Trust Me - Sheryl Browne Page 0,50

Jake’s office, she relaxed her face into a more genuine smile. ‘I grabbed you a coffee,’ she said. ‘I thought you could use one after …’ Seeing the steaming mug on his desk, she trailed off.

‘Thanks,’ Jake said, with a semblance of a smile in return. ‘Sally’s already brought me one.’

Emily drew in a breath. ‘So I see. That was very thoughtful of her, wasn’t it? I sometimes wonder what we’d do without Sally selflessly offering her shoulder whenever it’s needed.’

Clearly picking up on her facetiousness, Jake eyed her quizzically, and then got to his feet, walking around her to close the door, while Emily parked the coffee she’d made next to Sally’s.

‘So,’ he said, dragging a hand over his neck as he came back towards his desk, ‘I think we need to talk.’

Emily looked him over carefully. Was he going to confide in her? Confess to what he’d been up to? Or was he going to maintain it was all in her mind, which, if he was cheating on her, was possibly the cruellest thing he could do, amounting to emotional abuse in her book? And she knew about abuse; she had survived physical and emotional abuse that he had no idea about. She would fight back harder this time.

‘Would you like to sit?’ he asked.

This made her feel as if she were in the headmaster’s office, a place she’d often been as a teenager, pulled up for her waywardness, her inability to live up to being a replica of her perfect twin sister. She’d been frequently reprimanded for her failing grades and her inability to concentrate – which was due to the marijuana she’d smoked under the canal bridge with the man she’d thought she could be her true self with. Except she hadn’t been. She’d been who he wanted her to be. She’d done the same thing with Jake, she realised now. She’d tried to be someone she thought he wanted her to be: supportive, the perfect mother, the perfect wife. Quite clearly she wasn’t any of those things. She was imperfect.

‘These letters,’ Jake said, scrutinising her guardedly. ‘The information they contained obviously came from here.’

‘I know. I’ve no idea how or when anyone could have …’ Emily looked away, cursing herself as tears pricked her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was give in to her emotions and cry. She had to appear in control, competent. Show him that she was capable of doing her job.

‘They’ve had devastating consequences,’ Jake went on. ‘The General Medical Council will need to be involved, obviously. I imagine the impact on the surgery will be pretty dire.’

Emily was well aware of that. Patient trust would be broken, which was all the more devastating since it was something Jake had worked hard to build up, especially after Tom’s indiscretions, which Jake considered would have impacted on patient relationships. A GP should be someone the community could rely on, after all.

‘I’ve told Nicky to make sure to be in early tomorrow. Sally, too,’ she said, forcing herself to say the woman’s name. ‘I think we need to have a meeting and go through all the guidelines together before casting aspersions. Nicky’s distraught. She—’

‘Is it you, Emily?’ Jake asked bluntly, stopping her mid flow.

She looked at him, astounded. ‘What?’

‘Is it you?’ he repeated, his expression guarded. ‘I have to ask. Are you doing this, leaking information, because of this ridiculous obsession you have that I’m cheating on you, which, quite frankly, utterly confounds me?’

Emily felt the blood drain from her body. ‘Are you serious?’ She could barely get the words out.

Jake said nothing. His blue eyes as dark as thunder, he simply stared at her.

‘You are, aren’t you?’ Nausea rose hot in her throat. Was this what he thought of her? What he’d always thought? He hadn’t suddenly imagined her a monster, had he? He’d obviously been harbouring bad thoughts about her for some time.

‘Anyone could have sent them!’ she yelled, biting her tears back. ‘As for leaking information, do you honestly think I would do that? I’m constantly on at Nicky for flouting data protection. Do you realise how many times I’ve had to reprimand her for forgetting to blank her screen or shut her computer down? Not to mention the files she leaves on her desk. Tom too, come to that. It’s certainly not me who’s allowing all and sundry free access – delivery men, the postman, patients. Fran’s always floating about the place, peering over people’s shoulders. As