**Diary Entry 30th May**
The lock clicked, and Emily, careful not to make a sound, slipped inside. The hall was dark, save for a thin strip of light under the kitchen door. Mum and Dad were still up, though it was well past midnight. Lately, this had become the normtheir hushed conversations behind closed doors, sometimes flaring into muffled arguments.
I kicked off my heels, dropped my work bag by the console table, and tiptoed to my room. I wasnt in the mood to explain why I was late, even though the reason was validthe project deadlines had been brutal.
Through the wall, their voices drifted in low murmurs.
“No, James, I cant keep doing this,” Mum said, irritation simmering. “You promised last month.”
“Alice, be reasonablenows not the time,” Dad replied, sounding defensive.
I sighed. Lately, theyd been arguing constantly, putting on a united front around me. They were in their fifties, and I was long grown, but it still stung to realise something wasnt right between them.
I washed up and climbed into bed, but sleep wouldnt come. My thoughts circled the same questions. My older brother Daniel lived in Manchester now, rarely visiting. If they divorced, whod stay where? Whod get the house? And why were they hiding whatever this was?
The voices in the kitchen droned on. Reaching for my headphones to drown them out, I fumbled and dropped my phone. Picking it up, I accidentally opened the voice recorder app. My finger hovered over the screen.
What if I recorded them? Just to understand, instead of guessing. If I asked outright, theyd brush me off”Everythings fine” and all that.
Guilt prickled. Eavesdropping was wrong, let alone recording. But they were my parentsmy family. Didnt I have a right to know?
I hit record, placed the phone near the wall, and pulled the duvet over my head.
The next morning, Mum and Dad looked exhausted. Over breakfast, they exchanged only polite small talk.
“You were back late,” Mum remarked, pouring tea. “Work again?”
“Yeah, wrapping up the project,” I nodded. “You two were up late too?”
“Oh, just a film,” she said airily, eyes fixed on her toast.
Dad buried himself in the paper. “Dont wait for me tonightclient meetings might run late.”
Mum pressed her lips together but stayed silent.
All day, I fought the urge to listen to the recording. Not on the Tubetoo crowded, too exposed. Id wait till home.
When I got back, Mum had left a notegone to her friend Margarets, back late. Dad was working, as promised. Perfect.
Curled under a blanket on the sofa, I hit play.
At first, just fragments. Then clearer.
“should we tell Emily?” Dads voice was tense.
“I dont know,” Mum sighed. “What if she doesnt understand? After all this time.”
“But she deserves to know.”
“Of course she does, but how do we explain keeping it secret?”
My stomach twisted. What secret?
“Remember how it started?” Dad asked, a smile creeping into his voice.
“Oh, dont,” Mum chuckled. “I thought itd be temporary. Turned into a lifetime.”
“What a life, though,” Dad mused. “Even the rough patches.”
“Especially when Emily came along.”
My chest tightened. *Especially*? Was I unwanted? Or was it something else?
“But we managed,” Dad said. “And shes brilliant.”
“She is,” Mum agreed, pride softening her voice. Relief trickled in. “But now weve got to decide. Im tired of the double life, James.”
*Double life?* My blood ran cold. An affair? Both of them? The thought turned my stomach.
“Alice, lets wait for Daniel. Well talk as a family.”
“Fine,” Mum relented. “But no more delays. We either change everything, or I dont know what then.”
The recording cut off.
I sat stunned. What was happening? Why wait for Daniel? Did *he* know?
Too many questions. Record them again? Notoo far. Id call Daniel first.
He didnt pick up until evening.
“Em! Sorry, left my phone in the van. Whats up?”
“When are you visiting?” I demanded.
“Saturday, why?”
“Mum and Dad are acting weird. Whispering, tensesomething about a double life.”
Silence.
“Daniel?”
“Yeah, Im here.” He cleared his throat. “Look, dont overthink it. People have secrets, even parents.”
“You *know* what it is?”
“I suspect. But if theyre not ready to talk, wait till Im there, yeah? Saturday.”
“Fine. Should I ask Aunt Louise?”
“No,” he said too quickly. “Keep it between us.”
His evasiveness only deepened the dread. Was it an affair? Some scandal?
That night, Mum returned from Margarets in high spirits, cheeks flushed.
“Guess what? Margarets selling her flatmoving to Cornwall! Says shes done with the city.”
I forced a nod.
“Would *you* ever move to the countryside?” I blurted.
Mum paused. “I dont know. Sometimes, yes. The quiet, the air, a garden.”
“Would Dad?”
“Ask him yourself,” she said stiffly. “Hell be late. Dont wait up.”
Luckily, Dad came home early. I was making tea when the front door clicked shut.
“Tea, Dad?”
“Please.” He loosened his tie. “Mum upstairs?”
“Watching a film. How was work?”
“Alright. Client agreed to terms.”
“Great.” I handed him a mug. “So you and Mum have something to tell me?”
He startled. “Whered you get that idea?”
“Daniel slipped,” I lied. “Said youd explain when he visits.”
Dad rubbed his temples. “We do. But lets wait for Daniel, alright? Its complicated.”
“Is it bad? Are you splitting up?”
“What? No!” He looked genuinely shocked. “Whyd you think that?”
“Youre always whispering, arguing. Mum mentioned a double life.”
His face shiftedconfusion, realisation, then relief?
“Em, youve got it all wrong. No ones splitting up. Quite the opposite.” He caught himself. “Just wait till Saturday. Promise, its nothing bad.”
That night, I barely slept. If not divorce, what? Illness? Money troubles? Moving?
And what did “quite the opposite” mean?
A soft knock. Mum peeked in.
“Still awake?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Thinking.” She sat on my bed. “What did you and Dad talk about?”
“Nothing much. Daniels coming Saturday.”
“I know. He called.” Silence. “Mum are you and Dad okay?”
She smiled oddly. “Perfectly. Its just life throws surprises, even at our age. And weve decisions to make.”
“Good or bad surprises?”
“Both.” She stroked my hair. “Dont fret yet. Youll see.”
Saturday arrived too soon. Daniel bounded in, sun-tanned and loud, bearing gifts and tension in his grin.
“Family meeting, then?”
Mum and Dad exchanged a glance.
“Were moving,” Mum announced.
“Where?”
“To Somerset,” Dad said. “A village called Oak Hollow.”
“Why?”
“Because its home,” Mum said simply. “Our real home.”
The truth spilled out. Theyd bought a cottage fifteen years agojust a holiday spot at first. Then came frequent visits, renovations, a growing plot of land. For the past decade, it had consumed them: gardening, farming, beekeeping.
“Beekeeping?” I gaped.
“Twelve hives,” Dad said proudly. “Best honey youll taste.”
“And chickens, goats,” Mum added. “Maybe a cow this year.”
“Youre farmers?”
“Seems so.” Mum grinned. “Weve orchards, berry patchesyou should see it.”
I turned to Daniel. “You *knew*?”
“Course. Helped build the shed. Its a proper two-storey house.”
“And no one told *me*?”
“You always hated the countryside,” Mum said gently. “Remember Grans? Youd cry to leave. Even as an adult, youd duck out of weekend trips.”
“That was years ago!”
“But you never asked *where* we went,” Dad pointed out. “Then it felt awkward to explain. Like wed been hiding something.”
“You *were*!”
“Not at first,” Mum said. “We said the cottage. Just didnt specify it was a *farm*.
