He’d had a far-reaching impact on her life. Emily had thought that, in a devastatingly ironical way, her experiences had stood her in good stead. They had taught her not to judge people, as she had Kara. Yet here she was judging Jake based on a single email. But was she? He’d said he hadn’t slept with the woman she’d seen him with years ago, but there was definitely an intimacy between them. She was clearly flirting with him, touching his hand as they’d sat at the table, threading an arm around his shoulders as they stood, one hand resting on his hip as she’d kissed him goodbye. Emily had avoided seeing him for a while, because after what had happened to her, she hadn’t known how to face him.
She had no idea how to face him now. If she asked him outright whether he was seeing someone else, he would hardly be likely to admit it. She couldn’t do it. She had to wait, be vigilant. Arm herself emotionally. To look into his eyes – honest eyes, she’d always thought – and see the lies there would kill her.
Frozen with indecision, she tried desperately to compose herself. He would know she’d seen it, that she’d opened the email. Panic gripping her, she glanced again towards his office. Her finger hovered uncertainly over the keyboard as she agonised, and then she deleted the email. She needed time. She needed to think what to do.
She needed to find out who it was he was meeting.
Four
Jake’s expression was wary when he finally came home, which only increased the cold foreboding that had been churning away inside Emily since she’d left the surgery.
‘The rescue service came then?’ she asked him, searching his face carefully. Would she know if he was lying? He’d held eye contact with her the last time he’d assured her that her suspicions were unfounded. Would he now? His car had broken down on the way back from an urgent call-out, he’d said. He’d had to wait for the recovery service. With every fibre of her being she wanted to believe him, desperate not to give in to the tears that had been sitting close to the surface since she’d seen that damn email. More so since Millie had chosen to stay out late, despite having promised she wouldn’t. It was nearly eleven, an hour after her weeknight curfew, and Emily was beginning to worry. She’d promised herself she would remain the epitome of calm when Jake got back; that she wouldn’t overreact, hurling accusations at him without establishing the facts first. That she wouldn’t ‘bang on’, as she apparently did to Millie. Now, though, feeling agitated and more light-headed and nauseous than ever, her resolve was waning.
‘Eventually.’ Jake sighed tiredly, dropped his case on the hall floor and shrugged out of his jacket.
He wasn’t looking at her. Apprehension crept the length of Emily’s spine. ‘What was the problem?’ She tried to keep her voice casual.
‘An electrical fault,’ he said, hooking his jacket on the peg, collecting his case and heading up the hall. ‘I’ll take it into the garage tomorrow.’
Look at me, Jake, Emily willed him as she stood aside, allowing him to pass. He did –but just a brief glance. ‘And the call-out?’ she asked, hating the mistrust she could hear in her voice as she followed him into the kitchen.
‘Rachel Brown’s little boy.’ Jake parked his case in its usual place on the island and went across to the kettle. ‘She said she was reluctant to call, but it’s a good job she did. Tea?’
‘No thanks.’ Emily watched him guardedly. ‘I cancelled the table.’
Jake knitted his brow in confusion. ‘Table?’
‘At the pub,’ she reminded him. Clearly he’d forgotten. Her spirits sank. ‘I booked it so we could have that chat we were going to have, remember?’
‘Christ.’ Jake squeezed his eyes closed. ‘Sorry. I didn’t realise you’d—’ He stopped, cursing quietly as his phone rang. Fumbling it from his pocket, he checked the number and then, giving Emily a weary smile, accepted the call.
‘Hi,’ he said, pressing the phone to his ear and turning away from her to head for the conservatory.
Watching him, Emily’s heart dropped like a stone. Clearly he wanted privacy, and this, combined with the fact that he hadn’t introduced himself as Dr Merriden, was a pretty good indication it was a personal call.
‘No problem. I’m happy to be of service,’ she heard him say in that selfless, reassuring way of his as he slid the door closed behind him.
What bloody service? Trepidation twisting her stomach, Emily checked the wall clock. It was ten past eleven. Who would be ringing him at this time of night? Not his father. Jake wouldn’t have greeted him so cordially. And if it were Millie, he would hardly have shut himself in the conservatory.
Hearing the front door open behind her, Emily breathed a sigh of relief. Cautioning herself to stay calm, she tore her gaze away from the conservatory and went into the hall. Millie was home safe. That was all that mattered. Her determination not to launch into a confrontation with her flew out of the window, though, as her eyes lighted on her daughter, who was creeping unsteadily towards the stairs.
‘Millie!’
She stopped in her tracks but didn’t look round. It was obviously catching, Emily thought angrily.
‘Do you realise what time it is?’
‘Need the loo,’ Millie mumbled, and took another step towards the stairs, almost reeling into the hall wall as she did.
Emily’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Where in God’s name have you been?’ she demanded, moving towards her.
Millie met her eyes at last, her own slightly unfocused, Emily noticed. ‘Anna’s,’ she said shortly. ‘Why?’
‘Why? It’s way past the time we agreed,’ Emily pointed out, staring hard at her. She’d obviously been drinking, and Emily doubted very much she’d been doing that at Anna’s house. ‘I’ve been trying to ring you. I’ve left you umpteen messages. I also called Anna. She didn’t answer either.’
‘We were watching TV.’ Millie shrugged indifferently. ‘It’s no big deal.’
Shocked that her daughter was apparently lying to her face, Emily attempted to call her bluff. ‘What were you watching?’
Millie widened her eyes indignantly. ‘The Sinner, a rerun. What is this? The Inquisition?’
‘It’s a school night.’ Emily’s voice rose. ‘We discussed this, Millie. If you’ve any hope of getting the five GCSE grades you need, you have to apply yourself to your school work.’
Folding her arms, Millie rolled her eyes languorously. ‘Right, so I’m not supposed to chill out occasionally then?’
‘You can chill out as much as you like.’ Emily tried hard to hold onto her temper. ‘But you do not stay out late without clearing it with me or your father first.’
Millie’s expression was now one of belligerence, which only increased Emily’s annoyance. Did she not realise how worried she’d been? Yes, she was only an hour late, but anything could happen in an hour, as Emily well knew. ‘And you do not lie to me, ever,’ she added. ‘Understand?’
Millie boggled at that. ‘That’s way out of order, Mum,’ she muttered, her face creasing into a scowl. ‘I am not lying. I’ve been round at Anna’s. Ring her now if you don’t believe me.’