‘Yes. But nothing happened straight away. We didn’t think there was anything. That it was anything at all. So, I didn’t tell you, I didn’t tell anyone, but…’

‘How can you do this?’

It’s a tone she’s never heard Emma take.

‘I don’t understand how you can do this. How you can stand in front of me and say this. Like’s it’s okay. Like it’s normal.’ She laughs. ‘With Lewis? For fuck’s sake, Yvonne, tell me you’re joking?’

‘I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t want it to happen.’

Emma looks over Yvonne’s shoulder and frowns, ‘Kiama,’ she calls, ‘stop running off.’

Yvonne turns to see him back pedalling, stopping as one of his flip-flops falls off.

‘So, what now?’ Emma asks. ‘He has a son, remember that?’ she says viciously.

‘It doesn’t affect that, his relationship with Kiama, my relationship with Ki…’

‘Of course it does. Of course it does. What did you think, that we’ll explain to him how you’re no longer my friend, but his stepmum?’

‘That’s ridiculous. I’m still your friend.’

‘I don’t want him thinking relationships are interchangeable like that.’

‘Em, please. I didn’t want to hurt you. I love you.’

‘Then how could you give him the time of day when you’ve seen how he’s treated me all these years? How could you think any of this was okay?’ Her voice breaks. ‘I bet I could guess when this started too. I bet I know.’

Yvonne shakes her head and thinks of how long she’s kept the secret.

‘Easter.’

So, she did know, something slipped, something got through. Yvonne racks her memory, trying to pinpoint what it was that gave her away.

‘I’m right, aren’t I?’ Emma says. ‘I’m right.’

Yvonne nods. There’s no point going back through the whole story, not now, maybe not ever.

But Emma won’t stop, ‘Ask me how I guessed?’

Yvonne shakes her head. ‘Let’s talk about this later.’ She looks at Kiama, still unaware, balancing on one leg as he inspects his sandal for something.

‘No, I want you to ask me how I guessed.’

‘How did you guess?’ she says under force, each word hurting.

‘Because every time he’s with someone new he loses a little bit more interest in being a dad. So, thanks for that.’ She turns on her heel and heads down the escalator, rushing past shoppers towards the double doors which lead to the car park.

‘Fuck,’ Yvonne puts her fingers in her hair. There was so much build-up to this, so many years of holding it in and then in a few minutes it’s all over with. Except it’s not, because she’s here, in a foreign country, with another six days stretching out in front of her, days in which she has to get Emma to understand.