Emily noted his despairing look and sighed inside. Having met with a ‘we can’t all be perfect’ comment from Ben the last time he’d tried to point out the health risks of smoking, Jake tried not to go on at him. Emily dearly wished Ben wouldn’t smoke. Aside from the health issue, it was an addiction, and that worried her. Harsh reality had jolted her from her own addiction, but if Ben had inherited a propensity for dependency, would he be able to easily give it up?
‘I’ll leave him a note,’ she said, as she went to the hooks on the utility room door for the spare key. At least if Ben kept one on his key ring it might remind him to lock up after himself before they were all murdered in their beds. Finding it missing, she sighed again, wearily, and added ‘get key cut’ to her mental to-do list.
‘Are you leaving without breakfast again?’ she asked, an admonishing edge to her voice as she turned back to find Jake swinging towards the hall.
‘No time. I’ll grab something from the village shop on the way.’
‘Make sure you do,’ Emily said, thinking she sounded more like his mother than his wife. But then someone had to keep an eye on him. He skipped too many breakfasts and worked far too many late nights now that his father was retiring. Jake and Tom shared partnership of the practice and Tom still worked part-time, but he’d wanted to be less involved to free up his time so he could concentrate on his role as chair of the clinical commissioning group governing body. Privately Emily couldn’t help thinking his time might be better managed if he didn’t spend a large proportion of it chatting up every attractive woman in the village. For Jake’s sake, though, she avoided commenting.
‘Yes, miss,’ he called from the hall. ‘Don’t forget you have your blood test with Sally this morning. See you there.’
He was worried about her, thinking her recent dizziness, fatigue and general inability to concentrate might be symptoms of anaemia. She’d thought it was just due to her inability to sleep – which, Jake had pointed out, was also a symptom of anaemia, along with the bouts of nausea she’d had. She was glad that he cared, but wished he wouldn’t worry with so much on his plate. It was probably just a virus she couldn’t shake off.
‘I’ll be ten minutes behind you,’ she called back. ‘Don’t forget you promised Edward Simpson you would oversee the duck race at the village fair on Saturday,’ she reminded him. ‘You’ll need to ask Tom if he’ll cover the emergency surgery. It won’t hurt him to—’ She stopped, cocking an ear as she heard Jake’s mobile ring. That was probably Tom now, wondering where he was, or else their receptionist, Nicky, wondering where she was. It looked like she would probably be skipping breakfast again too.
‘Dr Merriden,’ she heard him answer. The phone pressed to his ear, his eyes flicked to hers as she stepped into the hall. ‘I’ll have to call you back,’ he said quickly and ended the call.
‘Anyone interesting?’ Emily asked him curiously. He wasn’t normally so brusque with callers, even unwanted ones.
‘Just a sales rep,’ he said, giving her a short smile as he pocketed the phone.
‘Oh, right.’ Emily watched him leave. He hadn’t kissed her goodbye, which he always did. Idiot. She pulled herself up. He was tired, distracted, and she was being ridiculous. The vivid dream hadn’t helped, bringing back too many memories she dearly wished she could forget. Perhaps Jake was right about the blood test, she pondered, collecting her own phone as it beeped with a text. It would be nice to get to the bottom of what was going on.
Assuming the message was from Nicky, she flicked to her texts and her heart skipped a beat. Thoughts with you, it said. That was all. It was a wrong number. It had to be. The message was almost one of condolence, which had to be a cruel irony. She thought of the first mysterious text, talking about her ‘special day’. The sender couldn’t know of the birthday she’d shared, the tragic significance of that date.
She should call them. It was a personal message. Whoever it was would want to know they were texting the wrong person. Her mind made up, her heart now beating a rapid drumbeat in her chest, she called the number, cleared her throat – and stopped breathing. ‘We’re sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service,’ a monotone voice informed her. ‘If you feel you …’
Reaching for the hall table as the floor loomed up to meet her, Emily stopped listening.
Two
After a full-on day, with their phlebotomist, Sally, going home sick in the middle of it, meaning some blood tests had to be cancelled – fortunately not hers – Emily was relieved when the last patient left. Fatigued understated how she felt. Every ounce of energy had drained from her body reading that damn text. It had obviously been sent in error, as had the previous one. She hadn’t shared details of her past with anyone. Jake knew about her sister, but she hadn’t told him everything. She’d wanted to. Many times she’d been tempted to, but she’d bottled out each time, knowing it could blow her world apart. Blow Jake’s world apart.
She watched him come out of his office now, courteous and caring as always, as he walked Edward Simpson to the door. Edward had seemed a bit down lately, she’d noticed, which was unusual. A stalwart, backbone-of-the-village sort heavily involved in the organisation and running of charitable events, such as the upcoming summer fair, he was normally upbeat and positive. He’d been one of the first people to welcome them when they’d moved here. At the time, Jake had felt some trepidation about the move. He’d made up his mind years ago that he would never come back to the village he’d grown up in. After losing his mother so heartbreakingly, he’d felt there was nothing here for him to come back to, which Emily had thought was terribly sad. He’d been pleased to see Edward, though, and Emily had seen immediately that their neighbour had a caring, generous nature. She’d often thought it was Edward who kept the community together, giving up his time to visit people he suspected might be in need of assistance or company. Thinking about all that he did, she supposed he might be feeling a bit under the weather, particularly as he also had to care for his wife, Joyce, who suffered from polymyalgia rheumatica and unstable angina. When the polymyalgia flared up, she struggled even to get dressed in the morning. But she still generally managed to keep smiling, as did Edward.
She would pop in and see them both, Emily decided, coming around the reception desk to have a quick word with Edward. She wasn’t sure he would accept any offers of help gracefully, determined as he was to do everything for himself, but she could maybe do a bit of shopping for them, help lighten his load a little. He was fit and healthy, but he wasn’t exactly a spring chicken. Joyce had mentioned he would be retiring soon. At least then he would have more time on his hands to devote to the things he clearly loved doing. Walking across to where he and Jake were chatting, she reminded herself to do something about organising a party at the village hall for Edward’s upcoming seventieth birthday. Joyce wanted to do something special for him, she’d confided when she’d last been in to see Jake. She would struggle with the practicalities of organising anything, though, and it might spoil the surprise a bit if Edward had to organise it for himself.