Trust Me - Sheryl Browne Page 0,27

know she was on the pill? Microgynon 30.

Goosebumps prickling her skin, Emily looked at the signature: An anonymous friend. It told her nothing.

‘It was pushed through the door while I was out,’ Natasha whispered. ‘They wanted Michael to see it. They wanted this to happen.’

Nine

Sitting at Emily’s kitchen island, Sally gawped at her over her wine glass. ‘You’re joking,’ she gasped, taking a mouthful of her wine and almost choking on it.

‘I wish I was.’ Emily drew in a breath and reached for the bottle.

‘And he actually hit her?’

Emily nodded, a shudder running through her as she recalled the incandescent rage Michael had been consumed with. ‘She was absolutely terrified. I wanted to take her to the hospital, but she refused to go. She wouldn’t report him either. I feel dreadful for her.’

‘Well, yes, I do too, but …’ Sally hesitated. ‘You know, I never thought I would ever say this … I mean, I could never condone physical violence no matter how driven a person was, but I can see why he lost it. This confirms everything, doesn’t it?’ She looked down at the letter between them and then back to Emily. ‘That she’s every bit the money-grabbing trollop we thought she was.’

Emily wasn’t so sure it did. Natasha had looked more like a frightened child than a sex siren when Emily had dropped her off at her mother’s house in Worcester. She denied absolutely cheating on Michael, and said that she loved him. When she’d thanked Emily for being the only one in the village who would care enough to be concerned about her, Emily had felt awful. The fact was, though, that if there were any truth in the letter sent to Michael, wouldn’t that confirm that there was some truth in the email?

‘Possibly.’ She sighed. ‘But to have punched her like that …’ She felt a shudder run through her.

‘I can’t believe you’re feeling sorry for her,’ Sally huffed and hopped off her stool to retrieve a second bottle, one she’d brought with her, from the fridge. ‘The woman quite obviously had Jake in her sights. You only had to look at what she was wearing at the fair, as well as the fact that she couldn’t take her eyes off him, to realise that.’

Emily’s blood ran cold as she remembered the events at the fair. Guilt weighing heavily inside her, she glanced at her friend, who was looking indignant on her behalf, and who, ironically, was dressed in slim-cut jeans and leather boots. She had noticed what Natasha was wearing, of course she had. It had been abundantly clear to her that the woman had been working to attract Jake’s attention. But hadn’t Sally draped herself all over him? It was the way Sally was, the sort of person who hugged everyone. It was possible that Natasha was just being who she was too.

‘So do you still think she was the one who sent the email to Jake?’ Sally asked as she came across with the wine, and then went back to the work surface to refill the dishes with nibbles, which Emily really had no appetite for. ‘Not that I’m implying there was anything in it.’ She glanced over her shoulder – sympathetically, Emily noted, meaning she probably did think there was something in it.

‘I thought she was,’ she said, wondering now at the wisdom of confiding in Sally, who could be a bit of a gossip. She was always supportive, though, and Emily had so needed someone to talk to. She felt as if she was losing her grip on reality, as if her world was slowly crumbling around her and she had no way to hold onto it.

‘But you don’t think so now?’

‘I honestly don’t know.’ Sighing again heavily, Emily reached to top up her glass. She would probably feel as sick as a dog in the morning, but she did it anyway. Anything to numb the pain, hopefully enough that she could sleep. ‘She swore she wasn’t cheating on Michael. She was so hurt and upset …’

Emily really wasn’t sure any more. After all, the only evidence she’d had – or thought she’d had – was the email address beginning ‘nja’. The letter sent to Michael had accused Natasha of everything Emily had imagined the woman was doing, yet … She’d been so distraught. So adamant she’d never been unfaithful.

‘Hmm,’ Sally pondered. ‘Well, whoever sent the email and the letter, there’s obviously some bitter individual in our midst determined to stir