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Chapter 26

Alyssa wasn’t quite sure why she was walking in the direction of Clucky Ducks Retirement Home, because she was absolutely not going there. Was she?

And yet somehow, her feet were taking over while her brain was still processing. Of course, it wasn’t too late to keep on marching and go straight home, where there would be precisely no revelations or heartbreak, and a whole lot less jolly apple blossom. Though did Mrs Halfpenny have a point about going through things, rather than skating around them?

Because try as she might, the more time she spent here with Devan, the more she couldn’t stop thinking about the past – and the pieces of the puzzle that still didn’t fit. And it was simply annoying to have a puzzle with chunks of the picture missing.

Alyssa halted, propping herself against a lamppost, her head swarming with thoughts. Her arms were full with a mouse cage and shopping. The wind was picking up pace. There was a version of her who would have gone back to her cow shed for a nice hot chocolate and an aimless scroll through social media.

Though there was a brand-new part of her that seemed desperate to emerge. A part who wanted to know more. And feel more? Because she couldn’t deny she was feeling a lot more for Devan, even if that was terrifying. He’d been so vague about the past and her pain at being cheated on was still real. Mrs Halfpenny’s weird purple truth chair had made her realise how much she’d missed Sylvie too, despite everything.

So she took a deep breath, pushed herself off the lamppost, and allowed her feet to carry her straight into the building where Sylvie would be – and where she could get some answers.

The place was noisy with the sound of older people chatting loudly, knitting needles click-clacking and the odd pair bickering over newspapers or the last Bourbon biscuit. Alyssa’s first instinct was to back out. But it was too late for that.

And then she saw her. Her once best friend. Alyssa’s breath caught for a moment as she watched Sylvie, fussing over the residents, smiling, paying compliments. More than a decade had passed, and though Alyssa’s bitter memories of Sylvie may have hardened her edges, the real-life version of her looked as soft as Alyssa had known her to be. Before the revelations.

Sylvie seemed to sense someone watching her and looked up, a small gasp escaping her as she locked eyes with Alyssa. She quickly took off her tea-stained apron and stepped over.

‘I’d been hoping you’d come,’ Sylvie said softly. ‘Can I?’ She opened her arms sheepishly, asking for permission to hug.

Alyssa felt her body tense. She wasn’t accustomed to friendly hugging these days, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for … Oh.

Sylvie was going in anyway.

The uncomfortable mouse cage was squashed between them, but Alyssa got a waft of the familiar scent of Sylvie’s light brown hair, which had always been long enough for her to sit on, but messy, in a kind of cute way. Peaches and vanilla, now with a faint tinge of tinned biscuits. But she shouldn’t be swayed by shampoo and nostalgia. Life wasn’t that easy.

Alyssa cleared her throat and pulled away. ‘We should talk.’

Sylvie nodded. ‘Ladies’ toilets.’

Well, it was the undisputed champion venue for private girl chats.

Sylvie unburdened her of Pikachu’s cage and beckoned her into the loos. Then her old friend checked the cubicles were empty, gave the sinks a customary wipe with a green paper hand towel, and hopped up to sit on the sink unit, like they’d done as teenagers. Alyssa sighed, double-checked Sylvie hadn’t left her a wet patch, and followed suit.

‘You don’t trust me?’ Sylvie said quietly, noticing her actions.

‘You guys hurt me,’ Alyssa replied, trying to keep her calm. ‘Wait, no. That’s the understatement of the century. You pretty much broke me.’ That and Pearl Bagnor’s reverse cowgirl. But she wasn’t here to talk about her parents’ joke of a marriage.

‘Oh God, I’m so sorry about everything,’ Sylvie said suddenly, putting her hands over her face and letting her head fall. ‘I don’t know where to start.’

Alyssa took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, trying to centre herself as best she could with a cold tap jutting against her bum cheek. ‘Begin at the beginning.’ It was something she’d said hundreds of times to her love coaching clients, and it was all she could come up with right then.

So Sylvie began to fill the room with her story, Alyssa reminding herself to listen with an open mind and not jump in.

‘Devan and I never had an affair. We’ve never even slept together. Not once.’

They hadn’t? But how …

‘Emmalina isn’t biologically his. Obviously, he knows that.’ Sylvie flapped a nervous hand. ‘Emmalina does too, now she’s a bit older and Devan isn’t living with us – though she isn’t ready to tell people he’s not her real dad. Emmalina is too young to know this next part, but I … I became accidentally pregnant after a one-night stand with that bloke who’d visited town on a stag do. Do you remember me mentioning him? I thought I was so grown up, losing my virginity to an older guy who wasn’t local.’

Alyssa nodded slowly, letting the other information sink in. She did vaguely remember Sylvie’s story about stag-do guy, though she couldn’t remember his name and hadn’t met him.

‘Well, he turned out to be married – and not at all interested in the status of my womb. The total nobwomble.’

Alyssa, who was still processing, couldn’t argue with that assessment. If Sylvie’s story was true.

‘And you know what a violent drunk my dad could be,’ Sylvie said meekly.