Trust Me - Sheryl Browne Page 0,90

stared at him in disbelief for a second, then closed her eyes. ‘Not a product of my fevered imagination then?’

‘No.’ He drew in a breath. ‘I owe you an apology, Emily. I doubted you. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.’

Swallowing, she nodded slowly. It was something. It couldn’t take back all he’d said, but at least he wasn’t looking at her as if he didn’t know who she was. ‘Did they manage to trace the email address?’

He shook his head. ‘They’re working on it.’

Nodding, Emily paused, checking that they weren’t being overheard, then lowered her voice. ‘The letters … did they mention whether they’d made any headway?’ Nicky had told her they hadn’t been able to find any forensic evidence, but she’d hoped …

‘Nothing,’ Jake said, sighing heavily. ‘Whoever sent them was obviously wearing gloves, making sure to—’ He stopped, emitting a weary sigh as his father joined them.

‘Well done, Emily. You’ve done an amazing job with the hall,’ Tom said, indicating the bunting and birthday balloons Emily had roped the landlord of the pub into helping her string up. ‘Ed and Joyce are tickled pink. It was a lovely thing to …’ He trailed off as Nicky hurried towards them – with a young man in tow, Emily noted.

‘I took your advice, Tom.’ She stretched to plant a kiss on Tom’s cheek, to Emily and Jake’s surprise. ‘Meet Drew, my new boyfriend.’

Tom turned to the young man. ‘Nice to meet you, Drew,’ he said, looking him over critically as he shook his hand. ‘I hope he knows you have high standards, Nicky?’

‘I do.’ Drew smiled, as Tom arched an enquiring eyebrow at him. ‘I think I’m actually on trial at the moment.’

‘Good.’ Tom nodded approvingly. ‘Make sure you treat her with respect.’

‘He will,’ Nicky assured him. ‘I’ve told him he’ll have you to answer to if he doesn’t. Back in a second, Emily. We’re just off to get a drink.’ Beaming them all a smile, and looking very pleased with herself, she dragged Drew towards the bar, while Emily and Jake exchanged glances.

Tom clearly noticed. ‘She’d been stood up – at the pub in Pembridge where I happened to be with some of the members of the medical committee,’ he explained. ‘I couldn’t help but notice her sitting on her own looking upset. Obviously I made my excuses to my colleagues and went over to her. We had a long chat.’ He paused, now looking pointedly at Jake. ‘The man in question texted her as we were talking, gave her some lame excuse about having to give a mate a lift somewhere. I told her to dump him. It seems she—’

He was cut short by Nicky, who reappeared to grab hold of his hand. ‘They’re playing “Love Me Do”,’ she said enthusiastically, as the band, back from their break, struck up again. ‘Drew has a rugby injury, so I’m in need of a man.’

‘Another one?’ Tom chuckled, allowing himself to be tugged towards the dance floor while Emily and Jake looked on, bemused.

‘Jesus.’ Jake did a double-take as Tom got into his stride with a slow jive. ‘Looks like I might owe him an apology too,’ he said, looking awkwardly back at Emily.

‘It certainly seems so,’ Emily agreed, her gaze travelling from the dancing couple to Fran, who was coming back from the loo. She looked unsteady on her feet and was now glaring daggers at Tom, Emily noticed, with some trepidation. She hoped she wasn’t going to cause a scene and spoil the party for Ed.

Oh no. Her heart sank as Fran stumbled towards the dance floor, reached out a hand to steady herself and knocked a drink from a table. All credit to them, the band didn’t miss a beat as the glass smashed noisily, sending slivers of glass shooting across the wooden floor.

Emily watched nervously as Phil, who ran the farm shop, stood up to try and help. Fran shrugged him off, her eyes narrowed to slits and plainly fuming as she took another precarious step.

‘You bastard!’ she shouted suddenly, causing Emily’s heart to flip in her chest. ‘You just can’t resist, can you?’ she snarled, as the band twanged to a discordant stop. ‘Chatting up every little slut in a skirt, making a bloody fool of yourself.’

Jake stepped towards her, taking hold of her arm. ‘Come on, Fran,’ he said, sympathetically but firmly. ‘You’re obviously upset. You’ve had too much to—’

Fran yanked her arm away. ‘Don’t you tell me what to do,’ she seethed, turning on