The Aristocrat

They call it an affair

Thursday 1st. October.

My mother's illicit affair was as much a secret as it was innocent. Everyone knew. The family, the neighbours, everyone. And yet somehow after 3 years of her hushed extracurricular activity with Mr. Young-son, it was still the whispered words on everyone's plumped, glossed lips.

All the talk made me almost miss being my 14-year-old, innocent self, locked away at boarding school. At least then I was far away from London's elite. My mother's long-term fling was unbeknownst to me then. I like to believe that it was also a mystery to my father at the time, but my father much like my mother, has become rather good at ignoring problems. In the past years, he has dived further into the world of work, keeping a blind eye to his wife's questionable friendship with my private school's head board member.

My mother's and his romance had seemed to affect their social and professional lives very little. It was as if gossip about them were to stay hush-hush and behind our backs. Our circle continued to respect them despite their on-going affair. I however did not. It seems that catching your mother in the lap of a man who wasn't your father, is not something you can easily get over and laugh at over Sunday brunch. I had cried a lot that day.

My father, now home from his work trip, sat beside my mother. An unspoken truth settled comfortably in the air as we all sat around our overly priced dining table. My father was silent and looking at papers, my mother chatted composedly. The food on my plate was half eaten and pushed to the side. Our housekeeper, Lily, sidestepped into the room and took the plate from me.

"Thank you, Lily," I smiled politely. She nodded her head and moved into the kitchen silently. I watched as my brothers bickered over something unknown.

"Boys, will you please stop your squabbling, we are trying to have a nice family meal," my mother addressed them placing her cutlery down delicately.

I wasn't quite sure you could consider my brothers as boys anymore. Both stood over 6 feet tall and possessed deep voices. Caspian was even growing out the faintest sign of a stubble.

"I was just trying to remind Oliver of a deal we made, he seems to have broken the terms," Caspian shot our mother a charming smirk.

Oliver scoffed lightly and rolled his eyes, "there was no deal, I never agreed to anything."

My mother not wanting to deal with the boys looked to my father expectantly. His head raised slowly and his eyes meet my mothers. She tilted with her head in the direction of the boys.

My father cleared his throat with a cough and spoke up, "what's the matter?"

His voice was firm but distracted, his eyes twitched to get back to his paper work.

"Nothing, it's nothing we can't sort out ourselves," Oliver nodded at our dad respectfully.

"Come on Olive, our father might be able to help us out," Caspian teased mercilessly. I remained silent, not bothering to involve myself.

"Stop calling me Olive."

"You never seem to mind when Gra-" Caspian was cut off when a thump rocked the table. A sharp hiss left Caspian's lips and he lowered his body to allow his hand to rub his leg.

My mother tutted and inspected the table, "don't kick your brother Oliver, you almost pushed over the table."

Oliver grumbled something under his breath, then picked up his plate and left for the kitchen. Caspian smirked and winked at me. He followed the way Oliver left no doubt with bad intentions. Lily shuffled in again and bent over whispering something into my mother's ear.