The Right to Be Wrong
Emily discovered her father’s affair entirely by chance – the day she skipped school to go with her best mate to a tattoo parlour. Heading to the shopping centre in her uniform felt awkward, so she dashed home to change. Just as she was pulling on her jeans, the key turned in the lock. She froze mid-movement, wobbling on one leg, her other stuck in the trouser leg. For a second, she feared burglars, but then recognised her dad’s voice – apparently on the phone.
“Just grabbing my kit, then I’m out. Can’t say I was at footie if my bag’s under the bed.”
Emily was wrong; it wasn’t a phone call. He was recording a voice message, because moments later, she heard a woman’s voice reply:
“Sweetheart, I’ve missed you terribly, hurry up… I’ve baked your favourite sausage rolls, come before they get cold! Kisses!”
The meaning took a while to sink in. First, she recognized the voice: Aunt Lucy, her dad’s colleague and also her mum’s best friend’s sister. Emily had always liked her. Aunt Lucy wasn’t like other adults – never pretended to know best, loved a laugh, and listened to proper music, not the dreary stuff her parents fancied. Only then, puzzling over why Aunt Lucy sent her dad voice notes, did the message truly hit home.
The key clicked again, silence fell. Emily sank onto the bed, replaying Aunt Lucy’s words – no mistake, her dad was involved with another woman. What now? Tell Mum? How to act around Dad or Aunt Lucy?
Undecided, she raced off to meet her mate Izzy, who’d already sent five texts. They’d spent weeks choosing designs, and Izzy had perfected her mum’s signature. But the excitement had vanished.
“Em, what’s up?” Izzy nagged. “Why the long face? Fancy ink too? Easy, I’ll fake your mum’s sig!”
How she longed to share the shocking news, share the burden. But she couldn’t, even with Izzy. So Emily blamed it on the tattoo idea.
For two weeks after, she couldn’t focus on schoolwork, avoided friends, dodged Mum’s questions, and snapped at her father. What to do was a mystery. When she nearly confessed, her mum started yelling about her rubbish Chemistry grade instead, sparking a huge row. That evening, Mum brought her a chocolate éclair – Emily’s absolute favourite.
“Sorry, love, for shouting. Know it’s not on. Just worry about your GCSEs! Want everything to go well…”
“Mum, seriously, I *will pass*! Is that éclair for me?”
“Course. Friends again? Hate it when we fight!”
Emily took the éclair, kissed Mum’s cheek, and promised herself – she’d never cause Mum that kind of pain. If a stupid row upset her this much, imagine learning the truth. She had to prevent that, whatever it took.
So, unwillingly, she became her father’s accomplice: covered for his late “work”, reminded him of birthdays and Mum’s requests, distracted Mum when his phone rang. Yet she ignored his requests, was rude, and barely held back from telling him exactly what she thought.
Then, things settled. Dad downed tools on time, Emily passed her GCSEs and started Sixth Form, the whole mess fading like a bad dream. She also met Josh – two years older, a first-year Law student who played guitar. Evenings were spent with mates, but more often they’d slip away just the two of them. That night, walking to the fountain, they lost track of time. She needed to get home *now*. Praying her parents wouldn’t notice the hour, she crept in on tiptoe.
*Phew, got away with it*, she thought.
“Emily?”
Not away with it…
Mum peered into her room. “Bit late, isn’t it?”
Braced for a proper telling-off, Emily was surprised – Mum didn’t seem to expect an explanation.
“Sorry, got chatting with the girls. Mum? Everything alright?” Even in the dim light, Emily saw her mother’s eyes were red.
“Fine. Love, did you or Dad buy anything at the jewellers? Just a thought…”
Some instinct told her to pause.
“The jewellers?”
“Saw a receipt for earrings and wondered…”
“Oh! *That*! Sorry, forgot to mention – asked Dad for cash for Robyn’s birthday gift? Wanted something special. She just pierced her ears… Too much, yeah?” Lying felt vile.
Mum’s face instantly brightened. “No, sweetheart, course not! Just me being silly… Clever girl, remembering important dates! Takes after your Dad!”
So unpleasant was the lie that Emily resolved next day to end it. Talking to a father was terrifying. Confronting Aunt Lucy… *That* she could handle. What to say? She’d wing it.
Dad and Aunt Lucy worked at the newspaper – Dad wrote stories, Aunt Lucy was the Editor-in-Chief. Dad used to take Emily to work when she was younger, so getting in was easy.
Timing was key – a moment Dad was out. Opportunity came days later over breakfast when Dad mentioned interviewing a factory boss. Seizing her chance after Registration, Emily skipped school, asking Izzy to cover. She caught the bus and was there in half an hour.
Reception waved her through. Emily confidently climbed to the second floor and knocked on the door marked ‘Editor-in-Chief’.
“Come,” called Aunt Lucy’s voice. Emily pushed the door open.
“Emily?” Aunt Lucy looked startled. “What brings you here? Dad’s out interviewing…”
Hiding shaking knees, Emily took the chair opposite the desk. On the bus, delivering a scathing speech seemed easy; now flustered, she managed:
“Dad bought you those earrings, didn’t he?”
Sparkling little hoop earrings with clear crystals twinkled in Aunt Lucy’s ears.
“What?”
Had Emily not heard that message, she might have doubted herself – Aunt Lucy looked genuinely bewildered.
“I know everything,” Emily stated flatly. “Mum found the jeweller’s receipt. Aren’t you ashamed?”
An unreadable expression flickered across Aunt Lucy’s face, perhaps anger.
“You’re saying your Dad bought jewellery?”
Emily remembered – Mum definitely said earrings. “Not just jewellery. Earrings. Don’t pretend you didn’t know.”
Aunt Lucy was silent a long while, then said, “Go home, love. You shouldn’t be involved.”
Something in her tone alarmed Emily, but it was pointless – this was more tangled than she’d imagined. On the bus home, it struck her: Aunt Lucy would tell Dad, he’d demand explanations, and hiding *that* from Mum seemed impossible.
That evening, Emily feigned a headache and went to bed early. Dad was late – probably hashing it out with Aunt Lucy. She heard him return, but neither then nor the next morning did he mention it, though he wasn’t himself – scowling, answering Mum oddly.
A week later, he packed a suitcase and moved in with Chloe, an intern. Turned out the earrings were for *her*, and Aunt Lucy had fired her rival. Emily learned this later, eavesdropping on Mum and her friend:
“Don’t blame Lucy, Bess. She did the *right* thing, sacking that tart the second she knew your husband was playing away! Who knew *that* would
The furious row when her mum saw it made her vow to cover it with long sleeves forever.
