«Daddy lives in another house too,» said the boy, and I realised his «business trips» were a lie.
«I won’t wear that dress, I’ve told you a million times!» Vikki stamped her foot and crossed her arms. «It’s itchy and the collar is awful!»
«But darling, we bought it specially for Grans birthday,» Emily said, forcing calm into her voice, though frustration bubbled inside. «Shell be upset if you turn up in jeans.»
«Let her be upset! Im ten, I can decide what to wear!»
Emily shut her eyes and counted to five. A tantrum was the last thing she needed today. The day had already been gruellingwork deadlines, rushing through Tesco, baking the blasted cake for her mother-in-law. And Michael, as always, was away on business when she needed him most.
«Vikki, listen» she began, but six-year-old Tommy burst into the room clutching a toy car.
«Mummy, Mummy, look what I drew!» He thrust a crumpled sheet of paper at her. «Its our family!»
Emily glanced at the scribblesa typical childs drawing: her with a big smile, Vikki with pigtails, little Tommy, and Dad, who for some reason was drawn twice, on opposite sides of the page.
«Very nice, sweetheart,» she murmured absently. «Why did you draw Daddy twice?»
Tommy blinked at her, as if explaining the obvious. «Thats not twice. Thats Dad in our house and Dad in the other house where he lives when hes not here.»
Something cold slithered down Emilys spine. She looked closeryes, two figures of Michael, one beside them, the other near a crude sketch of a house at the far edge.
«What other house, Tommy?» she asked carefully, keeping her voice light.
«The one with the 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 you.»
Vikki, momentarily forgetting the dress argument, froze wide-eyed. Then she blurted, «Tommy, stop lying! Dad goes on business trips, not to other houses!»
«Im not lying!» Tommy pouted. «We watched cartoons and had pizza. And Auntie Laura made us hot chocolate.»
«Auntie Laura?» The room swayed slightly.
«Dads friend. She lives there.» Tommy had already lost interest, pushing his car along the floor. «Can I go watch telly?»
Emily nodded, unable to speak. Vikkis frightened gaze darted between her brother and mother.
«Mum, hes got it all mixed up,» she said uncertainly. «Dad wouldnt»
«Go to your room, Vikki,» Emily cut in softly. «And forget the dress. Wear what you like.»
When Vikki left, Emily sank onto the sofa. Her thoughts tangled, her heart hammering in her throat. Michaelher Michael, who supposedly had business trips every fortnight? Who always spun such convincing tales about meetings, bringing back souvenirs from Manchester or Edinburgh?
She remembered the first flicker of suspicion six months ago. The sudden late nights, the frequent tripsused to be once a quarter, if that. Then shed found a café receipt in his pocket, dated for a day he was meant to be in Glasgow. Hed explained hed got back early but hadnt wanted to wake them.
Shed believed him. Or forced herself to.
Emily stood and went to the bureau where they kept documents. In a folder were household billsusually Michaels domain. She flicked through themphone, internet, utilities. Then her fingers stilled.
A bill she didnt recognise. For a flat in Camden. Addressed to Michael Carter. Her husband.
Her hands trembled. Proof. Stupid to hope the boy had imagined it. Children that age dont invent things like thisthey have no reason to.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Michael: «Miss you all. Counting the days. Love you.»
She stared at the screen, unsure how to reply. Confront him now? Call him out? Or wait till he was home, watch him lie to her face?
In the end, she typed, «All fine,» and set the phone aside.
The next two days passed in a haze. She went through the motionswork, school runs, mealsbut her mind kept circling back to Michaels double life. Tommy didnt mention the «other house» again. Vikki watched her with wary eyes, braced for an explosion.
For the family dinner at her mother-in-laws, Emily sent the kids alone, pleading a migraine. Couldnt bear to sit there smiling like nothing was wrong. Did his mother know? Was Emily the only fool?
On the third evening, the key turned in the lock. Emily sat at the kitchen table, an untouched cup of tea before her. The children were asleep.
«Home!» Michaels cheerful voice rang out as he strode in, suitcase in one hand, flowers in the other. «God, Ive missed you!»
He leaned in to kiss her. She pulled away. His brows lifted.
«Something wrong?»
«Tommy drew an interesting picture,» she said evenly. «Our family. With you in two houses.»
A flicker of tension crossed his face. Then he shrugged. «Kids imagine things, you know that»
«Stop it, Michael.» Her voice was tired. «I found the bills for the flat in Camden. Tommy told me about Auntie Laura and the cat. Quite the imagination for a six-year-old, dont you think?»
Slowly, he set the flowers down. His expression shiftedguilt, resignation.
«Emily, I can explain»
«Explain what?» Anger rose like a tide. «That you have another family? That your business trips were visits to another woman? That you took our son there?»
«Its not that simple,» he muttered, running a hand through his hair. «I never meant for you to find out like this.»
«When did you plan to tell me?» Her laugh was bitter.
He hesitated. «Laura got pregnant. It started as a fling, but then»
«What?» The floor seemed to drop beneath her. «You have a child with her?»
«Sophies four,» he admitted quietly.
Four years. All this time, while shed raised their children, cooked his meals, waited for him to return from «work trips,» hed been raising another child. The silence in the room was thick and suffocating. Emily stared at him, the man shed shared her life with, and felt like she was looking at a stranger.
And Vikki? Tommy? Did you ever think about them? About what this will do to them? Her voice was low, trembling with something between fury and grief.
I thought I could keep it separate, he whispered. I never wanted to hurt you.
Too late for that, she said, standing. Get out.
Emily
Now. Before I say something I cant take back. Before the kids hear.
He didnt argue. Just picked up his suitcase, left the flowers on the counter, and walked out.
She locked the door behind him, slid to the floor, and pressed her hand over her mouth to silence the sob. The house was too quiet. Too empty.
Upstairs, two children slept, unaware their world had already split in two. And somewhere across London, another little girl called Sophie was probably dreaming of her daddycoming home soon, just in time for breakfast.
