‘You what?’ Jake did a double-take. ‘What on earth are you talking about, Emily? We don’texchangeemails. And I know her as Tash because that’s how she introduced herself when she first came to see me. Everyone calls her that.’
Remembering that she’d deleted the email and therefore had no proof to back up what she was saying, Emily floundered. ‘Why has she switched to your list?’ she blurted out, and then immediately regretted it as she realised it was sure to escalate this into the worst kind of argument.
‘For fu—’ Stopping himself short of swearing, Jake bumped the car onto the drive and stamped on the brake. She could feel the anger emanating from him as he twisted to face her. ‘Are youserious? The woman almostdiedbecauseyoufell into her. And now you’re saying …Whatexactly?’
Seven
Perilously close to tears, Emily threw open the passenger door and headed fast for the house. Jake banged his door closed behind him and followed.
‘So let me get this right,’ he said, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration as she paused in the porch to fumble in her bag for her front door key. ‘Out of the blue you’re accusing me of … what? Fancying another woman? Having an affair?’
‘No,’ Emily replied, flustered. He was right. Natasha might have died, and it had all been her fault. She should never have brought the subject up. ‘That’s not what I said. I just …’ Where was the damn key?
Sighing agitatedly, Jake reached around her to push his own key into the lock.
‘Talk to me, Emily,’ he said as she stepped quickly into the entrance hall. ‘Tell me what the hell’s going on.’
Her eyes flicked to the stairs. Millie and Ben had plans, so she assumed they were out, but it was possible one or the other was upstairs in their bedroom. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. I didn’t accuse you of anything.’ She hurried on through to the lounge.
‘Christ give mestrength,’ Jake muttered behind her.
He was angry. Furious. Why would he be? Wouldn’t he just have laughed it off if there were no truth in it? Emily walked across to the lounge window, which overlooked their pretty rear garden. He’d been angry around his father, palpably, but she’d never known him to lose his temper. He seemed close to losing it now.
Goosebumps prickling her skin despite the perfect warmth of the summer’s day, she wrapped her arms around herself and looked out past the abundance of small trees, shrubs and flowering plants to the mill stream that bordered the garden. She hadn’t been sure about the property when they’d first viewed it. A barn conversion that formed part of the Black and White Trail, it was beautiful, though it had been in need of some renovation. The stream, though … She’d imagined the soft lap of the water might haunt her. In fact, she’d found it strangely therapeutic, especially on days such as this when – melancholic though her memories were – she would sit outside and allow her mind to wander to thoughts of her sister growing up, the secrets and laughter they’d shared. The stories they would tell each other – classic stories sometimes, like ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ and ‘Goldilocks’, each trying to outdo the other with surprise endings. Kara’s had been tragically beautiful. She’d always been gifted. Emily remembered the games of dressing-up and make-believe they’d played: sock puppets, doctors, warriors, united in their efforts to vanquish their foe; together, always, until they’d grown up. Or imagined they had.
Her mind flew back to the first time she’d allowed her boyfriend to ‘go all the way’. She’d been just sixteen. She was under the bridge with him, her back against the wall, the cloying smell of damp brickwork and aftershave in her nostrils, his body pressed hard to hers.
‘I want you,’ he’d mumbled, his face stuffed into her neck, his hand sliding down the front of her jeans. It had been uncomfortable, with his hurried tugging aside of her clothes, his urgent fumbling and thrusting.
He hadn’t said much afterwards. Lighting up a spliff while she made herself decent, he’d slid down the wall to his haunches. Drawing smoke deep into his lungs, he’d held it for a while. Then, ‘How’s that sister of yours?’ he’d asked her, exhaling thickly into the air. ‘Do you reckon she’s still a virgin?’
Emily shuddered. She would never forget the smell of his aftershave mingled with the sweat from his body; the paralysing fear she’d felt the last time she’d been alone with him. The same paralysing fear Kara must have felt.
People hadn’t openly blamed her when they’d found her sister’s limp body floating in the canal, but Emily had blamed herself. She’d lived with the guilt lodged like a sharp stone inside her ever since. In her heart she’d known she hadn’tpushed Kara, but in her head … She hadn’t been able to remember, not everything. No matter how hard she’d tried, the details were always just out of reach, floating hauntingly on the periphery of her memory. But now … She remembered following her, but why would she have been trying to save her if she’d pushed her?
Her motherhadblamed her. Emily had seen the accusation in her eyes. Felt it. She’d never forgiven her for the part she’d played in Kara’s death. Could Kara? Emily wished she could have had her sister’s forgiveness.
Gaining no comfort from her memories today, she tightened her arms around herself and pushed thoughts of Kara to the back of her mind while she tried to think what to do about her suddenly floundering marriage. She’d opened the whole ugly can of worms now. She couldn’t undo it. Should she tell him about the contents of the email? Admit that she’d followed him the next day when he’d left the surgery shortly after lunch? He was going to pick up the lawnmower he’d ordered from Leominster while he had a window, he’d said. She’d lost him at the traffic lights. Hehadpicked up the lawnmower, but he’d been an extraordinarily long time, scraping back into the surgery before his first evening appointment. But she’d deleted the email. She no longer had proof to back up her story. And if she did tackle him, there would definitely be no turning back. It would be out there, real, creating a divide between them that would never close, a deep, dark chasm she would surely fall into, finding herself alone with her grief and her guilt all over again.
‘Emily, what’s happening here?’ Jake asked, a defeated edge to his voice as he finally came in behind her. ‘You’re upset, and I honestly have no idea why. Please talk to me.’ He ventured closer, placing an arm tentatively around her shoulders.
Involuntarily she tensed, and he immediately snatched his arm away. ‘I take it we’re not talking then?’ he asked wearily.
Hearing his hurt and disappointment, Emily desperately wanted to turn around, rest her head on his shoulder, apologise and have him hold her. Pretending it wasn’t happening wouldn’t make it go away, though, would it?
Jake waited a minute. Emily didn’t move. ‘Right. Message understood,’ he said with a sharp intake of breath. ‘I think I might do better to be elsewhere for a while. I’ll call you. Later.’
What did he mean, ‘elsewhere’? Fear gripping her, Emily whirled around as he walked to the door. ‘Where are you going?’
He stopped and turned back. ‘To the surgery.’
‘To catch up on paperwork?’ Her voice sounded small and uncertain even to her own ears.
‘There’s a fair amount to do.’ He shrugged disconsolately.
She nodded. ‘I gathered that, from the amount of time you spend there.’
A frown crossed his face. He was clearly wondering where this was leading.
