My dad used to leave the house twice a week for a few hours, coming back full of energy and in the best mood. Soon, his secret came out. I was only ten at the time, and my older brother was twelve. He spent his days playing outsidewe didnt get on muchwhile I helped Mum with chores. Dad worked at the factory and came home late. Mum would set the table, wed sit down for dinner, and then Dad would slip on his polished shoes, spend ages in front of the mirror, and head out without a word. Mum would glare at the door after he left, and Id wonder where he was going and why it made her so cross. Later, hed return all cheerful. One day, I asked Mum why she got so mad when Dad went out.
She said he had a girlfriend. I couldnt believe ithe adored Mum, hed never do that. So the next time he left, I followed him. He walked straight to the Royal Opera House and went inside. I hesitated outside, unsure whether to go in, when suddenly someone tapped my shoulder. I turned to see a stunning womana famous actress I recognised. She took me inside, where the auditorium was packed.
There was Dad, on stage. I had no idea he was an opera singerand brilliantly talented, too. He sang an aria, completely unaware I was sitting in the back row. When he finished, the crowd erupted in applause. He stood there, bowing, handed flowers. After the show, we strolled through Hyde Park, then went home in high spirits. I whispered to Mum, Dad doesnt have a girlfriendhe goes to the theatre! And she just smiled and whispered back, I know.
