Trust Me - Sheryl Browne Page 0,5

could you have a word with Ben? He left the back door unlocked again when he was out smoking last night.’

Emily noted his despairing look and sighed inside. Having met with a ‘we can’t all be perfect’ comment from Ben the last time he’d tried to point out the health risks of smoking, Jake tried not to go on at him. Emily dearly wished Ben wouldn’t smoke. Aside from the health issue, it was an addiction, and that worried her. Harsh reality had jolted her from her own addiction, but if Ben had inherited a propensity for dependency, would he be able to easily give it up?

‘I’ll leave him a note,’ she said, as she went to the hooks on the utility room door for the spare key. At least if Ben kept one on his key ring it might remind him to lock up after himself before they were all murdered in their beds. Finding it missing, she sighed again, wearily, and added ‘get key cut’ to her mental to-do list.

‘Are you leaving without breakfast again?’ she asked, an admonishing edge to her voice as she turned back to find Jake swinging towards the hall.

‘No time. I’ll grab something from the village shop on the way.’

‘Make sure you do,’ Emily said, thinking she sounded more like his mother than his wife. But then someone had to keep an eye on him. He skipped too many breakfasts and worked far too many late nights now that his father was retiring. Jake and Tom shared partnership of the practice and Tom still worked part-time, but he’d wanted to be less involved to free up his time so he could concentrate on his role as chair of the clinical commissioning group governing body. Privately Emily couldn’t help thinking his time might be better managed if he didn’t spend a large proportion of it chatting up every attractive woman in the village. For Jake’s sake, though, she avoided commenting.

‘Yes, miss,’ he called from the hall. ‘Don’t forget you have your blood test with Sally this morning. See you there.’

He was worried about her, thinking her recent dizziness, fatigue and general inability to concentrate might be symptoms of anaemia. She’d thought it was just due to her inability to sleep – which, Jake had pointed out, was also a symptom of anaemia, along with the bouts of nausea she’d had. She was glad that he cared, but wished he wouldn’t worry with so much on his plate. It was probably just a virus she couldn’t shake off.

‘I’ll be ten minutes behind you,’ she called back. ‘Don’t forget you promised Edward Simpson you would oversee the duck race at the village fair on Saturday,’ she reminded him. ‘You’ll need to ask Tom if he’ll cover the emergency surgery. It won’t hurt him to—’ She stopped, cocking an ear as she heard Jake’s mobile ring. That was probably Tom now, wondering where he was, or else their receptionist, Nicky, wondering where she was. It looked like she would probably be skipping breakfast again too.

‘Dr Merriden,’ she heard him answer. The phone pressed to his ear, his eyes flicked to hers as she stepped into the hall. ‘I’ll have to call you back,’ he said quickly and ended the call.

‘Anyone interesting?’ Emily asked him curiously. He wasn’t normally so brusque with callers, even unwanted ones.

‘Just a sales rep,’ he said, giving her a short smile as he pocketed the phone.

‘Oh, right.’ Emily watched him leave. He hadn’t kissed her goodbye, which he always did. Idiot. She pulled herself up. He was tired, distracted, and she was being ridiculous. The vivid dream hadn’t helped, bringing back too many memories she dearly wished she could forget. Perhaps Jake was right about the blood test, she pondered, collecting her own phone as it beeped with a text. It would be nice to get to the bottom of what was going on.

Assuming the message was from Nicky, she flicked to her texts and her heart skipped a beat. Thoughts with you, it said. That was all. It was a wrong number. It had to be. The message was almost one of condolence, which had to be a cruel irony. She thought of the first mysterious text, talking about her ‘special day’. The sender couldn’t know of the birthday she’d shared, the tragic significance of that date.

She should call them. It was a personal message. Whoever it was would want to know they were texting the wrong person. Her mind made up,