‘Everything all right, Ed?’ Emily asked him, giving him a cheery smile. ‘How’s Joyce?’
Edward smiled warmly back. ‘Not bad, lovely,’ he assured her. ‘Joyce is jogging along. She has her off days, but still she refuses to give in and have the odd lie-in in the mornings, stubborn woman.’
‘Because she has a good man to get up for,’ she reminded him, giving his arm a fond squeeze.
‘Her garden, you mean. It’s that she gets up for. She’s always out there, weeding and cutting and pruning. I can’t keep up with her when she gets something into her head. I found her trying to heave the lawnmower from the shed yesterday. She’ll be the death of me, I swear.’ He sighed despairingly, but he had a fond twinkle in his eye, Emily noted.
‘She’ll have fewer off days now we’ve got her on the right medication.’ Jake smiled encouragingly. ‘She’s already more like her old self. Hopefully we can start tapering the steroids down soon, which will minimise the side effects. I’m expecting you two to enjoy many happy retirement years together, Ed.’
‘Fingers crossed.’ Edward smiled back, but Emily noticed the worried look flitting across his ruddy features. Appearing to shake himself, he gave her a wink and nodded back to Jake. ‘He’s a good lad. I hope you’re looking after him.’
‘Too well,’ Jake indulged him, patting a non-existent paunch, also reminding Emily that she’d completely forgotten to get something out of the freezer for dinner in the mad rush this morning. Ah well, Ben and Millie could have pizza and she would book a table at the pub for her and Jake so they could discuss their worries about Millie in peace, assuming he did manage to get back early, rather than working until some ridiculous time on the mountain of paperwork that came with the handover of the partnership. He’d had to work late a lot over the last few months, as his father had relinquished his responsibilities. It couldn’t be healthy.
‘I was so busy talking about myself just now, I forgot to thank you for your help when Joyce took ill last month, Jake,’ Ed said, his voice emotional. ‘If it wasn’t for your quick action when she rang, she might never have seen her beloved roses bloom again.’
‘All part of the job, Ed.’ Jake shrugged selflessly. It hadn’t been, Emily knew. The second Jake had realised Joyce might be suffering with the symptoms of a giant cell arteritis – a known development of polymyalgia rheumatica that could have rendered her suddenly and permanently blind or resulted in a stroke – he’d raced out of the surgery to drive her to the hospital himself.
‘Above and beyond the call of duty, I’d say.’ Ed gave him a grateful smile. ‘There’s not many people who would go the extra mile.’
‘Time was of the essence. You only live two minutes away, so it wasn’t a problem,’ Jake assured him. ‘We’ll see you both on Saturday, yes?’
‘Will do.’ Ed waved as he turned for the door. ‘I hope you’ve been keeping fit for the duck race.’
‘Rigorously. Jogging, swimming, weights. The lot,’ Jake lied. He jogged, but only when he could find the time, which wasn’t as often as he would have liked.
‘Those little buggers can be fast when the will and the tide takes them,’ Ed warned.
‘I’ll be ready for them, Ed,’ Jake promised, casting a puzzled glance in Emily’s direction.
‘Jolly good.’ Ed chuckled as he left, with more jauntiness to his walk than when he’d come in. He certainly seemed in better spirits for talking to Jake, who always made time to listen. His appointments spilling over didn’t help his schedule, of course, leaving him running perpetually behind and Emily apologising to waiting patients, but she tried not to mind. She wouldn’t have him any other way.
He leaned towards her as the door closed behind Ed. ‘Er, they are plastic ducks, aren’t they?’ he asked worriedly.
Emily laughed at the thought of Jake imagining himself wading down the river in pursuit of the flapping feathered variety. ‘Yes,’ she confirmed, to his relief. ‘I imagine the RSPCA would have something to say if they weren’t.’
‘You’re racing plastic ducks?’ their receptionist asked, one eyebrow raised dubiously as Emily went back to the desk.
‘It’s called having fun, Nicky.’ Emily couldn’t help but smile at the unimpressed look on the girl’s face. Having moved to the small village of Earlslip from London with her family a little over a year ago, Nicky often seemed bored, and just the tiniest bit contemptuous of the community’s twee way of life. ‘You should come along, let your hair down and enjoy yourself.’
‘Er, right.’ Nicky looked doubtful. ‘I’m not sure wading about in wellies in freezing-cold water is my idea of fun, but thanks anyway.’
Walking back to his office, Jake exchanged amused glances with Emily as Nicky got to her feet, teetering around the desk in her preferred footwear to check the self-sign-in system. Her heels were at least five inches high and Emily couldn’t help but wonder how she walked in them. She’d worn her own fair share of stilettos in her errant younger days. Still did whenever Jake and she went anywhere special. But for negotiating the treacherously uneven cobbled high street to the surgery? Sooner Nicky than her.
Jake’s smile slipped as Tom emerged from his own office. He was also taking in Nicky’s shoes, Emily noticed, along with every inch of leg above them. Wincing inwardly, she shot Jake an empathetic glance, to which he shook his head in a combination of despair and anger. Emily understood why he would be agitated by his father’s behaviour. He’d seemed reluctant to disclose much about his family history when she’d first met him, other than that he’d lost his mother in his teens. As they grew closer and he’d felt able to let his guard down, he’d confided that his father had always been a womaniser. That his mother had turned to drink when he’d left her, renting a flat in the same village, which must have been soul-crushing for her. Jake had found himself in the role of caring for her. He felt he’d failed her, and Emily suspected he’d never been able to forgive himself for it. Her heart had stopped beating as she’d imagined the horror he’d felt walking through the front door of his house to find his mother hanging like a limp ragdoll in the hall. He’d been just sixteen years old. How did one recover from that?
He’d gone to his father’s flat afterwards, he’d told her, determined to confront him. Incoherent with grief and rage when he’d found he was with another woman while his mother took her last breath, he’d accused him of driving her to suicide with his infidelity. Emily’s heart had bled for him as she tried to imagine his insurmountable pain.
His father had apparently blamed his affairs on his wife’s drinking, begged Jake to try to understand. Jake had turned his back, walked away before he could do something he would regret. He’d left the village almost immediately after that. He and his father had never discussed the matter since, as far as Emily knew. They avoided anything emotive, in fact, even though they worked in the same practice together and could hardly therefore ignore each other. Watching Tom now, it was obvious he still had a roving eye, confirming all that Jake had said about him. A silver-fox charmer, the man was an obvious flirt. Leopards and spots, Emily supposed.