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

PREVIOUSLY…

• Following the reveal of his affair with Lee, Tom took his own life.
• Natalie and James embarked on an affair while she was blackmailing his wife, Julia.
• Emma was revealed to be Nick’s biological mother.
• Rebecca vowed revenge on Neha after she slapped her six-year-old daughter, Poppy.
• Charlotte, believing she had a stalker, was horrified to learn it was actually Natalie.
• Following the reveal of his affair, Lee’s marriage to Jack collapsed.
• Jack struggled to overcome his guilt at Tom’s death.
• Nick was involved in a horror car accident that he was lucky to survive.
• Neha attacked her husband, Ashwin, and was later arrested.
• Luke was released from prison after 16 years.
• Audrey put Willow Cottage up for sale.
• Ed had a secret family in London.
• Ben and his ex-wife, Rebecca, slept together after he had an argument with his girlfriend, Emma.

Bake My Day,
Glendale

Lee Campbell stood in the middle of his bakery and took a deep breath, allowing the baked-in smell of breads and pastries to enter his lungs one final time. Without the lights turned on, the shop was dim and seemed to accurately reflect Lee’s current feelings on his business and life in general.

In silence, he looked around as dust motes danced through the air in the sunshine that came in through the window. Normally restocked daily with freshly baked goods, the display cases were barren, a fine layer of dust coated the counter, and the chalkboards that usually listed the daily specials were now blank. The business had been closed since his overdose, and now, following Tom Spencer’s death, Lee found himself persona non grata to the villagers of Glendale, who had closed ranks and frozen him out. There was no point in reopening. With rising costs, the guaranteed lack of customers, and his own desires to start afresh away from the village he had grown up in, Lee had come to the decision to close the bakery for good.

He tore a large piece of cardboard from a box in the back and wrote on it with a thick black marker.

CLOSED DOWN

The two words drew a line under Lee’s life in Glendale, and, in some small way, he felt a sense of relief. After he had propped up the handwritten sign in the window, he took a step back and looked around the quaint shop one final time. He could almost hear the chatter of the local children who had begged their parents for extra cookies and the compliments from the regulars who had praised his award-winning sourdough. As a tear threatened to break, Lee wiped it from his eye. He wasn’t just closing the bakery; he was closing a chapter of his life. He was ready to let it go – to let all of it go.

Without another thought, Lee exited the shop and closed the door. He locked it and looked at the young real estate agent waiting for him outside, who offered a sympathetic smile.

“Here you go,” Lee said, handing back the keys. He looked at the front of the building, and his eyes settled on the correx board that was now fixed above the door.

FOR LEASE

Without another thought, Lee offered the real estate agent a silent smile before he turned his back on the business he loved and walked away for the final time.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

CuriosiTEAS,
Glendale

The bell above the café door jingled as Emma Blake swung it open and stepped out into the surprisingly warm September air. It had been two days since she had heard from her boyfriend, Ben Granger, and the thoughts of their last conversation swirled in her mind. She hated how they had left things and regretted that she hadn’t made Ben listen to her explanations regarding what she knew about the affair between Tom and Lee. With her mind elsewhere, she paid no attention to the person entering CuriosiTEAS as she exited.

BAM!

“Watch it!” Rebecca Williams barked, stepping back to regain her footing. As her eyes settled on Emma, a sly smirk suddenly crossed her face and her short temper instantly evaporated. “Oh, Emma. Hi!”

“Hello, Rebecca,” Emma replied somewhat quizzically at Ben’s ex-wife as she wiped at the large coffee stain on the front of her blue cotton blouse with the edge of her sleeve.

“I’m glad I bumped into you actually.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

Rebecca turned her attention to the black Gucci handbag that hung from her bent elbow and fished about inside it for something. “Because,” she began as she pulled out a pair of white socks and handed them to a confused Emma. “I was hoping you could give these back to Ben. He left them in my bedroom on Friday afternoon, and I thought he might be missing them.”

Emma looked at the pair of socks sitting in the palm of her hand, and her heart broke as Rebecca’s words sunk in.

“If you could be a doll and make sure he gets them.” Rebecca couldn’t hide the satisfied smirk that tugged at the corners of her mouth as she twisted the knife. “I’m sure Ben would really appreciate having them back.”

Emma’s confusion turned to animosity, and her eyes blazed with rage. She could clearly see the sick joy Rebecca was getting from taunting her, and Emma’s body tingled as she suppressed the urge to call the devious woman every four-letter word there was.

“Anyway, I should be going. I’ve got a busy day. You know how it is,” Rebecca said with a satisfied expression that almost bordered on a snarl. She tinkled her fingers in a wave goodbye and breezed past Emma into the café without another thought of the grenade that she had so cruelly lobbed into her life. “Ta-ta!”

Just then, before Emma had a chance to reply, her phone began ringing and vibrating in the pocket of her jeans. She looked at the socks in her left hand and the takeaway cup of coffee in her right and grunted with frustration. Balancing the items in one hand, she pulled the iPhone from her pocket and glanced at the screen. A slight frown creased her brow.

“Kate?” She said nervously. It had been just over a week since the friends had spoken, and Emma knew instinctively that something was amiss. “Um, yeah, okay, sure. I’ll come right over.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Room 12, Cardiac Ward
St. George’s Hospital, London

Nick Harrington-Jones shifted in his new hospital bed as he struggled to get comfortable and free the shooting sciatic pain that radiated down his left thigh. His usually handsome face was marked with small cuts held together by sutures, while his heavily bruised eyes and forehead were visible reminders of the car accident that he had been lucky to survive. Under the scratchy bedsheets were the reminders others couldn’t see – the broken leg, the fractured ribs, and the scar down the centre of his chest from the emergency surgery. Unable to get comfortable, he looked at the television and rolled his eyes as an episode of “Sunday with Laura Kuenssberg” began. He was in enough agony as it was already without subjecting himself to that. As he reached for the remote control and winced at the movement, the door to his room opened. A wave of dread washed over him as he recognised the figure in the doorway.

“Hello, Nicky,” said his adoptive mother, Julia Harrington-Jones.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Bluebell Cottage,
Glendale

Jack Campbell stepped through the front door of Bluebell Cottage and couldn’t quell the wave of anxiety that stirred within him about what lay ahead. He had received a text message from Lee half an hour earlier requesting they meet to discuss some things, and although it had only been a few weeks since he had left the home that they had shared for nearly a decade, it felt like a lifetime had passed.

“Hey,” Lee said, rising from the sofa and offering his estranged husband a weak smile laced with nervousness as he watched him enter the living room. “Thanks for coming over so quickly.”

Although only separated by a short distance, Jack couldn’t ignore the emotional ocean of distrust and hurt that now separated them. He fiddled with his house keys and looked down at his scuffed sneakers – anything to avoid the uncomfortable eye contact. “It sounded important.” He then looked around the room, and a heavy frown crossed his forehead as he noticed two large duffle bags and a backpack waiting by the door. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Err, yeah, I am,” Lee replied and glanced over at the bags. This is what he had wanted to talk about.

“Where?”

Lee cleared his throat. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. “Manchester. I’m getting the four o’clock train.”

The words landed like a blow, and Jack blinked, feeling the ground rumble beneath him. “What?”

“Steven and Mitch have said I can stay with them for a few weeks while I sort some things out.”

“What things?”

“A place to stay. A job.”

Jack’s frown deepened, and he shook his head, trying to process the monumental bombshell Lee had just dropped on him. “But Glendale is your home.”

“It isn’t,” Lee replied rather sombrely as he looked back at Jack and wrung his hands. “Not anymore. I can’t stay here. In the village. In this house. Not after what I’ve done.”

Jack looked downcast and felt the sharp sting of tears in his eyes. He tried unsuccessfully to blink them away.

“How can you just leave?” He asked rather breathlessly, as if Lee had just knocked the wind from his sails. Although there was a part of Jack that knew their marriage was over, hearing Lee’s plans only seemed to break his heart further, if that was even possible.

Lee let out a deep exhale of breath as he steadied his emotions. “How can I stay? There are too many memories here now, Jack. Too many reminders.”

“Of him, you mean.”

Although not meant to hurt, the words that slipped from Jack’s lips stung like nettles. Lee looked back at him with a resigned look and nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

Jack stood there, torn between the anger in his chest and the ache in his heart. He wanted to reach out and hold Lee and tell him that they could find a way through the mess. But, in reality, they had both begun to pull away from each other, not just physically but emotionally.

“We were happy once, weren’t we?” He asked, glancing back at him through glassy eyes as he chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“Once,” Lee replied with a small, sad nod. “But this hasn’t been a happy marriage for a long time now, Jack. Surely you agree with that?”

After a moment, Jack reluctantly nodded in agreement.

“People in happy marriages don’t have affairs, Jack. People in happy marriages don’t do what I did.” Lee looked down at his platinum Tiffany wedding band and spun it around on his finger with his thumb. He remembered the day they bought it at the Covent Garden store; the day Jack had slid it onto his finger at the wedding; and the first day he removed it to sleep with someone else. The silver symbol of eternity was tarnished, and it was all because of him. Lee stepped towards Jack and slid the wedding band from his finger. He took Jack’s right hand, turned it over, and placed the ring in his palm. “You’re a good man, Jack. I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

Looking at the wedding band sitting in the palm of his trembling hand, Jack sniffed as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

In a final tender moment, Lee looked at his husband with a soft smile and wiped away the tear with his thumb. “I hope you find the happy ever after that you deserve, because you do deserve that, Jack. I’ll be in touch once I’m settled,” he said before kissing Jack tenderly on the cheek and taking one last look at the man whose heart he had shattered. “Goodbye, Jack.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Room 12, Cardiac Ward
St. George’s Hospital, London

“Get out!” Nick bellowed from his hospital bed, his eyes ablaze with anger as he watched his adoptive mother step into the room.

Julia stood at the foot of the bed and ignored her son’s barked instructions. “Nicky, please. Just hear me out.”

Nick shifted, and the starchy bedsheets rustled. Fury radiated off him as his eyes narrowed to slits. “What could I possibly want to hear from you?”

“I want to explain everything. To make you see—”

“That you’re a cold-hearted, narcissistic bitch? That you’re nothing but a horrible monster devoid of any human emotion and decency? That you’re a liar and a fraud? Newsflash, Julia, I already knew that.”

The use of her name, said with a cruel snarl for emphasis, was a bitter blow that knocked Julia off kilter. Nick had meant for it to hurt like a punch in the nose, and it did. “Nicky, I’m your mother.”

“But you’re not, though!” Nick snuffled and shook his head at Julia’s ridiculous attempts to pacify him. “You’re not. You know, my whole life I’ve tried to live up to the impossible expectations you put on your ‘little Nicky’, to make my mother proud, and this whole time, this whole time, you weren’t her at all. That’s sick. That’s fucked up, Aunty Julia!”

Aunty Julia. The two words sliced through her heart like a rusty blade. “Nicky—”

Nick sensed he had his adoptive mother on the ropes and could smell blood. The corners of his mouth snarled, and for the first time, Julia recognised the ugliness of the nasty Bancroft and Harrington-Jones genes in him. “You know what you are to me, Julia?” He hissed, almost with enjoyment. “Dead! You’re dead to me. I never want to see you again for the rest of my life! Do I make myself clear?”

Julia swallowed. It was just shy of two weeks since Nick’s accident, and she worried that this heated exchange of words could see him suffer another cardiac event. While she understood his hurt and frustrations, she also wasn’t willing to be his emotional punching bag. “I understand that you’re angry and you’re lashing out, but you don’t get to talk to me like this.”

“Oh, I’m beyond fucking angry!”

“Nicky, you need to calm down. It’s not good for your heart after everything that—”

“Fuck your concern, fuck your ‘Nicky’ and fuck you!”

Julia’s eyes widened in horror as she struggled to comprehend the level of hatred that Nick held for her in his heart. “How dare you!”

“How dare I? HOW DARE I? You just don’t get it, do you? There’s no path back from this. You have destroyed me. You almost killed me!”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? So, none of this is because of you?”

“Your accident—”

“That you caused.”

Julia stopped. There was no reasoning with her son. He was too angry, too bitter, and too filled with hate to listen to anything she had to say.

A cruel smirk danced across Nick’s lips, and he sensed victory. “Oh, giving up so easily?” He lobbed the taunt at Julia and titled his, anticipating impact. “That’s not like you, Julia. That’s not like you at all.”

Julia felt her face harden and her lips tighten. “Your cruel and nasty tongue always was the ugliest part of you,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

Nick scoffed, rebuffing his mother’s observation. “Then I must’ve learnt from the master.”

“You’re right.”

The admission caught Nick unawares.

Julia leaned forward, her hands gripping the railing at the foot of the bed to steady herself as her knuckles turned white. “I know you’re just trying to hurt me, but you’re right. Many of your worst characteristics are mine. So, whether you like it or not, I am your mother, Nicky. I raised you. I did every night feed. I wiped every tear. I kissed every scraped knee. And I taught you everything you know. So, you can spew as much hatred at me as you like, but at your core, you’ll always be my son because you’ll always carry those traits that you learnt from me in here,” she said, pressing a hand against her chest. “You’ll always be a Harrington-Jones at heart.”

His mother’s words pierced his fragile heart, and Nick’s rage boiled over. “Get the fuck out before I have the nurses call security!” His voice ricocheted around the room.

Satisfied that she had, in some way, got through to her son, Julia nodded and straightened herself out. She smoothed down her long, flowy cardigan and picked a ball of lint from her sleeve before she smacked her lips and let out a soft exhale of breath. She turned on her heel and moved towards the door. As she gripped the door handle, Julia looked back over her shoulder at her son.

“I may be many things, Nicky, and you can hate me all you want, but no matter what you think, I’ve always loved you more than anyone else in this world. I still do, and I always will.”

Without another word, Julia opened the door and exited Nick’s room. In the corridor, she stood with her back pressed against the wall and tried to comprehend the enormity of what had just gone down. Julia realised there was a very real chance that she had just lost her precious Nicky forever.

The sudden ringing of her iPhone startled her from her thoughts, and Julia instinctively fished the device out of her Louis Vuitton handbag. She frowned as she recognised the name illuminated on the screen.

Damon Winters

Accepting the call from the private investigator she had hired a few weeks ago, Julia pressed the phone to her ear. “Damon? Yes, that’s correct. I’m sorry? W… what did you just say?”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Greystone Downs,
Glendale

While Kate Spencer stood at the kitchen counter preparing two mugs of coffee, Emma sat at the table in the centre of the room. The scent of freshly brewed beverages tempted her senses, but Emma couldn’t shift her focus from what she stared at through the kitchen window. In the distance, across the farmyard, loomed the barn in which Tom had taken his own life. Guilt gnawed at her insides. If only she had kept Tom’s secret and not pushed for him to tell Kate the truth, maybe, just maybe, things would have been different.

“Here you go,” Kate said in her native Welsh tongue as she placed an oversized mug filled to the brim on the table in front of Emma before slipping into the chair opposite.

“Thank you,” Emma replied as she wrapped her hands around the hot mug. She noticed that Kate couldn’t look her in the eye, and Emma’s guilt only amplified. “How are you holding up?”

“My husband killed himself, Emma. How do you think I’m holding up?”

The words hung heavy in the air, and Emma instinctively lowered her head, her eyes dropping.

Kate realised her mistake and let out a deep exhale of breath. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Em, I didn’t…”

“It’s okay.”

“But it’s not, though. Nothing’s okay, and it never will be again.”

Concern creased Emma’s brow as she met Kate’s eyes for the first time, and she felt a rush of shame.

Kate changed tact, choosing to ignore her own short-tempered response. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Of course.”

“I found these.”

Kate picked up two pieces of paper and passed them across the table to Emma, who accepted them and instantly recognised the prescriptions.

“Tom hadn’t had them filled. He was off his antidepressants, so I can only assume…” Kate’s sentence dissolved into the air as she searched Emma’s eyes for an answer, while the local doctor looked at the prescriptions that she had given Tom a few weeks ago. “There was also this one.”

Emma accepted the third prescription from Kate, and her heart dropped to her stomach.

“It’s for Doxycycline,” Kate continued, swallowing nervously as she sensed the air in the kitchen tightening. “I Googled it, and it is an antibiotic. But he hadn’t had that one filled either. I know he came to see you a few times, and I was just wondering if… was he okay, Em? What did he need antibiotics for?”

Emma shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she placed the prescriptions on the tabletop and looked down at her coffee. “Kate, I—”

“Please, Emma,” Kate said, her voice tinged with desperation and pleading for some sort of explanation as to why her husband had done the unthinkable and ended everything. “I’m going out of my mind trying to piece it all together. I just need some answers. Please.”

Emma felt her breathing shudder as she realised Kate wasn’t going to let the matter go.

“Please, Em.”

Emma let out a deep exhale and prepared to deliver a truth that would be yet another cruel blow to Kate’s already broken heart. “Tom… Tom had Chlamydia, and the Doxycycline was to treat it.”

Kate’s face dropped. “What?”

“Kate, I—”

“He had Chlamydia?”

Emma nodded.

It all clicked into place for Kate. The affair. The Chlamydia. The lies. The deceit. The depression. The death. She blinked back at her friend, realising that from the date on the prescription, Emma must’ve known about Tom’s infidelity for at least six weeks. “But you didn’t say anything.”

“It wasn’t my place,” Emma replied with a heaviness to her voice.

An anger began to burble inside Kate. “Wasn’t your place? Wasn’t your place?”

“I told him to tell you about the affair, I promise you, Kate. I—”

“You knew!”

The world stopped, and Emma caught her breath.

“You knew that Tom was having an affair, and you didn’t tell me? You knew!” Kate’s voice trembled as piece by piece the puzzle came together. She sat back in her chair while simultaneously stretching up as if being lifted by marionette strings. The world fizzed and popped, flares flashed in her eyes, and everything seemed to be amplified in Dolby surround sound. The secret affair wasn’t so secret after all, and she felt humiliated.

Emma could see Kate’s face darkening as her cheeks flushed a crimson red. “How could I?”

“How couldn’t you?” Kate snapped and slammed a fist against the kitchen table. The jolt caused the coffee to splash about and tip over the rim of their mugs. “You’re supposed to be your friend, Emma. You’re supposed to be your friend!”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Kate—”

“My husband was having a fucking affair that you knew about, and you said nothing, Emma!” Fury ripped through Kate’s body, and she pushed herself up, her chair scraping against the flagstone floor as she dragged her hands through her wavy reddish-brown hair in frustration. “Every day you looked me in the eye and said nothing!”

Emma couldn’t stop her eyes from filling with tears. Tears of fear. Tears of shame. Tears of guilt.

“How long?” Kate demanded, pressing her palms against the table as she leaned towards Emma, her nostrils flaring in anger. “How long did you know?”

“About two months.”

Kate gasped as the air escaped her lungs. “Omigod!”

Emma rose to her feet, remembering what her grandfather had taught her – never let someone stand over you in an argument. “I told him to tell you, Kate. I promise you I did,” she said as desperation crept into her voice and she felt the foundations of their friendship shudder and crack. “I put pressure on him to come clean, and I said that if he didn’t tell you the truth, then I would.”

A heavy frown creased Kate’s brow. “You what?”

“I—”

“You threatened him?”

Emma shook her head and raised a hand in protest. “No,” she said rather urgently, realising she was losing her. “I was torn between my duty as his doctor and my loyalty to you as a friend. I didn’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Well, how did that turn out?”

The words stung, and Emma suddenly looked downcast. She was fighting a losing battle against Kate’s anger, confusion, and hurt. “Kate, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too,” Kate replied with a sadness that seemed to announce the imminent end of their friendship. “If you really were my friend, you would’ve told me, Emma. You would’ve found some way to tell me the truth. But instead, you kept quiet, and that makes you complicit.”

“I tried—”

“To get him to confess, yes, I heard you the first time.”

A silence settled over the pair as they both thought about the past few moments. About the affair. About Tom. About how their own actions may have contributed to his suicide.

“I think you should go, Emma,” Kate said, breaking the silence as she pressed her lips tightly together. “I just want to be alone.”

Emma felt her heart break and the final thread of their friendship sever. “If there’s anything I can do…”

Kate cocked an eyebrow and let out a grunt of irritation. “I think you’ve done quite enough, don’t you?”

Tears pooled at Emma’s eyelids. “I’m so sorry, Kate. I never meant to hurt you. I was trying to protect you. I hope in time that you can see things from my side and find it in your heart to forgive me.”

Kate’s lips twitched and seemed to snarl at the corners. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

With a reluctant acceptance, Emma nodded, thanked Kate for the coffee – of which she hadn’t had a drop – and showed herself out. As the front door closed with a click, Kate closed her heart to a friendship with Emma and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

All Saints Church,
Glendale

“Jack?” Reverend Turner said with surprise as he entered the nave from the vestry to find the local police sergeant sitting on a wooden pew with his head bowed as if praying.

With his fingers tracing the smooth wooden surface, Jack looked up and felt a wave of comfort when he saw the vicar’s friendly smile. “Sorry, the door was open and—”

“You don’t need to apologise. The door will always be open to those who need it.”

Jack forced a smile as Reverend Turner slipped into the pew and sat beside him. “We don’t see you in here very often.”

“Yeah, this place isn’t really my scene,” Jack replied with the hint of a smile as he glanced back at the vicar before looking around. The church, restored in the early 19^th century, felt safe and serene, even though Jack wasn’t a believer. The stone walls, coloured windows, and religious artefacts seemed to calm his spirit and ease his troubled mind. “No offence.”

“None taken.” A look of concern crossed Reverend Turner’s face as he sensed Jack’s distress. “Are you okay?”

There was a moment of hesitation.

“I can’t stop thinking about it. About Tom, I mean,” Jack said, his voice laden down with guilt and regret. “I had no right to say what I did, and I shouldn’t have hit him. If I’d just kept my mouth shut—”

“Jack,” Reverend Turner interrupted gently. “You’re carrying a burden that isn’t yours to bear. What happened between you and Tom… it was a moment of anger, yes. But you cannot hold yourself accountable for his choices.”

Jack looked down, his gaze fixed on the stone floor. “But I can’t shake the feeling that if I’d handled it differently, maybe…”

Reverend Turner shifted closer, placing a supportive hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Listen,” he began with a reassuring voice. “Tom’s pain was his own. You can’t rewrite the past, and you need to forgive yourself.”

Jack looked up and met the Reverend Turner’s gaze. For the briefest of moments, they held each other’s stare before the vicar’s expression shifted and his brow furrowed, as if there was something more that he couldn’t articulate. He looked across the church towards the stained-glass windows in the chancel of Mary, Jesus, and Joseph and said a silent prayer, asking for strength.

“You’re a good man, Jack,” Revered Turner said, patting Jack’s shoulder before removing his hand. “Don’t let one impulsive moment define the rest of your life.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Greenview Cottage,
Glendale

“Kate!” Marion Atkins said, surprised to see her friend standing on her doorstep, as she answered the knock that had sounded moments earlier.

Kate forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and it was apparent she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders following her discussion with Emma. “Hi, Marion.”

“How are you holding up?”

Kate sighed a weary sigh. “I really wish people would stop asking me that.”

“I’m sorry,” Marion replied, feeling chastised, although she knew Kate didn’t mean it in that way.

“No, I’m sorry.” Kate’s cheeks pinkened with embarrassment, and she silently scolded herself. “I didn’t mean it to come across like that. I appreciate the concern,” she said in her Welsh accent. “I’m okay; well, I will be.”

Marion smiled and stepped aside, allowing Kate to enter her home. “Please, come in.”

“No, you’re okay,” Kate replied with a soft shake of her head and a gentle smile, grateful for the invitation. “I won’t stay long. I just came to give you this.”

As she accepted a folded piece of paper from Kate, Marion unfolded it and frowned as her eyes scanned the typed letter. “You’re resigning?”

“Yes. Effective immediately. I’m sorry.”

“But… why?”

“Because I can’t work there anymore,” Kate admitted with a short but sharp inhale and exhale of breath. “After everything that’s happened with Lee and Emma, I—”

“Emma?” Marion interrupted, confused at what the new doctor had to do with Kate’s decision to resign as receptionist of the surgery. “What’s happened with Emma?”

“She knew about the affair.”

“What?”

“She knew about Tom and Lee, and she didn’t tell me.”

The mention of her own son sent a prickle of unease ripping through Marion. She had been left gobsmacked when told about Lee and Tom’s affair, but the whispers of gossip that had followed her ever since had reminded her about the pitfalls of village life.

“I’m sorry for what happened,” she said, unable to comprehend how Kate was functioning, let alone coming to terms with everything that had happened in such a short space of time.

Kate offered a friendly yet thankful smile. “You don’t need to apologise for your son, Marion. His actions aren’t a reflection on you.”

Marion nodded, grateful for the understanding but still unable to shift her own guilt. She looked back at the letter before returning her gaze to meet Kate’s. “And you’re sure about this?”

Kate nodded. “Yes. I have a farm to run now.”

“Maybe just take a few days,” Marion suggested, more out of hope for her own professional interests as finding a new receptionist without any interim cover would be difficult. “Take some bereavement leave. A few weeks away from work might help you see things a bit clearer.”

“No, I’m sorry, Marion,” Kate replied, firm in her decision. “My mind is made up. I need to focus on the farm now. I need to do this. For my family. For Tom. For me.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Ashbourne House,
Glendale

In his study, sat in an aged leather Chesterfield armchair, James Harrington-Jones turned the page of the book he was reading and lifted a glass of malt whisky to his lips. He took a sip, allowing the liquid to warm him from within as he enjoyed the peace and quiet.

On a small oak table to his side, his phone rang, slicing through the silence like a blade. From over the top of his glasses, James glanced across at the screen. It was her – Natalie Sinclair. He had thought he was done with this tangled mess, that he could finally bury the chaos she had stirred up in his life when he severed their ties and agreed to pay her a tidy sum to buy her silence. He rejected the call, but she instantly phoned again. James knew he shouldn’t answer, but curiosity got the better of him. He placed a bookmark so as not to lose his place, closed the book and placed it on the side table, removed his glasses, picked up the phone, and inhaled deeply.

“Natalie,” he said in his smooth voice.

The nineteen-year-old’s voice, tarnished with loathing and bitterness, came down the line. “Oh, so you do answer your phone!”

“What do you want?”

“I want to see you.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” James snuffed, shaking his head. The last thing he wanted was to fall into the raven-haired teens web of lies once again.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to call the shots here, James, do you?” Natalie purred with a smugness that almost made his blood run cold.

“I won’t be threatened by you, Natalie.”

“Whose threatening? I’m just asking to see you.”

“No,” James’ answer was clear and firm. “You got what you wanted, and that’s the end of it.”

He heard Natalie take in a long, slow breath, and he could picture her sitting there, twisting a dark lock of hair around her finger as she formulated another wicked plan.

“You know, you really should be a lot nicer to me, James.”

“And why would I be nice to you? You’re nothing but a shitstain on humanity.”

“Because I’m the one who can bring your perfect little world crashing down around you.”

James scoffed, unphased by the vixen’s empty threats. He had paid a substantial sum in exchange for her destroying the video of them sleeping together. He had watched her do it, so he knew she had no leverage. “I don’t think you realise who you’re messing with.”

But his warning missed the mark, and instead, a defiant Natalie fired one of her own off in reply. “And I don’t think you realise who you’re messing with.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Natalie. I watched you delete the videos, so it is now just your word against mine. Now if you’ll excuse me—”

A chuckle from the other end silenced James, and he swallowed heavily.

“Oh, James, dear sweet, James,” Natalie teased like a cat batting about a mouse. “My, oh my, how you grossly underestimate me. If you’re not here at the B&B by four o’clock, then expect me to blow your perfect little world apart.”

The call ended, and the clock started ticking.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Room 4, Ward 2,
Medway Maritime Hospital, Kent

Ashwin Patel meticulously folded a pair of pyjamas and packed them into his overnight bag. It had been eleven days since he had been beaten by his wife, Neha, and fallen, cracking his head on the coffee table that caused a diastatic fracture to the back of his skull. But finally, he was being discharged and was allowed to go home – not that there was anything to go home to.

“All set?” Geeta Sharma asked her son-in-law as she appeared in the doorway sporting a hopeful smile.

Ashwin took a deep breath, then nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

Geeta crossed the room and picked up Ashwin’s bag from the bed.

“I can carry it.”

“Nonsense,” Geeta said, brushing away Ashwin’s suggestion as if it were an annoying fly. “I’m quite capable of carrying a bag with a few clothes in it.” She placed a hand on Ashwin’s arm and squeezed it in support. “Samir is waiting with the car in the pick-up bay.”

As Ashwin and his mother-in-law walked through the corridors of the hospital, there was an uneasy silence between them. Neither one wanted to mention the events that had brought them to this point, but the awkwardness was bordering on suffocating.

Ashwin was the one to break the silence. “Has there been an update on Neha?”

Geeta side-eyed her son-in-law as they kept walking, and soon the doors to the lift came into sight. “She was denied bail, and she’s been moved to Bronzefield Prison in Surrey.” The words came so freely and matter-of-factly that they were jarring. “The lawyer says there is a very good chance that she will be going down for what she did to you and Poppy.”

As they reached the lift and Ashwin pushed the down button, a coldness settled across his heart, and for the first time he didn’t make excuses for his wife’s behaviour.

“Good,” he said, and Geeta whipped her head in his direction. “After what she’s done, it’s what she deserves. But we’ll need to tell them about the baby.”

“Baby?” A heavy frown settled across Geeta’s face. “What baby?”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

The Store,
Glendale

“Afternoon, Queenie,” Hilda Hollingsworth greeted the elderly shopkeeper as she made her way to the counter carrying a carton of milk and a packet of chocolate hobnobs.

“’ello, Lovie!” Queenie Baxter replied, her eyes crinkling into a smile as she looked at the items Hilda had placed on the counter and began to ring them up on the till.

As she waited for Queenie to finish, Hilda’s gaze drifted to the framed photo behind the counter – a 1955 portrait of the late Queen Elizabeth II – that had kept a watchful eye over Queenie’s shoulder since she had taken on the business in 1960 following her father’s death.

“That brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Hilda mused, nodding towards it.

Queenie nodded, and a soft sigh escaped her lips. “Sure does. I remember the day she became queen – just a young girl, really. We all gathered ‘round the wireless to listen to the announcement.” The till clanged open. “Three pound forty.”

Hilda opened her purse and gathered together a collection of coins before handing them over. “I still remember her Christmas speeches. Always felt like she was speaking directly to us, sharin’ a bit of her heart.”

“She wos,” Queenie replied as she seemed to disappear into her nostalgic memories. “She always ‘ad a way of makin’ us feel united. A proper queen she wos!”

“Can you believe it’s been two years?”

“No.” There was a sadness to Queenie that seemed to make her shoulders sag. She remembered that Thursday evening in 2022 when she heard the news, and then how she had battled against her own ageing body to stand in line for hours in London to spend just a few seconds passing through Westminster Hall to pay her respects to the woman she felt she knew intimately. The memory of the coffin made her eyes become misty. “Feels like just yester-dee.”

Hilda’s head titled to the side as her eyes settled back on the photograph of the young woman who gave up her life. “All that sacrifice and service, and for what?”

“For duty. For us.”

“There’ll never be another like her.”

“No, there won’t.”

Hilda’s mouth crumpled as she felt the twinges of emotion beginning to get the better of her. “Thank you, ma’am, for everything.”

As a silence of reflection settled over them, the peace was abruptly shattered by the low growl of an approaching motorcycle. Queenie winced and covered her ears, while Hilda turned towards the window just as the bike pulled up outside. The engine cut off, and the rider dismounted before removing their helmet.

Hilda felt a flutter as she watched the young man, who seemed to carry himself with a cocky confidence. His dark hair was swept back, he sported a vintage Oasis band t-shirt that hugged his toned frame, his chunky diamond earring glinted in the sunlight, and his right bicep was covered in tattoos.

The bell above the door tinkled as it swung open, and he strode inside.

“Oop, James Dean’s entered the buildin’,” Queenie commented with a prickly tone.

Hilda couldn’t shift her attention from the handsome young man. He was in his early to mid-twenties, and she found herself unable to look away.

“Hey there,” he said, his voice smooth like the rumble of his bike, as he flashed a devilishly handsome grin and fired a wink in Hilda’s direction. “See somethin’ ya like?”

Hilda felt her cheeks warm. “Wh… I… No, I… What…?”

Queenie eyed the young man suspiciously. She was aware of his type – all bravado and no package.

The young man chuckled, enjoying the fact he had practically rendered Hilda speechless. He took her hand in his and kissed the top of it gently. “Bonjour, ma belle. Enchanté de vous rencontrer. Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?”

Hilda’s cheeks burned a deep shade of red, and the flush moved down her chest. “And a voo-voo koo-koo-cachoo to you too,” she replied, charmed by his fluent French despite the fact he had a distinct East London accent.

Queenie rolled her eyes and started looking around at the floor behind the counter. The young man noticed and frowned.

“You lost somethin’?”

“Yeah,” Queenie said, looking back at the dark-haired Lothario, “me sick bucket. Now are ya buyin’ somethin’ or are ya just a sex pest?”

The young man pulled a face, as if he could actually feel the blow delivered to his ego. “Ouch. She has claws.”

“An’ I ain’t afraid to use ‘em. Now answer the question, shopper or sex pest?”

“Shopper. A pack of Benson & Hedges blue thanks, sweetheart.”

Queenie’s lips curled involuntarily. “Ya can pack that in an’ all or I’ll knock every one of them tic-tac teeth outta ya head, y’hear?”

The young man saluted as Queenie lifted her tired bones from her usual chair behind the counter and hobbled the few feet to the locked cigarette case.

Dumbstruck by his bravado and beauty, Hilda found herself staring, and her cheeks flared when the young man looked back, catching her in the act. Hilda quickly diverted her attention to the motorcycle.

“You can ride it if you want? I like ‘em old,” the young man said with a mischievous glint in his eye and a cheeky grin that would make hearts melt.

Hilda’s eyes practically bulged out of her head, and her mouth dropped open. “I beg yours?”

Queenie whipped her head back in the young man’s direction and practically choked getting her words out. “I bloody knew it! Sex pest!”

The young man let out a loud chuckle, tickled that his joke had garnered the reaction he’d hoped for, and brushed a hand across his mouth and stubbly cheeks. “My bike!” He said, nodding through the window towards his vintage 1952 Vincent Rapide motorcycle. “I can take you for a ride if you like.”

Hilda felt like accepting before Queenie quickly interjected.

“She’s fine,” she said, slamming the box of cigarettes down on the counter. “Twen’y quid.”

“What?” The young man practically stumbled backwards at the outrageous price. “They’re only thirteen pounds in Tesco!”

“Yeah? Well, I ain’t Tesco,” Queenie snapped in her sharpest tone. “An’, ‘cause I don’t like the look of ya, they’re twen’y quid.”

Removing his black leather wallet from the pocket of his denim jeans, the young man reluctantly handed over a twenty pound note. “You’ll come ‘round. Everyone always ends up lovin’ me.”

Queenie’s mouth curled with annoyance. “Cocky shi—”

“Planning on sticking around for a few days, are we?” Hilda’s words cut across Queenie’s.

“A few days? Nah, darlin’, I’m here for good.”

“Ya wot?” Queenie practically squawked like a parrot. “Wot ya mean?”

The young man looked back at Queenie and flashed her his most charming and dazzling smile. “My folks have just bought Willow Cottage. We’re movin’ in in a couple of weeks.”

Queenie and Hilda looked at each other in a stunned silence. While Hilda was secretly pleased at the development, Queenie wondered why Audrey hadn’t told her.

The young man picked up the packet of cigarettes, tossed them into the air, and caught them again before stuffing the box into the breast pocket of his t-shirt. “So you’re gonna be seein’ a lot more of me ‘round here. And I promise ya, you’re gonna love me.”

Hilda raised a curious eyebrow. “What did you say your name was?”

“Didn’t,” the young man replied before holding out his hand to shake Hilda’s. “I’m Leo. Leo Worchester. Nice to meet ya.”

An audible groan escaped Queenie’s lips as her body crumpled in on itself. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me!”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Glendale,
England

A dark 2024 Hyundai Santa Fe rolled slowly through the village, passing The Oak & Vine, navigating around the village green, and moving down Queen Victoria Street before coming to a gentle stop outside Willow Cottage. The SUV idled for a moment before the engine cut out and the doors opened as three people climbed out. A middle-aged dark-haired man, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a black leather jacket over a white t-shirt and jeans, exited the driver’s side; a 40-something woman, with wavy brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders, hopped out of the passenger’s side and removed her oversized Burberry sunglasses to reveal her flawless beauty; while a teenaged girl – the spitting image of the older woman – stepped out of one of the back passenger doors and smiled as a gentle breeze teased the edges of her bohemian style floral frock.

The three took a moment to absorb their new surroundings. The afternoon air, sweetened by the scent of the final blooms of the season, was warm for September. The man inhaled deeply, allowing the peace and tranquillity of Glendale to enter his lungs for the first time in over a decade.

Finally, the trio turned and looked at Audrey Granger’s home of Willow Cottage. The charming stone house, nestled amongst an immaculately maintained garden of lavender, roses, sunflowers, and dahlias, was almost too perfect for words, while the correx board for sale sign was now hidden behind a SOLD sticker.

“Here we are,” announced Gareth Worchester, excitement bubbling in his chest as he drank in the beauty of the home and the calm quiet of the countryside. “Home sweet home.”

The teenage girl, named Ruby, stepped forward, and her fingertips danced along the pointed tips of the pastel green picket fence as she surveyed the cottage and the lush garden that sprawled around it. “It’s cute,” she remarked as a smile tugged at her lips.

Yasmin walked over and hugged her husband, leaning against him as her head nestled comfortably against his chest. “It’s perfect,” she said, admiring the cottage’s charm. Gareth wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head in silent agreement.

“Took ya time!”

The voice from across the street was familiar, and the family turned to see Leo existing Queenie’s store. He crossed the road to join them. “Some of us have been here for ages!”

Gareth smiled at his adult son and then cast another eye around the quaint village he had grown up in. “And some of us never left.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Pineview House,
Glendale

In the ensuite bathroom just off the master bedroom, Charlotte Sinclair stared down at the small white stick in her hand. Two pink lines. It was official. After a year of heartache and disappointment, she was finally pregnant. A mix of disbelief and joy flooded her, and she couldn’t wait until her husband, Mark, was back from the garden centre so she could share the good news. Immediately, her mind began picking our nursery colours, and she thought of all the cute tiny outfits she would have to buy. Following the heartache she knew Mark had felt after his falling out with his daughter, Natalie, she hoped this news would brighten his spirits and finally bring the love and joy into their household that they’d both so desperately longed for.

Downstairs, the doorbell chimed. Charlotte hesitated and weighed up her options. The doorbell rang again and again. Charlotte glanced once more at the positive test and couldn’t wipe the broad Cheshire-cat-like smile from her face. The doorbell chimed again.

“Coming!” Charlotte yelled, placing the pregnancy test down on the vanity, before moving downstairs to seek out who was so desperately needing her attention.

As she pulled the front door open, Charlotte’s eyes widened in surprise. “Victoria?” She said as her heart dropped, instantly recognising the sadness that seemed to cling to her sister like a wet blanket. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

Without waiting for an invitation, Victoria Halifax stepped inside. “I… I’ve left him,” she said as her chin quivered and tears pooled at her eyelids. It was then Charlotte noticed the mound of suitcases. “I’ve left Paul, Lottie. My marriage is over.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Room 12, Cardiac Ward
St. George’s Hospital, London

Propped up against a pillow in his hospital bed, Nick stared off into the distance, paying no attention to the television that was fixed to the wall opposite. The door to his room opened, and his fiancée, Jasmine Atkins, entered, munching on a crisp as she stuffed a hand inside the packet to retrieve another. The movement pulled Nick from his thoughts, and he smiled at her, welcoming her return.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Jasmine said as she sat in the chair beside Nick’s bed, her greasy fingers interlocking with his in a sweet moment of intimacy.

“I’m okay. Just… thinking.”

Jasmine tilted her head. “About what?”

Nick took a deep breath and winced in pain as the air filled his lungs. “I think I want to see my mum.”

Jasmine screamed internally and fought the urge to roll her eyes. After everything that had happened, Nick – as always – still bowed down to worship at the temple of Julia Harrington-Jones. “Okay,” she said, shifting her expression and forcing a smile. “I’ll give Julia a call.”

“No,” Nick quickly replied with an urgency that caught Jasmine by surprise and stopped her mid-chew. “I meant Emma. I want to see Emma. I think I’m ready to talk to her about everything.”

Jasmine tried to hide the look of shock that was plastered across her face – it didn’t work. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Nick replied as a soft smile played on his lips. “Yeah, I am. I want to see Emma. She is my mum after all.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Glendale Hall,
Glendale

A graphite grey Mercedes S-Class sedan screeched to a halt outside Glendale Hall, the gravel crunching and rumbling under the tyres, before the driver’s side door flew open. With a face like thunder and her heart pounding in her chest, Julia exited the vehicle, slammed the door shut, and stormed up the stone steps that led her straight to her mother’s front door. Without a second thought, she raised a fist and slammed it against the oak. The sound seemed to boom around the Victorian manor house, and Julia didn’t wait for a response. She banged again and again and again, each time with more fury, as the heat of her anger prickled and tingled.

“Julia, darling, what a surprise,” Judith Bancroft said, looking calm and poised as she opened the front door. Her silver pixie cut was, as always, immaculately styled, and she looked effortlessly chic and comfy in dark slacks and a Merino wool blue cardigan. “You should have called. I would have told Enid to stay and prepare something for—”

“Oh, shut up, mother!” Julia’s voice cracked with fury as she shoved past Judith and crossed the threshold into her familial home. “I’m sick of the Mother Teresa act.”

Judith blinked, turning her head as her eyes followed Julia into the drawing room. “What’s crawled into your knickers and made you so grumpy?” She asked, closing the front door and marching after her daughter.

Exasperated, Julia placed her hands on her hips, creating triangles with her arms, and spun on her heel to glare back in her mother’s direction. “You really are the most vile person. All you do is lie and cause misery.”

Judith’s face hardened and her lips pressed into a line. “Oh, here we go with the usual overdramatics. So, what have I done this time, Julia?”

“I know what you did to Betty Worchester when you found out the truth.”

“What are you talking about? You’re making no sense.”

“I’m talking about him. My brother.”

“Michael? What ha—”

“No! Not Michael!” Julia hissed as her eyes narrowed and her teeth clenched. “Gareth. The son dad had with Betty!”

Judith’s face twitched as her carefully curated appearance faltered for the first time. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” she said, flicking away Julia’s words.

“Oh, don’t you dare!” Julia’s voice rose, shaking with rage, and her eyes followed Judith as she walked across to the large sash window that looked out over the garden. “I know all about it. The affair. The baby. What you did.”

Judith looked back over her shoulder. “I did what was best for this family.”

“Enough!” Julia sighed, tired of hearing the same excuses. “I’m sick to death of hearing you say that to excuse all your horrible behaviours.”

“It wasn’t your concern, and it wasn’t something that needed to be discussed.”

Julia let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “Not my concern? You destroyed lives! You made Betty’s life misery! It was because of you that Gerald died!”

Judith turned her body and looked back at her daughter with sharp eyes. Memories of the past billowed in her mind like smoke, and she could feel her muscles tensing. “You don’t understand. It was complicated. Your father made mistakes, but we agreed to protect this family. I was only trying to preserve what we had!”

“No, you wanted to control it, like you always do. With every smile, every lie, all you do is manipulate and control.”

“Like you do.”

The words fired back at Julia stung, and Judith was satisfied.

Julia recoiled, stepping back from her mother as if being any closer to her would burn. “I may be a lot of things, mother, but I am nothing like you!”

“But you are, Julia,” Judith said, her lips twitching in delight. She moved towards her daughter and crossed her arms. “You’re exactly like me. Look what you did to keep the secret about Nick. You sold your soul, and you destroyed anyone who came close to finding out the truth. So don’t you dare stand here acting all superior when you’ve done exactly the same thing!”

“No, I never killed anyone. But you did.”

The ace up Julia’s sleeve caused Judith’s face to drop.

Julia could smell blood. She pressed on, stepping closer to her mother as her head lowered and her tight glare narrowed beneath her brow. “What happened when you told Gerald the truth about dad and Betty, huh?” Julia asked, tilting her head like a puppy. “What really happened?”

The tables had turned, and suddenly Judith felt very uncomfortable. “That was a tragedy,” she mumbled.

“Was it though?”

“Of course it was! I couldn’t help that the poor man had a heart attack.”

“No, that’s true,” Julia agreed with a nod, “but you didn’t help, did you? You dropped the bomb on him that his wife was having an affair and that his youngest son wasn’t really his, and then, when poor Gerald clutched his chest and fell to the ground, what did you do?”

Judith looked back at Julia in silence. What could she say? It was true.

“You stood there. Just like you are now. You stood there and watched him die. Do you know how sick and evil that is?” Julia paused and let the question hang in the air in the moment before she stepped up to serve the final hammer blow. “But that wasn’t the end of it, was it? No, that was just part of your revenge on poor Betty. You told her sons about the affair; you lied and manipulated them into hating their mother, and then, in one final act of revenge, you ostracised her from the village. You deliberately set out to destroy her, and for what?”

“She humiliated me!” Judith said sharply, her perfect mask slipping to reveal something darker.

“And that’s a reasonable excuse to do what you did?”

“Yes!”

“Wow,” Julia laughed, and she began to pace back and forth as her mother’s confession made her suddenly feel sick. Everything Damon had told her on the phone was true. She knew Judith could be cold and calculating, but to hear her admit that she deliberately set out to destroy Betty – including standing by while Gerald died – was something beyond words. Julia stopped and looked back at Judith. “You really are rotten to the core. You know, Nicky said something to me earlier, that he learnt all his horrible traits from the master, from me, and I agreed. But he didn’t learn them from me. He learnt them from you. Because I learnt them from you.” Julia jabbed a finger in her mother’s direction. “There isn’t one scrap of goodness in that dark heart of yours, and I see that now. After everything that has happened over the last few months, one thing has become crystal clear: everyone’s lives would be better off without you in it! You are the most wicked creature, and from this moment on, I want nothing to do with you, mother.”

“You don’t mean that,” Judith replied with a tartness that seemed to imply that, beneath it all, she wasn’t overly bothered.

“Oh, but I do. I’m washing my hands of you, mother. I am done being your little monkey. I am done being manipulated by you, and, most of all, I am done with you!”

Julia turned to walk out of the drawing room, but Judith – always determined to have the last word -fired one last shot across the bow.

“You sanctimonious bitch.”

Julia stopped in her tracks, turned, and looked back at her mother. A fresh pain stained her eyes.

“What gives you the right to come into my house and talk to me like that?” Judith snarled as she walked slowly and somewhat menacingly towards Julia, her usually cold eyes ablaze with fury. “Yes, I’ve done some terrible things, but you’re not squeaky clean either, Julia. You know, you lord it up in Ashbourne House, acting like the queen of Glendale, when in truth, nobody in this village can stand you. You’re an entitled and vile woman.” Cruel taunt after cruel taunt pierced Julia’s heart like a knife. She could accept this from an enemy, but to hear it from her own mother was beyond awful. “You swan about pretending you’re better than everyone else, when really, it is all just a front. Your life is no better than anyone else’s, Julia. Your husband can’t stand the sight of you and goes about fucking anyone but you, and your own son, sorry, nephew, hates you. You’re horrible and miserable, and the sooner you’re ripped down from that high horse you’ve strapped yourself too, the better off we’ll all be!”

The moment settled, and slowly a smile spread across Julia’s face.

Judith’s brow twitched and furrowed. She expected tears. She expected an apology. “What’s funny?”

“This,” Julia replied with a laugh and gestured between her and her mother with her hand. “All of this. I’m done. I’m so done with it all.”

Without another word, Julia turned and moved to exit the drawing room.

“Oh, Julia.”

Julia stopped, but this time she didn’t bother to look back over her shoulder.

“Just so you know,” Judith said, preparing to play the final card she had in her hand. “James and Natalie, they’ve been making a fool of you.”

With a shake of her head, Julia scoffed and smiled, unwilling to play her mother’s games anymore. “Goodbye, mother. I hope you rot in hell.”

With that, Julia walked away from Glendale Hall, from Judith, and from a lifetime of hurt, pain, and fear. She was finally free.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Riverside Cottage,
Glendale

Sat in her usual seat – a battered 1970s armchair with a garish brown and yellow velvet pattern – Betty Worchester nursed a chipped mug of Builder’s Brew as she partook in her usual Sunday afternoon ritual of watching “Songs of Praise.” Listening to the beautiful rendition of “Before the Throne of God Above,” she suddenly jumped, startled by the sound of a firm knock at the door, splashing tea onto her lap. She grumbled and muttered under her breath as she placed the chipped mug on the coffee table and dabbed at her Sunday best with the handkerchief that was usually tucked just inside the cuff of her cardigan.

There was another knock, and Betty turned her head towards the door. It was rare for her to have visitors, so she was instantly on guard. With a reluctant sigh, she lifted her heavy frame from the chair and stomped heavily across the living room. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

“‘ello, Mum,” said Gareth, standing before her tall and broad-shouldered.

Betty pulled back slightly, surprised at the sight of the son she hadn’t seen in over a decade. Although ten years older than when she had last laid eyes on him, Gareth had barely changed. His dark hair, although flecked with a few greys at the sides, was still slicked back in its usual style, his oval-shaped face still sported the same trimmed dark stubble, and his dark eyes still sparkled when he smiled.

Betty’s eyes became misty, and she glanced to the woman at his side, instantly recognising the flawless beauty of her daughter-in-law, Yasmin, before turning her attentions to the handsome young man and beautiful teenage girl that stood just behind them. Betty recognised them as her grandchildren, Leo and Ruby, although they were vastly different from how she remembered them from all those years ago.

Before Betty could process her emotions, Gareth stepped forward and enveloped his mother in a hug, his arms wrapping around her like a protective blanket. The warmth of his embrace flooded Betty with memories – of bedtime stories, of laughter, of the day he discovered the truth and had abandoned her. Tears welled up in her eyes as she hugged him back tightly, unwilling to let him go again.

“My baby boy,” she whispered softly through her tears as she rubbed circles into Gareth’s back as they continued to hug. “My baby boy is home.”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

HM Prison Bronzefield,
Ashford, England

Underneath the fluorescent lighting of the visitation room, Rebecca sat at a heavy steel table in the centre of the miserably grey concrete room, her fingers interlocked as she waited patiently. She had good news to share and also had some business that needed to be taken care of.

The steel door unlocked, and prisoner 8167 – Jodie Hosking – entered. Dressed in a pair of grey jogging bottoms and a powder blue t-shirt, with her long black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, she winked at her lawyer as she slumped down in the seat opposite. “Please tell me you have good news.”

“I do,” Rebecca replied with a smile as she straightened in her chair and pulled her shoulders back. “The charges will be dropped in the coming days, and, all going well, you’ll finally be out of here by the end of next week.”

Jodie let out a joyous laugh and leaned back in her chair, her body relaxing after years of imprisonment. “I can’t believe you did it!” She smiled, sitting up again and leaning forward with her elbows on the cold tabletop. “When that guy overdosed at that posh engagement party, I thought that was it. I was expecting another five years at least!”

Rebecca arched an eyebrow and pursed her lips. “You underestimate me.”

“Believe me, I don’t. I see you for who you really are, Bec, and it’s fuckin’ frightening!”

The two women shared a chuckle and Jodie ran a hand over her mouth, allowing the enormity of Rebecca’s news to sink in.

“I just can’t believe it,” she said with a shake of her head. “Eight years of hell and it’s almost over. I owe you one, Bec. I mean it. You’ve kept my businesses going while I’ve been in here; you’ve dealt with any problems that have cropped up, and you’ve got me released.”

“Well, almost released.”

“Paperwork. Minor formalities.” Jodie brushed away the words. “You’re a fuckin’ saint, Bec! If I can ever return the favour…”

Rebecca’s expression suddenly turned cold, and the air in the room tightened with tension. “Actually, there is something,” she said. “I need you to take care of a little problem for me.”

Jodie was intrigued. “Go on.”

Picking up her iPhone from the table, Rebecca tapped at the device a few times before sliding it across to Jodie. On the screen was a photo that Rebecca had taken of Neha on the day of the village fete.

Looking down at the image, Jodie frowned. “What’s the problem?”

“She assaulted my daughter, and now she’s in here for almost killing her husband,” Rebecca said so coldly that it seemed to chill the air. “I need your girls to teach her a lesson.”

A smirk tugged at the corners of Jodie’s lips as she looked back at her brief. “An eye for an eye?”

“No.” Rebecca looked back at Jodie with an icy cold glare that sent a tingle down the inmates spine. “I think we can do a bit better than that, don’t you?”

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Ashbourne House,
Glendale

Pulling up outside her home, Julia parked her Mercedes S-Class sedan, turned off the engine, and then sat in silence, gripping the steering wheel as her confrontations with Nick and Judith echoed in her mind. She glanced at her reflection in the rear-view mirror – her makeup and tight blonde chignon bun as immaculate as always – and then she felt the unfamiliar sensation of tears beginning to prick at her eyes. She wiped at them angrily, but they flowed anyway. The frustration, anger, hurt, and fear that had bubbled and brewed within her over the last two-and-a-half months finally boiled over.

She began to sob heavily, her shoulders jumping with each shuddering breath, as fat, mascara-stained tears rolled down her cheeks, leaving dark streaks in their wake. The truth was, she had been trying to hold everything together for so long that she didn’t know how to let go, and every time that she thought she had finally found her footing, life would throw up another twist that threatened to pull her under.

Unable to catch her emotions and steady herself, Julia broke. It had all become too much, too great, and with each passing moment, she felt herself sinking deeper into despair. This wasn’t just a bad day; it was a realisation that from that moment on, life would never be the same again.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Glendale Train Station,
Glendale

In the late afternoon, Lee, Ed, and Marion stood beneath a small awning of the Victorian-era train station that serviced Glendale. A handful of fellow commuters lined the platform, patiently waiting for the four o’clock train to London Bridge Station.

“Are you sure you want to go?” Marion asked as she held her son at arm’s length and her eyes searched his for some sign of doubt. “We can figure something out. You don’t have to leave.”

Lee could sense the desperation in his mother’s voice and offered her a reassuring smile. “But I do,” he said, thinking of the remnants of his marriage and affair that lay strewn around the village like broken glass. “I need to start afresh, mum. We all do.”

Ed cleared his throat, shifting the focus. “You’ll call us when you’ve got there, yeah?”

“Of course I will.”

The piercing whistle of the approaching train caused Marion’s heart to clench as she realised their time together as a family was coming to an end. She stepped closer and hugged Lee tightly. “You’re sure you’ve got everything?” she asked, hoping it might spark a memory and cause him to stay.

“I’ve got everything I need.” The train roared into view, and Lee’s heart raced with a mix of anxiety and excitement. “I’ll be okay,” he said, trying to instil confidence in his mother as he saw how visibly upset she was. “I promise.”

The train screeched to a halt, and the doors slid open with a hiss as passengers began to spill onto the platform.

Marion’s face crumpled. “Just… just take care of yourself, sweetheart.” She wrapped her arms around Lee, pulling him into a tight, final embrace. “And never forget that you can come home any time you need. We’ll always be here. Glendale will always be home.”

Lee held her close, breathing in her trademark Marc Jacobs scent one last time. “I won’t forget. I promise.”

As he stepped back, Ed clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got this, son. No matter what happens, we’re proud of you.”

With one last glance at the familiar faces of his parents, Lee felt a twinge of guilt. They had given him everything, and he felt like he had let them down. He forced a smile and moved towards the train.

“I’m sorry for everything,” he said, looking back over his shoulder at his parents and offering them one last smile. “I love you.”

Clutching a heavy duffle bag in each hand, and with a backpack full of clothes slung over his shoulder, Lee stepped onto the train, and the doors began to close. He dumped his bags down on an empty seat, settled in another one opposite, and looked out of the window. Marion raised a hand in a wave goodbye, and a tear rolled down her cheek, while Ed stood at her side, a comforting arm holding her tightly around the shoulders as he assumed his usual role of her anchor.

As the train began to move off from the platform, Lee waved goodbye to his parents and to Glendale for the very last time.

–  G L E N D A L E  –

Glendale,
England

In the living room of Riverside Cottage, Betty sat in her 1970s armchair and listened to Gareth, Leo, and Ruby bring her up to date on all the family gossip and drama from the past decade. Yasmin entered from the kitchen carrying a tray and passed her mother-in-law a mug of freshly brewed tea. She offered her a biscuit, which Betty happily accepted, before passing around the other mugs and then settling in next to Gareth on the sofa.

For the first time in years, Betty’s heart swelled with joy and love rather than regret and hate as she watched her family share stories and tease each other. A warm, genuine smile spread across her face as, for the first time in a very long time, she was happy – genuinely happy.

-:-

In All Saints Church, Reverend Turner sat alone in a wooden pew, his hands clasped tightly together in prayer as he sought strength and guidance. His whole life he had battled the inner turmoil of being a gay man, torn between church and heart. He whispered his appeals to God and longed for acceptance – not just from the almighty and the congregation, but from himself.

-:-

Upstairs, in the master bedroom of Bluebell Cottage, Jack sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the platinum wedding band that encircled his ring finger. The symbol of commitment and eternal love now mocked him as his marriage to Lee lay in ruins. With a trembling hand, he slid the ring off and placed it on the bedside table as an overwhelming wave of sorrow crashed over him. Jack buried his face in his hands, and tears streamed down his cheeks.

-:-

On the four o’clock train to London Bridge Station, Lee swayed with the gentle rhythm of the carriage and looked out of the window. The green countryside whizzed by in a blur and slowly merged into the encroaching suburbia. Settling back in his seat, Lee removed his phone from his pocket, unlocked it, and tapped on the screen. Up popped a photo of him and Tom lying naked in bed with a sheet draped loosely over their waists, barely concealing their modesty. A faint smile played on Lee’s lips as he remembered the man he had loved and lost. Locking the phone once again, Lee returned his attention to the world whizzing by outside. He felt the warmth of the sunshine on his face and let out a deep exhale, releasing himself of the pain and hurt he had left behind in Glendale.

-:-

At Greystone Downs, Kate sank into the familiar embrace of the sofa and looked down at her three children nestled against her. Ava seemed to have one eye on Tik Tok and the other on the TV, while Harry and Noah both snuggled into her. Kate’s fingers brushed against the oval-shaped locket resting against her chest, and, with a deep breath, she allowed herself a quiet moment of reflection to think about Tom and the love they had once shared. With a renewed determination swelling inside, Kate kissed her three children atop their heads and made a silent promise to herself that she would navigate them through their grief and build a brighter future for them all.

-:-

In the fading light of the late afternoon, Ed and Marion walked home from the train station in silence. There seemed to be a gulf between them as they both thought about Lee’s failed marriage and their own that hung by a rapidly unravelling thread.

As they approached Greenview Cottage, Marion frowned, noticing a couple and a young child standing at their front door. Her pace quickened, and as she marched down the stone path that weaved its way through her cottage garden, Marion felt unsettled while Ed followed closely behind, trying to keep up. “Hello?” she called out, approaching the trio. “Can I help you?”

In perfect unison, the threesome turned, and Ed’s heart crashed to the pit of his stomach as his two families collided in spectacular fashion.

“Hello, Dad,” said Samantha Carter with a coolness and a soft smirk, as her husband, Doctor Lewis Carter, smiled at Marion, and Gracie, their young daughter, waved at her grandfather. “I thought it was time we came to visit.”

Stunned into silence, Marion turned her head slightly and stared back at Ed – mouth agape – in utter disbelief.

-:-

With her working day drawing to a close, Queenie settled into her favourite chair in the living room of Acorn Cottage, and her hands trembled slightly as she unclasped the chain from around her neck. Her arthritic fingers unlocked the small locket to reveal the tiny lock of her baby daughter’s soft and golden hair, clipped by Sister Mildred nearly 70 years ago. Tears welled in her eyes as she gazed at the open locket, her heart aching with unanswered questions, wondering where her daughter was today, what kind of life she had led, and if she ever thought of the mother who had been forced to let her go.

-:-

Stood in the living room of Willow Cottage, surrounded by packed moving boxes, Audrey whispered a silent farewell as she gazed around her nearly empty home. Her eyes glistened with tears, and she felt a deep sadness settle in her chest as nearly seventy years’ worth of memories stirred in her mind. She could still feel the excitement bubbling within when she had crossed the threshold for the very first time all those years ago; she could still see the family gathered around the kitchen table and Brian and Carol, as young children, opening their presents beside the Christmas tree; she could still hear her late husband’s booming laugh echoing around the house; and she could still smell the cakes that she baked on Friday afternoon’s with her late mother in the kitchen. Willow Cottage wasn’t just a house, it was home.

-:-

At Buttercup Cottage, the kettle whistled softly, and Hilda prepared two large mugs of tea – a bright Leeds United FC cup for her husband and a pretty floral Royal Albert one for her. She carried them into the living room and passed one to Arthur, who was sitting on the couch watching a David Attenborough documentary, before plopping down beside him. Arthur offered a smile of thanks, and Hilda nestled in against him, happy, content, and thankful that, unlike her sister, Pamela, she had someone as wonderful as him in her life.

-:-

In the bathroom of Glenbrook Farm, Pamela Granger disrobed in preparation for a shower. As she peeled away the layers of clothing, she glanced in the mirror, and her reflection revealed a body marked by dark bruises. Each one, inflicted upon her at the hands of her husband, told a tale of something she had apparently done wrong – worn the wrong thing, said the wrong thing, cooked the wrong thing, thought the wrong thing. They were tales Pamela had learnt to hide away from the world, made easier by the fact that she was only ever hit in places the world would never see. She winced as she gently touched the latest one.

The bathroom filled with billowing steam, and Pamela stepped into the shower, letting the water cascade over her and hoping it would wash away her pain.

Downstairs, Brian Granger sat at the kitchen table holding a pack of frozen peas to his knuckles. It wasn’t his fault. It was never his fault. Pamela should’ve known better.

Meanwhile, outside in the barn, a short distance from the homestead, Ben held his phone to his ear, hoping for the tenth time that day to get through to Emma. He didn’t. The phone only rang once before going straight to voicemail, and Ben began to realise that his relationship with Emma was over.

-:-

Emma stared at her phone as Ben tried to call her once again, and the familiar pang of hurt and betrayal ricocheted through her body. While she was no saint, what he had obviously done with Rebecca tore her heart in two. She took a deep breath and decisively hit Decline. She then returned the phone to the pocket of her jeans and brushed away a tear, refusing to be emotional as she prepared to embrace the new chapter that awaited her.

Emma placed a hand on the doorhandle to Nick’s hospital room and felt a wave of anticipation wash over her – this was her chance to start anew. With a gentle push, she opened the door and smiled.

-:-

At Pineview House, Charlotte and Victoria sat at opposite ends of the sofa, and Charlotte offered a sympathetic ear as her big sister unburdened her heart with tales of her broken marriage and Paul’s infidelity with Emma.

Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed through the house. Charlotte looked up, excused herself, and made her way to the door. As she did, she held a hand gently against her stomach, excited at the future and thankful to have an amazing husband such as Mark.

With a quick tug, she opened the door, but there was no one there. It was then she noticed the single sheet of paper that had been pushed in through the mail slot. Charlotte bent down, and her smile faded as her eyes scanned the message printed in black ink.

Peekaboo. I see you.

Fear gripped Charlotte as she immediately realised that Natalie hadn’t been the only one terrorising her.

Outside, a broad figure – clearly that of a male – lingered at the edge of the garden, watching Pineview House with a predatory gaze before moving off and disappearing into the shadows.

Meanwhile, upstairs in the loft, Mark packed away the final few items he had cleared out of Natalie’s room. As he moved a small box to make space, it slipped from his grip and crashed to the ground, bursting open as its contents tumbled out. A number of mementos and photographs exploded across the floor, and, as Mark instinctively bent down to pick them up, he suddenly caught sight of a face that haunted his dreams. Collecting the snapshots, Mark’s throat clenched as he saw a young Charlotte in bed with Michael Bancroft – the man he believed responsible for his first wife’s death.

-:-

At The Oak & Vine, Tony busied himself, serving a customer. As he pulled a pint, he forced a smile and pretended to be interested in the story the patron was telling him, but in reality, his thoughts were elsewhere. He was worried about his wife, Carol, and the grief that she seemed to be drowning in.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Carol finally found the energy to pull herself out of her grief. After four days in bed, she threw back the covers and took a long, steady inhale as she summoned up the energy to finally face the fact that Tom was gone. She shuffled across the bedroom and pulled open the curtains to reveal the first glimpse of sunshine she had seen in nearly a week. As her eyes adjusted to the brightness, a lonely figure stood on the village green, glaring back at her. After a moment trying to place the face, Carol suddenly felt a sickening sense of dread as she recognised the man – her violent stepson, Luke.

-:-

In the living room of Starling Cottage, Rebecca busied herself by unpacking, desperate to keep her mind occupied. As she opened another box, her gaze flicked to the clock on the wall. Anxiety churned in her stomach as she began to doubt her decision. The reality of her actions sent a shiver down her spine as she realised there was no turning back now.

-:-

In the confines of her prison cell, Neha sat on the hard and uncomfortable bed, a gentle hand held softly against her pregnant belly. A tear slipped down her cheek as she thought of Ashwin and the events that had led to her incarceration. Suddenly, a figure appeared in the doorway, and a shank glinted in their hand. Spotting the weapon, Neha’s eyes widened in terror as Jodie stepped inside and closed the door.

-:-

At Thyme Cottage, with his mother-in-law busy upstairs, Ashwin sat in the living room, silently staring at the framed wedding photo of him and Neha that was fixed to the wall. He remembered that joyously vibrant day, full of love, happiness, and colour. A wave of sadness washed over him as his thoughts turned to the smouldering ruins that their marriage had become. News of Neha’s pregnancy had complicated matters, but there was still a part of him that wondered whether her problems were too great and if he should just walk away.

Ashwin rose from the armchair and took a deep breath, hoping to shake off the heaviness, but suddenly a sharp pain pierced through his mind. He pressed a hand to his forehead, and his vision blurred. Ashwin’s eyes rolled back in their sockets, and he collapsed onto the floor with a sickening thud.

-:-

Standing under the shadows of the towering elm tree at the gates of Ashbourne House, Natalie smirked as she peered through them and looked towards the stately home in the distance. It was now just shy of five o’clock, and James had failed to show up at the B&B despite the raven-haired teenager’s threats. With a final glance at her phone, Natalie tapped the screen and set in motion a chain of events that would shock the villagers of Glendale and shatter the lives of James and Julia forever.

-:-

Inside the morning room of Ashbourne House, Julia sat in a blue chintz Chesterfield armchair, her gaze drawn to the window as she watched a starling perched on a branch of a nearby ash tree twill a beautiful melody. How Julia envied it’s freedom.

Nursing a glass of scotch – using it to try and quell the feeling of anxiousness that had settled over him since Natalie’s phone call – James entered the room and walked over to his wife. He placed a supportive hand on her shoulder, which she immediately pulled away from.

A heavy frown crossed James’ brow as a panic stirred within. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

That was a lie. James crouched down at his wife’s side and could instantly see from her red-rimmed and bloodshot eyes that she had been crying. “Julia, we don’t keep secrets from each other.”

Thoughts and memories burst inside Julia’s mind like popcorn kernels. The lies. The secrecy. The lack of calls to Emma. The whispers and sexually charged looks at Natalie.

Julia slowly turned her head in her husband’s direction, and the icy look she gave him made James’ blood run cold.

“Don’t we, James?”

Suddenly, on the small antique table at her side, Julia’s phone erupted with a never-ending string of dings and pings. Notification after notification popped up on her phone screen. There were dozens and dozens of them, all with the same message:

You’ve been tagged in a post in the Glendale & Surrounds Facebook group.

Intrigued, Julia picked up her phone and unlocked it before clicking into Facebook. As her eyes scanned the screen, Julia felt her world shudder. There, posted by an anonymous member for the whole village to see, was every dirty little detail of James’ infidelities. There were hundreds of screenshots of WhatsApp exchanges between James and Natalie, along with voice recordings as well as the photos Natalie had taken of the text messages from Neha. But the cruellest blow was saved for last when Julia’s eyes settled on the video of James and Natalie having sex.

With trembling hands and a sick feeling of disbelief, Julia turned and looked at James in horror as her world shattered.

-:-

Perched on the edge of an armchair in the drawing room of Glendale Hall, Judith flipped through a photo album as the horrible confrontation with Julia rang in her ears. The words, spoken in anger, were so hurtful that Judith wondered whether there was a path back for them. As she turned another page, she stopped. There, stuck to the centre of the page, under a film of plastic, fastened with four white photo corners, was a photo from the millennium New Year’s Eve party. A fresh-faced Julia smiled broadly as she cradled a newborn Nick in her arms; James stood by her side and smiled warmly; Michael offered up a weak smile though one could clearly see the pain in his eyes; while Judith and Harold flanked their family and radiated the epitome of marital perfection, despite being anything but. Judith ran a finger gently across the plastic and smiled at her family.

Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through her chest. It felt as if a heavy weight had dropped onto her, and for a moment, the world blurred. She paused, breathing deeply, hoping the discomfort would pass. But the pressure only intensified. Panic surged through her veins as she quickly realised that something was terribly wrong.

With great effort, Judith reached for her phone that sat beside her on a small table. Her heart thundered harder and faster than she thought possible, while her hands trembled uncontrollably as she unlocked the device and began to dial for help.

9
9

Before Judith could press the last 9, a final stabbing pain, unlike anything she had ever felt before, caused her heart to stop. The phone slipped from her fingers, and Judith collapsed.

-:-

As Nick and Jasmine marvelled at the new iPhone she had bought him to replace the one that was broken in his car accident, the door to his hospital room opened, and the engaged couple looked over as Emma appeared in the doorway and smiled. Nick smiled back, while Jasmine squeezed his hand in support.

Emma entered the room, and suddenly the iPhone pinged with a new notification. Nick glanced at the screen and immediately frowned in confusion – it wasn’t possible.

DNA MATCH: FATHER