Page 16

Alyssa’s jaw tightened. As though being dragged into his tangled web once wasn’t enough.

‘Like I said, it’s Alyssa. I’ve got work to do, so if you’ll please excuse me.’

‘Yes, work. With me. I’m the creator of ’Appy Together. It’s my business. I designed the app.’

Alyssa felt like she was in one of those moments where the world screeched to a halt. He’d designed the app? What the hell? Her head darted around for her agent, but it looked like he was long gone. Rufus must have known about this. And he’d kept it from her, even when she’d specifically mentioned Devan’s name. So much for ‘You’ll probably never see the tech nerds.’ Well, that was a steaming load of crap. She should have read the paperwork herself.

Clearly Devan was back to his usual underhanded behaviour too. Was everyone playing her? Had he tagged her in the social media posts on purpose? Had he engineered things to get her here, for cruel kicks? Well, she wasn’t going to show she was on the back foot.

‘Great,’ she said, in the most upbeat way she could manage. ‘Nice to meet you.’ It was about as nice as having her nipples eaten by rabid raccoons, but perhaps it didn’t even matter who was behind the app. Teijo was her contact and at least he couldn’t possibly be her love match.

‘Ooh, is that Beryl Bagnor? Percy and Pearl’s daughter?’

Did anyone else want a pop at her today? Alyssa winced as she heard an older lady’s voice from the crowd. Was that Mrs Halfpenny, who used to serve them sweets in the corner shop? She’d surely been close to retirement back then, so how was she now looking so sprightly? Perhaps it was the ‘Save Hartglove – Love at First Flight’ T-shirt she’d squeezed into, which matched the banner she was frantically waving above her blue-rinse hairdo. Alyssa had forgotten how much these people loved a cause.

Alyssa had specifically asked her parents not to be at this task, as she had to keep her work head on and didn’t want people spotting them and making the connection. Perhaps she’d been naive bordering on stupid to hope memories wouldn’t be jogged.

And how many of these people might remember her spilling her undying ‘love’ to that cretin on a stage, dressed as a damned turtle – only for him to waddle off without so much as a ‘Thanks but get stuffed?’ Her soul was withering.

Her eyes shot back to Devan, who she now registered was wearing the same T-shirt under his open shirt and coat, only his was definitely too small. It was riding up his stomach in a way that said: ‘I’m game for a laugh, and I’m a good-cause-supporting kind of guy. Oh, and look at my obliques.’

How infuriating. She remembered now how the locals had always loved him, even when he displayed the morals of a street rat.

‘Hello, Beryl dear. Long time no see!’ said another voice.

Did they honestly recognise her, or had there been gossip even before she’d arrived? News spread here like Japanese knotweed.

Alyssa straightened herself and turned in the direction of the voices. ‘I’m not Beryl. My name’s Alyssa.’ She’d practised saying it in the mirror and she didn’t care if they believed it. If a person wanted to change their name to Sunny Flipping Moonbeams, others ought to respect that. She wasn’t here to make friends or to get out her baby photo albums for a trip down hideous memory lane.

‘A fibber?’ The second woman scratched her head.

Alyssa summoned her last ounce of inner zen. It was a struggle. ‘Alyssa,’ she repeated semi-patiently, making sure the press heard her too. ‘From Chelsea. I’ve never been here, though people often think they know me. Easy mistake to make.’ She smiled as kindly as she could at the older residents, hoping any journalists might pass them off as a bit forgetful.

She’d chosen her new name not long after she’d fled Hartglove, feeling broken and desperate to reinvent herself. The name meant logical, and it went nicely with the new surname Heart, which she’d added once she’d got into love coaching. You could call yourself anything online, even if your passport still said Beryl.

‘Alyssa Heart,’ Devan repeated authoritatively, like he was trying to save things. She didn’t need a hero in a too-small T-shirt. ‘I did read that you were from London. Sorry for the confusion.’ He extended his hand to shake, giving her an irritating conspiratorial look that told her he knew she was Beryl, but he wasn’t going to harp on about it. Coming from the bloke who was named like the seaside, even though he lived in the Cotswolds. ‘I’m Devan Shaw. I’m your Budding Ultimate Match.’

And suddenly, Alyssa felt unbearably hot.

The fan that had been blowing behind them had now been replaced by fire. Great, scalding flames licked the inside of the red air balloon, making it rise. It reared up behind Devan, taking shape with every agonising second that passed between them. The balloon formed itself into a gigantic red heart, pulsing and burning behind them. It had the words We’re ’Appy Together emblazoned across the front – which couldn’t have been further from the truth.

She’d managed many a year without feeling this wildly out of control – and that had been just the way she’d liked it. Right then, it felt like all of her worst nightmares were coming true. Worse still she’d unwittingly signed herself up to them, and there was nothing she could do but grit her teeth and play ball. How quickly could she get this farce over with?