That part came back to her with blinding clarity. She hadn’t remembered any of it until now. She’d buried it along with her sister. Hadn’t wanted to acknowledge how bitterly her parents had wished it was her they’d lost and not Kara.
‘She’s not breathing,’ Jake said tightly, snatching her attention back to this day, this riverbank and another death she might be responsible for. Terrified, she watched as he used his fingers to gently clear Natasha’s airway. He was pinching her nose, placing his mouth over hers, breathing slowly into it. Pausing. Assessing. Sucking air deep into his own lungs. Breathing. Rescue breaths. The kiss of life.
He was desperate not to lose her. Emily’s fingers strayed to her own lips. She was desperate not to lose him, her husband, the one solid thing in her life, the one person who knew her and loved her. But he didn’t know her, not all of her – he didn’t know why the ghost of her sister haunted her dreams. She didn’t know him fully either, each minuscule detail that had made him the man he was, or the deceit he might be capable of. She didn’t know whether he loved her. Her heart boomed another echo of her past. He’d been looking for a distraction, possibly attempting to move on. He might have done if she hadn’t called him from outside the bar that long-ago night and lied to him, telling him she’d been nervous about committing fully to another relationship after being treated badly by a man. She’d never told him how badly. How could she? The truth would surely have driven him away, and she’d needed him. She loved him – then and now. He’d taught her what love really was. She couldn’t have told him the whole truth and expected him to stay.
He had stayed. When they’d talked the next day and she’d told him she was pregnant – she’d decided she would keep the baby; she’d had to – he’d walked her home, his mood quiet, contemplative. Tentatively he’d kissed her goodbye, saying he would call her in the morning. She hadn’t been sure he would. An hour later, there’d been a knock on the door of her bedsit, and she’d answered it to find him standing nervously on the doorstep holding a small velvet box. ‘It wasn’t an expensive one,’ he’d said awkwardly, seeming not to notice her old pyjamas and cried-off make-up. ‘We can change it. As soon as I’m qualified, we can choose any ring you want, but for now, will you accept this one? Will you marry me?’
The box contained his mother’s engagement ring. She still wore it. Had he proposed because he loved her, or had he stepped up to do the right thing? Had she forced him to?
Now, standing stock still, too scared to speak or move as she heard hushed whispers around her, sensed fingers pointing accusingly at her, she continued to watch as Jake positioned his hands over Natasha, ready to perform cardiopulmonary resuscitation. He’d done two compressions when she gasped, her eyes springing wide as she spewed out a breath.
Jake moved fast, yelling at the men who’d assisted him in the water to help roll her onto her side, keeping her spine aligned as they did. ‘Try not to move. You’ll be okay. The ambulance is on its way,’ he said, his hand resting gently on her shoulder, his face close to hers.
Someone offered sheets hastily retrieved from tables, which Jake indicated they should drape over her while he talked reassuringly to her, keeping her calm and still. He didn’t move from her side until the ambulance arrived.
He conferred with the paramedics as they checked her over, and walked with her as they transported her to the ambulance. Smiling, he squeezed her hand as they paused before loading her into it. ‘You gave me one hell of a scare back there,’ he said.
‘Sorry,’ she managed weakly.
‘I’ll let you off.’ He gave her another warm smile. ‘You’re in capable hands now. I’ll come and see you as soon as you’re home.’
An hour later, they were on their way back home themselves, Jake’s car loaded up with unsold goods from the stalls, the fair ruined. Despite what had happened, her guilt that she’d been the cause of it, Emily decided to broach the subject of the email. She was sure Natasha Jameson was the sender. It had to be her. ‘You saved her life,’ she said carefully. ‘She might have died if not for you.’
‘It was just basic first aid.’ Jake ran a hand over his neck, looking utterly exhausted.
Emily hesitated. ‘Still, it was a good job you were around.’
Jake nodded. ‘I suppose.’
Natasha had been in the vicinity of wherever Jake had been that morning. Emily would have had to be blind not to notice. Might she be wrong? It was possible. But she couldn’t ignore the nagging voice in her head that told her she wasn’t. ‘I didn’t realise you knew her that well,’ she ventured.
‘Sorry?’ Jake glanced confusedly at her.
‘Natasha.’ Emily took a deep breath. ‘I didn’t realise you two were intimate.’
‘Intimate?’ He laughed uncertainly.
‘Tash. You called her Tash.’ And she called you Jake. Why would she do that if you weren’t on first-name terms? Her heart thundered. She was treading on dangerous ground. He would know she was accusing him. He wasn’t stupid. How would he react?
He shot her another look, one of incredulity this time. ‘She was unconscious. I was trying to reach her. That’s what she prefers to be called, isn’t it?’
Emily noticed his tight grip on the steering wheel and her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. ‘Yes … but I wasn’t aware you knew her well enough to know that.’ She tugged in a tremulous breath. Held it. ‘Or exchange emails.’
‘You what?’ Jake did a double-take. ‘What on earth are you talking about, Emily? We don’t exchange emails. And I know her as Tash because that’s how she introduced herself when she first came to see me. Everyone calls her that.’
Remembering that she’d deleted the email and therefore had no proof to back up what she was saying, Emily floundered. ‘Why has she switched to your list?’ she blurted out, and then immediately regretted it as she realised it was sure to escalate this into the worst kind of argument.
‘For fu—’ Stopping himself short of swearing, Jake bumped the car onto the drive and stamped on the brake. She could feel the anger emanating from him as he twisted to face her. ‘Are you serious? The woman almost died because you fell into her. And now you’re saying … What exactly?’
Seven
Perilously close to tears, Emily threw open the passenger door and headed fast for the house. Jake banged his door closed behind him and followed.
‘So let me get this right,’ he said, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration as she paused in the porch to fumble in her bag for her front door key. ‘Out of the blue you’re accusing me of … what? Fancying another woman? Having an affair?’
‘No,’ Emily replied, flustered. He was right. Natasha might have died, and it had all been her fault. She should never have brought the subject up. ‘That’s not what I said. I just …’ Where was the damn key?
Sighing agitatedly, Jake reached around her to push his own key into the lock.
‘Talk to me, Emily,’ he said as she stepped quickly into the entrance hall. ‘Tell me what the hell’s going on.’
Her eyes flicked to the stairs. Millie and Ben had plans, so she assumed they were out, but it was possible one or the other was upstairs in their bedroom. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. I didn’t accuse you of anything.’ She hurried on through to the lounge.
‘Christ give me strength,’ Jake muttered behind her.
He was angry. Furious. Why would he be? Wouldn’t he just have laughed it off if there were no truth in it? Emily walked across to the lounge window, which overlooked their pretty rear garden. He’d been angry around his father, palpably, but she’d never known him to lose his temper. He seemed close to losing it now.
Goosebumps prickling her skin despite the perfect warmth of the summer’s day, she wrapped her arms around herself and looked out past the abundance of small trees, shrubs and flowering plants to the mill stream that bordered the garden. She hadn’t been sure about the property when they’d first viewed it. A barn conversion that formed
part of the Black and White Trail, it was beautiful, though it had been in need of some renovation. The stream, though … She’d imagined the soft lap of the water might haunt her. In fact, she’d found it strangely therapeutic, especially on days such as this when – melancholic though her memories were – she would sit outside and allow her mind to wander to thoughts of her sister growing up, the secrets and laughter they’d shared. The stories they would tell each other – classic stories sometimes, like ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ and ‘Goldilocks’, each trying to outdo the other with surprise endings. Kara’s had been tragically beautiful. She’d always been gifted. Emily remembered the games of dressing-up and make-believe they’d played: sock puppets, doctors, warriors, united in their efforts to vanquish their foe; together, always, until they’d grown up. Or imagined they had.
Her mind flew back to the first time she’d allowed her boyfriend to ‘go all the way’. She’d been just sixteen. She was under the bridge with him, her back against the wall, the cloying smell of damp brickwork and aftershave in her nostrils, his body pressed hard to hers.
‘I want you,’ he’d mumbled, his face stuffed into her neck, his hand sliding down the front of her jeans. It had been uncomfortable, with his hurried tugging aside of her clothes, his urgent fumbling and thrusting.
He hadn’t said much afterwards. Lighting up a spliff while she made herself decent, he’d slid down the wall to his haunches. Drawing smoke deep into his lungs, he’d held it for a while. Then, ‘How’s that sister of yours?’ he’d asked her, exhaling thickly into the air. ‘Do you reckon she’s still a virgin?’
Emily shuddered. She would never forget the smell of his aftershave mingled with the sweat from his body; the paralysing fear she’d felt the last time she’d been alone with him. The same paralysing fear Kara must have felt.
People hadn’t openly blamed her when they’d found her sister’s limp body floating in the canal, but Emily had blamed herself. She’d lived with the guilt lodged like a sharp stone inside her ever since. In her heart she’d known she hadn’t pushed Kara, but in her head … She hadn’t been able to remember, not everything. No matter how hard she’d tried, the details were always just out of reach, floating hauntingly on the periphery of her memory. But now … She remembered following her, but why would she have been trying to save her if she’d pushed her?
Her mother had blamed her. Emily had seen the accusation in her eyes. Felt it. She’d never forgiven her for the part she’d played in Kara’s death. Could Kara? Emily wished she could have had her sister’s forgiveness.
Gaining no comfort from her memories today, she tightened her arms around herself and pushed thoughts of Kara to the back of her mind while she tried to think what to do about her suddenly floundering marriage. She’d opened the whole ugly can of worms now. She couldn’t undo it. Should she tell him about the contents of the email? Admit that she’d followed him the next day when he’d left the surgery shortly after lunch? He was going to pick up the lawnmower he’d ordered from Leominster while he had a window, he’d said. She’d lost him at the traffic lights. He had picked up the lawnmower, but he’d been an extraordinarily long time, scraping back into the surgery before his first evening appointment. But she’d deleted the email. She no longer had proof to back up her story. And if she did tackle him, there would definitely be no turning back. It would be out there, real, creating a divide between them that would never close, a deep, dark chasm she would surely fall into, finding herself alone with her grief and her guilt all over again.
‘Emily, what’s happening here?’ Jake asked, a defeated edge to his voice as he finally came in behind her. ‘You’re upset, and I honestly have no idea why. Please talk to me.’ He ventured closer, placing an arm tentatively around her shoulders.
Involuntarily she tensed, and he immediately snatched his arm away. ‘I take it we’re not talking then?’ he asked wearily.
Hearing his hurt and disappointment, Emily desperately wanted to turn around, rest her head on his shoulder, apologise and have him hold her. Pretending it wasn’t happening wouldn’t make it go away, though, would it?
Jake waited a minute. Emily didn’t move. ‘Right. Message understood,’ he said with a sharp intake of breath. ‘I think I might do better to be elsewhere for a while. I’ll call you. Later.’
What did he mean, ‘elsewhere’? Fear gripping her, Emily whirled around as he walked to the door. ‘Where are you going?’
He stopped and turned back. ‘To the surgery.’
‘To catch up on paperwork?’ Her voice sounded small and uncertain even to her own ears.
‘There’s a fair amount to do.’ He shrugged disconsolately.
She nodded. ‘I gathered that, from the amount of time you spend there.’
A frown crossed his face. He was clearly wondering where this was leading.
‘Who were you talking to on the phone?’ She finally asked him the question she’d been burning to, then braced herself.
‘On the phone when?’ He squinted at her, mystified.
‘When you came home late on Thursday. Why did you take the call in the conservatory?’
His look was now one of astonishment. ‘Because I couldn’t hear over the kettle boiling.’ He laughed bewilderedly.
Emily glanced down, her stomach churning. She could never hear over the kettle boiling. Several times she’d walked out of the kitchen, her phone pressed to her ear.
‘It was Rachel Brown, Ethan’s mother,’ Jake informed her, now obviously irate. ‘She called to tell me he’d had his surgery, that he was conscious, and to thank me. Are there any more questions I need to answer?’
Ethan. God, where was her mind? Jake had said the little boy had been rushed into hospital. His mother would have been beside herself with worry. As Jake had possibly saved her child’s life, she would have been likely to ring him with an update. He’d probably asked her to. Why on earth hadn’t she thought it through? Her cheeks heating up, she struggled for something to say. ‘No. I’m sorry. I just … It doesn’t matter.’
‘Right,’ Jake said tersely. ‘I don’t have a clue what this is all about, Emily, but when you feel like enlightening me, you know where I am.’ Looking her over, unimpressed, he shook his head and then turned to walk away.
‘I take it you two are still not on speaking terms, then?’ Emily heard Millie ask as he reached the hall, and her heart dropped.
Jake’s reply was agitated. ‘Apparently not.’
‘So where are you going?’ Millie sounded apprehensive. ‘I thought you were out together at the village fair all day.’
‘It ended early,’ Jake answered diplomatically, though his anger was still evident. ‘I’m going into work for a while. I shouldn’t be too long.’
Emily gathered from Millie’s silence that she wasn’t impressed with what was happening either.
‘I’ll bring a pizza back later, shall I?’ Jake suggested, softening his tone. ‘Assuming you’re around?’
‘I’m out tonight,’ Millie answered after a second. ‘Assuming I’m not grounded at weekends as well as during the week,’ she added drolly.
‘Where?’ Jake asked. ‘Assuming you get why we would be worried about you.’
‘I get it,’ Millie conceded grudgingly. ‘I’m going to the Open Air Film and Chill in Hereford with Anna and a few friends. And no, we’re not going anywhere near the pub, before Mum starts going on about me drinking again, as if she never did when she was my age.’
‘It’s only out of concern, Mils,’ Jake said in Emily’s defence. ‘I know you think we go on, but if you’re honest, I think you’d much rather that than if we couldn’t care less where you are.’
‘I suppose so.’ Millie conceded that much too.
‘You know so,’ Jake chided her. ‘What about Ben? Do you know whether he’s home later?’
‘I think so. He’s gaming round at his mate’s this afternoon, but he said they’d be coming back here. I’ll tell him to give you a call at the
surgery, shall I?’
‘If you could. Thanks, Mils,’ Jake said, that special fondness in his voice he had for his daughter. ‘Have you heard back from the veterinary practice about the job yet?’
‘No.’ Millie sighed disappointedly. ‘I think I messed up my application form, to be honest. And then I was so nervous I was talking rubbish.’
‘That sucks,’ Jake sympathised.
‘Yeah.’ Millie sighed again, heavily. ‘I should have prepared better, I suppose,’ she admitted – and Emily felt even more guilty. She should have gone through her application with her, and made time to coach her. If only she hadn’t been so preoccupied with convincing herself Jake was cheating on her.
‘Did you make enquiries at MacDonald and Gibbs?’ Jake asked. ‘They’re moving premises, looking at expanding, apparently.’
‘Are they?’ Millie sounded hopeful.
‘So I heard from Phil MacDonald. I tell you what, why don’t you come in with me? We’ll draft an email together, and I’ll give Phil a ring and let him know to expect it. What do you think?’
Millie took a second to answer. ‘That you’re pretty cool,’ she said, careful not to sound overly gushing.
‘As dads go,’ Jake added, amused.
‘As dads go.’ Amazingly, Millie laughed.
‘Grab your stuff,’ Jake said. ‘I’ll wait in the car.’
Hearing Millie charge up the stairs, Emily hesitated and then stepped into the hall. As Jake walked out without even calling goodbye, her heart sank without trace. There’d definitely been no kiss this time. Her marriage seemed to be crumbling and she had no idea how to repair it.
Natasha. She had to stop her. She would make her stop. A fresh wave of anger welled up inside her, closely followed by a now overwhelming guilt. The woman might have sustained a life-changing injury. They didn’t yet know. Whatever she’d done, Emily wouldn’t wish that on her.
Trust Me: An absolutely gripping and unputdownable psychological thriller Page 6