Warning: Episode may contain strong language, violence and sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

PREVIOUSLY…

• Natalie confronted Julia over the truth that Emma is Nick’s biological mother.
• Judith watched on as Emma visited Michael’s grave.
• Ben and Emma went out for coffee.
• The sexual tension between James and Natalie began to build.
• Tom was sexting his secret lover.

All Saints Church,
Glendale

It was a quiet Saturday afternoon, and Emma Blake stood alone in the churchyard of All Saints Church. The July sun cast long, golden shadows over the weathered headstones as the air, warm and thick, carried the scent of blooming roses. Emma was silent, lost in the fog of her memories, as she looked at the gravestone of her first love, Michael.

IN MEMORY OF
MICHAEL EDWARD BANCROFT
23 SEPTEMBER 1981 – 2 SEPTEMBER 2007
ALWAYS IN OUR HEARTS

Emma was pulled back into the land of the living by the crunch of gravel behind her.

“I always knew you’d destroy him,” Judith Bancroft, Michael’s mother, said with such acidic vitriol that it left little doubt as to her exact feelings towards Emma.

Emma turned, her eyes meeting Judith’s steely gaze. Her presence was as imposing as the ancient oaks that lined the churchyard. “Judith…”

The air between them grew heavy with simmering tension, and the peaceful atmosphere of the churchyard was shattered by the storm brewing between the two women.

“How dare you come here?” Judith spat, her voice trembling with a mixture of rage and sorrow. “How dare you stand there, pretending to mourn him after what you did and plan to do!”

Emma felt the sting of Judith’s accusation but tried to hold her ground. “What I plan to do?”

“Come here, to Glendale, to destroy Nick too.”

Emma frowned. “What? No, Judith, I…”

Judith moved towards Emma, her steps deliberate as she closed the distance between them. “Do you have any idea what you’ll do to that boy if you tell him the truth?”

“I’m not here to hurt him,” Emma said, refusing to flinch.

“But you will!” Judith’s voice rose, echoing off the stone walls of the church, and her eyes bore into Emma’s. “You will!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Judith noticed a single yellow rose lying at the base of Michael’s headstone. A frown settled over her brow, and she cocked her head to the side. “What is that?” Judith pushed past Emma, snatched the flower, and threw it at her. The petals exploded like a firework and fell to the ground. “He never liked yellow!”

Tears welled in Emma’s eyes, but she blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. “He loved yellow!” she said defiantly, straightening in her resolve to stand up to the woman she had feared since she was a teenager.

Judith’s mouth curled like a bulldog, and flames of hatred flickered in her eyes. “I think I know my own son.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed in reply, and she stepped forward, determined not to cower in Judith’s domineering presence. “I don’t think you knew him at all,” she said coldly, the words falling from her mouth dripping with acid to cause the most pain possible.

The taunt hit Judith like a physical blow. The sheer fury inside her boiled over. She let fly with a brutal and uncalled for slap, the sound of which reverberated around the village and nearly knocked Emma from her feet. “Don’t you ever speak about me or my family again!” she growled, spittle forming at the corners of her mouth. “You stay away from us! Do I make myself clear?”

Emma, clutching a hand to her tingling cheek and thinking she could taste blood in her mouth, remained unmoved. Her steely glare solidified. “He has a right to know.”

“He has a right to live a peaceful life away from junkie slut whores!”

“I’m his mother!”

Judith stepped forward and clamped a hand firmly around her adversary’s jaw as her eyes flicked between Emma’s like she was watching a tennis match on fast-forward. “You say those words again, and I will slap you so hard that even Google won’t be able to find you!”

Emma pulled her face free.

“Do not pick a fight with me, Emily,” Judith warned, referencing the name Emma had abandoned many years ago when Judith first knew her. “Because I promise that you will not come out of it alive.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Ashbourne House,
Glendale

Julia Harrington-Jones’ heart pounded in her chest. The tension in the morning room was palpable. Natalie Sinclair’s revelation that she knew Nick wasn’t Julia’s son left her feeling winded. “What?” Julia said as she steeled herself, drawing on every ounce of composure she could muster. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Natalie leaned forward, a satisfied smirk curling on her lips. She had Julia on the ropes, and it felt deliciously satisfying. “Really? Because your face says otherwise.”

A cold sweat broke out across Julia’s forehead as her mind scrambled frantically for a way out, but her breath caught in her throat, and panic threatened to overwhelm her.

Natalie’s expression softened as she stood tall and looked around the room. The four walls were lined with the gorgeous wallpaper, designed by William Morris, of gold and green interlocked foliage and flowers against a pale-blue background. The antique crystal pieces, carefully curated by Julia, shimmered in the beams of sunshine, and the whole room felt grand yet incredibly homely and comfortable. “If these walls could talk, imagine what they’d say.” Natalie sighed, her hands on her hips, as she completed a deliberately slow full circle and returned her gaze to Julia, seated at a table to the side of a large window. “All the things they’ve bore witness to over the centuries, all the secrets they’ve kept, especially the library,” she said with a rather evil smirk, referencing the room in which she had overheard the secret discussion around Nick’s paternity. “I think that one in particular would have some interesting stories to tell. Like the one about a woman, her husband, and her mother and how they plotted and conspired to destroy their son’s biological mother.”

Julia’s heart sank, and her pulse thundered in her ears. It was now clear as day that Natalie had overheard the conversation between her, her mother, and James a few days earlier.

“Sounds familiar, doesn’t it, Julia?” Natalie’s smirk turned cold, and her expression hardened.

“What do you want?” Julia said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Natalie’s eyes gleamed with triumph. “Twenty-five thousand pounds.”

“What?”

“Did I stutter? Let me slow it down for you, Julia, and make sure your hearing aid is turned up this time. Twenty. Five. Thousand. Pounds.”

“You’re fucking insane,” Julia scoffed and leaned back in her chair, unable to fully comprehend Natalie’s audacity.

Natalie tilted her head to the side and pouted her lips, almost as if mocking Julia. “How much is precious little Nicky worth to you, Julia?” she said in a rather infantilized voice that half gave Julia the ick and half terrified her. “Surely he’s worth twenty-five thousand pounds? You forget, I know how much you’re worth, Julia, and twenty-five thousand pounds, well, that’s barely a drop in the ocean for you.”

Julia was silent. Unmoved. She didn’t blink. She barely drew breath.

“All I’m asking is for a simple transaction,” Natalie said simply, gripping the edge of the table once again as she leaned towards Julia. She was so close that Julia recognised the distinct smell of Natalie’s Chanel No. 5 perfume. “Twenty-five thousand pounds, and I keep your secret. For ever. Do we have a deal?”

Julia remained silent, her mind desperately trying to find a way to turn the tables but coming up short.

“Tell you what, how about I give you some time to think it over, yeah? Let’s say you have until…” Natalie’s eyes wandered, and she saw the paperwork for the village fete sprawled out in front of Julia. “The day of the village fete. You give me an answer before you take to the stage to welcome everybody, or I tell everyone your dirty little secret. Understood?”

With every fibre of her being, Julia resisted the urge to crumble.

“Good! You know where I am if you have any questions,” Natalie said with a smile and a wink. “My, my, Julia, you really are in a dilly of a pickle.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Queen Victoria Street,
Glendale

Monday morning rolled around, and as the morning sun painted the sky with hues of rose and gold, Emma, in her Lululemon long-sleeve running shirt and high-rise shorts, embraced the day with a brisk jog around the village.

Lost in the steady beat of her own breath, with “Unstoppable” by Sia pumping into her ears via her AirPods, Emma rounded the corner from Church Road onto Queen Victoria Street and found herself on the familiar path that led past, among other places, Queenie’s store, Lee’s bakery, and The Oak & Vine. It was a route Emma now frequented often as part of her morning routine.

“Hey!” Ben Granger said with a smile that could light up London as he walked towards her, flanked on either side by Oliver and Poppy, his six-year-old twins.

Drawing closer and slowing her pace to catch her breath, Emma couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nerves at the sight of Ben standing before her, his two young children by his side. “Hi,” she said, trying not to appear too desperate for breath but also sucking it in deeply as fast as she could. Emma removed her AirPods, put her hands on her hips and sniffed as she looked at the two children and smiled.

“Who are you?” Oliver frowned, sizing the stranger up.

Poppy, always nervous around those she didn’t know, hid behind Ben’s leg, her small fingers digging into the flesh through his jeans as she buried her face into his thigh.

Emma crouched down to meet Oliver at his level. “I’m Emma. You must be Oliver.”

After a moment of hesitation, Oliver’s face softened. Emma had passed the test, and he approved. With a warm smile, Oliver stuck out his hand. “Oliver Benjamin Granger,” said the precocious young boy with features just like his father’s, and shook Emma’s hand. “Lovely to meet you, Emma. This is Poppy. She’s shy, but mum says that’s part of her charm; isn’t that right, dad?”

Oliver looked up at Ben for approval. Ben rolled his eyes and forced down a chuckle. There was no doubt about it; Oliver was most definitely Rebecca’s son. “Mmhmm,” he agreed, shooting Emma a wink and a smile. “Do you want to say hello, Pops?”

Without a word, Poppy buried her face harder into Ben’s leg. The answer was clearly no.

“Kids.” Oliver sighed heavily, rolled his eyes, and shook his head.

Emma laughed. She found it impossible not to be charmed by Oliver.

Ben cleared his throat, drawing Emma’s attention back to him. “I wanted to talk to you, actually,” he said, rubbing Poppy’s back in comfort.

“Oh?” Emma stood up straight, her attention never wavering from Ben’s dreamy grey eyes.

“About what we spoke about when we left the café,” Ben said, trying not to give too much away in front of the twins but making it obvious enough to Emma that he was referring to their agreed-upon date. “Would Saturday night be good? Mum’s got bingo, but Dad’s offered to babysit, so…”

“Why?” Oliver asked with a frown as he looked up at his father, his little fists pressed to his hips and his arms forming triangular wings to his side. “Where are you going?”

“To dinner, hopefully?” Ben ruffled Oliver’s dark hair and looked at Emma.

Emma smiled and nodded. “Dinner Saturday night would be lovely.”

“Can we come?” Oliver piped up, quick as a flash.

Ben immediately shook his head. “No.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” said a little voice, so soft it could’ve been lost on a breeze. Poppy had removed her head from Ben’s thigh and now eyed Emma suspiciously.

Emma smiled at Poppy, hoping to gain her confidence. She was the most precious little girl Emma had ever seen. Small and thin, her saucer-like chocolate brown eyes drew you in, and her long, golden brown-coloured hair framed her delicate features perfectly.

“Hey, look who’s decided to make an appearance,” Ben said, rubbing Poppy’s back again. “And No.”

Emma gulped. That stung a little. It wasn’t wrong; they’d had one coffee together, and it wasn’t even a date, but still, the way he answered so quickly felt like a scolding burn that would leave a small scar.

“She’s pretty,” Oliver said, looking Emma over.

“Too pretty,” Poppy fired back quickly, her eyes narrowing as her suspicion of Emma grew.

“You can’t be too pretty.”

“Yes, you can!”

“OLLIE!” Noah Spencer’s squeal of joy could be heard from space as he stood at the school gate, waving to his second cousin and best friend. He looked like an inflatable air dancer from a car dealership.

Oliver’s face lit up at the sight of his “most bestest of all best friends”, and his petty squabble with Poppy over Emma’s prettiness was immediately forgotten. “Nice to meet you, Emma.” Oliver shook Emma’s hand once more and raced off down the pavement towards his best mate, his school bag thrashing from side-to-side as he ran.

“I’d better go,” Ben said, giving Emma an apologetic smile as he tried to pry Poppy from his thigh. “But I’ll text you, yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m looking forward to it.” Emma turned her attention to Ben’s daughter and waved farewell. “Bye, Poppy. It was lovely to meet you.”

Poppy stared back at her in silence.

“Well, come on, Pops,” Ben said, finally managing to free himself from her talons and taking her by the hand. He smiled at Emma once again and fired off a wink as he started down the pavement towards the school. “See ya.”

“Bye,” Emma said with a friendly wave as she slowly turned and watched Ben and Poppy walk away.

With her hand firmly in Ben’s, Poppy looked back over her shoulder at Emma and stuck out her tongue.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Ashbourne House,
Glendale

Julia stood near a large sash window in the morning room, her eyes distant as she gazed out at the meticulously manicured gardens. With her golden hair atop her head in a chignon bun, she could feel the cool, gentle breeze from outside against her neck. In the distance, in a shallow valley on a sweeping bend of the River Medway, Julia could see the rambling cottages and streets of Glendale. The village she had lived in almost her entire adult life – the place she ruled over like a queen, her sanctuary and home – now felt like a prison. In just a week, everything she cherished had been trashed, her life had been blown apart, and now her kingdom threatened to crumble.

“So how did it go?” Judith swept into the morning room without knocking – a right felt owed to her as Julia’s mother – and slumped into a blue chintz armchair. She placed her black Launer handbag, an exact replica of one used by the late Queen Elizabeth II, on the floor by her feet. Mother and daughter hadn’t had a chance to catch up since Julia’s planned confrontation with Emma, and there was much to discuss.

Julia turned, a weary smile playing on her lips. “It was…interesting,” she said, reflecting on the conversation with Emma from a few nights ago.

Judith’s eyes narrowed, her gaze penetrating. “Interesting? How so?”

With a deep exhale of breath, Julia made her way across the room and sat on the blue chintz Chesterfield sofa next to her mother’s armchair. “She says she’s not afraid of us anymore.”

Judith’s mouth tightened, and she leaned back, her expression unreadable.

“I’m concerned,” Julia admitted, looking down at her slacks and picking off some lint, unable to meet her mother’s unfeeling stare. “She’s a woman with nothing left to lose, and that makes her very dangerous.”

“She won’t do anything,” Judith said with a sniff, her eyes cold. “I’ve warned her off.”

Julia looked at her mother, a mix of fear and confusion in her eyes and a frown slowly deepening on her forehead. “Sorry?”

Judith’s gaze hardened. “I saw her Saturday in the churchyard,” she said matter-of-factly through a taut mouth. “Standing at Michael’s grave like a weeping widow, giving it the whole butter wouldn’t melt act.”

Julia shook her head, her eyes pleading. “I don’t think we should be pushing her too much.”

“Or what, Julia?”

“Or she’ll tell Nick everything!”

“Oh, don’t be so stupid!” Judith batted away Julia’s concerns with a backhand perfected from decades of private tennis lessons. “She won’t. She’s bluffing. She has as much to lose as you in all of this,” she said in her cut-glass accent. “If she exposes the truth, she knows Nick will hate not just you but her too. It’s a lose-lose situation, and Emily knows that. As much as I hate to admit it, the woman isn’t stupid.”

“No, she certainly isn’t,” Julia agreed with a soft scoff.

Judith frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Julia’s attention shifted away from her mother and returned to the lint on her slacks. “Nothing, I…she’s shrewder than we give her credit for. Like I said, she has nothing to lose.”

Judith’s eyes narrowed to slits as she tried to see past her daughter’s deliberate vagueness. “What did she say?”

“Hmm?” Julia said and looked back at her mother, playing dumb.

“Well, she’s obviously said something that’s got you thinking.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Tell me.”

Julia was silent and chewed at her cheek. She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to give life to the words because once they were out, they were out, and deep down, Julia already knew they were true.

“Tell me, Julia.” Judith’s resonant voice was stern in tone. She wasn’t one for playing games. Judith had already had enough of Emma’s bullshit, but something she said clearly got to Julia, and, although she would never admit it, it was beginning to scare her.

Julia cleared her throat. She could tell from her mother’s tone that this wouldn’t be dropped until the words were out. “She said you paid her,” Judith said, flicking a look in her mother’s direction and noticing a slight rise in her right eyebrow, the one tell Judith had in her poker face that meant it was true. “Emil…Emma said you paid her in exchange for the baby.”

Judith shifted in her chair and sniffed again. Memories of twenty-five years ago flooded her mind. She could recall every little detail. “I loved Michael,” Judith said, her index finger picking at her thumbnail, an anxious tell. “He was my baby, but he was ruined by that woman! I wasn’t going to stand idly by and let her destroy my grandson, too! So, yes, I paid her two thousand pounds in the hope she’d go and inject it all into her veins and do the world a favour!”

“Only she didn’t, did she?” Julia huffed, disappointed that Emma was telling the truth and simultaneously terrified of what this meant going forward. Cloaked in disappointment, her anger levels began to rise. “And now she’s here with a story in her arsenal!”

Judith whipped her glare back at her daughter faster than a blink of an eye. “I did what I thought was right at the time.”

“But it wasn’t, was it, mother?” Julia slapped her palms against her thighs and stood up from the sofa, seething anger poisoning her bloodstream. “Your good intentions are always misguided. There is only ever a selfish ulterior motive to your actions, and now, like always, I’m the one having to clean up your mess,” she said, her fists clenched by her side as she paced back and forth, her mind whirling with ways in which to solve all her problems.

Judith followed her daughter’s movements with her eyes yet remained firmly deposited in her chair. “I did what was best for that boy!”

“And look where we are now! If I lose my son over all this, I’m holding you personally responsible!” Julia could no longer be in the presence of her mother. She had to get away before anger got the better of her. Without another word, Julia stormed out of the morning room and stormed down the hallway with a face like thunder.

Natalie moved down the corridor towards Julia, stalking her like a ghost. “My, my, Julia. You look a frightful mess.”

“Fuck off, Natalie!” Julia roared and headed into her bedroom, slamming the heavy oak door behind her.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Oak Cottage,
Glendale

Jasmine Atkins lay on the couch in the living room of Oak Cottage, a tartan woollen blanket pulled to her chin and her head throbbing with a dull, persistent ache as she battled a summer cold. A repeat of “Bargain Hunt” on the telly kept her entertained, although she had seen it already and knew the blue team won with a profit of £1, while the red team suffered a £200 loss. Jasmine reached for her cup of tea, wincing as she swallowed, her throat raw from days of coughing.

The sudden sound of the mail slot clattering open drew Jasmine’s attention. She turned her head just in time to see a pile of envelopes and a small package slip through the slit in the front door and land on the doormat. Jasmine sighed, knowing she should get up and check the mail, but the thought of moving exhausted her.

After a moment’s hesitation, curiosity got the better of her. Jasmine dragged herself off the couch, the blanket trailing behind her like a cape. She shuffled to the door and scooped up the pile of mail, her heart skipping a beat as she spotted the small, nondescript package. Jasmine knew it was the DNA test kits she and Nick had ordered.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Glendale Family Surgery,
Glendale

The sterile scent of disinfectant mingled with the faint scent of Emma’s perfume as Tom Spencer sat in her consulting room. His fingers drummed nervously on the armrest of the plastic chair as his eyes scanned the walls, painted a calming shade of blue. They were adorned with generic landscapes of meadows, mountains, and serene lakes, interspersed with NHS posters about mental health, menstruation, and cancer.

“There we are,” Emma said, sliding a prescription for Tom’s antidepressants across the desk towards him as she gave him a warm, friendly smile. “Next time, just give me a call, and I can sort it out for you without you having to come in for an appointment.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Tom said, taking the prescription and folding it in half before stuffing it into the pocket of his Levi’s.

“Please, call me Emma.”

Tom forced a smile at his wife’s new friend, and as Emma turned her attention back to her computer briefly, he subtly tried to readjust himself.

Emma looked back, a concerned frown appearing on her forehead. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Tom blushed beetroot red as humiliation engulfed him. “I’m just a bit sore from wearing the box at cricket yesterday, but that’s normal.”

Emma tilted her head slightly as her frown deepened. “Wearing a box shouldn’t hurt, should it?” she asked, swivelling her chair to fully face Tom as her concern grew.

Tom pushed himself off the uncomfortable chair and arched his back. “Well, no, it didn’t used to, but…”

“How long has it hurt for?”

“Um… I dunno, maybe a couple of months.”

“Right.” Emma’s frown deepened, and Tom knew it wasn’t a good thing. “Anything else?”

“What do you mean?” Tom asked, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest as his mind spiralled through a vortex of tragic scenarios.

Emma’s frown had disappeared, and her face now seemed calm and compassionate. That was more disconcerting than the frown. “Any other problems… down there?” she asked in a gentle tone.

Tom swallowed hard, his mouth dry. He lowered himself back onto the plastic chair and stared at the floor, unable to meet Emma’s look. “Um… I’m a bit itchy.”

Emma nodded, her expression unchanged as she ran through a mental checklist. “I see. Any other symptoms?”

Tom took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves and quell the rising anxiety. He prayed for the ground to open up and for the earth to swallow him whole. “Um…” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “It burns when I pee, and there’s like this stuff that…”

“Like a discharge?” Emma prompted as Tom’s voice trailed off.

Tom’s eyes flicked to Emma’s briefly before returning to stare at the laminate. “Yeah.”

“A milky discharge?”

“Yeah.” Tom lifted his head and met Emma’s eyes. The conversation was very clearly heading in a direction that Emma already knew the outcome of. “Why, what…?”

“Are your testicles swollen or tender?”

Tom’s heart wanted to burst. His pulse thundered in his ears. He felt hot and prickly, and he wanted to vomit. Humiliation was his new best friend. “Um, yeah, a little, but…”

“I see.”

I see. The way Emma said it, Tom knew it wasn’t good news. “What does that mean? ‘I see’. What does that mean?” He asked, a panic in his voice.

Emma lent forward, her elbows resting on her knees. Tom shifted back slightly in his seat.

“How many sexual partners have you had in the last few months?” Emma asked in a calm and measured tone.

There it was. The question. Tom struggled to catch his breath. The colour drained from his face, and his eyes darted back and forth from Emma’s left to her right and back again. The question he didn’t want to answer hung in the air, awaiting a response. Tom’s eyes scanned Emma’s face and wrongly detected judgement and shame. “What?!”

“How many—”

“I heard you!” Tom leapt to his feet, his voice rising, before he remembered where he was. Kate, his beautiful Kate, his wife, his soulmate, was a few metres away on the other side of the door. He was at her workplace. He felt faint. He wanted to be sick. “But, what the fuck, Emma! You’re my wife’s friend, and you ask me—”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said, cutting Tom off as she too rose to her feet. She placed a calming hand on Tom’s forearm, which he violently rebuked as he pulled his arm away. “What you say to me in this room stays between us, but we’re going to need to do some STI tests.”

“What? But…what?”

“I think you might have chlamydia, Tom,” Emma said in her most calm and professional voice, acutely aware of what this meant for Tom and that, from this moment on, there was a chance his life would be irrevocably changed.

Tom felt the foundations of his life falter.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Glendale Veterinary Practice,
Glendale

Charlotte Sinclair sat in her office, the soft glow of her computer screen projected onto her face. The day had thus far been a whirlwind of appointments, but now she allowed herself a moment of respite before her next consultation. Charlotte opened the top desk drawer and pulled out a Kit Kat. She snapped the fingers, ripped open the packet, and indulged in the chocolatey goodness.

Charlotte’s mobile phone suddenly buzzed insistently on her desk. She glanced at the caller ID and raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar sequence of numbers.

With her curiosity piqued, Charlotte did the one thing Mark always told her not to do. She answered the unknown call. “Hello, Charlotte Sinclair speaking.”

“Hi Charlotte, this is Sienna Hawkins from The Kent Gazette,” came the voice on the other end, bright and professional. “I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”

Charlotte looked at the clock. She had two minutes if that. “No, all good. What can I do for you?” she asked, confused by the call but suspecting an unwanted offer of a cheap subscription.

“Well,” Sienna began, her tone professional yet warm. “We’re running a series of articles on mental health in various professions, and we’re particularly interested in the challenges faced by veterinarians. Your name was suggested to me by Dennis White; I believe he was your lecturer.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Charlotte replied, taking another bite of her Kit Kat and sitting forward in her chair, intrigued by what she was hearing.

“Well, Dennis was very taken with you and said you’d be the ideal person to talk to. Would it be something you’d be interested in doing?”

Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat. The topic was close to her heart, as she’d seen firsthand how the emotional strain of the job affected her colleagues. She took a deep breath. “Sure, I’d be happy to help. This is an important issue that needs more attention.”

“Wonderful!” Sienna said, a note of relief in her voice. “How about we schedule a time that works for you? I can come by your office if that’s convenient.”

Charlotte glanced at her calendar, mentally juggling appointments. “How about Sunday afternoon, about three? Sorry, I know it is the weekend, but…”

“Nope, three o’clock Sunday is perfect,” Sienna replied. “I’ll see you then!”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Glendale Family Surgery,
Glendale

“We’ll have the results in about ten days’ time,” Emma said as she tapped away at the keyboard of her computer while Tom sorted himself out. “I’m going to start you on doxycycline, and you cannot have sex until you’ve completed the treatment.”

On the opposite side of the consulting room, Tom zipped up his jeans, humiliation coursing through him. He felt mortified and shamed. The physical examination had been like torture, and the swab Emma had taken was excruciating. His eyes looked at the small pot of dark yellow urine on her desk, and every possible scenario fizzed and stirred inside his mind.

Emma swivelled in her chair and looked back at Tom. “You’ll also need to tell all your sexual partners.”

“What?”

“You’ll need to tell all your sexual partners,” Emma repeated, her words heavy. She knew what this meant – that either Tom was sleeping with other people or Kate was, and, in her opinion, Kate didn’t seem like the type. “Whoever she is, you need to tell her, and you also have to tell Kate.”

Tom’s face reddened. “I’m not doing that,” he blustered. “I’m not telling Kate.”

“Tom…”

“I’m not doing that!” The words boomed around the small consulting room, and Emma knew they would’ve been heard out in the reception area. “It’s bad enough that we’re having this conversation right now, but I’m not—”

“By not telling her, you’re putting her health at serious risk.”

For a moment, Tom froze as he let Emma’s words sink in. His lips trembled, and he felt the unwelcome sting of hot tears at the back of his eyes. “I’m not telling her. I can’t.”

Emma was sympathetic to Tom; she really was. It would be an incredibly difficult conversation to have with Kate and one that could change the course of their lives, not just their marriage, forever. But it was a conversation that needed to be had nonetheless. “I understand it will be hard—”

“Hard!” An almost delusional laugh escaped Tom’s lips as he threw his arms in the air and then ran his hands through his sandy blonde hair. “You don’t understand! This will destroy her. Destroy us!”

“You can’t keep this a secret, Tom,” Emma said, her voice calm and her tone sympathetic as she rose to her feet and crossed the room to him. “Kate deserves to know. She has a right to know. Keeping this a secret will consume you; believe me, I know. And with your anxiety and depression—”

“Don’t do that!” Tom jabbed an index finger in Emma’s direction as his anger grew. “Don’t use my mental health against me!”

Emma held up her hands in front of her chest in surrender. “I’m not. I’m just worried that living with the stress—”

“Living with the stress of not telling her is a million times more manageable than the stress of the alternative.”

“Kate has a right to know you’re putting her health at risk.”

“I’m not doing it! And neither are you!”

Without another word, Tom stormed across the consulting room, grasped the cool chrome door handle, and ripped the door open. Concerned by Tom’s agitated state, Emma hurried after him.

Unaware, Kate smiled a warm, loving smile at her husband as he stomped towards her with a face like thunder. “Ah, there he is, my stud muffin of a husband. All done?” she asked, standing at the reception desk as she packed her handbag at the end of the working day.

“Yep, all sorted,” Tom replied, forcing a toothy smile as Emma approached behind him. “You ready to go?”

Kate could sense something was off. If nothing else, Tom’s toothy grin was more terrifying than comforting, but it was the uneasy look on Emma’s face that concerned her the most. “Is everything okay?”

Tom and Emma shared a knowing look.

“Of course,” Emma lied with a smile that immediately eased Kate’s mind. “Why wouldn’t it be?” She looked to Tom, and he refused to meet her gaze.

“Great!” Kate said, swinging her handbag over her shoulder before planting a kiss on Tom’s cheek and linking arms with him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Night!”

“Night.” Emma smiled and gave a short wave.

As Tom and Kate left the surgery, Emma watched them, her heart breaking for her friend and silently cursing Tom for the secret he had now forced her to keep.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Ashbourne House,
Glendale

Outside the door to James’ office, Natalie smoothed down her sleek black dress, adjusting the neckline to reveal just enough to be enticing without being overly suggestive. A mixture of anticipation and determination fluttered in her chest. Natalie tapped on the door and entered.

James, who sat in an aged leather Chesterfield armchair with a book in one hand and a glass of malt whisky in the other, looked up over the top of his reading glasses. His eyes sparkled with pleasure as Natalie entered the room. “Natalie,” he said, snapping the book closed.

Natalie noticed he didn’t place a bookmark. She entered the office, the scent of polished wood and leather mingling with the faint hint of James’ expensive cologne. The afternoon sun filtered through the windows, casting gentle rays of light across the room. “Not interrupting, am I?”

“No,” James replied, placing the book down on a small oak table to his side before taking a swig of the whisky. “I always have time for you.”

Natalie couldn’t help but admire the way his sandy hair fell across his forehead and the way his eyes sparkled with intelligence behind his glasses. With a determined glint in her eye, Natalie made her way over to her boss with a subtle sway of her hips. “James,” she murmured, her voice soft and seductive. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

The air in the room began to fizz. Since their last encounter, James had thought about his nineteen-year-old personal assistant day and night. It didn’t matter to him that she was his sister’s stepdaughter, technically making her his step-niece. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. All of her. He could still smell her perfume and still feel the touch of her fingertips tracing the line of buttons down his chest and over his stomach. He remembered the hardening in his trousers when he thought she was about to relieve him. He dreamt about her. He even thought about her in the shower. “What is it?”

Without a word, Natalie reached out and placed a hand on James’ shoulder, her touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through him, causing an instant and rigorous reaction. She leaned in closer, her lips tantalisingly close to his as she whispered, “I’ve been thinking about you… a lot.”

James’ heart skipped a beat at the confession, his pulse quickening with desire. He knew he should resist the idea and that getting involved with an employee, let alone one linked to him through marriage, was risky territory. But as Natalie’s fingers trailed down his arm, sending a shiver down his spine, he found himself unable to resist her.

In one swift movement, James rose to his feet and turned to face Natalie, his hand sliding up to cradle her cheeks as he captured her lips in a passionate kiss. The world around them faded away as they lost themselves in each other, the heat of their bodies igniting a flame that burned hotter with each passing moment. James’s hands moved to Natalie’s waist, pulling her closer and pressing his engorged self against her. The kiss deepened into a hard, passionate, and tantalising dance that left them both breathless. For a moment, Natalie allowed herself to get lost in the sensation – the taste of him, the feel of his hands on her. But then she pulled back, her eyes locking onto his, the desire and confusion clear in his gaze.

“What’s wrong?” James said, his voice husky. “I—”

Natalie placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. “Shh. We can’t do this. Not here, not now.” She stepped back, her heart pounding in her chest, the air between them charged with unspoken words and unfulfilled promises again.

James reached out, his hand grasping hers, a plea in his eyes. “You’re a cock tease.”

Natalie smiled softly, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Sometimes, the anticipation is better.” She pulled her hand away and made for the door. Opening it, she paused and turned back, putting on her best doe-eyed look. “I’m done for the day. Goodbye, Boss.”

As the door to James’ office closed, he flopped back down into his chair and let out a deep groan as he ran his hands over his face. James was burning to have her.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Location Unknown,
Glendale

The summer night was heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine, and the air hummed with the chirping of crickets. In the distance, a fox barked. Glendale lay still under the silvery glow of a nearly full moon, its cobblestone streets and quaint cottages bathed in a soft light.

Tom moved silently through the shadows, his heart pounding in rhythm with his hurried footsteps. He reached the backdoor of a cute, ivy-covered cottage, glancing around to ensure no one had seen him.

He knocked softly, a prearranged signal of three quick taps, then waited. His breath came in shallow gasps, and the anticipation was almost unbearable. Moments later, the door creaked open.

“Hello, you!” Tom whispered, a broad grin breaking across his face. His trousers instantly stirred at the sight of his lover, as naked as the day they were born, greeting him at the door.

Without another word spoken, Tom slipped inside, and the door closed.

NEXT TIME…

• Julia plans a counteroffensive.
• Ed’s news shocks Marion.
• An unwelcome visitor rattles Ben.
• Queenie and Betty go to battle.