Trust Me - Sheryl Browne Page 0,48

a violent argument, so I heard. He was in a terrible state when he was here, I gather. Bordering on violence, then, according to …’

God. Emily gritted her teeth as they whispered on. The village drums had obviously gone into overdrive. Refraining from saying anything further, for fear she might tell Fran exactly what she thought of her, and also possibly Sally, she smiled tentatively at Jake as he approached. ‘Would you like a coffee or tea?’ she asked him, having noticed that he’d swilled back two cups of water and had another in his hand.

‘No.’ Jake smiled shortly. ‘Thanks.’ Loosening his tie, he turned to address everyone gathered. The shadows under his eyes were darker, Emily noticed. He looked bone-weary with exhaustion.

‘I gather you all know about Zoe Miller?’ he asked, surveying them each individually.

‘We do. Fran’s furnished us with details, should any of us have been wondering,’ Tom answered, a despairing edge to his voice. Fran glanced down, looking flustered and upset, which was surprising. Emily had always considered she must have a very thick skin, since she generally didn’t appear to care what people thought of her gossip-mongering.

‘You can hardly blame people for talking,’ she muttered tetchily at length. ‘Everyone’s wondering what on earth’s going on, where the information is coming from. Fern Jessop is worried to death about her old mum learning about her muscular sclerosis diagnosis. Says it will be enough to give her a heart attack.’

‘People are cancelling appointments,’ Nicky chipped in, her voice a frightened whisper as she glanced worriedly at Jake.

Jake tugged in a breath. ‘Right.’ He nodded tersely. ‘In case any of you weren’t aware, Dean Miller was here earlier. Distraught I think understates the mood he was in.’

‘Fit to murder someone, he was,’ Fran interjected, addressing no one in particular. ‘From what I heard, his language was—’

‘I’m not sure that’s helpful, Fran.’ Shooting her a warning glance this time, Tom cut her short. Emily noted Fran’s cheeks flushing and the peeved look she gave him, at which Tom looked away uncomfortably.

‘From his conversation with me,’ Jake went on, clearly working to control his emotions, ‘it was obvious that he’d learned certain upsetting information.’

Uneasy glances were exchanged as he paused again, allowing people to digest this.

‘Personal medical information regarding his wife that was given to me in strictest confidence, as is all patient information,’ he went on, with another agitated intake of breath. ‘I spoke with Zoe Miller shortly before the tragedy and established that she hadn’t divulged that information to anyone else. It seems clear, therefore, that it could only have come from here.’ Stopping, he glanced again at everyone in turn, causing people to shift awkwardly.

‘I won’t say who it concerns, but it’s also pretty damn clear that other patients’ details have been accessed too.’

He was talking about Natasha. Emily felt her cheeks flush.

‘Whether these details have been leaked inadvertently or deliberately, in what I can only assume is some kind of spiteful act of revenge, obviously has to be ascertained,’ he continued. ‘The police have informed me they will need to talk to me. I imagine they will want to talk to each of you individually too. It goes without saying that if anyone here is responsible for what is basically a flagrant disregard for data protection, for whatever reason, then it might be a good idea to come and see me … or Tom,’ he added, almost as an afterthought, ‘before that happens.’

Nicky gasped openly at that, her eyes pivoting towards Emily, her expression a combination of bewildered and horribly guilty.

‘You’re placing yourself above blame, then?’ Fran asked in the ensuing silence. She was possibly the only person who would dare to challenge Jake on this, since she didn’t have access to files or systems. Which didn’t actually mean she hadn’t had access to patient information. Emily had caught her peering at the computer screens on many an occasion as she fussed about, cleaning, which was one of the reasons she was so despairing of Nicky’s lackadaisical attitude. God only knew what information Fran had become privy to, poking around in the various offices – especially Tom’s, which she spent a disproportionate amount of time in.

‘Fran …’ Tom sighed, his tone now one of utter despair.

‘I’m just saying,’ Fran retorted. ‘Just because you’re both doctors doesn’t mean you’re beyond reproach, does it?’

Eyeing the ceiling, Tom sighed again and shook his head.

‘No, Fran, it doesn’t,’ Jake answered for him. ‘To be frank, though, as a doctors’ surgery, where