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;youhave reached anumberthathasbeen disconnected oris no longer in service,’ a monotone voice informed her.‘Ifyoufeelyou …’
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.
‘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?
