‘I’m not in touch with him,’ I said. ‘He’s ghosted me, remember? The thing is, he’ll be back from paternity leave today. He’ll have picked up my email to him at work and know that I’ve discovered his true identity. I’m not expecting a call, but I’m half-expecting a text or an email from him.’

Owen’s expression softened. ‘From what you’ve told me, I don’t think you’ll hear from him again. I’m sorry, Jemma.’

I nodded. ‘I know. You’re right. That’s why I’m only half-expecting it.’

‘If he did text or email, what are you hoping he’ll say?’

Good question. ‘I suppose the daydream is that it’s all been a big mistake and he really is Scott Hastings, but that’s not going to happen is it? Maybe an explanation? Or an apology? Or both?’

A small group of visitors entered the room. ‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ Owen whispered, heading off in the opposite direction.

‘Easier said than done,’ I muttered under my breath.

I moved the kick-stool aside so the visitors could see the display more clearly and hovered nearby, answering a few questions about the various bears.

‘You’re so lucky working here,’ said an elderly lady with a Cornish accent. ‘Although I’d never get any work done if it were me. I’d be stroking the bears all day, I would.’

I smiled. ‘Oh, I do that too! It’s in my job description. And hugging them. They get upset otherwise.’

‘It would be my dream job,’ gushed her friend. ‘I don’t think anything would get me down if I was surrounded by bears all day.’

Thanking me for answering their questions, they disappeared into the next room ten minutes later, leaving me pondering on their comments. Yes, I was lucky. I had my dream job working with something I’d been passionate about since childhood. I often put in long hours but it never felt like work. But since Scott had disappeared from my life, the joy had gone. I’d stopped looking at the bears and had just been getting on with my work on autopilot while my mind flitted from the lie that the last eighteen months of my life had been, to worries about the future and what that meant for Mum.

I would get the joy back. As hurtful as it was, I needed to put my time with Scott behind me, accept it was over, and stop trying to find an explanation for what he’d done. Tiff was right. Was there ever going to be an explanation that would be acceptable for his infidelity and justify the fake identity from the outset?