She rereads his last message, the one confirming that he would book his flights this weekend. The flight numbers included in the hope that she would change her mind and join him. How can he expect her to do this? To drop her life and follow him to Kenya? To relive all those memories?

Her hands shake. She’s not strong enough to revisit the past.

But maybe she doesn’t have a choice.

A week after the phone call with Lewis, Yvonne walks down the high street of betting shops, tacky boutiques and vapebars towards The X-Treme Jump trampoline park. It’s flanked by empty lots on both sides, so stands alone and proud. She turns her nose up at the Day-Glo orange awning, the steps which alternate green and orange, the tarpaulin branding cable tied to the fences still shouting about a Late Night Valentine’s Special, months after the fourteenth of February.

Inside the trampoline park, two girls in bright orange polo shirts stand behind the counter scrolling through their phones.

‘Good morning,’ Yvonne says and both of their flawless blank faces turn to her.

‘Morning.’ The girl’s spider eyelashes flutter as if too heavy for her lids. ‘Are you booking?’

‘Oh no. I’m here to see Kiama.’

‘Did Kiama say a woman’s coming to see him?’ the girl asks her friend, who is busy balling orange grip socks and stacking them into the shelves behind the counter. ‘Yeah, he’s in the café.’

‘He’s in the café,’ the first girl repeats. ‘I’ll take you through. Hope you’re not from Health and Safety.’

‘Why? Would that be a problem?’

The girl stops, spins around, her long plait swinging with her. ‘No, I was kidding. We do all the proper checks here and that.’

Yvonne follows her into a huge dark hall with a carpet of various sized trampolines. They head upstairs to a dim mezzanine café. Hip-hop thumps through the speakers and spotlights dance around the near empty arena.

‘He’s over there,’ the girl says. Yvonne makes her way across, again going through what she wants to say before she reaches him. This is it, her chance to talk to him properly.

‘Kiama?’ she says.

‘Hey. You found it alright?’

‘Yeah, I got a cab.’ She slides in the booth opposite him. ‘So, this is your work,’ she says, ‘it’s very loud.’

‘Yeah, bit much on a Sunday morning, isn’t it? I’ll get them to turn the music down.’

‘No,’ she shakes her head. ‘It’s fine, really.’

He rubs the side of his face where a small amount of stubble has grown since she last saw him. ‘Guess this isn’t the sort of place you usually hang out?’

‘You’d be surprised actually, how many weekends I’ve lost to places like this.’

‘Oh, you have kids?’ he asks cautiously.

‘No. But my brothers have seven kids between them.’

‘Right,’ he says.