‘So are you going to tell me a little more about this boyfriend of yours?’ she asked, shaking off the ghosts of her past and collecting up their food to carry it across to the island.
‘Nothing much to tell.’ Millie shrugged from where she sat on her stool.
Emily noticed her stiffen a little. ‘Have you been going out long?’ she fished, sitting opposite her.
‘A few months,’ Millie replied vaguely.
Emily sipped her coffee and waited for her to offer more. ‘Is he someone from your school?’ she asked, when it became apparent she wasn’t going to.
‘No.’ Millie played with the cheese on her plate. ‘He’s working.’
‘Ah.’ Emily nodded. ‘Older than you then?’ she asked, trying to sound interested rather than as if she were judging.
Millie looked uncomfortable. ‘A bit.’
Emily waited, thinking she might tell her how old and what kind of work he did. Millie, though, kept her eyes fixed on her plate. Careful, Emily warned herself. She didn’t want to undo the progress they’d made this evening. ‘Does he live with his parents?’ She pushed it a little, needing to know at least that much to be able to form some kind of a picture in her mind.
‘No.’ Millie shook her head. ‘He has his own flat and his own car, and he’s okay.’ There was a challenge in her eyes as her gaze flicked to hers. ‘Caring, you know?’
Someone a good few years older than her, then. Emily felt a ripple of apprehension as she noted two bright spots blooming on her daughter’s cheeks. She was hiding something. What, and why?
‘Well that’s a relief,’ she said, manufacturing a bright smile and tucking into her cheese and crackers, though she was sure they would stick in her throat. ‘As long as he respects you and what you want to do with your—’
‘He does,’ Millie cut in, her tone agitated and her forehead creasing into a scowl.
Emily swallowed her food slowly. ‘Good,’ she said, and searched for something else to say. She was about to ask where they’d met, thinking that might be a safer avenue, but stopped herself. Millie had opened up to her a little, and instead of allowing her to go at her own pace, offer more if she wanted to, she was cross-examining her, effectively pushing her away again. She didn’t want to do that. She just wanted her daughter to be safe and happy, to not have regrets she might carry for the rest of her life. She dearly wished Millie could see her as a friend, someone she could feel safe confiding in, rather than the enemy.
Clearly, though, she didn’t. It pained her to think it, but Millie was more inclined to confide in Jake than her lately. She should have asked him to talk to her – talked more to him herself, admitted why she was so scared for their daughter, who was beautiful and wilful and vulnerable, and could so easily fall into the same traps she herself had, because she’d imagined the most important thing in her life was the man she’d thought she was in love with.
‘Look, Millie …’ Taking a breath, she reached across the worktop for her daughter’s hand. ‘I’m sorry if I seem to be grilling you. I don’t mean to. I’m just worried for you, that’s all. I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did and then—’
‘Oh here we go.’ Snatching her hand away, Millie scrambled off her stool.
Now what had she done? Emily looked at her, astonished.
‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ Millie glared at her, her eyes ablaze with bewildering anger.
Shaken, Emily got to her feet. ‘Get what?’ she asked. She didn’t get it. She really didn’t. She hadn’t said or done anything, as far as she could see, except be concerned.
‘What you’re saying,’ Millie yelled. ‘The “I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did” crap you keep spouting with that dour bloody look on your face. You really don’t understand, do you?’
Emily was speechless for a second. ‘No, I don’t,’ she managed, her mouth parched, her heart palpitating wildly, as it seemed to do permanently lately. ‘Millie, what’s going on? What is it I—’
‘You’re saying we’re your mistakes!’ Millie swiped a hand across her face. ‘Ben and me. You’ve said it several times. How do you think hearing that makes us feel? How do you think it makes Dad feel?’
Emily felt the blood drain from her body. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Stunned that Millie would even imagine such a thing, she took a step towards her. ‘I don’t mean you. Why on earth would you …’
Millie backed away. ‘Right, so now I’m ridiculous, am I, as well as a burden and a disappointment?’
‘No!’ Emily shook her head, astounded. Nothing could be further from the truth. She was proud of her children. She loved them. Sometimes she felt her heart physically ache with a combination of love and fear for them. ‘Millie, please don’t think that. That’s not what I meant. I never dreamt you thought—’
‘I’m not you!’ Tears sprang to Millie’s eyes. ‘I’m me. I can’t be bloody perfect just because you want me to be. I will make mistakes, loads of mistakes probably, but they’ll be my mistakes. I can’t breathe around you sometimes, trying to be everything you want me to be, to study hard, get good grades, not be distracted. I have a life, Mum. I want a life.’
Emily felt her head swim. Suddenly the overhead lights were too bright, yet everything around her seemed ill-defined and blurred. She felt as if she was swimming underwater. As if she couldn’t breathe. A slow, cold awareness was seeping into her that no matter how many times she reached out a hand to her daughter, she only moved further away.
‘I can’t be like you,’ Millie continued, as Emily tried grimly to hang on, sure that this time she might not surface. She wasn’t well. Something was dreadfully wrong with her. She needed to talk to Jake, tell him about her symptoms, which were getting worse. But how could she when they were barely speaking unless to argue? Unbidden, her mind flew back to her mother, who’d instilled in her as a teenager the same angry frustration she could now sense in her daughter. She could feel her mother’s seething fury when she’d smelled marijuana in her hair. Why can’t you be more like your sister? she’d growled, eyeballing her with equal measures of despair and disdain. Kara had modelled herself on their mother, working so hard to please her. Terrifyingly, Emily saw her sister now, not an ethereal image, floating on the periphery of her consciousness as she tried to wrench herself from her nightmares, but real. Solid. Here, standing right behind Millie. Her heart skittering like a terrified bird in her chest, Emily drew her eyes back to her daughter.
‘I don’t want to feel guilty all the time,’ Millie was shouting tearfully. ‘I don’t want to feel like a disappointment. I—’
‘Millie, stop.’ Willing herself to focus, to banish the apparition conjured up by her own guilt, Emily moved towards her daughter, desperate to make her listen. ‘Please, calm down and listen to me. You weren’t a mistake. From the second I realised I was pregnant, I wanted you. I wanted Ben, with every fibre of my being.’ She had. She would kill to protect her children. Surely Millie must know how much she loved her.
She took another step towards her. Millie took another step away.
‘Please sit down,’ Emily begged her. ‘Please let’s just talk calmly.’
Tears streaming down her face, Millie shook her head. ‘You need to sort out your own fucked-up relationship,’ she said pointedly, hurtfully, ‘not meddle in mine.’
Emily’s heart banged. ‘I wasn’t meaning to. I …’ Moving again towards her daughter, she faltered, her legs trembling beneath her. ‘Millie, where are you going?’ Cold fear constricted her stomach as Millie spun around and headed for the door.
‘Out,’ she retorted, over her shoulder.
No. She couldn’t, not like this. ‘Don’t you dare walk out, Millie,’ Emily warned her.
Millie hesitated. Breathing in deeply, she looked back at her. ‘I thought you told me not to let anyone dictate what I did?’ she spat, and walked on.
‘Millie!’ Emily went after her. ‘Millie, come back here. Now!’ she shouted, h
er own tears exploding with anger and frustration as Millie flew to the front door and yanked it open.
‘Where are you going?’ Clutching the door frame for support, Emily called frantically after her as Millie raced from the house.
‘To see Louis!’ Millie shouted back. ‘At least he bloody well wants me.’
Shaken to the core of her bones, Emily froze.
‘Mum?’ Ben called behind her. ‘What’s happening?’
Trying to assimilate, failing, Emily turned to look up to where he stood at the top of the stairs, his earphones in his hand, his expression wary.
‘Nothing. It’s fine. Millie … she was a bit upset,’ she stammered. ‘She’s gone to her boyfriend’s. You wouldn’t know where he lives, Ben, would you?’
Ben shook his head. ‘Not a clue. She doesn’t talk to me much about that sort of stuff.’
No, Emily didn’t suppose she would, particularly if it was someone she was nervous about people meeting. Or possibly nervous of. Recalling Millie’s defensiveness, her reluctance to divulge information about him, Emily felt as if her world had stopped on its axis. As if it were slowly grinding backwards.
Twenty-Five
Jake
Reading the results of the blood test that had been languishing in his in tray throughout the chaotic day, Jake struggled to digest the information. Reeling, he read them again. She was taking amphetamines. How the hell had this happened without his knowing about it? There was no way he would have prescribed Emily Ritalin. Why the bloody hell would she be taking a drug used in the treatment of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, for Christ’s sake?
Grabbing up his mobile, he logged back into his computer, pulling up her record and scrolling through it with one hand while doing something he rarely did – calling his father – with the other. ‘It’s me,’ he said, attempting to contain his emotion when Tom picked up.
‘I gathered. To what do I owe the pleasure?’ Tom asked drolly.
‘Has Emily consulted you recently?’ Jake asked, an edge to his voice despite his efforts. ‘Have you written her a prescription for anything?’
‘Such as?’ Tom sounded perplexed. Jake suspected he might have sounded rather more wary had he been treating Emily without his knowledge.
He took a breath. ‘Ritalin.’
Tom hesitated before answering, which Jake immediately read something into. His heart dropped as he realised how little he trusted his own father. ‘No, Jake, I haven’t,’ he answered eventually, categorically. ‘Patient confidentiality aside on this occasion, Emily hasn’t talked to me on a medical basis. I doubt she would discuss anything personal with me anyway, don’t you? I’m not sure she rates me that highly, understandably.’
Jake ignored that. If Tom was waiting for reassurance that Emily had a good opinion of him, he would have a long wait. ‘I need some information,’ he said, having found nothing relating to the drug in Emily’s medical history. ‘I realise you’re not in front of your PC, but I was hoping you might recall anyone else you might have prescribed it to.’
He wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but he didn’t need the sick feeling in his gut to tell him something was frighteningly amiss.
Tom thought about it. ‘Off the top of my head, only once recently, for Alison Wright’s young boy.’
It wouldn’t be her. Jake recalled Alison, someone he’d been at school with years back and who was now one of Tom’s patients. She was a bubbly, cheerful woman. Married with two kids, she worked at the bank and still smiled readily whenever she saw him. He wasn’t aware that Emily knew her, other than to say hello to when she came in to the surgery. ‘What about in the past? Any adults you might have treated for ADHD?’
‘Not that I can recall. Feel free to check my records if it helps,’ Tom offered. ‘Oh, and it might be worth checking with the pharmacy vis-à-vis prescriptions issued from here. It might shed some light on it if you’re worried, which I’m assuming you are.’
‘I might. I’m thinking there’s been some sort of mix-up, though. I’ll have a word with Emily when I get home. I’d better get back there now. It’s late. Thanks,’ he added awkwardly.
‘Any time,’ Tom assured him. ‘And the offer stands. If you need to talk … well, you know where I am.’
‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ Jake said, forgoing the facetiousness. His father really was the last man he would want to confide in. He was already regretting revealing as much as he had.
Taking a few minutes to check the dosage prescribed for Alison Wright’s son and finding no anomalies, he closed down the computer and grabbed his jacket, his mind whirling as he tried to think where else Emily might have obtained the tablets. Had she been self-prescribing, imagining they would help her insomnia and resulting tiredness? They wouldn’t. If anything, taken incorrectly, they would make her disturbed sleep patterns worse. The side effects could cause all sorts of problems: nausea, loss of appetite, hallucinations, irritability, panic, paranoia … psychosis. His heart sank further, a knot of panic taking root inside him as he realised that she had been displaying several of those symptoms, all of which he’d initially put down to anaemia.
He’d accused her of being paranoid, lashed out at her in his anger and frustration because of what was happening in their marriage and here at the surgery. That a young girl had been seriously injured because of information that had come from the practice was incomprehensible. Jake was struggling to get his head around how anyone could deliberately send such poison out, knowing the devastation it would wreak, let alone why they would do so. He hadn’t considered the impact his wild speculation would have on Emily, who he knew was dedicated to the welfare of their patients. Her behaviour had been erratic, there was no doubt about that, but once his mind had stopped racing and he’d been able to think rationally, he’d realised she couldn’t have had anything to do with what was going on. Now, though, he wasn’t so sure.
How long had she been taking the tablets? Was it possible that, unable to concentrate, she was inadvertently leaking information? That she might be doing things and not remembering? She’d been so distracted, so unlike herself. Why hadn’t she come to him? Because she didn’t trust him. Christ. He needed to talk to her properly. Whatever was going on between them, he needed to get to the root of this. The long-term effects of taking amphetamines could be catastrophic, possibly causing damage to major organs, and that was without the danger of psychological dependence.
She was registered at the surgery, so she wouldn’t have got the tablets from another doctor, and there was no way he could imagine her obtaining them illegally. There was one other possibility, which was that she didn’t know she was taking them – and the implications of that were truly terrifying. Someone right here in their community was actively trying to drive a wedge between couples. In doing so, they were driving people to desperation. Whoever it was obviously got some perverted kick out of the power they were wielding. How far might they go to satisfy that perversion?
He was heading across the car park when his mobile rang. Cursing when he couldn’t locate it, he finally scrambled it from his inside pocket. ‘Dr Merriden?’ he answered shortly, his focus on getting home and on how he was going to broach the subject of Emily inappropriately medicating, assuming she would even talk to him.
‘Jake, it’s Steve Wheeler. Sorry to bother you so late …’
Hearing the shakiness in the man’s voice, Jake’s stride faltered. ‘Hi, Steve. Can I help with something?’
‘It’s Jen …’ Steve hesitated. From the sharp intake of breath, Jake guessed he was trying to compose himself. ‘She’s taken something.’
Jake stopped in his tracks. ‘I’m here, Steve. Take your time,’ he said, apprehension knotting his stomach. Jennifer Wheeler was on antidepressants. There was no way he could tell the man to call back during surgery hours.
‘Pills,’ Steve went on, his voice choked, ‘I don’t know how many. She’s conscious, but … I don’t know what to do, Jake. I …’
Shit! ‘Have you called an ambulance?’
‘Yes. I wasn’t sure whether to, but—’
‘Right. Good.’ Jake raced to his car. Working on the assumption that she’d overdosed on her antidepressants, she might need urgent intervention. Depending on how long they’d been ingested, her airways might need to be kept open. She would need an electrocardiogram as soon as possible. ‘It’s Hawthorn Lane, isn’t it?’ Pressing his key fob, he threw himself behind the wheel.
‘Thirty-three,’ Steve confirmed. ‘Left-hand side, just past the church.’
‘I’m on my way,’ Jake assured him. Calculating how long the ambulance would take to reach them, he knew he would be quicker.
‘What do I do?’ Steve asked. ‘I’m scared, Jake. I …’ A sob catching in his throat, he broke off.
‘Sit with her and try to keep her calm,’ Jake advised, pulling fast out of the car park. ‘Don’t give her anything to eat or drink. If she loses consciousness, put her in the recovery position: on her side, a cushion behind her back, upper leg pulled forward. Don’t try to make her vomit. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.’
‘Shit. Shit.’ He drove at breakneck speed, calling Emily on his hands-free as he went. Getting no reply, he cursed liberally again, and then called Ben.
‘She’s in the bath,’ Ben told him. His tone was abrupt, distant. Jake didn’t need to wonder why. He knew Ben had heard the arguments. As had Millie. They were probably assuming there was no smoke without fire. Christ, where would this all end?
Trust Me: An absolutely gripping and unputdownable psychological thriller Page 16