Questions of Trust A Medical Romance - By Sam Archer Page 0,55

Tom was spared the difficulty of choosing a time to speak to Rebecca about the allegations against him, because she came to him first.

It was Wednesday evening at nine, and the interviewer from the Pemberham Gazette had been and gone an hour earlier. A polite young man named Simon, he’d listened to Tom’s categorical denial of the allegations against him and given Tom ample opportunity to add comments of his own. Tom had added that he’d never met or even heard of Sabrina Jones before now, and certainly had never been to her house. The journalist asked a few more pertinent questions, explained that there’d be an article in Monday’s edition of the Gazette which would try its best to incorporate any newer information that might come to light before then, and took his leave.

This time there was no phone call, no ambushing in the car park after work. Kelly was in bed, and Tom was sitting in his favourite armchair in his living room, thinking of everything and nothing in particular, treating himself to a rare glass of whisky – he’d had the kind of day which he considered meant he’d earned a drink – when the hammering on his front door jolted him out of his brooding.

More reporters? he wondered, hurrying to the door before the pounding woke Kelly. Opening it a crack, he saw Rebecca on the doorstep, glowering at him. She was as always sensationally dressed and coiffed, though her composure was clearly ruffled.

‘I need to talk to you,’ she said without preamble.

He opened the door and stood aside for her. ‘Let’s keep it down, though,’ he said. ‘Kelly’s asleep and she’s had a long day.’ As I have, he didn’t feel the need to add.

Rebecca stormed past and into the living room, as if it were her own. He followed her. She didn’t sit, but stood in the middle of the room, her arms folded, his back to him.

‘Do you want a drink?’ he offered.

She turned. ‘I’ve had enough, Tom. I’ve put up with more than I’m willing to.’

‘You have?’ he stared at her, not believing what he was hearing. ‘Rebecca, do you have any idea what I’ve been through today? And it’s not over. Not by a long shot. It’s just beginning.’

‘Well, then perhaps you shouldn’t go feeling up your patients, should you?’

‘Oh, come on, Rebecca.’ Tom disliked theatrics but couldn’t help rolling his eyes. ‘You may not like me, but you certainly know me. Of course I didn’t do anything like that. It’s all trumped up.’

‘Whatever.’ The dismissive wave of her hand indicated to Tom that she didn’t believe he was guilty either. But then, why would she? She was the one who’d set him up, he reminded himself.

‘So what’s your problem now?’ he asked.

‘Her.’ Rebecca jabbed a finger towards the door, her eyes blazing. ‘Your girlfriend.’

‘Who?’

‘You know perfectly well who I mean.’

‘If you mean Chloe Edwards, she’s not my girlfriend, as I’ve told you before. But what’s your problem with her?’

‘She’s interfering in our business. She’s poking her nose in where it isn’t wanted. You need to rein her in, Tom. I’m not joking.’

‘Rebecca, I have absolutely no idea –’

‘She visited that woman who’s accusing you. Pretended she was there for the newspaper, and tried to get her to admit I put her up to this.’

‘What? How do you know –’

‘It doesn’t matter how I know. Answer me this, though, Tom. Have you been telling people I’m behind this?’

‘No.’

‘But?’

‘But, what?’ He was starting to lose the thread of this conversation.

‘But you think I am, don’t you? You think I’m stirring up rumours about you?’

He watched her for a second, then decided he might as well be truthful. ‘Yes, Rebecca. I believe you are.’

Her eyes wide, she stared at him, and for a few moments he had no idea what she was going to do. Explode in fury, break down in tears, or perhaps something else.

She swallowed, as if fighting down a storm of emotion, and said, quietly: ‘I’m going to destroy you.’

‘Rebecca –’

‘I’m going to humiliate you in court. I’m going to make sure you can never work as a doctor again, or even show your face in public again.’

‘Rebecca, listen to me.’ He raised his voice as loudly as he dared, still conscious of Kelly upstairs, hoping fervently that she wouldn’t wander in. ‘There’s no need for us to go to court. I’m willing to concede custody to you. A prolonged court battle would be devastating to Kelly, and her welfare’s