She clutched a hand to her head, wishing she could make the incessant throbbing go away. She couldn’t let her emotions get the better of her. She had to tackle this calmly, rationally. In light of the psychological damage his own father had wreaked, she couldn’t believe that Jake would do anything that would rock Millie and Ben’s world, but if it turned out to be true, then they would be caught up in it.
She wouldn’t throw any more accusations at him; not yet. That would only make the situation worse. First she would establish how Natasha was, and then she would go and see her. It seemed to Emily that in sending the email to Jake’s work address, Natasha had hoped she would see it. No doubt she’d imagined that Emily would confront Jake, raging at him about the evidence of his infidelity, thus lighting the fuse that would blow her marriage apart. She’d very nearly done just that. She still didn’t know what the truth was, whether her marriage was in deep trouble. If push came to shove, though, she could fight dirty too.
Eight
They’d managed to get through Sunday relatively normally. Emily hadn’t brought up the subject of Natasha again. It was Jake who eventually mentioned her, saying that he’d spoken to a colleague at the hospital and that she’d made a full recovery and had been discharged. He’d conveyed the information unemotionally, telling her pointedly that he would be checking up on her as she was a patient, leaving Emily feeling yet more guilty, if that were possible. But was she the one who should be feeling guilty?
He’d kept his phone with him constantly, she’d noticed. Or had he always done that? The nature of his work dictated that he needed to be contactable, but she hadn’t noticed him keeping it quite so close before now. But then she’d never had cause to look before. She’d caught him several times guardedly watching her, perhaps because she’d been carefully watching him, trying to read his body language and his expression, which was largely pensive.
She’d been about to dash off to the supermarket, after realising that, once again, she’d forgotten to get something out of the freezer, but he’d suggested they all eat out. She’d proposed that he treat Millie and Ben to a pub meal instead, telling him she was nursing a nagging toothache, which had been her planned excuse to leave work early today. She hadn’t actually felt like eating anyway. The constant waves of nausea, which she’d now stopped mentioning to Jake, left her with no appetite.
Seeing it was time for her to leave for her fictitious appointment, she switched off her PC and grabbed her bag. ‘Don’t forget to blank your screen if you walk away from the desk,’ she reminded Nicky as she fetched her jacket. ‘And make sure to—’
‘Lock all client information away in the filing cabinet and close my computer down properly when I leave,’ Nicky chipped in. ‘Don’t worry, you can rely on me.’ Smiling proudly, she pointed to the Post-it notes adorning her screen.
Emily gave her an indulgent smile back. The girl was doing her best. Still, though, she was easily distracted. She hoped she didn’t forget.
As it was lunchtime, there were no patients currently in with Jake, so she tapped on his door and went in. ‘I’m off to my dental appointment,’ she said, determined to remain professional despite their personal situation. ‘Nicky’s up to speed regarding your appointment schedule.’
‘Oh, right. Thanks.’ Jake got to his feet and walked around the desk towards her, then stopped. Normally he would kiss her. Sometimes, a mischievous smile curving his mouth, he would push the door to and kiss her thoroughly. Now, though, his expression was awkward as he lingered a step away from her, and he didn’t appear to know what to do.
She should tell him everything. A hard lump expanding in her chest, she almost closed the door herself and stepped further in. But she couldn’t bring it all out into the open here and create the very scenario she was trying to avoid: confrontation, arguments, accusations. Not until she absolutely had to. She would convince this woman to back off, praying that they could then salvage their marriage. If she could bring herself to trust him again, and feel secure that Jake thought their relationship was worth saving, then she would talk to him. She would have no choice. She couldn’t bury her head in the sand and hope it would go away and just be grateful when it did – until the next time.
‘Tom’s popping in,’ she reminded him. ‘He needs to get some data together for the clinical commissioning group. Nicky’s on her own so you might want to keep an eye on things,’ she suggested, hoping he would get the point about his father’s tendency to ogle their receptionist at every opportunity without her spelling it out.
‘Right,’ Jake said again. She could tell by his long intake of breath that he understood.
Her heart ached as she climbed into her car and headed for Apple Tree Farm. For herself, but mostly for Millie and Ben. She and Jake had worked to protect them from anything that might damage them growing up, particularly the harm parents could wreak. What had happened? she wondered, feeling still as bewildered and disorientated as she had when she had first glimpsed that bloody email. She wasn’t sure what she was doing here, other than to try and corroborate what her head was telling her: that Jake was having an affair, despite the promises he’d made never to be like the father whose behaviour he claimed to detest.
If it did turn out to be true, she only prayed he would never utter the words he’d spoken years ago, telling her his association with the woman meant nothing, quite clearly indicating that nothing was worth risking his marriage for, ruining his children’s lives for. She wasn’t sure she would ever be able to forgive him that.
Driving into the farm, she passed the field Michael Jameson had left to fallow this year and on past the hops that were beginning to establish themselves on their strings. Michael had broken his back rescuing the farm that had been handed down to him from his parents. Emily knew that growing hops was one of the hardest crop choices in farming, the hops requiring attention all year round. Even then, farmers were at the mercy of the weather and yields varied. Michael had often joked that hop growers were resilient folk, supplementing their income with other horticultural crops such as apples. Emily wondered how resilient his heart would be if he discovered the woman he’d not long been married to, and who he’d refurbished the farmhouse for, possibly overstretching himself financially, was cheating on him.
Hoping Michael was out and about on the farm, she parked a little way down the track leading to the house. She noted Natasha’s brand-new Mini Clubman parked outside and the anger that had been simmering inside her rose. She had no doubt that the purchase of that car had pushed Michael further into debt.
Bracing herself, wondering what she hoped to gain if the woman denied an affair outright, she climbed out of her car and made her way towards the house. She was severely tempted to gouge the shiny Mini with her keys as she neared it, and was shocked by this new viciousness inside her. This wasn’t her. No matter what people had thought her capable of, silently accused her of, she’d never felt this out of control of her emotions. It scared her.
Attempting to steady her rapid heartbeat, she was bypassing the kitchen window when a loud crash from inside rooted her to the spot. The guttural roar that followed it – primeval, the raw cry of a wounded animal more than a man – caused her heart to jolt violently.
‘Why?’ She heard Michael cry, his voice filled with agonised bewilderment. ‘I’ve given you everything! Everything!’
‘I didn’t! I haven’t.’ Natasha’s voice, desperate. ‘It’s a lie! I … Michael, don’t!’
Hearing another crash that sounded like glass smashing, Emily’s heart pounded as she inched towards the window. Peering in, her eyes fell immediately on Natasha. She was scrambling away from Michael, trying to get to the door that led to the hall, but Michael was faster, grabbing her arm, dragging her back and whirling her around, and then pushing her against the kitchen wall.
Emily’s stomach churned with fear as she watched arms flailing, mouths moving. Michael’s face, contorted with rage, was an inch away from Natasha’s, his forefi
nger jabbing the air close to her cheek. ‘How many?’ he bellowed, pushing his face closer.
‘None!’ Natasha cried. ‘No one! It’s—’
‘Liar! Lying, cheap little—’
‘I’m not!’ the woman sobbed. ‘They all hate me. They’re doing it out of jealousy! Why else would they … Michael, please … Don’t!’
Oh dear God! Seeing what was about to happen, Emily rapped urgently on the window. ‘Michael! Stop! Michael …’ The words died in her throat as Michael’s clenched fist hit its target.
Nausea swilling inside her, Emily backed away from the window, fumbling her phone from her pocket as she flew towards the front door. Her heart almost stopped beating when Natasha emerged, fleeing for her life, blood oozing from her nose and mouth, staining her white T-shirt stark crimson.
Michael was close behind her. ‘They know you’re on the pill!’ he yelled from the doorstep, his face puce with rage and waving a piece of paper at her, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Emily was there. ‘They know what fucking brand you’re on! You said you wanted children!’ He scrunched the piece of paper into a ball and tossed it out after her. ‘You said you wanted my baby!’
Emily hesitated for a second, and then moved to snatch the paper up and race after Natasha as she blundered away from him.
‘It’s not true!’ As Natasha squirmed around to face him, Emily caught hold of her and tried desperately to lead her away. ‘Why won’t you believe—’
‘Liar! Cheating, lying little whore!’ Michael screamed. ‘I loved you!’
Watching him sink to his knees, Emily’s heart broke for them both. She’d wanted Natasha to get her just deserts, but not this. Never this. Her legs trembling, tears sliding down her own cheeks, she squeezed the woman close and steered her gently towards her car. ‘It’s okay,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve got you.’
‘It’s not okay,’ Natasha cried pitifully, smearing snot and blood across her face with the back of her hand. ‘It’s not true. None of it. Why would someone do this?’
‘Shush.’ Emily tried to soothe her. ‘Come on, let’s get you in the car, and then I’ll drive you somewhere safe.’
Helping her into the passenger seat, Emily closed the door and, one eye on Michael, dashed around to the driver’s side. It was clear he was devastated, broken. He wasn’t about to follow. But still, she would feel safer putting some distance between them. Feeling sick to her soul, she gulped back the rock lodged in her throat and started the engine.
Driving quickly away from the farm, she pulled into a passing space in the lane beyond it. Her heart bleeding for the woman, despite her suspicions, she reached for a tissue from her pocket, passed it to her and gave her a moment.
‘I think we might need to get you to the hospital,’ she suggested, once Natasha was more composed. Her face would be terribly bruised. Emily only hoped there was nothing broken.
Natasha shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, gulping hard. ‘Thanks, but I’d rather not.’
‘What happened?’ Emily probed gently.
Twisting the tissue nervously into a knot, Natasha looked tentatively at her. ‘You picked up the letter?’
Emily nodded. ‘Would you like me to read it?’
Closing her eyes, Natasha answered with a small, defeated nod.
Emily’s mouth dried as she smoothed out the crumpled piece of paper. She had no doubt the contents would be incriminating. Who would they incriminate, though?
You should keep an eye on your whore wife, she read, her stomach turning over. Did you know she was on the pill? Microgynon 30.
Goosebumps prickling her skin, Emily looked at the signature: An anonymous friend. It told her nothing.
‘It was pushed through the door while I was out,’ Natasha whispered. ‘They wanted Michael to see it. They wanted this to happen.’
Nine
Sitting at Emily’s kitchen island, Sally gawped at her over her wine glass. ‘You’re joking,’ she gasped, taking a mouthful of her wine and almost choking on it.
‘I wish I was.’ Emily drew in a breath and reached for the bottle.
‘And he actually hit her?’
Emily nodded, a shudder running through her as she recalled the incandescent rage Michael had been consumed with. ‘She was absolutely terrified. I wanted to take her to the hospital, but she refused to go. She wouldn’t report him either. I feel dreadful for her.’
‘Well, yes, I do too, but …’ Sally hesitated. ‘You know, I never thought I would ever say this … I mean, I could never condone physical violence no matter how driven a person was, but I can see why he lost it. This confirms everything, doesn’t it?’ She looked down at the letter between them and then back to Emily. ‘That she’s every bit the money-grabbing trollop we thought she was.’
Emily wasn’t so sure it did. Natasha had looked more like a frightened child than a sex siren when Emily had dropped her off at her mother’s house in Worcester. She denied absolutely cheating on Michael, and said that she loved him. When she’d thanked Emily for being the only one in the village who would care enough to be concerned about her, Emily had felt awful. The fact was, though, that if there were any truth in the letter sent to Michael, wouldn’t that confirm that there was some truth in the email?
‘Possibly.’ She sighed. ‘But to have punched her like that …’ She felt a shudder run through her.
‘I can’t believe you’re feeling sorry for her,’ Sally huffed and hopped off her stool to retrieve a second bottle, one she’d brought with her, from the fridge. ‘The woman quite obviously had Jake in her sights. You only had to look at what she was wearing at the fair, as well as the fact that she couldn’t take her eyes off him, to realise that.’
Emily’s blood ran cold as she remembered the events at the fair. Guilt weighing heavily inside her, she glanced at her friend, who was looking indignant on her behalf, and who, ironically, was dressed in slim-cut jeans and leather boots. She had noticed what Natasha was wearing, of course she had. It had been abundantly clear to her that the woman had been working to attract Jake’s attention. But hadn’t Sally draped herself all over him? It was the way Sally was, the sort of person who hugged everyone. It was possible that Natasha was just being who she was too.
‘So do you still think she was the one who sent the email to Jake?’ Sally asked as she came across with the wine, and then went back to the work surface to refill the dishes with nibbles, which Emily really had no appetite for. ‘Not that I’m implying there was anything in it.’ She glanced over her shoulder – sympathetically, Emily noted, meaning she probably did think there was something in it.
‘I thought she was,’ she said, wondering now at the wisdom of confiding in Sally, who could be a bit of a gossip. She was always supportive, though, and Emily had so needed someone to talk to. She felt as if she was losing her grip on reality, as if her world was slowly crumbling around her and she had no way to hold onto it.
‘But you don’t think so now?’
‘I honestly don’t know.’ Sighing again heavily, Emily reached to top up her glass. She would probably feel as sick as a dog in the morning, but she did it anyway. Anything to numb the pain, hopefully enough that she could sleep. ‘She swore she wasn’t cheating on Michael. She was so hurt and upset …’
Emily really wasn’t sure any more. After all, the only evidence she’d had – or thought she’d had – was the email address beginning ‘nja’. The letter sent to Michael had accused Natasha of everything Emily had imagined the woman was doing, yet … She’d been so distraught. So adamant she’d never been unfaithful.
‘Hmm,’ Sally pondered. ‘Well, whoever sent the email and the letter, there’s obviously some bitter individual in our midst determined to stir up trouble between couples.’
‘But who? And why?’ Emily knitted her brow. Was it just that, someone trying to stir up trouble? Other than his constantly working late, she’d had no cause to think that Jake had been cheating on her, but add to that his many call-outs and
that damn email … And he had reacted so angrily when she’d hinted she suspected something. Wouldn’t he have tried to reassure her, rather than go into defensive mode, if there was nothing to hide?
‘I don’t know, someone thwarted in love maybe?’ Sally suggested. ‘Someone with a grudge, determined that no one should be happy if they’re not? The contents of that letter are pretty bloody awful—’ She stopped abruptly as Jake, home early, amazingly, walked from the hall into the kitchen, catching them unawares.
‘What letter’s this?’ he asked, a curious expression on his face.
‘Jake!’ Sally exclaimed delightedly, distracting him as she walked back to the island, while Emily quickly scooped the letter into one of the drawers underneath. ‘We weren’t expecting you.’
‘I gathered.’ Jake smiled warily, his eyes travelling to the two wine bottles. And then over Sally, Emily noticed, with a stab of jealousy.
‘So are you going to enlighten me?’ he asked, his eyes back where they should be, on Sally’s face. Which was meticulously made up, as it always was. Emily was suddenly acutely aware of her own lack of make-up. Since finding the email, part of her thought she should make more of an effort with her appearance. Another part of her, though, told her there was no point. She was already hurting more than she’d thought possible. How hurt would she be if she tried to attract his attention only for him not to notice?
‘Sorry?’ Sally blinked, perplexed.
‘The awful letter,’ Jake said, placing his case at the end of the island and shrugging out of his jacket.
Sally’s eyes ran the length and breadth of him – Emily couldn’t help but notice that too – before gliding worriedly to hers. Working to still the green-eyed monster writhing inside her, which now seemed to be suspicious of everyone, she signalled her friend not to share the information with a quick shake of her head. She intended to talk to Jake, but later, when they were alone, when she’d decided how much to disclose. She’d told herself she hadn’t mentioned the email to him because she’d needed more proof. Because she didn’t want the children to have to cope with the fallout. But now she wondered whether she was doing what she’d promised herself not to, burying her head and hoping it would all go away. It wouldn’t. The doubt would never go if she didn’t talk to him and give him the opportunity to explain. Assuming there was anything to explain. There might not be – she felt a kernel of hope unfurl inside her – if, as Sally said, the email and the letter had been sent by some twisted individual with a grudge. But why target Jake and Natasha? Try as she might, Emily couldn’t ignore that link.
Trust Me: An absolutely gripping and unputdownable psychological thriller Page 7