Elizabeth discovered her father’s affair entirely by accident. She’d skipped school that morning, intending to accompany her friend to a tattoo parlour. Not wanting to go to the shopping centre in her school uniform, she dashed home to change. She was hopping on one leg, wrestling with her jeans, when the key turned in the door. Startled, thinking perhaps it was burglars, she froze mid-struggle. Then she heard her father’s voice – seemingly speaking to someone on the phone.
“I’ll grab my kit now and leave immediately. Can’t very well claim I was at cricket practice if my gear bag’s under the bed.”
Only then did Elizabeth realise it wasn’t a live call; he was leaving a voice message. Minutes later, she heard a woman’s voice reply softly:
“Darling, I’ve missed you terribly, hurry over… I baked your favourite scones. Best not let them go cold. Kisses!”
The meaning struck her moments later, delayed by recognition. It was Aunt Kate, her dad’s colleague and her mum’s best friend’s sister, a regular visitor. Elizabeth had always liked Aunt Kate – she differed from other adults, never pretending to know everything, fond of fun and modern tunes, not the dreary songs her parents favoured. Why would Aunt Kate send *him* voice messages? Comprehension dawned shockingly.
The key turned again; silence fell. Elizabeth sank onto her bed, replaying Aunt Kate’s words. No mistake – her father was entangled with another woman. What now? Tell Mum? How should she act around Dad, or Aunt Kate?
Unable to decide, she hurried to meet her friend Matilda, who’d sent five impatient texts. They’d planned this for weeks, choosing designs, even perfecting parental signature forgeries. Yet Elizabeth’s spirit felt extinguished.
“Lizzy, what’s wrong?” Matilda pressed. “Why the long face? Changed your mind? Want ink? Easy – I’ll forge your mum’s signature!”
How Elizabeth longed to share the awful news, to offload the burden. But such secrets couldn’t be told, even to a close friend. She pretended the tattoo was the issue.
The following fortnight became a blur of distraction. She couldn’t concentrate on GCSE preparation, avoided friends, snapped at her father, withdrew from her mum. What to do? She nearly confessed once, but Mum scolded her about failing chemistry grades, sparking a bitter row. That evening, Mum entered her room bearing Elizabeth’s beloved chocolate eclairs.
“Sorry I shouted, poppet. Uncalled for. I just fret so about your exams! Desperate for you to do well…”
“Mum, stop fussing – I’ll pass! Is that eclair for me?”
“Of course. Friends again? Hate it when we fight.”
Elizabeth took the pastry, kissed her mum’s cheek, and vowed silently: *I’ll never cause her that pain.* Such distress over a trivial argument – imagine her grief discovering Dad’s betrayal. He must be shielded, no matter the cost.
Reluctantly, Elizabeth became his accomplice. She covered for his late nights, reminded him of birthdays and Mum’s requests, distracted Mum when suspicious calls came. All while ignoring his requests, answering harshly, barely containing her contempt.
Then, things seemingly settled. Dad returned promptly; Elizabeth passed her mocks and moved into Year 11; the affair faded like a bad dream. She met James, two years older, studying law at university, who played guitar. They’d stroll with friends evenings, often slipping away alone. One such night, walking to the fountain, time vanished. Late, she crept home on tiptoes.
*Phew, got away with it,* she thought.
“Elizabeth?”
No escape.
Mum peered into her room. “You’re back late.”
Elizabeth braced for a telling-off, but Mum seemed distracted.
“Sorry, lost track with the girls. Mum… are you alright?”
Even under the lamp, Elizabeth saw Mum’s red-rimmed eyes.
“Fine. Tell me, did you and Dad buy anything at the jeweller? Just wondering…”
Instinct warned Elizabeth to hesitate. “The jeweller?”
“I saw a receipt for earrings…”
“Oh, *that*! Sorry, forgot – asked Dad for money for Matilda’s gift. Her birthday’s soon. She pierced her ears… Thought earrings… Too pricey? Sorry, Mum.”
Mum’s face transformed. “Nonsense! Don’t worry. So thoughtful remembering important dates! Takes after your father.”
Lying was so repugnant; next day, Elizabeth resolved to end it. Confronting Dad felt impossible. But facing Aunt Kate… she could manage that, surely? She’d improvise.
Dad and Aunt Kate worked together – he wrote articles, she was editor-in-chief. Dad often brought her to the office when younger, so access was easy.
Waiting for Dad’s absence was simple; days later, he mentioned interviewing a factory director over breakfast. After first lesson, Elizabeth slipped away, asking Matilda for cover. The bus delivered her within half an hour.
Reception waved her through. Confidently, she climbed to the second floor, knocking on the ‘Editor-in-Chief’ door.
“Yes?” came Aunt Kate’s voice. Elizabeth opened it.
“Elizabeth? What brings you here? For your father? He’s out…”
Hiding trembling legs, Elizabeth sat opposite Aunt Kate’s desk. The fiery speech planned during the journey dissolved into stammering, “Dad bought you those earrings, didn’t he?”
Tiny, sparkling crystal studs gleamed in Aunt Kate’s ears.
“What?”
Aunt Kate looked genuinely bewildered.
“I know everything,” Elizabeth stated flatly. “Mum found the receipt. Aren’t you ashamed?”
An inkling of anger crossed Aunt Kate’s face. “You’re saying your father bought something, specifically earrings, at a jeweller?”
Elizabeth recalled Mum saying earrings. “He did. Don’t pretend.”
Long silence. Then, “Go home, dear. Best not get involved.”
Something jarred in Aunt Kate’s tone. It felt messier than expected. On the bus home, Elizabeth realised Aunt Kate would tell Dad, ending secrecy.
That evening, feigning a headache, she retired early. Dad returned late – doubtless a fraught conversation. He avoided her entirely the next morning, preoccupied and monosyllabic with Mum.
A week later, he packed a bag and moved in with Lucy, an intern. *She* was the earring recipient; Aunt Kate had sacked her rival. Elizabeth overheard Mum telling a friend later:
“Forgive Kate – blameless. A saint! Fired the minx the instant she learned! Who’d think *he’d* leave with her? Guilt, supposedly! Heartache ahead for him!”
“*My* fault!” Mum wept back. “I neglected him. Spied – stupid, yes, but I suspected! Kate’s innocent!”
Only Elizabeth knew the true culprit: herself. If only time could unwind!
Life became a nightmare: Mum wept constantly in her room; Elizabeth failed tests; she quarrelled with Matilda.
James became another problem. Since they became official, arguments flared constantly – his band rehearsals consumed time, weekend courier work stole dates. They split after cinemas: he dawdled at band practice; she refused to watch half the film; a huge scene erupted outside.
Skipping school became routine. One noon, waiting an hour after Mum left for work, she slunk home. Expulsion? Repeating the year? Who cared? Parents lied; why couldn’t she?
The key turned. Déjà vu struck – transporting her back to *that* disastrous eavesdropping day. *Turn back time!*
She listened. Mum, clearly… but other noises? Mum spoke, followed by male laughter. A boyfriend? They couldn’t think the house empty! Elizabeth flung the door open, poised for a sarcastic “Hello.”
And saw her father.
“Elizabeth?” Mum frowned. “Why home?”
That tattoo remained a painful emblem of her shattered trust, yet she would slowly learn that guarding her heart so fiercely merely imprisoned her in loneliness, until the day she met someone who saw past the ink to the wounded soul beneath.
