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

PREVIOUSLY…

• After discovering the truth from Judith, Pamela told Ben that Emma was really Emily Barlow, a former drug addict and rumoured prostitute.
• Charlotte and Mark went on holiday to Portugal, just as Charlotte began receiving unwanted and sinister messages from an anonymous Instagram account.
• Julia, having hired a private investigator to dig up dirt on Emma, was nervous when he requested to meet with her urgently.
• Judith paid Natalie’s blackmail demand of £100,000.
• Tom was diagnosed with chlamydia and was warned by his doctor, Emma, that if he didn’t tell his wife, Kate, about his affair, then she would.
• Emma uncovered the truth that Tom was having an affair with Lee.
• Jack and Lee’s marriage began to crumble.

Honeysuckle Cottage,
Glendale

Emma Blake sat at her kitchen table, staring at her iPhone that lay in front of her. She had been up all night, grappling with the weight of what she believed to be true – that the person Tom Spencer was having an affair with was Lee Campbell. Not only was it a bombshell that threatened to destroy her best friend’s marriage and expose Tom’s STI secret, but it could pull her workplace apart as Tom’s wife, Kate, and Lee’s mum, Marion, would be put on a collision course that clearly had no winners.

Torn between her duty as a friend and her duty as a doctor to keep Tom’s medical issues private, Emma’s mind spun out of control. If she kept Tom’s confidence, the secret would eat away at her, but if she exposed the truth, Emma knew she would set in motion an uncontrollable chain of events that had the potential to destroy lives and cost her her career. Faced with a lose-lose situation, Emma firmed in her decision. She picked up the iPhone and, as her thumbs tapped away at the screen typing out a message, she felt she had no option left but to expose the truth.

I know about you and Lee. I can’t keep the secret. I’m telling Kate.

With her thumb hovering over the send icon, Emma hesitated whether she was in the right, but, ultimately, she knew she couldn’t remain silent any longer. Kate deserved to know the truth, no matter how painful it would be.

Just as Emma prepared to press send, a sharp knock on the door startled her. Edgy, after three cups of coffee too many, she jumped in her seat, and her heart pounded in her chest like a wild bird trapped in a cage. She hastily put down her phone, with the text message unsent, and rushed to answer it. Pulling open the front door, Emma felt her body relax, and she smiled when she saw Ben Granger standing on her doorstep. As their eyes met, Emma’s happiness very quickly faded. The handsome farmer’s usually warm and easy-going expression was replaced with a scowl of seriousness. Emma’s stomach churned. “Ben,” she managed to say through the rising anxiety within her. “This is a surprise. I thought you’d be on your way to cricket.”

Ben hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Marden forfeited, and, to be honest, I couldn’t face it anyway,” he admitted with a cold seriousness to his voice. “We need to talk, Emma.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Pineview House,
Glendale

Charlotte Sinclair and her husband, Mark, pulled into the gravel driveway of Pineview House, having completed the 90-minute drive from Heathrow Airport to Glendale.

“Home sweet home,” Mark said as he put the gunmetal grey Audi Q7 in park. Their short holiday in Portugal had been the perfect way to celebrate their one-year wedding anniversary, but now he was eager to settle back into the comfort and familiarity of home.

Having unloaded their suitcases from the boot, no sooner were they through the front door than Charlotte’s phone buzzed with a text message.

James
Need to see you tomorrow. Urgent.

“What is it?” Mark asked, noticing the heavy frown across his wife’s brow. “It’s not that Instagram account again, is it?”

Charlotte shook her head, trying not to think about the anonymous social media account that had developed an unhealthy obsession since The Kent Gazette published an interview with her. While they were abroad, night and day she had been bombarded with unwanted messages, and no sooner would she block them than a new account would be created, and the cycle continued. “No, it’s from James,” she replied, referencing her older brother. “He says he needs to see me urgently tomorrow.”

Mark peered over Charlotte’s shoulder and looked at the message. “I wonder what could be so important?” he said with a shrug before kicking off his shoes and heading into the living room. “Natalie, we’re home!”

As her husband’s voice echoed around the downstairs, Charlotte couldn’t help but re-read the message and worry. It wasn’t in James’ nature to make such dramatic statements, and she knew instinctively that whatever the problem was, it was something that needed urgent attention.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Honeysuckle Cottage,
Glendale

Emma followed Ben into the living room, puzzled by the agitated state he seemed to be in. “Are you okay?” she asked, with genuine concern as she watched her boyfriend – is that what he was? Were they there yet? – pace back and forth in front of the fireplace, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. “You seem… tense.”

Ben didn’t quite know how to respond. He had barely slept a wink all night as his mind swirled with questions and doubts after his mother, Pamela Granger, had dropped the bomb on him that Emma wasn’t who she said she was. He had opened his heart to the new village doctor and, against his better judgement, let down his guard. The connection between them was instant and deep, but now Ben questioned everything. He hated himself for so quickly letting down the barrier that he rigidly kept in place to protect himself and his heart from any further hurt after Rebecca had nearly destroyed him. “Who are you?”

Emma frowned, perplexed at Ben’s question. “Sorry?”

“Who are you?” Ben repeated as he stopped and looked back at Emma. His dark eyes met hers with an almost pleading look for her to not hurt him. “Like, really, who are you?”

The tension in the room began to build.

“Ben, I don’t understand what you mean.”

A smile of annoyance crossed Ben’s face, and he ran a hand frustratedly through his jet-black hair. “See, I think you know exactly what I mean, Emma… or is it Emily?”

Emma’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, and her face immediately drained of colour. She didn’t need to say a word because, from the look of guilt etched across her features, Ben had his answer. “H-how?” She muttered, barely able to form a sentence. “I… I don’t know… w-what you…”

“Oh, God.” Ben held his face in his hands. His mother was right. Everything Judith told her had been true. He had seen it in Emma’s eyes. “I trusted you. I believed you. I fell for you.”

Emma watched Ben resume pacing about the room. Anger seethed in him like a boiling kettle. He muttered indecipherable words under his breath, and his eyes darted in her direction occasionally, always followed by a slight glare and a shake of the head.

“You fell for me?” she said with a softness to her voice, hoping for a moment to focus on the good before she had to confront and confess to the bad.

Ben stopped and looked at Emma. Her heart broke as she saw tears beginning to pool at his eyelids.

“Who are you, Emma?” he said, his voice cracking slightly before he cleared his throat. “Who the hell are you?”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Ashbourne House,
Glendale

In the comfort of the drawing room at Ashbourne House, Julia Harrington-Jones sat in silence, bathed in the warmth of the summer sun that shone in through the tall open sash windows with a cup of Earl Grey tea steaming gently beside her and her mind a whirlwind of anxiety and uncertainty about tomorrow’s meeting with Damon Winters. She had hired the private investigator weeks ago with instructions to delve into Emma’s past, and now, with his findings looming on the horizon like an incoming storm, she questioned whether she was ready to hear the truth.

On the mantelpiece, an antique oak and brass clock chimed softly for midday. Drawing a deep breath, Julia rose from her seat and walked over to the window. As she stood there, surveying the sprawling gardens that stretched beyond her sight, the sound of a nightingale singing its pleasant tune from a nearby tree caught her attention. For a moment, she envied its carefree existence. How wonderful it must be to live without anxiety, fear, and doubt. The small brown bird looked at the statuesque woman and twittered a beautiful melody before flying off, leaving Julia with an appreciative smile on her face.

Turning away from the window, Julia checked her tight blonde chignon bun and looked around the silent morning room before her eyes settled on a photograph on the large stone mantelpiece. It was a pleasant photo of her and her younger brother, Michael, laughing together under the shade of an old oak tree at their childhood home, Glendale Hall. The guilt of his untimely death clung to Julia like a wet blanket, and she wondered, not for the first time, what he would make of the current predicament she found herself in.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Honeysuckle Cottage,
Glendale

“Cat got your tongue?”

Words failed Emma as she watched Ben pace back and forth, his stomping steps heavy with anger and wearing a path in the carpet. She had never seen him so heated before and immediately regretted the hurt she had caused him by not telling the truth earlier.

Ben wanted to pull out his hair in frustration. He wanted to smash something, to yell and scream, but more than anything, he wanted Emma to tell the truth. “Fine, shall I tell you what I’ve heard then? Will that jog your memory?” he said, his spiky words laced with a poison that was intended to burn. “Emily Barlow. Drug addict. Prostitute. Any of this ring a bell?”

“What?” The accusation of prostitution made Emma’s eyes bulge and her mouth drop open. “I… I was never… who told you that? Was it Julia?”

“Julia? Why would Julia tell me that? It was my mother.”

“Pamela?”

“Judith told her and—”

Clarity suddenly dawned on Emma. “Judith,” she said with a deep exhale of breath. “Of course it was Judith.” She should have known. The wicked witch of Glendale had been itching for a chance to reveal Emma’s sordid past, and Emma could see in her mind’s eye the glee that Judith would have revelled in whilst lobbing a nuclear bomb into the lives of the Granger family.

Emma’s lack of denial spoke volumes. “So, it’s true then,” Ben replied as his shoulders sagged under the weight of the truth.

Emma wanted to take to him, to hold him, kiss him, and promise him everything was going to be okay, but from the shattered look in Ben’s eyes, she already knew that their blossoming relationship was crashing to earth in a ball of fire. “No,” she began, unsure how to answer, “well, some of it, yes.”

Ben cocked an eyebrow. “Some of it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you care to elaborate?”

Emma sighed. Most of the truth was already out there, so what could she do beyond clear up the falsehoods and tell Ben the facts? She cleared her throat, moistened her lips, and looked him in the eyes. “My name was Emily Barlow, and yes, I had an addiction problem.”

“This is unbelievable!” Ben threw his head back and looked to the heavens as he mentally processed Emma’s confession. He ran his hands over his face as if washing away the built-up anxiousness and let out a deep, audible sigh. “And a prostitute?”

“No,” Emma replied affronted.

Ben’s face tightened. “And why should I believe a word that comes out of your mouth?”

“Because I’m telling the truth.”

“Now. When confronted with it.” Ben turned away and looked out of the bow window. The shimmering light that danced across the River Medway at the end of the lane provided a welcome distraction from the chaos erupting around him. He wiped away his tears with the back of his hand, unwilling to show Emma how deeply she had hurt him.

Emma felt her heart clench and the foundations of their relationship shift to a precipice. “I was going to tell you,” she said with sincerity, hoping to pull them back from the edge.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes.”

“When?” Ben spun on his heel and looked back at Emma. “At the altar? When our kids were born? On our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary?”

“I don’t know, but…”

“But what, Emma? Sorry, Emily. But what?”

The use of her former name stung. It was meant to hurt, and it did. “But I didn’t want to hurt you. I wanted to be able to explain things to you properly.”

Ben scoffed and shook his head, unwilling to accept Emma’s explanation. “But you didn’t. On our dates, all those times I tried to engage you in conversation about your past and you just, what, forgot?”

“You don’t understand.”

Ben let out a deep laugh, almost manic in its sounding. For a moment, his face brightened at the smile that stretched across his features, but it quickly soured into a snarl. “You’re right! I don’t!” He said as he folded his arms across his defined chest. “So go on then, explain it to me. Make me understand.”

Emma didn’t know how.

“Come on! Out with it!”

Emma was silent. Unmoved. She scrambled to say something, anything, but she came up short. Once the truth was out, there would be no way she could ever put it back in the box, and the thought terrified her.

“What is it, Emma?”

Emma’s silent and stubborn refusal to admit the truth or explain things to him enraged Ben. He was fed up. With each passing second, it was becoming more and more obvious that this had all been some sort of sick and twisted game. He was a pawn and refused to be treated like one for a minute longer. “This is bullshit,” he snapped, with the release of a deeply irritated sigh. “We’re done! We’re so done! I can’t believe this. I opened myself up to you, and this is how you repay me? We are so done.”

Without uttering another word, Ben looked at Emma one last time before turning and starting to march out of the living room.

“I have a son!”

The revelation, spluttered out in desperation, made Ben stop in his tracks. Had he heard correctly? As the words settled over him, Ben turned back with a slow hesitation.

“I have a son,” Emma repeated, her words clear and concise despite the slight tremble of her body and the tears pooling in her eyes. “Nick Harrington-Jones, he’s my son.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Queen Victoria Street,
Glendale

Judith Bancroft emerged from Queenie Baxter’s store with the latest edition of “The Sunday Times” tucked under her arm and a blue-capped bottle of milk. Her eyes, ringed with dark circles, were puffy, and her face was drawn. She had endured a sleepless night thanks to the anxiety that gripped her about what Julia would say or do once she found out that she had capitulated to Natalie’s blackmail demands and about what the young woman had planned next.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Queen Mother.”

The familiar voice sent a shiver down Judith’s spine. Slowly, she turned and locked cold glares with the woman who had tormented her night. “What do you want, Natalie?”

“Another hundred grand would do nicely,” the raven-haired nineteen-year-old replied with a twisted grin that could only be described as malevolent. “And you pushing up daisies.”

Judith snuffled and baulked at the suggestion. “Forget it! You aren’t getting another penny out of me, you stupid little girl.”

“Yet you’re the one who paid a blackmail demand. So, I think that makes you the stupid little girl.”

Judith’s lip twitched as she fought the urge to smack the smug little grin clean off Natalie’s porcelain face. She moved towards the young woman, their faces inches apart as the air crackled with tension.

“You stay away from my family and you stay away from James, or you won’t see another sunrise. Do I make myself clear?”

Natalie titled her head to one side as a sickeningly cold smile slithered across her face. She was enjoying the argument more than words could express. “Aww, are you jealous that he’s riding me and not your dusty old bones?”

Judith recoiled at the thought. “You’re a disgusting little girl!”

“That’s not what James calls me,” Natalie replied with a wink before her face dropped and her mood turned icy. “One hundred grand by Saturday or Nick and Jasmine’s little engagement party will definitely be a night they will never forget. Capeesh?”

With a triumphant smirk, Natalie savoured every second of Judith’s stunned silence before shunting past the ageing woman, heavily knocking her shoulder as she did, and continuing on her way down Queen Victoria Street. As Judith watched her go, Queenie sat at her usual spot beside the till inside the shop, having heard every word.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Honeysuckle Cottage,
Glendale

“What did you just say?” Ben asked, struggling to comprehend the bombshell that Emma had dropped. He couldn’t possibly have heard her correctly. There was simply no way that what she had just said was true.

Emma swallowed nervously, doubting her decision to tell the truth. “Nick Harrington-Jones is my son,” she repeated and watched as the local farmer frowned, struggling to comprehend what he was being told.

Ben ran a hand over his unshaven face. He had heard correctly, yet it still didn’t make sense. “Are you mentally unwell or something? I mean, what the fuck? What the actual fuck, Emma?” He began to pace back and forth once more, his mind trying desperately to piece together the puzzle. “How the fuck is Nick Harrington-Jones your son? The clue is in the name, surely?”

Emma’s eyes followed Ben’s movements while her body remained rigidly still. “He’s not their son. He’s mine.”

Ben looked at Emma and, for a moment, was filled with dread as he realised that she was in fact telling the truth.

“Michael Bancroft is his father, and I’m his mother.”

The familiar name of a forgotten friend nearly knocked Ben from his feet. He steadied himself against an armchair and processed Emma’s revelation. Ben and Michael had been best friends since childhood. Although from vastly different walks of life, the two boys – both without a brother of their own – had formed a unique bond, much like the one Ben saw between his son Oliver and Noah Spencer. Even when Michael had been sent away to boarding school, they had remained “brothers from other mothers,” and the relationship endured until Michael’s substance abuse problem saw their friendship sour. “Michael Bancroft?” Ben mumbled, his head spinning. “But… how?”

“He was my boyfriend,” Emma began as she felt the tension in the room simmer down. “My family lived in Acton, and we met at a house party in Brixton in 1997.”

A flash of a memory sparked in Ben’s mind. He lowered himself into the armchair as he remembered attending a party one cool autumn’s night with Michael, one where a gorgeous brunette had captured his friend’s heart and attention.

Emma took to the armchair beside Ben’s and moved to take his hand, but he resisted. “We hit it off. He was so smart and funny and amazing. Michael really was one of the greatest people I had ever met. But, later, addiction got the better of us, both of us. We spiralled, and then I found out I was pregnant,” her eyes misted as she recounted the story. “My family kicked me out, and with no money and no where to go, we reached out to Judith for help. She helped alright! She paid me two grand to disappear and gave the baby to Julia to raise as her own.”

Ben slowly turned his head to look at Emma, struggling to believe what he was hearing.

Emma brushed a tear from her cheek. “I tried so hard to fight them; I really did, but, well, they were too powerful, and, to be honest, I wasn’t fit to look after a baby. I never forgot about him though, my apple-cheeked boy. For years I thought about him and searched for him.”

“How did you find him?”

“I tried everything. I Googled, I Facebooked, it was only a few weeks ago I found out Michael’s surname was Bancroft, not Banford like he told me.” The pain that ricocheted through Emma’s body when Julia had recently told her that Michael had lied about his surname returned like muscle memory. She still couldn’t understand the lie. She pushed on. “I did DNA tests; I did it all but nothing. And then I recognised Julia on “Countryfile,” and they mentioned Glendale. Michael had never told me where he was from, but once I had that missing piece of the puzzle, everything else fell into place. It was like dominoes. One after the other, all the walls that blocked my path fell, and soon I was applying for a job at the surgery and moving into the village. I never meant to deceive you, Ben,” Emma said, looking back at her beau from beneath heavy eyelids. “Christ, I never even meant for any of this to happen. I only wanted to find my son, that’s all. I never imagined I’d meet and fall in love with such an amazing guy.”

Ben’s eyes widened as Emma’s revelation, unconsciously voiced aloud, hung in the air. “You love me?”

“What?” Emma replied with a deepening frown. She frantically reviewed her sentences, trying to recall if and where she had much such a declaration.

Ben rubbed the back of his neck as a coy smile licked at his lips, and his eyes began to brighten. “You said you’ve fallen in love with me.”

“I said I’ve fallen in love with an amazing guy. You’re being presumptuous.”

Ben smiled as Emma swatted away his assumptions while trying to stifle the broad grin that threatened to break across her face.

“But, yes,” Emma admitted, “I think I’m falling in love with you, and I only hope you can forgive me.” There was a silent pleading to her words. “I wasn’t lying, Ben; I was just scared to tell you the truth. But I’m not scared anymore. I want to tell you the truth about everything.”

“I would like that.” Ben wasn’t ready to forgive just yet, but he was willing to try. While his mind swirled with the tsunami of revelations that had crashed over him, he shifted to the edge of the armchair, lent forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and took Emma’s soft hands in his. “Does Nick know?”

A tingle rippled through Emma’s body at his gentle touch. “No, not yet,” she replied, almost breathless with disappointment. “Julia has said she’s going to tell him after the engagement party.”

“Julia said that?”

“Yes.”

“And you believe that she’s going to tell Nick the truth?”

“Yes. Why, shouldn’t I?”

Ben’s mouth tightened, and his brow furrowed. He let out a long, deep exhale and met Emma’s pleading gaze. “If there’s one thing I know about Julia Harrington-Jones, it is that that woman is as ruthless as they come and will say and do whatever is necessary to protect her family and eliminate an enemy. I wouldn’t trust a word that comes out of her mouth, Emma. I really wouldn’t.”

Emma chewed on Ben’s observation.

“But, for what it’s worth,” he said, stroking the back of Emma’s hands with his thumbs. “I think I love you too.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Oak Cottage,
Glendale

In the corner of the spare bedroom of Oak Cottage, Nick Harrington-Jones was hunched over his laptop, and papers lay strewn across the small desk. With Jasmine visiting her mother to finalise plans for the weekend’s engagement party, Nick’s Sunday would be spent catching up on work overdue from the past week. He softly bopped his head along to Eminem’s “Houdini” as the song pumped in his AirPods. The vibration of his phone against the desktop interrupted his concentration, and Nick glanced over at the push notification on his device.

DNA UPDATE: DNA MATCHES BEING CONFIRMED.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Bluebell Cottage,
Glendale

Jack Campbell stepped wearily into the master bedroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Having worked the nightshift, the local police sergeant was exhausted, and he was looking forward to curling up and going to sleep. He had chosen to stay on at work a little longer, unsure whether he could face his husband, Lee, after their disagreement the night before.

Jack peeled off his clothes and changed into a pair of navy boxer shorts. He could hear running water in the ensuite bathroom and knew Lee was in the shower. Jack hadn’t received a response to the “I love you” message that he had sent to his husband last night, and it solidified in his mind that their union had fallen off the precipice. He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. He needed a moment to decompress before facing whatever shitstorm awaited him once Lee was finished in the bathroom.

Just then, a familiar noise cut through the air. A loud brrup. Jack froze as he instantly recognised the very distinct sound of a Grindr notification. His heart sank and his mind raced as he tried to make sense of it. He shouldn’t be hearing that sound. Not now, not ever. With a knot in his stomach, Jack began searching the bedroom. The sound had come from Lee’s side of the bed. His eyes narrowed as he spotted the phone half-hidden under a magazine. Jack picked it up and the screen illuminated to reveal a string of Grindr notifications, each one more explicit than the last. Jack’s breath caught in his throat. A slew of messages, photos, and invitations that should never have been sent, let alone received, greeted him.

The phone buzzed again in his hand, this time displaying an incoming call.

T

Jack looked at the caller’s name with a confused frown, but he had little doubt it was somehow connected to the vulgar and graphic Grindr messages he had seen. He let the call go to voicemail.

A few moments later, the bathroom door opened. Steam billowed out as Lee stepped into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. The final rivulets of water ran down his toned body as he caught sight of Jack, standing next to his side of the bed with his phone in his hands. Lee’s heart leapt into his mouth as a wave of guilt and anger crashed over him.

“What are you doing?” he said with an accusatory tone as he rushed across the room to try and snatch the phone away from his husband.

Jack turned to face him, holding up the phone without a word. “What, or more accurately, who are you doing?”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Greystone Downs Farm,
Glendale

In the warmth of the barn, the air was thick with the smell of hay and the faint musk of animals. Pacing back and forth, Tom ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair as he held the secret Samsung phone to his ear. “I wish you’d answered. I really enjoyed last night,” he said with a naughty smile as he reminisced about their secret rendezvous the night before whilst leaving a voicemail for Lee. “Kate will be home shortly, but I’ll try and shoot you through a message later. I love you.”

Tom ended the call and returned the secret phone back into the newly installed key box. He shut the small silver door and locked it with the four-digit combination that only he knew.

“Who were you talking to?” asked a voice from behind that jolted him into reality.

Tom spun around on his heel, his heart leaping into his throat. There stood Kate, his wife, with an expression of curiosity mixed with concern. He hadn’t heard her car pull up, and she approached the barn so quietly that he hadn’t realised she was back from London. Tom tried to hide his shock, but the surprise was evident in his eyes.

“Well?” Kate repeated in her thick Welsh accent as she entered the barn. “Who were you talking to?”

NEXT TIME…

• Mounting secrets begin a collision course with the truth.
• Julia is left shocked by Damon’s discoveries.
• James drops a bombshell on Charlotte.
• Neha’s world crashes down around her.