The Right to Make Mistakes.
Chloe found out about her father’s affair by accident – ditchin’ school that day to take her mate Emma to get a tattoo. Popping home for a change of clothes since wearin’ her uniform to the shoppin’ centre felt mortifyin’, she was yankin’ her jeans up when the key turned in the lock. Frozen mid-hop, one leg stuck, she feared burglars until Dad’s voice echoed through the flat. He wasn’t on a call though; it was a voice note. A minute later, a woman’s voice piped up:
“Darling, I’ve missed you terribly! Hurry, I’ve made your favourite mince pies… they’ll go cold! Kisses!”
Recognition struck before the meanin’: Auntie Catherine, Dad’s colleague and Mum’s best mate’s sister. Chloe liked her – Auntie Catherine was different from stuffy adults, proper fun and into chart music, not the dreary old tunes Mum and Dad played. Only then did Chloe grasp what the message meant.
Silence fell as the key turned again. Chloe sank onto the bed, replayin’ Auntie Catherine’s words. No mistake. Dad was seein’ someone else. What now? Tell Mum? How to act around Dad… or Auntie Catherine?
Unable to decide, she dashed to meet Emma, who’d sent five texts. They’d planned this for weeks, choosin’ designs, perfectin’ Mum’s signature on the consent form. Chloe’s excitement vanished.
“Chlo, what’s eatin’ you?” Emma pestered. “Fancy a tattoo yourself? I’ll forge the form!”
Chloe desperately needed to share this shockin’ burden but couldn’t. Blamin’ the tattoo seemed easier.
For two weeks, Chloe couldn’t focus. She avoided mates, Mum, and snarled at Dad. Clueless what to do, she nearly told Mum once, but Mum shouted about her Chemistry GCSE fail, sparkin’ a huge row. Later, Mum brought a chocolate eclair – Chloe’s favourite – to her room.
“Sorry for shoutin’, love. I know it’s not right. I just fret about your exams! Want everythin’ to be perfect…”
“Mum, don’t fuss! I’ll pass! Is that eclair mine?”
“Course. Friends? Hate it when we argue!” Chloe took the eclair, kissed Mum’s cheek, and promised herself: she’d never hurt Mum like that. If a silly row upset her this much, learnin’ about Dad would break her. Mum must never know.
Chloe became Dad’s reluctant accomplice: coverin’ his late “work” nights, remindin’ him of family dates and Mum’s requests, distractin’ Mum durin’ his calls. Yet she snapped at his every request, barely suppressin’ the urge to scream the truth.
Things calmed down eventually. Dad came home on time, Chloe passed her exams and started Year 11, the nightmare seemin’ forgotten. She also met Miles – two years older, studyin’ Law at uni, played guitar. Evenings were spent with friends, but they often slipped away together. One night, chatting by the fountain, time flew. Sneakin’ home late, she hoped her parents hadn’t noticed.
*Phew, got away with it.*
“Chloe?” No such luck. Mum peered in. “Bit late, aren’t you?” Expectin’ a lecture, Chloe deflected: “Sorry, chattin’ with Emma. Mum, you alright?” Even in the lamplight, Mum’s eyes looked red-rimmed.
“Fine. Say… you or Dad buy anythin’ from the jeweller’s? Just wondered…” A gut feelin’ told Chloe to hesitate.
“The jeweller’s?”
“Saw a receipt for earrings and thought…”
“Oh! Right – forgot to say, I asked Dad for money for Freya’s birthday gift! She pierced her ears recently and I wanted somethin’ nice… Too pricey? Soz, Mum.” Mum’s face transformed.
“Don’t be daft! I was just… You’re so thoughtful, just like your Dad!” Lying felt vile. Next day, Chloe vowed: end it now! Confrontin’ Dad seemed impossible. But Auntie Catherine? That she could manage, though the words escaped her.
Dad and Auntie Catherine worked at the magazine office – Dad wrote articles, Catherine was Editor-in-Chief. Chloe used to visit Dad there; gettin’in was easy. She waited for Dad to be out, learnin’ he was interviewin’ a factory manager over breakfast. Skippin’ second period, askin’ Emma to cover, she hopped a bus.
Reception waved her through. Confidently, Chloe climbed to the first floor, knockin’ on the “Editor-in-Chief” door.
“Come!” Auntie Catherine’s voice. Chloe entered.
“Chloe? What brings you here? Seein’ Dad? He’s out…”
Legs tremblin’, Chloe sat opposite the desk. The righteous speech planned on the bus vanished.
“Dad bought you those earrings, didn’t he?” Chloe gestured at the small sparklin’ studs in Catherine’s ears.
“What?”
Bafflement looked genuine on Auntie Catherine’s face.
“I know everythin’,” Chloe snapped. “Mum found the receipt. Aren’t you ashamed?”
Somethin’ flickered on Catherine’s face – anger?
“You’re sayin’ your Dad bought jewellery?”
“Mum mentioned earrings specifically. Stop pretendin’!”
Auntie Catherine hesitated. “Go home, pet. Best not to meddle.” Her tone unsettled Chloe. It was hopelessly complicated. On the bus home, Chloe realised Catherine would tell Dad. He’d demand answers. How to hide *this* from Mum?
That evenin’, Chloe faked a headache and went to bed early. Dad was late – probably with Catherine. He came in quietly and acted normal towards Chloe next mornin’, though distant with Mum.
A week later, he packed a suitcase and moved out – to live with Lucy, an intern. *Those* earrings were for Lucy. Auntie Catherine had sacked her rival. Chloe overheard Mum tellin’ her best mate later: “Auntie Catherine’s a saint! Sacked that little hussy the second she found out about the affair! Who knew he’d run off to her? Guilty conscience! He’ll regret losing you!” Mum replied: “No, it’s *my* fault. I neglected him, spied on him… silly, but I suspected. Catherine’s blameless!” Only Chloe knew it was *her* fault. If only she could undo it!
After that, life became a nightmare. Mum cried constantly in her room; Chloe got bad marks; she even rowed with Emma.
Things soured with Miles too. Now officially datin’, they fought constantly – him always rehearsin’ with his band or courierin’ weekends, leavin’ little time. Then they had a huge bust-up: Chloe wanted cinema, Miles was late from practice, they missed the start. Refusin’ to watch halfway, Chloe created a scene outside the Odeon and stopped answerin’ his calls.
Now a serial bunker-off, Chloe waited an hour after Mum left for work then slunk home. Expulsion? Repeat year? Didn’t care. Adults lied; why couldn’t she?
The key turnin’ jerked her back to *that* awful day. If only!
Listenin’ – Mum’s familiar sounds in the hall, plus… others? Mum spoke, then a man laughed. Panic: a boyfriend? Can’t have them think they’re alone! Chloe flung open her door, primed for a sarcastic “hello”, only to see Dad.
“Chloe?” Mum gaped. “Why’re you home?”
Chloe remembered: school day.
“My stomach… they sent me home.”
“Stomach?” Dad looked alarmed. “Need the
The fresh ink prickling her skin, Evie traced the words “Love is blind” etched defiantly onto her forearm, its permanence a shield she vowed would forever guard her shattered heart against anyone foolish enough to try and mend it.
The Freedom to Falter
