Trust Me - Sheryl Browne Page 0,26

never felt this out of control of her emotions. It scared her.

Attempting to steady her rapid heartbeat, she was bypassing the kitchen window when a loud crash from inside rooted her to the spot. The guttural roar that followed it – primeval, the raw cry of a wounded animal more than a man – caused her heart to jolt violently.

‘Why?’ She heard Michael cry, his voice filled with agonised bewilderment. ‘I’ve given you everything! Everything!’

‘I didn’t! I haven’t.’ Natasha’s voice, desperate. ‘It’s a lie! I … Michael, don’t!’

Hearing another crash that sounded like glass smashing, Emily’s heart pounded as she inched towards the window. Peering in, her eyes fell immediately on Natasha. She was scrambling away from Michael, trying to get to the door that led to the hall, but Michael was faster, grabbing her arm, dragging her back and whirling her around, and then pushing her against the kitchen wall.

Emily’s stomach churned with fear as she watched arms flailing, mouths moving. Michael’s face, contorted with rage, was an inch away from Natasha’s, his forefinger jabbing the air close to her cheek. ‘How many?’ he bellowed, pushing his face closer.

‘None!’ Natasha cried. ‘No one! It’s—’

‘Liar! Lying, cheap little—’

‘I’m not!’ the woman sobbed. ‘They all hate me. They’re doing it out of jealousy! Why else would they … Michael, please … Don’t!’

Oh dear God! Seeing what was about to happen, Emily rapped urgently on the window. ‘Michael! Stop! Michael …’ The words died in her throat as Michael’s clenched fist hit its target.

Nausea swilling inside her, Emily backed away from the window, fumbling her phone from her pocket as she flew towards the front door. Her heart almost stopped beating when Natasha emerged, fleeing for her life, blood oozing from her nose and mouth, staining her white T-shirt stark crimson.

Michael was close behind her. ‘They know you’re on the pill!’ he yelled from the doorstep, his face puce with rage and waving a piece of paper at her, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Emily was there. ‘They know what fucking brand you’re on! You said you wanted children!’ He scrunched the piece of paper into a ball and tossed it out after her. ‘You said you wanted my baby!’

Emily hesitated for a second, and then moved to snatch the paper up and race after Natasha as she blundered away from him.

‘It’s not true!’ As Natasha squirmed around to face him, Emily caught hold of her and tried desperately to lead her away. ‘Why won’t you believe—’

‘Liar! Cheating, lying little whore!’ Michael screamed. ‘I loved you!’

Watching him sink to his knees, Emily’s heart broke for them both. She’d wanted Natasha to get her just deserts, but not this. Never this. Her legs trembling, tears sliding down her own cheeks, she squeezed the woman close and steered her gently towards her car. ‘It’s okay,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve got you.’

‘It’s not okay,’ Natasha cried pitifully, smearing snot and blood across her face with the back of her hand. ‘It’s not true. None of it. Why would someone do this?’

‘Shush.’ Emily tried to soothe her. ‘Come on, let’s get you in the car, and then I’ll drive you somewhere safe.’

Helping her into the passenger seat, Emily closed the door and, one eye on Michael, dashed around to the driver’s side. It was clear he was devastated, broken. He wasn’t about to follow. But still, she would feel safer putting some distance between them. Feeling sick to her soul, she gulped back the rock lodged in her throat and started the engine.

Driving quickly away from the farm, she pulled into a passing space in the lane beyond it. Her heart bleeding for the woman, despite her suspicions, she reached for a tissue from her pocket, passed it to her and gave her a moment.

‘I think we might need to get you to the hospital,’ she suggested, once Natasha was more composed. Her face would be terribly bruised. Emily only hoped there was nothing broken.

Natasha shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, gulping hard. ‘Thanks, but I’d rather not.’

‘What happened?’ Emily probed gently.

Twisting the tissue nervously into a knot, Natasha looked tentatively at her. ‘You picked up the letter?’

Emily nodded. ‘Would you like me to read it?’

Closing her eyes, Natasha answered with a small, defeated nod.

Emily’s mouth dried as she smoothed out the crumpled piece of paper. She had no doubt the contents would be incriminating. Who would they incriminate, though?

You should keep an eye on your whore wife, she read, her stomach turning over. Did you