Trust Me - Sheryl Browne Page 0,72
hug. ‘Thanks, Ed. Give Joyce my love. Tell her I’ll pop in and see her soon.’
‘I’ll make sure to. She’ll look forward to talking to someone with half a brain.’
‘Only half?’ Emily laughed, and headed onwards to the surgery, feeling buoyed up and more determined. To do what, she wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t just give up on her marriage, on Jake. He’d once jokingly accused her of being a glutton for punishment, sticking with him when she hardly saw anything of him. Maybe she was, but wasn’t that what she’d vowed to do, stick with him for better or worse? This was about as bad as it could get, admittedly, but she couldn’t just roll over. As tired and confused as she was, she had to fight. She hated Jake for the things he’d said and the things she imagined he was doing, so graphically that sometimes she could feel her heart breaking. Yet she loved him – she loved the caring Jake she knew him to be.
Going into reception, she stowed her bag under her desk, mouthed an apology to Nicky, who was on the phone, then headed to the kitchen with the milk. Her mood deflated in an instant as she heard Fran’s unmistakable tones drifting out.
‘Well, I’m not one to stir things,’ she said, ‘but I can’t say I blame Jake for losing his temper. The information in those letters can only be coming from here, after all. Whichever way you look at it, it means someone’s not doing their job properly, doesn’t it? A job they’re getting paid well to do, I might add.’
‘Well, yes, but …’ Sally had the grace to sound uncomfortable. ‘Even so, I can’t believe Emily had anything to do with sending the dreadful things out. I mean, why would anyone want to do such a thing?’
Fran drew in a long breath, meaning she was gearing herself up to impart her invaluable opinion. Emily froze. ‘Out of jealousy, obviously. Think about it. Michael was the first person to get one, wasn’t he? Now, I’m just speculating, but if it had been my husband Natasha had been fawning all over and fluttering her eyelashes at during the duck race… Well, let’s just say I would have been tempted to drown her too.’
Emily’s stomach roiled, nausea rising hotly inside her. She’d wondered how long it would take her to say that in front of her face. She was bound to have been spreading vicious rumours. Everyone in the village would think she’d pushed her on purpose. That it was her sending the letters, now that Fran had got her teeth into this too.
Her legs felt as if they might slide from underneath her, and she stretched a hand to the wall for support. Taking several deep breaths, she was desperately trying to slow her frantic heartbeat when Nicky said behind her, ‘Emily? Are you all right?’
Hearing the concern in her voice but not sure if it was genuine, whether there was anyone she could trust any more apart from lovely, dear Edward, Emily nodded quickly. ‘Fine,’ she assured her, her voice sounding strained even to her own ears. ‘I felt a little faint, that’s all. I didn’t get chance to eat anything this morning.’
Willing herself not to pass out, which would give Fran – and Sally now, it seemed – yet more juicy gossip to bury her under, she turned to Nicky, a forced smile on her face. ‘Did you need something?’
Nicky looked her over, unconvinced. ‘Jake rang through,’ she said. ‘He wondered whether you could step into his office.’ She hesitated, her gaze flicking worriedly down and back. ‘The police are here. They’d like to have a word with you.’
Twenty-Eight
As she approached Jake’s office, Emily’s urge to run was almost overwhelming. He’d apologised for the things he’d accused her of, and admitted he’d been wrong, but what might he be telling the police? He couldn’t state categorically that it wasn’t her leaking confidential information, if not posting these vile letters through people’s doors, any more than she could state categorically it wasn’t him. The reality was, in Jake’s eyes she was ultimately responsible, as Fran had just unkindly pointed out to Sally. No matter how many times he apologised, he couldn’t take back the fact that he’d thought she was.
The worst part of it all was that he was right. Emily couldn’t escape the fact that, as practice manager, the blame for what was happening rested squarely on her shoulders.
Might he have