11
I got home unexpectedly early today my GP cancelled all his appointments at the last minute, fell ill apparently. Small mercies! It meant I finally had an evening with no obligations, just time to cook supper at my leisure, not in a mad rush as usual.
I eased the key into the lock quietly I didnt want to disturb Andrew if he was napping after work. Turns out, he definitely wasnt asleep.
Voices drifted in from the kitchen.
I cant keep doing this, Helen. Hiding it every weekend, that was Andrew, sounding utterly worn out.
And what do you expect to do? Just come clean out of the blue? That was my sister Helen. When did she arrive without me knowing?
I froze in the hallway, standing behind the partly open door. I felt my heart jolt.
If Sarah finds out, everything falls apart, Andrew was saying. Thirty years of marriage, down the drain.
You have to decide, Helens tone grew firm. Are you going to keep visiting her every Saturday?
Her?
How could I leave her? Shes all alone. No one else looks after her, Andrew replied.
And what about your wife? Helen retorted.
I gripped the doorframe so hard my knuckles whitened. My heart hammered. So it wasnt about fishing trips after all. Not cold walks by the river with Peter. My husband was seeing someone else, week after week.
And Helen knew.
My own sister knew and kept silent.
How blind Id been.
Well, I must be off, Helen said. But think, Andrew. Secrets always surface. Itll come out sooner or later.
I know, Andrew sighed, defeated.
I heard footsteps toward the hallway. I darted into the bathroom, needing a moment to compose myself.
A moment to decide what to do with this new truth.
A moment to work out how on earth to live with it.
Would there even be a point to carrying on?
Staring at my reflection, I wondered if I recognised her at all. Is this Sarah Clarke, the model wife?
More like a model fool.
I emerged eventually, face neutral as ever. Andrew was at the table, flicking through the paper, as if he were just any ordinary husband on any ordinary evening.
Oh, youre home early! he said, that same false cheeriness.
Doctor cancelled appointments.
Helen popped in. She sends her love.
Liar. Shed left something very different behind.
You want dinner? I asked, voice steady.
Of course! Whats on the menu?
Burgers. Like always.
The next week was a living torment. I watched Andrews every move, listened to his every word and I saw, with grim clarity, the fibs everywhere. How he hid his phone, grew visibly twitchy every Friday evening, carefully packed his fishing gear.
Saturday morning, I snapped.
Andrew, why dont I come fishing with you next time? I suggested, all innocent.
He paled.
Why? Youd be bored out of your mind.
I want to try. I might enjoy it.
No, no, no, he protested, waving his hands. Far too cold and too many midges. Youre better off at home.
And off he went, guilt written all over his face.
I sat alone, my thoughts gnawing at me.
On Monday, I rang Helen.
Helen, we need a chat.
What about? she replied, wary.
No reason. Just wanted a heart-to-heart. Havent seen you in ages.
We met at a cafe, deliberately neutral ground. Helen fiddled with her wedding ring nervously.
How’s things? I started cautiously.
All fine. How about you two?
Were fine. Andrews obsessed with fishing these days.
Helen nearly choked on her coffee.
Oh? How often does he go?
Every Saturday, without fail. Like a man possessed.
Men and their strange hobbies, she muttered.
You know where exactly he fishes?
Me? How would I know?
But her eyes darted. She was lying.
I was just thinking, maybe Ill tag along someday. See what all the fuss is about.
Sarah, why bother? Helen suddenly turned serious. Leave him be. Everyone deserves a bit of personal space.
Personal space! Was she talking about infidelity?
Helen, I leaned closer, you know something, dont you?
I dont know anything! Helen snapped. And you shouldnt dig, trust me.
She stood and left.
Leaving me with a bitter certainty: my sister was covering for him.
At home, I launched my own investigation. Checked Andrews pockets, rifled through his wallet, searched the car.
And I found it.
Receipts in the glove compartment. Monthly payments £180, every time.
Private care home Hope House, in Norwich.
Care home?
Not a fishing lodge, not a weekend cottage. A care home.
I sat staring at the receipt my world was crumbling to rubble. Care home, thats for people who need looking after.
So Andrew was caring for someone. Someone ill, someone alone. Someone he visited every Saturday.
A wife? A lover?
I didnt sleep at all. I went over every possible scenario in my mind, each feeling worse than the last.
By morning, I made up my mind.
Id see for myself. Id go to Norwich. Find out the truth.
I requested a day off Friday. Said I had a medical appointment.
The drive to Norwich took three hours three hours to conjure every nightmare. Three hours of imagining the worst.
Hope House was small and welcoming. The sign said Residential Home for the Disabled.
Disabled.
Did Andrew have a disabled person somewhere in his life?
Who are you here to see? asked the nurse at reception.
I could I find out who Andrew Clarke comes to visit?
Are you family?
Im his wife.
The nurse flipped through her logbook.
Claire Clarke, room twelve. Go straight down.
Clarke.
She shares his surname!
I stood before room twelve, frozen. All my fears, all my curiosity condensed behind that door.
Claire Clarke.
Holding Andrews surname.
My hand shook as I turned the handle.
May I come in?
Light streamed through the room, scented faintly of medicine and flowers. A slender, dark-haired woman, perhaps thirty-five, sat by the window in a wheelchair.
Remarkably like Andrew.
Can I help you? she asked, her voice weak, but kind.
Im Im Sarah. Are you Claire?
Yes. Have we met?
Had we? How does one answer that?
Im Andrew Clarkes wife.
Her expression changed in an instant. She blanched, eyes wide.
Oh God, she whispered. So you know everything?
I do now. I moved closer. Tell me, please.
I cant Dad asked me not to say anything.
Dad.
My knees started to go I sat down heavily.
Hes your father?
She nodded, tears streaming.
Im sorry. I never meant to come between you. He said you had no children, and this would destroy you if you knew.
Wait, I held up a hand. Lets start from the beginning. How old are you?
Thirty-four.
Thirty-four. She was born a year before our wedding. When Andrew was seeing someone else.
And your mother?
Mum died two years ago. Cancer. She wiped her eyes. Dad looked after us all those years. Sent money, visited. And when she died, he helped me move here. Ive got cerebral palsy, I cant live alone.
I sat silent, letting it all sink in.
My husband had a daughter. A disabled daughter, whom he cared for all those years. Who I didnt know existed.
Hes been wonderful, Claire said tearfully. He comes every Saturday. Brings groceries, medicine. Talks about you, too. Says how amazing you are.
He talks about me?
All the time. He loves you. Says youre his world.
I laughed bitter and hollow.
World hes hidden from for thirty years.
Not hidden, she protested. Hes just scared. Scared youll leave him if you learn. Im nothing but a burden.
Youre not a burden.
To most people I am, Claire whispered. Mum used to say, wish youd never been born. But Dad never did. Said I was his, hed always protect me.
There was a knock, and the nurse popped her head in.
Lovely to see you have company, Claire. Is everything alright?
All fine, Mrs Davies. This is Auntie Sarah.
Auntie.
Finally met at last! Andrews spoken so highly of you. The nurse beamed. Said youre kind and understanding.
Kind and understanding! And here I was running a private investigation, suspecting Andrew of cheating.
Once she left, I asked softly, Tell me about your mother.
Mum was beautiful. Dad dated her before meeting you. After my diagnosis, she told him to leave, to be with another woman you. He wanted to stay, marry her, but she refused him. Said he shouldnt stay out of pity. If he was in love with someone else, he should go be with her.
So he married me?
Claire nodded. But he didnt forget us. Helped for years. Visited. Mum said you must never find out. She was afraid your marriage would end over his secret.
I sat, stunned. All these years, Id envied women who had children. I cried every time another IVF failed. Andrew had a child, all along.
Why didnt he ever tell me? I whispered.
He was terrified. You wanted children so badly, and he thought if you found out he already had one especially someone like me youd never forgive him.
Forgive him for what?
For lying, for spending money on me instead of you and your children. For time spent away.
Claire swallowed hard.
Hes been torn up by guilt. Whenever he comes, he asks me, How can I tell Sarah? Explain any of this? And I say, Dad, maybe shell understand.
I recognised Andrews footsteps approaching, heavy and slow.
Oh no, Claire whispered. He didnt expect you.
The door opened.
Hello, sweetheart! Andrews voice rang out.
I turned. Andrew was standing in the doorway, flowers and groceries in hand. When he saw me, everything crashed to the floor.
Sarah? he murmured. What are you doing here?
Meeting your daughter, I replied calmly.
Andrew looked like hed been struck, clutching the doorframe to steady himself.
How did you find out?
You werent careful.
He came in and shut the door. Sat down, head bowed.
Well, he said quietly, thats all, then. Now you know.
I do.
Do you hate me now?
I looked at him, then at Claire.
Im not sure yet. Give me time.
What is there to understand? I lied for thirty years. Faked fishing trips. Spent our money elsewhere.
Dad, stop it! Claire cut in. Auntie Sarah, hes not bad! He was just terrified!
I stepped over to the window.
Outside, all looked normal trees, benches, the everyday life.
Inside, my own world was in pieces, waiting to be reassembled.
I need time to think, I said at last.
For three days, I didnt say a word to Andrew. He lingered around the house, haunted, trying to explain but I didnt respond. Cooked, cleaned, but treated him as invisible.
And thought.
Thought about thirty years in the dark. About having a stepdaughter Id never met. About how my husband feared the truth more than he feared lying.
By Wednesday night, I finally broke the silence.
Sit down, I said to Andrew. We need to talk.
He sat, hands folded, bracing for a verdict.
I visited Claire again, I began. We had a long chat.
And?
And I realised something important. Youre a fool, Andrew.
He flinched.
Fool for thinking Id reject a sick child. Fool for suffering alone, when we could have faced things together.
Sarah
Dont interrupt. I paced the kitchen. You thought Id leave you over this. That I was so small-minded
No! I was just frightened Id lose you.
You almost did.
Andrew lowered his gaze.
Im sorry. I dont deserve forgiveness.
Stand up.
He did.
Tomorrow, we’re visiting Claire together. I want to speak with the carers about her coming to live with us.
Andrew stared.
What?
You heard me. If shes my daughter now, she should be with family.
But, shes disabled. Needs extra help.
Well find a companion. Turn the box room into her space. Well make it work. I held his hands. Want to know what I wanted most for thirty years?
A child.
A real family. Now I have one. Clueless husband, remarkable daughter but were a family.
Andrew wept. I dont think Id ever seen him cry like that.
You really mean that? Youll accept her?
Already have. I bought her new pyjamas and shampoo. Well bring them tomorrow.
He hugged me, tight.
I dont deserve you.
No, you dont, I agreed. So youll have to earn it. But one thing: no more lies, ever.
Never again. I promise.
One other thing. I want Claire to call me Mum. If Im her mum now, its for real.
A month later, Claire moved in. The box room was small but bright. I picked the wallpaper, curtains, and blanket myself.
Mum, Claire said the first night, are you sure? Im still a burden
Say that again and Ill have words! I told her. You are not a burden. Youre my daughter, and that’s the end of it.
Later, with Claire asleep and Andrew and I in the kitchen sipping our tea, I felt an odd sort of peace.
You know, I told Andrew, life’s just starting.
At sixty? You must be joking.
I mean it. Were a real family now. Not just a husband and wife quietly growing old. Were parents. Weve got a beautiful daughter to care for.
Andrew nodded.
Thank you.
No, don’t thank me. Just dont ever keep secrets from me again.
I wont.
A gentle laugh echoed from Claires room she was watching something silly, by the sound of it.
That laugh is the sweetest sound Ive ever heard.
Lesson: Sometimes, the hardest truths are what finally build a real life, once we find the courage to face them together.
