Trust Me - Sheryl Browne Page 0,81

it. It wasn’t just amphetamines being taken. There were painkillers and antipsychotic drugs missing too. Whatever the consequences, he was duty-bound to report it. Even stripped from their packaging, batch numbers meant the drugs could be traced back to the surgery. Aside from which, his own conscience wouldn’t allow him to stay silent in the hope of establishing for certain who was stealing drugs, and why. The consequences for anyone taking non-prescription drugs might be fatal.

He tugged in a breath and pushed his car door open. He’d never imagined he could feel like this. He didn’t want to go inside his own home. Worse, he felt his family would rather he didn’t. Millie was clearly angry and troubled, retaliating to her world unravelling around her by challenging boundaries and possibly jeopardising her future. Ben was furious with him, as indicated by the cutting sarcasm in his voice when Jake had tried to apologise to him. Despite his best efforts, everything was spiralling out of control and he had no power to stop it. He only hoped his relationship with his children was mendable. Being caught in the middle of warring parents was soul-destroying. Jake knew all about that. As for Emily, he was scared for her. For himself. The whole village community. People’s lives were being maliciously and systematically destroyed through information gathered from his surgery, the place that should be saving lives, and he had no power to stop that either.

Pushing his key into the lock, he wondered at the irony of his situation. He’d thought his father was a total fuck-up, been determined not to be seen as anything like him. It seemed now he was worse, by far. Certainly in Emily’s eyes.

Meeting Ben in the hall, he tried a smile. ‘Hi, how’s it going?’

‘Pretty shittily, as it happens.’ Ben smiled flatly back.

‘Right.’ Jake had no idea what to say to that. ‘Ben, I—’

He was about to ask him if they could go for a drink together in the hope of trying to have a proper conversation, but Ben cut him short. ‘Mum’s in the kitchen,’ he said, nodding over his shoulder and then more or less pushing past Jake towards the stairs.

‘Right.’ Jake glanced warily in that direction.

‘Just so you know, no earphones,’ Ben added acerbically, pointing to his ears.

Understanding that his son was warning him that he would be listening for any hint of an argument, Jake buried a sigh. ‘Where’s Millie?’ he asked.

‘Out,’ Ben said, sliding a derisory glance in his direction as he mounted the stairs. ‘Not that she knew you were coming home early or anything.’

It hurt that his kids suddenly seemed to hate him. Jake gulped back a tight knot in his throat.

Dropping his phone and keys on the table, he steeled himself and went through to the kitchen. Emily was stuffing things into the dishwasher. She didn’t acknowledge him, or even appear to notice him as he dumped his case in its usual spot.

He felt his heart go into free fall. What had happened? he wondered, feeling disorientated. Just a short time ago he would have walked over to her, massaged her shoulders when she straightened up and then kissed his way down the tempting soft curve of her neck. She would have chastised him for interrupting whatever she was doing, but she would always turn and lean into him. Now, like Ben, she seemed not to want to even make eye contact.

‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ he asked, though glancing around, he could see the kitchen was pristine. In her frustration, Emily had obviously been cleaning everything to within an inch of its life. Memories of his mother compulsively cleaning, of her manic behaviour in the dark days before her death assaulting him out of nowhere, Jake reeled inwardly. Standing in his own kitchen, his wife just feet away from him, his son upstairs, he felt suddenly and hopelessly alone. It was his own fault. She was paranoid, and behaving erratically because of the drugs, but he knew in his heart that it was his behaviour that had helped fuel it.

‘It’s all done,’ she said, clanging the dishwasher door closed, sending out a signal that, regardless of the small step they’d made towards each other earlier, they were poles apart again. ‘You managed to get back early then? I’m surprised,’ she added, before he could answer. ‘I thought after the news you received you might have cause to be out celebrating.’

Out celebrating? There was precious little to