Emerging from her room and gathering from the sound of the TV downstairs that Millie was in the lounge, she headed for Ben’s room to hurry him up. Realising he was on the phone, she hesitated short of the door. ‘We’ll be downstairs when you’re ready, Ben,’ she called.
‘Right. One sec,’ he answered.
Emily sighed as she reached the hall only to realise she’d left her handbag upstairs. Turning around, she went back up again, and stopped dead on the landing.
‘Yeah, right, she’s gone back to her husband, hasn’t she, despite the fact that he’s an aggressive git?’ she heard Ben say. ‘Probably because he’s loaded. She’s not likely to look at me, is she?’
Natasha? It had to be. Rumour had it that Natasha had married Michael for his money. She’d gone back to him despite what had happened between them. Emily had wondered why. But then, though Michael might have to work for every penny he had, his assets in terms of the land and the farmhouse weren’t to be sneered at, were they? She’d imagined her husband would be attracted to Natasha – other men in the village certainly were – but her eighteen-year-old son? She felt the floor shift beneath her.
Twenty-Three
‘So, what’s the occasion?’ Millie asked, once they’d ordered.
‘No occasion,’ Emily answered, smiling her thanks to the waitress had who delivered their drinks. ‘There doesn’t have to be a reason for us all to have a nice meal out together, does there?’
‘Right.’ Millie pulled her Coke towards her, a pensive frown on her face as she twirled the glass around. ‘So we’re having this nice meal together, without Dad, because …?’
Emily felt the heat rush to her cheeks. She felt wrong-footed, defensive already. She was sure that if her marriage really was irreparable, Millie and Ben would blame her. She would rather that, though, than for their relationship with their father to be irretrievably damaged. Whatever he’d done, was doing, or might not even be doing – she didn’t know any more – she wouldn’t run him down in their eyes. She couldn’t. He’d been the best father a man could be to both of them.
‘We know that you and Dad have been having problems,’ Millie went on, looking guardedly at her. ‘We’re not stupid.’
‘Or deaf,’ Ben muttered pointedly.
‘You might as well level with us, Mum,’ Millie said. ‘Just …’ she faltered, her eyes flicking down and back, ‘spare us the we love you, but … chat, yes?’
Emily’s heart grew impossibly heavy. She’d been about to say something exactly along those lines, and had no idea where to start now they’d made it obvious they weren’t going to accept anything less than honesty. Bracing herself, she took a breath. ‘We have been having problems, yes. I know you overheard some of it, and I’m sorry you had to. I was upset. I—’
‘Are you splitting up?’ Ben asked bluntly. The look in his cool blue eyes was so dark and intense that Emily’s heart faltered, her instinct to shield him rushing to the fore, as it had so many years ago. She would die to protect him, protect them both. But she couldn’t protect them from this.
‘I’m not sure,’ she answered quietly. She wished now that she’d had this conversation at home. Had she really expected that she could deliver the news to her children that their parents’ marriage was falling apart and they would just say ‘okay’ and then tuck into their meals? She should have been focusing on them through all of this, their feelings. She should never have tackled Jake with Ben and Millie in danger of overhearing. She was already worried about Millie, who so often lately needed treating with kid gloves. She was no less worried about Ben, though, who seemed to be a riot of conflicted emotion. She was sure she sensed an anger under the surface that truly frightened her.
‘Has he cheated on you?’ Millie got succinctly to the point.
Emily had no idea how to answer. ‘I don’t know,’ she replied hesitantly. ‘I thought he had. There was an email sent to him. I—’
‘Like the letters being sent out?’ Millie interrupted, her eyes growing wide.
Emily looked at her, surprised.
‘I called into the newsagent’s on the way home,’ Millie explained. ‘Fran was in there.’
Emily sighed inwardly. So the drums had started beating. ‘Yes,’ she admitted, ‘but not as destructive as those.’
‘Sounds pretty fucking destructive to me,’ Ben growled, shocking her. ‘So has he cheated on you or hasn’t he?’ he asked, levelling his gaze unnervingly on hers.
‘I honestly don’t know, Ben.’ Emily reached for his hand. ‘It’s more complicated than that.’
‘I can’t see what’s so complicated.’ He drew his hand away. ‘You asked him, right?’
‘You know she did.’ Millie sighed. ‘We heard.’
‘And he denied it?’ Ben pushed.
‘Of course he did.’ There was a bitter edge to Millie’s voice. ‘Wouldn’t you?’
She was judging her father, Emily realised, angry with him because of accusations she’d made, which might be groundless. Oh, how she wished now that she had buried her head in the sand. But could she really have sat back and done nothing but wait for the day her husband might come home to announce he was leaving?
‘Have you ever cheated on him?’ Ben asked, catching her completely unawares.
It was an innocent question – he wanted to know whether his father might have had just cause – but still Emily’s stomach lurched. ‘No,’ she managed, past the parched lump in her throat. It wasn’t a lie. To cheat on someone was to make a conscious decision, wasn’t it? Hoping to God Ben couldn’t see the guilt she still felt in her eyes, she held onto that. She had to.
They fell quiet as their food arrived, each lost in their own thoughts, Ben and Millie looking as if they had as little appetite as she did for the dishes they’d ordered after barely glancing at the menu. Ben was furious; Emily could feel it. Millie seemed contemplative. They both sat with their gazes glued to the table.
Millie waited for the waitress to leave. Then: ‘Can you forgive him?’ she asked, looking at Emily hopefully. ‘Assuming he did cheat and that he admits it, could you?’
Emily was stumped for a reply. She couldn’t see how she could answer truthfully without going into the awful details. She didn’t want to talk to them about the devastating argument they’d had, the things Jake had accused her of – or about his relationship with Sally, which for reasons she could only imagine he’d neglected to tell her about. ‘I’m not sure,’ she replied slowly. ‘Things were said that can’t be unsaid.’
‘So you are going to split up, then?’ Ben practically glared at her.
‘Nothing’s been decided yet, Ben.’ Emily tried to reassure him, though she knew it didn’t sound very reassuring. ‘Your dad and I have to talk. We—’ Before she could say anything more, Ben scraped his chair back and yanked himself to his feet.
‘Ben …’ Emily jumped up too as he stormed away from the table. ‘Your food.’
He headed fast for the exit without looking back.
Emily was about to go after him, but Millie stopped her. ‘Leave him,’ she said, reaching to catch hold of her hand. ‘He probably needs some time alone.’
Emily scanned her eyes, and her heart jolted as she realised what Millie was trying to convey. Ben considered himself a man. He didn’t want his mother fussing over him while he was upset. How would the disintegration of his parents’ marriage affect him in the long-term, though, his relationships with women? Having heard his ‘love sucks’ retort earlier, that was Emily’s overwhelming worry: that he would become bitter or cynical and lose his capacity for love.
‘If it helps, I understand,’ Millie offered, as Emily dropped heavily back into her seat. ‘If my boyfriend cheated on me, I don’t think I could forgive him,’ she went on hesitantly, her expression a mixture of sympathetic and nervous.
Emily felt a smidgen of hope unfurl inside her. Millie was opening the door, inviting her in. Her daughter needed to talk to her. No; wanted to talk to her. Emily
had worried for a while that she was losing her. But now she realised how deep that fear had become; a cold foreboding in the pit of her stomach, warning her that one day her daughter might disappear from her life, never to return. She knew she couldn’t bear that. She knew because she’d already lost someone.
Losing Kara had been like losing a limb. Losing Millie would be like losing a vital organ. And now her daughter was reaching out to her, albeit tentatively. Squeezing back her tears, Emily found herself clinging to that, a tiny life raft in the sea of turmoil her life had become.
Twenty-Four
Noting Ben’s coat slung over the newel post as she and Millie came through the front door, Emily felt a surge of relief.
‘I’ll go and put the kettle on,’ Millie said behind her as she looked warily up the stairs, clearly understanding that she was worried about him. ‘I’ll do some cheese and crackers as well, since we didn’t eat very much.’
‘Thanks, Millie.’ Emily smiled gratefully.
‘No probs.’ Millie gave her a rare smile back and headed for the kitchen.
Emily closed her eyes and silently thanked God. The foundations of her life were rocking, but she seemed to be getting her daughter back. Hope from the ashes, she thought sadly. Millie had obviously sensed she needed support and was trying her best to offer it. She was grateful, but also felt guilty. She desperately didn’t want Millie taking her side against Jake, for the special father and daughter bond between them to be broken.
Deciding she would have to gently broach that subject with her, she took a breath and climbed the stairs to check on her son first. Ben was struggling, that was clear. She had to talk to him and let him know he could confide in her. As concerned as she was about his tendency to fly off the handle, she also had to tell him it was okay to be angry. If he learned to suppress his emotions because of signals she sent out, it might ultimately be so much worse.
Tapping on his door, she waited a second, and then tentatively pushed it open and poked her head around it. Ben was in his chair, headphones on. Gaming, she saw. Stepping into the room, she waited until she had his attention, and then mouthed, ‘All right?’ She knew it was a ridiculous question. How could he be all right, having just learned his parents were falling apart?
He jabbed his controller a couple of times and then parked it on his PC table and pulled his headphones off – a reliable indication that he was far from all right. Normally it would take an earthquake, or the ring of the doorbell promising pizza, to tear him away from his gaming.
‘Yeah.’ He shrugged and wiped a hand under his nose. ‘Shit happens, doesn’t it?’
‘Nothing’s decided yet, Ben.’ Emily stepped closer. ‘We’re going through a bad patch right now, but we really do need to sit down and talk. We might be able to work things out.’
‘Right.’ He laughed scornfully. ‘Like he’s going to admit he’s screwing around.’
Emily’s heart wrenched with unbearable guilt. She should never have lost her temper, and shouted those awful things in earshot of her children. ‘I don’t know that he is yet, Ben,’ she said softly. ‘I know you overheard some things, but try not to judge him. I haven’t really given him a chance to defend himself, have I?’
Ben shrugged again and then nodded reluctantly.
Emily supposed it would have to suffice. ‘Millie’s doing cheese and crackers if you fancy some.’ She tried to tempt him downstairs.
Ben drew in a breath. ‘I’ll come down in a bit,’ he said, and reached for his controller again.
‘I’ll ask Millie to put some out for you.’ Reading his body language, Emily gathered he wanted to be on his own, and turned for the door.
‘Mum.’ He stopped her. ‘Just so you know, you can talk to me.’
Stunned, Emily turned back. In that short sentence, he’d shown he cared, and it meant so much to her. She’d been judging him, she realised, looking for signs, trying to interpret his moods … and misinterpreting them. He was confused and angry. Temperamental. He would be all of those things without everything that was happening, because, though he was technically an adult, he was still of an age when he was full of raging testosterone. She had to stop. After all, his natural reaction to being constantly judged would be to withdraw further into himself.
‘If you need to,’ he added, shrugging awkwardly again.
Emily swallowed back a lump of emotion. ‘Thank you,’ she said, going back to give his shoulders a squeeze. ‘That goes both ways. Just so you know.’
He nodded, smiled faintly and fixed his attention back on his game. Evidently he considered that was enough outpouring of sentiment for the moment.
He was undoubtedly trying to process things. Hopefully he would open up to her, but she knew she would need to tread carefully. ‘We’ll be downstairs when you’re ready,’ she said, giving him another quick squeeze and leaving him to it.
Finding Millie in the kitchen making coffee, she counted her blessings. She’d expected tears and tantrums from her daughter. Instead she’d got maturity and understanding. It was enough to make sure she got out of bed in the morning, whatever awfulness the day might bring.
‘I put some out for Ben,’ Millie said, nodding towards a cling-filmed plate on the worktop. ‘I’m assuming he’s got his face glued to some juvenile game?’
Emily hid a smile. It wouldn’t be Millie without the smart quip. She really was beautiful, radiating the freshness of youth. Her make-up was meticulously applied, her glossy, sun-kissed locks arranged into a bun, making her look tall and sophisticated. Grown-up. Emily’s heart caught in her chest. But she still had so much growing up to do emotionally, which only ever came with experience. Emily desperately didn’t want her experiences to be the wrong kind – the sort that might damage her and shape who she was.
‘You’ll have to give me some tips,’ she said, walking across to her.
‘What, on making cheese and crackers?’ Millie arched an eyebrow as she turned around to carry the coffee over to the island.
‘On what to do with my hair.’ Emily glanced mournfully upwards. ‘How to make it less straw-like.’
‘Ah. You need to use a moisture repair shampoo and conditioner.’ Millie nodded knowledgeably. ‘A bit of Moroccan oil wouldn’t go amiss either. And a heat protector. That’s essential if you’re going to keep blasting it with the hairdryer and using straighteners. You can use my products if you like. See how you get on with them.’
‘Really?’ Emily was growing more surprised by her daughter’s thoughtfulness by the second. ‘That would be brilliant,’ she said, tears pricking the backs of her eyes. ‘It’s driving me mad at the moment. I can’t seem to do anything with it. I just give up and tie it up in the end.’
‘I noticed.’ Millie didn’t look overly impressed as she eyed her updo.
Emily sighed in despair. ‘It’s a mess, isn’t it?’
‘No.’ Millie widened her eyes in admonishment. ‘It looks nice. It shows off your high cheekbones, but … well, it’s not very creative, is it?’
‘I don’t have much time to be creative in the mornings,’ Emily said, her shoulders sagging. She’d have plenty of time if she and Jake separated, she thought sadly. She would hardly be able to work at the surgery then. With Sally there, it would definitely be a case of three in a relationship being one too many. The thought of Jake becoming openly involved with her was more than she could bear.
‘Here, let me have a go,’ Millie suggested, going around behind her and tugging off her hair tie before Emily had time to object. ‘Tip your head forward,’ she instructed.
Emily did as she was told, and waited patiently while Millie gathered up her hair.
‘Right …’ Millie paused thoughtfully. A second later, she’d lowered her own head to peer up at her. ‘You can braid your hair, I take it?’
‘Just about,’ Emily said uncertainly.
‘Good. So, you divide it into three at the nape of your neck and then plait it.’ Millie demonstrated, talking her thro
ugh it as she did. ‘If you do it with your head forwards, it will encourage it in the right direction, do you see?’
Emily gave her an upside-down nod, not that she could actually see much.
‘You’re braiding about halfway up, just as far as the crown, then … Head up.’
Emily obliged, and Millie gathered her hair up on top of her head and secured it with a tie. ‘What you do then is twist the loose hair into a bun and tuck the ends under the tie to secure it.’ She set to work again, the tip of her tongue protruding as she concentrated.
‘All done. One fabulous topknot with braid detailing at the back,’ she said, stepping back and then steering Emily to the hall. ‘You might need the odd hair grip for any stray bits, and some hairspray, but … What do you think?’
‘Wow,’ Emily said, admiring her more stylish look in the mirror. It was a massive improvement on her own attempts.
‘Wow indeed.’ Millie smiled as she led the way back to the kitchen. ‘The lady looks hot.’
Emily felt a heavy sadness spread through her. She doubted Jake would think so. ‘It’s gorgeous, thanks, Millie,’ she said, smiling gratefully.
‘Any time,’ Millie assured her. ‘You should wear it like that more often. It suits you. Makes you look younger.’
Emily smiled, accepting the compliment. Her daughter, she knew, was trying to boost her confidence; bless her heart for realising it would be flagging. She didn’t yearn to be younger, though. She yearned to be who she was. But she didn’t know who that was. She wasn’t sure she had done for a long time. She’d put away her paints after Kara’s death, giving up her art, which had been her way of expressing her individuality, and trying to conform. Wild was dangerous, she’d learned. If you lived life craving the unexpected, it happened. She hadn’t wanted to be different any more. She’d wanted safety in normality. She’d thought she’d found that in Jake. Once they’d married and settled into what she’d thought was a happy routine, she hadn’t expected the unexpected, yet still it had suddenly happened.
Trust Me: An absolutely gripping and unputdownable psychological thriller Page 15
