Alice discovered her father’s affair entirely by accident. She’d skipped school that morning to accompany her friend to a tattoo parlour. Fearing her uniform might draw unwanted stares in the shopping precinct, she’d dashed home to change. As she struggled into her jeans, hopping awkwardly with one leg half-trapped, a key turned in the lock. Frozen, her heart hammering at the thought of burglars, she heard her father’s voice. It sounded like he was mid-conversation.
“Just grabbing my kit and heading out,” he said loudly. “Can’t claim I was at practice with my sports bag under the bed, can I?”
Alice realised her mistake; he wasn’t on a phone call, but recording a voice message. Seconds later, a woman’s eager voice filled the hall: “Darling! I’ve missed you dreadfully, hurry! I’ve baked your favourite Bakewell tarts, they’ll go cold. Love you!”
The meaning dawned belatedly. First came recognition – Aunt Catherine! Dad’s colleague, sister to Mum’s best friend, a frequent visitor Alice liked immensely. Aunt Catherine seemed different, genuinely fun, unpretentious, preferring modern bands over the dreary tunes her parents played. Only then did the unsettling significance of the message sink in.
The lock turned again. Silence descended. Alice sank onto her bed, replaying Aunt Catherine’s words – no, she hadn’t misheard. Her father was unfaithful. What now? Tell Mum? How could she act around Dad, or Aunt Catherine?
Unresolved, she rushed to meet her friend, Sophie, who’d sent five impatient texts. They’d planned this tattoo trip for weeks. Sophie had perfected forging her mum’s signature. But Alice’s enthusiasm had vanished.
“Alice, what’s up?” Sophie persisted as they walked. “Why the long face? Want ink? Easy-peasy, my forging skills are top-notch!”
How she yearned to offload this shocking secret, share the burden. Yet she couldn’t utter a word, even to Sophie. Blaming tattoos seemed the safer bet.
For weeks, Alice drifted. Schoolwork suffered, friends were avoided, Mum was given the cold shoulder, Dad met with open rudeness. Paralysed by indecision, she almost confessed to Mum once, but her scolding over a poor chemistry grade escalated into a fierce row. That evening, Mum appeared at her door holding a chocolate éclair, Alice’s favourite treat.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” Mum murmured. “Shouting wasn’t fair. I know it’s not helpful. I just fret so much about your GCSEs! I want everything perfect…”
“Mum, stop fussing! I’ll pass! Is that éclair mine?”
“Of course. Truce? I can’t bear us fighting!”
Alice took the éclair, kissed Mum’s cheek, and swore a silent oath: she’d never inflict this deeper pain on her. If Mum cried over a silly quarrel, what would news of Dad’s betrayal do? She must shield Mum at all costs.
Involuntarily, Alice became her father’s accomplice: covering his ‘late work’, reminding him of birthdays and Mum’s requests, distracting Mum when suspicious calls came. Yet she ignored his requests, answered with curt rudeness, barely suppressing the icy contempt she felt.
Life seemed to settle. Dad came home on time, Alice passed her GCSEs and entered Year 11. The affair faded like a bad dream. Then she met Matthew – a first-year Law student, two years older, who played guitar. Evenings were spent with their mates, then increasingly stolen moments alone. Tonight, chatting by the municipal fountain, time flew. Arriving home far later than allowed, Alice crept to her room on tiptoe.
*Phew, I reckon I’ve got away with it*, she thought.
“Alice?”
Not away with it.
Mum peered in. “You’re dreadfully late.”
Expecting fury, Alice found Mum oddly subdued, uninterested in excuses.
“Sorry, lost track with Sophie. Mum… are you okay?”
Even in the dim lamplight, Alice saw Mum’s reddened eyes.
“Fine. Just… did you or Dad buy anything jewellery-wise? At Hartley & Sons? Random thought…”
Instinct told Alice caution was needed.
“Jewellery?”
“I saw a receipt for earrings… wondered…”
“Oh, *that*!” Alice feigned realisation. “Forgot to say – I asked Dad for fifty quid towards Sophie’s birthday gift. Newly pierced ears, wanted something special. Too expensive?”
Mum’s face transformed. “No, no! Don’t fret! It’s sweet you remember birthdays! Just like your dad!”
Lying to Mum felt vile. The next day, Alice resolved to end it. Confronting Dad filled her with dread. But facing Aunt Catherine… that seemed manageable. What to say? Improvise.
Dad wrote articles, Aunt Catherine was Editor-in-Chief at ‘The Chronicle’. When Alice was younger, Dad often took her to the office. Gaining entry was easy. Timing was key – she needed Dad absent. An announcement over breakfast a few days later solved it: Dad was interviewing a CEO at an industrial estate. Alice skipped second period, Sophie providing cover, and took the bus.
Reception waved her through. She climbed to the second floor, knocking on the door marked ‘Editor-in-Chief’.
“Come!” came Aunt Catherine’s voice. Alice entered.
“Alice? Goodness! What brings you here? Dad’s interviewing…”
Hiding trembling knees, Alice sat opposite Aunt Catherine’s desk. The indignant speech planned on the bus evaporated. Finally, she blurted:
“Dad bought those earrings for you, didn’t he?”
Tiny, sparkling crystal hoops adorned Aunt Catherine’s ears.
“What?”
Had Alice not overheard that message, she might have believed Aunt Catherine’s genuine confusion.
“I know everything,” Alice stated flatly. “Mum found the receipt. Aren’t you ashamed?”
Aunt Catherine’s expression shifted – anger? Contempt? Something Alice couldn’t name.
“You’re saying Dad purchased jewellery?”
“Mum specifically mentioned earrings. Don’t pretend you weren’t involved.”
Aunt Catherine was silent for a long moment. Then: “Go home, dear. This isn’t your fight.”
Something in her tone unnerved Alice, yet retreat was necessary; this was deeper waters than she’d fathomed. On the bus home, she realised Aunt Catherine would tell Dad; he’d demand explanations, and Mum couldn’t remain shielded.
That evening, Alice pleaded a headache and went to bed early. Dad returned late, clearly discussing matters with Aunt Catherine. He behaved normally with Alice next morning, though preoccupied, frowning, answering Mum disjointedly.
A week later, he packed a case and moved in with Louisa, an intern. Those earrings were Louisa’s gift. Aunt Catherine had fired her rival. Alice gleaned this later, overhearing Mum and her best friend talk.
“It’s not Cath’s fault,” the friend insisted. “She’s a saint! Once she learned your husband was carrying on with that chit, she sacked Louisa immediately! Who knew he’d feel guilty and run *to* her? Don’t fret – he’ll regret losing you.”
“Oh, no, it’s my fault!” Mum wept. “I’ve been neglecting him lately… and spying! Stupid, but I sensed something. Cath’s blameless!”
Only Alice knew she was truly the guilty one. If only she could rewind time!
Life became a nightmare. Mum wept constantly behind closed doors. School grades plummeted. Alice even fell out with Sophie. Things soured with Matthew too. Officially a couple, they bickered constantly – he prioritised band rehearsals and weekend courier work over her. Finally, a huge row erupted outside the cinema after his lateness made them miss the start. Alice stomped off, refusing his calls.
Now perpetually truant, Alice waited until Mum left for work before returning home. Exclusion? Repeating the year? Parental disapproval? Hypocrites all; why not her?
One morning, a key turned in the lock. Alice flashed
Alice flashed back to that devastating day, yet now the familiar creak of the door revealed her mother tearfully embracing her father, a reunion that cemented Alice’s resolve to etch “Love is blind” onto her skin and close her heart for good.
The Freedom to Fail
