Trust Me - Sheryl Browne Page 0,60

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