James keeps opening his mouth to say something then closing it again. It’s Rhys who speaks next.

‘Why did you go?’

James glances up sharply and I see him shoot Rhys a warning look. He rubs my thumb with his. Kat stands up, looking around for something to sit on, opting to take up position on the sofa beside me.

‘Sorry.’ Rhys tries again. ‘Sorry, it’s just… I don’t understand… I don’t understand any of this.’ His voice is flat. Proof again, perhaps, that he does know. He’s piecing the evidence together. Did James show him the letter? ‘I mean, after everything…’

‘Rhys,’ interrupts James, but I squeeze his hand to signal that it’s okay. Rhys needs to say what he’s thinking. We all do.

I take three breaths, as shallow and calm as I’m able. ‘The letter,’ I say. My voice cracks and breaks, as though all these weeks I’ve stayed silent have broken it. ‘The letter for James.’ I pause. James takes his hand back.

‘The boy I fell in love with had principles.’ I smile. ‘Morals. He always did the right thing.’ I look across to the boy, now a man, who hasn’t changed. ‘I knew if he was still the man I fell in love with, he would receive the letter and try to find me. But that wasn’t what I wanted.’ James leans back in the chair, his eyes uncertain, hurt even. He adjusts position, covering pain with a poker face of dignity. ‘Writing a letter is one thing…’ My voice breaks again, and I falter. ‘There were things I needed to say. Truths I had to share.’ The wave of strength helping me speak all this is broken by the reality that the secret I have kept is out. That the people in this room know my darkest hour and have every right to judge me. And yet, I owe them the truth. I am still here, in part, because of them.

Because of Rhys.

James gently shakes his head. The light catches a flash of wetness on his cheek. He takes out a folded handkerchief and wipes his face. Rhys shifts in his chair.

My strength subsides again, taking with it the resolve to supress all the pain I’ve fought so long to hide. James reaches for my hand, but I cannot take it this time.

Rhys stands, moving around the room until he stops beside James. And that is when I really see it. So clearly, it takes my breath away.

‘The clipping,’ says Kat. ‘Was that you?’ I give a shallow nod and hear Rhys make a sound. ‘I can’t imagine how frightened you must have been,’ says Kat. ‘Alone, giving birth, I can’t even begin to…’

‘I was terrified,’ I say, quietly. ‘I can still feel it, hear it, hear me, hear the baby as he made his first cry. I can smell the tree and the blood and the woods that I walked through to get home.’ My confession whips me dry of breath and I have to take a moment to refuel. But refuel I do, because now it has to be shared.