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‘I do.’ Alyssa could feel her eyelids heavying with the threat of tears at the thought. She’d often seen Sylvie’s mum with unexplained bruises, and both Sylvie and Alyssa had been known to throw themselves between Sylvie’s parents when her dad had kicked off. Some parts of Sylvie’s upbringing had been frightening. At least Alyssa’s parents hadn’t put her through that.

‘He had such strident views about sex before marriage and having babies out of wedlock. I was honestly terrified for myself and my unborn child.’ Her hand floated to her stomach as though Emmalina was still in there. ‘When he’d seen Devan consoling me, he latched on to some ludicrous notion that Devan “should make an honest woman of me”. Talk about archaic bullshit. Then he was spreading his “news” before I could stop him. And you heard Dad’s drunken rants, then before I could explain it you were gone, and then …’ Sylvie let out a long, strangled sound, her eyes filling up. ‘When we couldn’t get hold of you, Devan and I ended up feeling pushed to go along with Dad’s story in the short term – to keep the peace. It was only ever meant to be a temporary fix.’

Alyssa grabbed a fresh toilet roll and passed it to Sylvie, accepting a few pieces for herself. Coming from anybody else, Alyssa might have thought some of Sylvie’s story was outrageously unlikely. Though as much as it pained her to admit it, Sylvie had never been good at lying. Her neck would flush, and she’d get all twitchy. Alyssa knew her tells, even though Sylvie had only really fibbed to avoid her evil dad’s wrath when they were growing up. Alyssa hadn’t spotted any obvious signs Sylvie was making things up. Though after years of mistrusting people, Alyssa was far from ready to merrily accept everything she was told without time to think things through.

She tried to slot the pieces of new information into her mind, replacing the old beliefs that had never quite fit with the versions of Sylvie and Devan she’d always known. Unless Sylvie was lying, she’d just entrusted her with the truths Devan hadn’t been able to share, because they weren’t just his. And they didn’t seem like the sorts of things anyone would lie about, because they involved Sylvie’s most precious thing – her daughter.

‘Can you forgive me?’ Sylvie asked, her face contorted with hope, her eyes teary.

‘And please believe me that Devan did do his best to get hold of you,’ Sylvie continued, when Alyssa didn’t immediately answer. ‘I continued to suffer with sickness through my pregnancy, but Devan and I were both frantic with worry. We desperately wanted to explain things to you and maybe come up with a way to tackle it together. But it seems you were equally desperate not to be found. We didn’t manage, and things eventually moved on – even if I know that Devan’s feelings for you never lessened. He was heartbroken. We both were.’

Alyssa’s chest felt tight. She’d done everything in her power to stay under the radar for the first couple of years she was in London. New contact details. Even a new name. What if she’d stuck around and listened? Would she have believed them? Would she have stayed with Devan and been there for Sylvie and Emmalina? She didn’t know, and she couldn’t change history. But that wouldn’t stop her wondering. Sometimes the truth did hurt.

‘You didn’t tell me you were pregnant,’ Alyssa said quietly, the pain evident in her voice. ‘Why did Devan know before me? We were meant to be best friends.’

‘We were best friends. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and I still haven’t replaced you. There is nobody I would rather share my Sugababes posters with.’ She gave a shy grin. ‘But truthfully, I’d only just found out myself. I’d been ill a lot, and my parents took me to the doctors. I peed in a cardboard cup and then wham. The biggest surprise of my life. A positive pregnancy test. My dad hit the damned roof. I’d been trying to call you that same night – the night of the Hartglove ball, but you didn’t answer.’

‘I left my mobile at home,’ Alyssa remembered, her brow creasing. ‘Couldn’t work out what to do with it, wearing that stupid fancy dress costume. I saw your missed calls later that night, but I was hating you by then.’

‘Fair,’ said Sylvie, simply, still blubbing a little. ‘But I started feeling rough again, and my parents were out at the dance. The only person I could get hold of was Devan. I called him and he said he’d be straight round.’

Reliable Devan. Alyssa nodded slowly, taking it all in.

‘That’s why he arrived at the ball and promptly left again. He was just answering my call. I did ring you first.’

‘And when had your dad decided you and him should be a thing?’

‘Devan had dropped around to mine earlier that evening to lend my brother a textbook and I’d ended up blubbing on him. Stupid pregnancy hormones. I think that’s when Dad got the seed of his outlandish idea, though neither of us knew that until we heard what rubbish he’d been spouting at the dance.’

It was a lot to take in. And was she willing to accept it, after more than a decade of believing something different?

‘I guess you’ll need to think,’ said Sylvie, seeming to read Alyssa’s hesitation. ‘But I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me. Devan too. He was just being Good Old Devan, doing the right thing. He loves you, you know. He always did.’

‘But you guys got married. Brought up a child together. And you’re saying you never even slept together? He might be good, but he’s not a saint.’

‘We didn’t get married,’ Sylvie confessed. ‘I just started wearing a ring and we pretended we’d had a quick registry office thing. People gossiped, of course. We lived together, in separate bedrooms. Devan was so great with Emmalina. They’re adorable. But no, I haven’t slept with any man, other than that once with Emmalina’s sperm dad. I realised guys weren’t my preference after that idiot – or perhaps even before.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, Devan always felt more like a brother. Seeing his todger would just have been wrong.’ Sylvie pulled a gross face and shuddered. ‘No offence. I’m sure it’s perfectly nice, if you like that sort of thing.’

Alyssa spurted out a laugh. ‘None taken.’

‘After Dad died, it seemed ridiculous to carry on with the pretence. I’m not sure why we did for so long. Though as much as I often hated my dad, I couldn’t stand the thought of being a disappointment to him, you know? Or of him treating Emmalina differently or ranting about us or causing trouble. Because he would have.’

‘He was a dick,’ Alyssa said firmly. ‘In my professional opinion.’

‘He was,’ Sylvie agreed, snottily. ‘And now, it’s time for Devan and me to look for our own love stories. Even Mum has found hers – though she moved to the other side of the country to find it.’

Did Alyssa bristle at the L-word a little less than usual? She was happy to hear about Sylvie’s mum too.

‘Devan’s always kept that torch burning for you, you know.’

‘Hmm.’ He’d said the same himself, but Alyssa’s thoughts were still reeling. It was as though she’d spent the last twelve years believing the sky was green and now she had to squint hard and try to see blue.

‘Maybe you could meet Emmalina one day?’ Sylvie asked cautiously. ‘She’s into girl bands, sweets and pre-teen magazines – just like we were. Though she’s way more grown up than I’ll ever be. I think you’d like her.’ Sylvie’s face brimmed with pride as she spoke about her daughter.

Alyssa paused for a moment. ‘Emmalina sounds great,’ she said earnestly. Though she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be ready to play happy families, when she barely remembered what that looked like. She stood up from her perch on the sink and shook herself down, all parts of her numb. ‘But I need time to process. I’m honestly not sure how I feel about anything right now.’

Sylvie nodded and stood up too. ‘I get that. I’m here for you, if and when you’re ready. Let me give you my number.’