The key clicked in the lock, and Emma, careful not to rattle the latch, slipped into the flat. The hallway was a shade of night, a thin ribbon of light leaking from the kitchen. Her parents were still awake despite the clock having nudged past midnight. Lately this had become a routinelong, lowvoiced conversations behind a closed door, usually quiet, occasionally edging into a muffled quarrel.
Emma slipped off her shoes, set her laptop bag on the nightstand and slipped down the corridor toward her bedroom. She didnt feel like explaining why she was late; the excuse was respectablea work project that refused to stitch itself together and a deadline that was breathing down her neck.
Through the wall she could hear softened voices.
No, Simon, I cant do this any longer, her mother whispered, irritation thinly veiled. You promised last month.
Helen, understand, now isnt the time, her father replied, sounding like he was looking for another excuse.
Emma exhaled, weary. The parents had been sparring more often of late, yet pretended everything was fine when she passed by. They were already past fifty, she was grown, but it still hurt to sense a crack in their marriage.
She undressed, washed up and slipped under the duvet, but sleep refused to come. Her thoughts turned in circles. Her brother James lived in Bristol, visited rarely. If they divorcedwho would keep the flat? Who would stay where? Why were they hiding their troubles?
The voices behind the wall lingered. Emma reached for the nightstand and felt the headphones, thinking of drowning the mystery in music. Her hand brushed the phone; it clattered onto the carpet. Picking it up, she accidentally opened the voice recorder. Her finger hovered over the screen.
What if she recorded them? Just to hear the truth instead of guessing. If she asked outright, theyd probably brush her off, say everything was fine.
A pang of conscience chilled her. Eavesdropping felt wrong, recording worse. Yet they were her parents, her family. She had a right to know if something serious was afoot.
Resolute, Emma pressed record, placed the phone nearer the wall and pulled the duvet over her head.
In the morning, as she readied for work, she noticed both parents looked as if theyd been up all night. At breakfast they exchanged the usual pleasantries, barely speaking.
You got home late yesterday, her mother said, pouring tea. Stuck at work again?
Yeah, the project needed finishing, Emma answered. Why werent you asleep?
Oh, just watching a film, her mother replied, not meeting Emmas eyes.
Her father was glued to the newspaper, pretending the article held his world captive.
Dont expect me for dinner tonight, he said without looking up. I have client talks, might run late.
Her mother pursed her lips but said nothing.
All the way to the office Emma fought the urge to replay the nights recording. The Tube was packed, and the thought of listening felt almost sinful. She decided to wait until evening.
The day stretched endlessly. When she finally returned home, her mother was gonea note on the kitchen table said shed gone to a friends and would be back late. Her father was indeed still at work, just as hed promised. Perfect timing.
She flopped onto the sofa, wrapped a blanket around herself, and pressed play.
At first only fragments came through, then the sound sharpened.
should we tell Emma? his voice was laced with worry.
I dont know, her mother sighed. Im scared she wont understand. Its been so many years.
But she has a right to know.
Emmas breath caught. What were they hiding? What truth lay beneath their whispered arguments?
Do you remember how it all started? her father asked, a hint of a smile in his tone.
Of course, her mother chuckled. I thought it would be brief, but it turned out to be forever.
What a life weve built, her father muttered. Sometimes its been hard.
Especially after Emma arrived.
A cold knot formed in Emmas chest. Especially? she wondered. Was she an unwanted child? Or something else?
But we managed, her father continued. She grew up wonderful.
Yes, her mother replied, pride softening her voice. Now we just need to decide what comes next. Im tired of this double life, Simon.
A double life? Emma felt a chill. Were they having affairs? The thought made her nauseous.
Helen, lets wait for James to get back. Well talk together, as a family.
Alright, her mother agreed. But after that no postponements. Either we change everything, or I dont know what then.
The recording fizzed outas if the parents had left the kitchen or the device ran out of battery.
Emma sat stunned. What secret double existence were her parents leading? Why wait for James to explain? A thousand questions swirled, none answered.
She considered recording another conversation, but the guilt rose like a tide. Better to call James. He was older, might know more. Or perhaps Aunt Violet, her mothers sister, who had always been blunt with Emma.
She decided: tomorrow she would call James, and over the weekend shed pay a visit to Aunt Violet.
James didnt answer all day; his voice finally cracked through that evening.
Hey, Em! Sorry, I was on site, left my phone in the van, he said, bright as ever.
James, when are you coming back? Emma asked without preamble.
This weekend, why?
Mom and dad theyve been odd lately.
Odd how?
Whispering at night, pretending everythings fine. Talking about some double life.
There was a pause.
James?
Yeah, Im here, he cleared his throat. Listen, people have secrets, even parents. If they dont bring it up themselves, maybe they arent ready. Wait for me, okay? Ill be there Saturday, well sort it out.
Fine, Emma said reluctantly. What about Aunt Violet?
No need, James replied quickly. Dont drag her into this. Lets keep it between us.
The conversation left Emma more uneasy. He truly seemed to know something, and he was keen to keep Aunt Violet out of the picture. Could it be an affair? A family scandal they were desperate to hide?
That night her mother returned from her friends, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.
You wont believe it, Em, Lucy is selling the flat! She wants to move to the countryside. She says the city is too noisy.
Emma nodded, unsure how to react.
Would you like to move to the country? she asked herself, surprised.
Her mother hesitated, then answered softly.
I dont know sometimes it feels right. Fresh air, a garden
And Dad?
What Dad?
Does he want to go?
Ask him yourself, her mother said, now serious. Hell be late tonight, dont expect him for dinner.
Fortunately, her father arrived earlier than promised. Emma was brewing tea when the front door slammed shut.
Dad, tea? she called.
Coming, he replied, shedding his tie as he entered. Wheres Mum?
Shes in her room, watching a film, Emma answered, handing him a mug. Hows work?
All good. The client finally signed, so were launching the project, he said, sinking into a chair. Thanks for the tea.
Emma placed the mug before him. So is it true you and Mum have something important to tell me?
Her fathers eyes widened.
How did you know?
James let something slip, Emma improvised, avoiding his gaze. He said hed be back this weekend and youd explain everything.
Simon tightened his nostrils.
Yes, we have a conversation. But lets wait for James, alright? Itll be clearer then.
Is it something bad? Are you divorcing? Emma blurted.
What? No, of course not! Why would you think that?
Youre always whispering, arguing. Mum mentioned a double life.
His face flickered through confusion, then understanding, then relief.
Emma, youve got it all wrong, he sighed. No divorce. Actually we hmm. He paused. Were moving. Thats all.
Really? Emma asked, heart thudding.
Absolutely, he said, squeezing her hand. Now lets drink our tea before it gets cold.
That night Emma tossed and turned, piecing together snippets of dialogue, tones, halfspoken words. If not divorce, then what? Illness? Money trouble? A move? The thought unsettled her. She was just beginning to build a career, make friends, love the city
A soft knock at the door jolted her.
Cant sleep? her mother asked, peeking in.
No, Emma sat up on her elbows. What were you and Dad talking about?
Nothing special, Emma shrugged. Just work, James coming this weekend.
I know, her mother said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He called.
Silence stretched.
Mum, are you and Dad really okay? Emma finally asked.
Ellen Clarke smiled oddly.
Perfectly fine. Life throws surprises even after fifty, and you have to decide what to do with them.
Good or bad surprises?
Both, her mother stroked Emmas hair, just as she used to when she was a child. Dont worry too soon. Youll know soon enough.
She kissed Emmas forehead and left, leaving her daughter in deeper bewilderment.
The weekend arrived abruptly. James showed up Saturday around lunch, sunkissed, noisy, bearing gifts and an odd tension in his eyes.
So, family council? he joked as everyone settled in the living room.
Her parents exchanged glances.
Yes, perhaps its time, Simon said. Kids, we have news.
Emma held her breath.
Were moving, Helen announced.
Where? Emma asked.
To a village called Oakfield, about a hundred miles from here, Simon replied. Our real home.
It turned out the family had bought a cottage in Oakfield fifteen years ago, initially a holiday retreat. Over the years it had grown into a fullblown farm: a garden, an orchard, a beehive, even a plan for a cow.
Beehives? Emma gasped. You keep bees?
Fifteen hives now, Simon said proudly. The honey is superb.
And chickens, goats? Helen added. Were thinking of a cow this year.
Emma stared, bewildered.
So youre farmers? she asked.
Exactly, Helen laughed. Do you know how many apple trees, pear trees, raspberries we have?
Wait, when do you go there? I thought you were always at work.
Work is both the office and the farm, Simon explained. We split our time.
Emma turned to James.
Did you know?
Of course, James shrugged. Ive helped build the barn. The place is twostorey now.
Why keep it from me? Emmas voice rose.
Her parents looked at each other.
Because you always said you hated the countryside, Helen said quietly. Remember how youd cry when we took you to Grandmas farm as a kid? Youd always find an excuse to stay home.
That was childhood! Emma protested. Im an adult now.
Yet you never asked where we really went, Simon noted. It felt awkward to admit we had a whole other life.
You hid it! Emma snapped.
Not at first, Helen replied. We said cottage, not farm. Then it grew, and we didnt know how to explain.
Double life, Emma muttered, recalling the recording.
Precisely, Simon said. In the city were accountants, in the country were farmers. And were truly happy there.
So youre moving permanently? What about your jobs?
I retire next month, Helen said. Simons switched to remote work. Hell come into the city once a week for meetings.
The flat?
Well leave it for you, if you want, or sell it and split the proceeds. Its up to you.
Emma sank onto the sofa, the weight of the revelation pressing down.
So youve had a whole farm all this time, and I knew nothing, she said bitterly.
Emma, we never meant to hurt you, Helen moved to hug her, arms around her shoulders. It just happened. We didnt know how to tell you. Forgive us.
Emma stayed quiet, letting the words settle. Then she asked, Can I come visit? See the house, the farm?
Of course! Simon beamed. Tomorrow, if you like.
Tomorrow, Emma agreed, feeling a strange mixture of resentment, curiosity, and excitement. How much had she missed while wrapped up in deadlines and city life?
That night sleep eluded her again. The feeling of being both citydweller and future countryresident tangled inside her. She wondered why her parents had feared the truth for so long.
Morning found them loading the car. The farther they drove from London, the more animated her parents became, babbling about neighbours, soil tests, the new sauna Simon had built, Helens jars of preserves.
When the car turned onto a narrow country lane, Helen turned to Emma.
Weve wanted to tell you for ages, especially now that were moving for good. We feared youd laugh at us, old city folk turning farmer.
I wouldnt laugh, Emma whispered.
We understand now, Simon said. Youre grown, and we should have trusted you more.
The vehicle halted before a sizeable wooden house surrounded by hedgerows. The air smelled of fresh grass and wildflowers; a cow lowed in the distance, chickens clucked, and a faint hum of bees floated on the breeze. James was already unloading bags.
I still cant believe you kept this from me, Emma said, shaking her head. But you know what? I like it.
Helen squeezed her shoulder.
Weve even set up a spare room for you, just in case you want weekend visits.
Or summer? Simon added, hopeful.
Emma smiled faintly.
Lets discuss that later. First, show me the bees. I need to know why you swapped city lights for honey.
They walked along a gravel path toward the beehives, and Emma felt, for the first time, that she might have uncovered more than a family secretshe had found a doorway into a whole new world she had never imagined.
