Trust Me - Sheryl Browne Page 0,8
his head in a combination of despair and anger. Emily understood why he would be agitated by his father’s behaviour. He’d seemed reluctant to disclose much about his family history when she’d first met him, other than that he’d lost his mother in his teens. As they grew closer and he’d felt able to let his guard down, he’d confided that his father had always been a womaniser. That his mother had turned to drink when he’d left her, renting a flat in the same village, which must have been soul-crushing for her. Jake had found himself in the role of caring for her. He felt he’d failed her, and Emily suspected he’d never been able to forgive himself for it. Her heart had stopped beating as she’d imagined the horror he’d felt walking through the front door of his house to find his mother hanging like a limp ragdoll in the hall. He’d been just sixteen years old. How did one recover from that?
He’d gone to his father’s flat afterwards, he’d told her, determined to confront him. Incoherent with grief and rage when he’d found he was with another woman while his mother took her last breath, he’d accused him of driving her to suicide with his infidelity. Emily’s heart had bled for him as she tried to imagine his insurmountable pain.
His father had apparently blamed his affairs on his wife’s drinking, begged Jake to try to understand. Jake had turned his back, walked away before he could do something he would regret. He’d left the village almost immediately after that. He and his father had never discussed the matter since, as far as Emily knew. They avoided anything emotive, in fact, even though they worked in the same practice together and could hardly therefore ignore each other. Watching Tom now, it was obvious he still had a roving eye, confirming all that Jake had said about him. A silver-fox charmer, the man was an obvious flirt. Leopards and spots, Emily supposed.
‘Quick word about the practice budget when you have a second, Jake,’ he said, his mouth curving into an appreciative smile, his gaze still on Nicky.
Aware of Tom’s attention, Nicky smiled back. Emily had no idea what else she was supposed to do other than blank him, but she couldn’t help thinking Tom would be encouraged by the girl appearing unconcerned about his ogling. She really was going to have to have strong words with him.
‘No time like the present,’ Jake said tersely.
‘Is it okay if I go now, Emily?’ Nicky asked as Tom dragged his gaze away and turned to follow Jake to his office. ‘It’s just I’ve already worked ten minutes over and I’m meeting up with someone in Pembridge this evening.’
Emily checked the clock. ‘Gosh, yes, of course. Sorry. You go. Take an extra ten minutes in the morning if you like. I can manage. Going anywhere nice?’
‘The Fish and Anchor for a meal.’ Smiling in anticipation, Nicky headed back around the desk to grab her bag. ‘It’ll take me ages to get ready.’
Emily’s mind boggled at that. The girl always looked as if she’d stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine. ‘Enjoy. See you tomorrow. Not too hung-over, I hope,’ she added as Nicky went to fetch her coat, a trendy black leather biker jacket similar to one Millie had. They seemed to be everywhere at the moment. Emily quite fancied one herself, but couldn’t help thinking she might look like mutton dressed as lamb.
Nicky smiled sheepishly and tugged the jacket on. ‘I won’t be,’ she promised, lifting her lustrous dark hair from the back of the jacket and allowing it to fall in loose waves over her shoulders. ‘I don’t generally drink during the week.’
‘Glad to hear it.’ Emily smiled knowingly back. Nicky had come in so hung-over once she’d barely been able to function. As she’d been out celebrating her birthday, and aware of her own propensity to judge people who leaned on mood-enhancing drugs, alcohol being one of them, Emily hadn’t been too hard on her, but she had warned her not to make a habit of it.
She felt less forgiving, however, when she noticed that the girl was about to leave the surgery with her computer screen still lit and showing confidential patient data.
‘Haven’t we forgotten something, Nicky?’ she asked, drumming her fingers pointedly against the desktop.
Knitting her brow, Nicky gave her a puzzled look.
‘Your data protection training, possibly?’ Emily’s eyes slid towards the computer.
‘Oh my God.’ Nicky