‘See you in the morning, Poppy. Don’t forget your special found object,’ she said. ‘We’re having a free imagination morning,’ she explained to Mrs Freeman, who, judging by her puzzled expression, clearly hadn’t seen the letter that had come home with her daughter yesterday. ‘Poppy’s going to choose a place and a setting and a special found object and then tell us a story, aren’t you, Poppy?’
Poppy nodded keenly. ‘I’m telling a story about a princess. She’s beautiful and she’s really strong,’ she said with a determined little nod, ‘but she can’t swim and she’s very sad because there’s a tiny kitten stuck on the riverbank and she can’t get to it.’
The two women swapped surprised glances. ‘Looks like her imagination’s already hard at it,’ her mum said, impressed.
Jenny was too. ‘And what’s your special found object, Poppy?’
‘Sticks,’ Poppy said with another sage nod, ‘and leaves from the princess’s garden.’
‘Ah.’ Jenny got the gist. ‘So our intrepid princess is building a life raft?’
‘Yes.’ Poppy looked delighted that she’d understood.
‘I think we can work with that,’ Mum said, clearly relieved at having the dilemma solved. ‘Our garden has more sticks and leaves than it has flowers, doesn’t it, Poppy?’ Giving Jenny a conspiratorial roll of her eyes, she squeezed her daughter’s hand and then, mouthing, ‘Thanks,’ turned to head for the gates.
Watching Poppy chatting to her mum as they went, Jenny felt a sense of pride. This was what had kept her going through her recent heartbreak; her interaction with the children. There was nothing more rewarding than seeing them blossom, knowing that she’d played a small part in shaping what would hopefully be a positive future. Contentment settling inside her, she went back to the school to collect her coat and bag.
Digging into the bag for her car keys, she found the envelope that had plopped through her letter box this morning. She’d stuffed it into her bag unopened, as she was running late. Climbing into her car, she dumped her bag on the passenger seat and pulled the envelope out, turning it over to look for clues as to who it was from. It was a plain white self-seal with a typed address. No stamp, she noted, and assumed it was from someone local. A parent of one of her pupils, possibly?
Thinking no more of it, she tore open the envelope, pulled out the page inside and unfolded it. As she read it, her stomach turned over. Panic constricting her chest, she took several slow breaths, then, with trembling fingers, pushed the note back into the envelope and placed it on the passenger seat. It looked so innocuous. Not the sort of correspondence that would shatter the recipient’s world.
It was strange really. She’d known this day would come. She reached back into her bag, drawing out the tablets prescribed by Jake Merriden. Then, feeling calmer for knowing they were there, she pushed the key into the ignition of her little white Mini and listened fondly to its familiar cough. It was ancient. Still, she loved it. She’d been reluctant to part with it. She’d never aspired to fancy cars or foreign holidays. She preferred to holiday at home, loved the slow pace of life here in the village. The school was all she’d really needed. Seeing the smile in the eyes of a child was her reason to keep going.
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