Dad lives in another house too, said my son, and I realised his business trips were all a lie.
I am NOT wearing that dress! Emily stamped her foot and crossed her arms. Its itchy, and the collar is horrid!
But darling, we bought it specially for Grandmas birthday, Lucy said, forcing calm while irritation bubbled inside. Shell be upset if you turn up in jeans.
Let her be upset! Im tenI get to choose what I wear!
Lucy shut her eyes and counted to five. The last thing she needed right now was a meltdown. The day had already been exhaustinga mad rush at work, frantic shopping, baking a cake for her mother-in-laws party. And as usual, James was away on business when she needed him most.
Em, listen she began, but six-year-old Oliver burst in clutching a toy car.
Mum, look what I drew! He thrust a crumpled sheet at her. Its our family!
Lucy glanced at the scribblesstick figures of herself grinning, Emily with pigtails, little Oliver, and James, drawn twice, on either side of the page.
Lovely, sweetheart, she said absently. Why two of Daddy?
Oliver blinked, as if it were obvious. Thats not two Daddies. Thats Dad in our house and Dad in the other house where he lives.
Something cold slithered down Lucys spine. She studied the drawingtwo figures of James, one beside them, the other near a boxy house at the pages edge.
What other house, Olly? she asked carefully.
The one with flowers in the window and the cat, he shrugged. He took me there when you were at work. But its a secretDad said not to tell.
Emily, momentarily forgetting the dress, gaped. Ollie, stop fibbing! Dad goes on business trips, not to other houses!
Am NOT fibbing! Oliver pouted. We watched cartoons and had pizza. Auntie Sarah made us hot chocolate.
Auntie who? The room swayed slightly.
Dads friend. She lives there. Oliver had already lost interest, zooming his car along the floor. Can I watch telly now?
Lucy nodded, speechless. Emilys wide eyes flicked between her brother and mother.
Mum, hes got it wrong, she said shakily. Dad wouldnt
Go to your room, Em, Lucy cut in quietly. Wear whatever you like.
Once alone, Lucy sank onto the sofa, thoughts tangling, heart hammering. Jamesher James, with his biweekly business trips? The man whod spin such convincing tales, bringing back souvenirs from Manchester or Bristol?
She remembered the first niggling doubt six months agohis late nights, the sudden flurry of trips when hed barely travelled for work before. Then the café receipt from their own town, dated when he was supposedly in Edinburgh. Hed brushed it off: Got back early, didnt want to wake you.
Shed believed him. Or forced herself to.
Lucy marched to the filing cabinet. Bills James usually handledphone, internet, utilities. Then she froze. A second setfor a flat in Camden. Under James Whitmore. Her husbands name.
Her hands trembled. Proof. A child wouldnt invent details like that.
Her phone buzzed. A text from James: *Miss you all. Counting the days. Love you.*
She stared, torn between calling him out or waiting to see his face when he lied. In the end, she typed *All fine* and set the phone aside.
The next two days blurred. Work. Kids. Pretending. Oliver stayed silent; Emily watched her with wary eyes.
Lucy skipped the family dinner, claiming a migraine. Couldnt bear smiling at his motherdid *she* know?
On the third evening, the lock turned. Lucy sat at the kitchen table, tea untouched.
Home! James breezed in, flowers in hand. Missed you!
He leaned in for a kiss. Lucy pulled back.
Ollie drew something interesting, she said flatly. You. In two houses.
James stiffened, then chuckled. Kids imagine the oddest
Stop. Her voice was steel. I found the bills. The Camden flat. Oliver told me about Auntie Sarah and the cat. Too specific for imagination, dont you think?
James set the flowers down, face crumpling. Lucy, I can explain
Explain *what*? Her laugh was brittle. That your trips were weekends with another woman? That you took our son *there*?
It wasntI never meant for him to meet her! James ran a hand through his hair. It started as nothing. Then Sarah got pregnant. Sophies four now.
*Four years.* Lucys stomach lurched. All those nights waiting up, ironing his shirts while he read bedtime stories to another child.
Why stay? she whispered. Why not choose?
I *did* chooseall of you. He reached for her hand; she yanked away. I love our kids. I love *you*. But I love them too. Its like
Dont. Her voice cracked. You dont get to say love while lying to my face for years. Pack a bag. Go live properly with them.
James paled. You cant throw away fifteen years!
*You* did. When you thought you could have both.
Silence. His guilt hung between them.
Can I say goodbye to the kids? he mumbled.
Theyre asleep. Come tomorrow. Tell them the truthno more lies.
As the door shut, Lucy slid to the floor, finally letting the tears come. Pain, yesbut relief too. No more pretending.
Morning brought Oliver clambering onto her bed. Wheres Dad? He was sposed to be back.
Hell visit today. She hugged him tight. You didnt do anything wrong, telling me. Always tell the truth, okay?
Emily hovered in the doorway, taking in Dads absence. Hes gone for good?
Hell still see you. Lucy patted the mattress. But he has another family.
Emilys chin trembled. I knew. I saw a photo on his phonea lady with a little girl. He said it was his cousin.
Lucys heart splintered. Even Emily had carried the weight of his secrets.
Pajama day, she declared. TV. Pancakes. No school.
As they snuggled under the duvet, Oliver chattered about dragons, Emily silent but squeezing her hand, Lucy breathed deeply for the first time in years.
Hard days ahead? Absolutely. But theyd manage. No more lies. Just thema real family.
Mum? Emily whispered. Will we be okay without Dad?
Lucy kissed her forehead. Well be brilliant. Were stronger than we knew, Lucy said softly, pulling both children close. And we have each other. The sun filtered through the curtains, warm and steady, as the three of them sat tangled in blankets, the quiet of the house no longer hollow, but full.
