‘When you got in touch with me,’ Yvonne says, ‘I felt like it was my chance to put things right. I’ve always felt guilty about how I encouraged your mum to come here. And of course, I’ve felt guilty about not seeing you grow up.’

‘Wow, that’s probably the most truthful thing you’ve said to me this whole trip.’

‘I want to tell you everything, I really do.’

‘But?’

‘But it’s not all my story to tell.’

She’s exhausting, even now, trying to dart around the truth. ‘But you’re here, Yvonne. You’re here and Mum’s not. So tell me.’

‘I met your dad before Emma met him. On a night out. We slept together, a one-night stand, like you do at that age. But then months later he showed up at our student house. He was seeing Emma and I didn’t know.’

A coincidence, one he didn’t know about, but it doesn’t tell him anything really.

‘Harrow’s small. There was one bar. And me and your mum, well, we had the same taste in men.’

‘Pff,’ Kiama scoffs. But if he wants the story, this is part of it. ‘Why didn’t she break it off when you told her?’

Yvonne closes her eyes. ‘Because I never told her, because I could see she was falling for him. I didn’t want to hurt her. After we left university I started working all the time and your mum made a new bunch of friends. We didn’t really spend time with each other anymore and I assumed the friendship was over. I started seeing Lewis and even though I knew he had broken your mum’s heart, well, I guess I was falling for him too. This sounds so terrible,’ she says. ‘I planned to tell her, I really did but—’

‘But what? You liked the secret or something? Sneaking about?’

‘No, she was pregnant with you. She wasn’t sure if it was Lewis’s baby at first.’

Now that, he didn’t know.

‘So we stopped seeing each other. Then, years later, when you were about seven, we bumped into each other again. This time we were older, and we got really serious really fast. He moved in with me but we still kept things quiet, even your nana didn’t know. Then you both came out here. I knew I had to tell her, face to face, I owed it to her. Plus, I missed her, I missed you both.’ Yvonne stops and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘But we never got to talk about it. Not properly.’