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‘Anyway, yes, I’m sure I saw a name.’ Rufus pulled his phone from his pocket and wiped the screen on his trouser leg. ‘Let me check this email. Someone who lives locally, I think. That’s why it’s tied in with this Save Hartglove thing.’

Alyssa froze, her crappuccino halfway to her mouth. No. Though she knew she was being stupid. The chances of it being a person she knew – or a certain person she knew – were slimmer than a gnat’s bum hole. And yet …

Rufus was scrolling his screen with the excruciating slowness of a sloth.

‘Let me just check this other message from …’

‘Rufus! The name.’

He looked up at her. ‘Snappy, aren’t you? You on edge? Or avoiding someone in that hometown of yours?’ His eyes shifted to her hand, which was drumming an agitated beat on the table.

‘No. I couldn’t actually care less. In fact, don’t bother checking.’ She glugged the rest of her drink and clonked the mug onto the table. ‘I’m already out.’

Rufus eyeballed her. ‘You making any money right now?’

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

‘’Cus you’re certainly not making me any money. I haven’t had any decent commission from you in a long while. You’re drinking my free coffee and taking up valuable space on my books. There are young, energetic hopefuls who’d kill for an agent like me.’ He waved his arms around himself as though she should be impressed with his Nineties rapper look. ‘If you don’t take this job, you might end up needing to find yourself another agent. And with your recent track record in bringing in no cash, good luck with that.’

Alyssa’s stomach cramped a little tighter. There were plenty of things she wanted to say in response. Retorts like ‘Get stuffed, you pillock’ or ‘Put your hat on properly – you’re not eleven’. But her brain wasn’t completely stupid. Getting dumped by her boyfriend and then her agent would be career kamikaze. She already felt like she had fewer options than Pikachu the mouse. It was too wild to go burning bridges. And Rufus wasn’t all bad, under the dodgy outfits and bravado.

‘Oh, here we go.’ He waved his phone screen. ‘Knew I’d seen it somewhere. The name of the contact for this publicity campaign.’

Alyssa took a deep breath, avoiding the urge to snatch.

He squinted at the screen. ‘Teijo Yoshida. You heard of him?’

She finally allowed herself to exhale. ‘No.’ Thank goodness. Not that there was any reason to think Devan would be involved, other than he kept inexplicably hijacking her thoughts. Why would he be? The last time she’d seen him they’d both been studying psychology – not computer apps. She’d never got the chance to finish the course. He’d probably passed with knobs on, in the annoying way he always did.

‘Most people you knew have probably moved on, if the town is that rubbish.’

‘Maybe. Can you check the paperwork for a name?’ she heard herself asking. Damn it. It didn’t even matter. There was no way she was doing this. ‘Devan Shaw.’ She clapped a hand over her forehead. Had she said that out loud? And why was The Single Dream now appearing in her head, in full technicolour? She grabbed a menu to fan her face.

‘Old flame?’ Rufus asked, noticing her getting flustered.

‘No.’ She pursed her lips.

‘Devan Shaw. Never heard of him. And I would have remembered a funny name like that. A bit like Devon, the place. And seashore. Get it? Don’t tell me, he’s got blue eyes and sandy hair, body like a surfer.’

‘He’s not a surfer,’ Alyssa managed to puff. ‘And his eyes are …’ She shook her head. It didn’t matter that they were the colour of twilight, or that his hair was dark brown with hints of auburn, or his body …

Alyssa stood up sharply, though her legs began wobbling. ‘Like I said, I can’t do this.’

Because what if Devan was still in town? And what if he was still with Sylvie? She never asked her parents about either of them during their infrequent, awkward phone calls – which was what her relationship with her parents had amounted to, other than the odd time when her mum was in London and insisted on meeting for a stilted brunch. Alyssa didn’t want to seem interested in her past peers, and she did not want to hear about how great other people’s lives were.

‘How could I possibly go back to Hartglove, fresh out of another failed relationship and desperate enough to get paid to be matched with anybody but a porcupine?’

‘It could be the start of incredible things. Both professionally and personally,’ said Rufus.

‘I doubt it.’

Alyssa grabbed her parka and pushed her way out from the table, crockery shaking and chair legs screeching like violins. It was time to leave.

‘It’s not like they’re asking you to bone this stranger, or anything,’ Rufus yelled after her as she moved towards the café’s exit. ‘I mean, not unless you want to. We’d definitely need a bigger fee for that.’