such a scrubcious face that I want to laugh, except I can’t because tears are streaming down my face.
‘What the fuck?’ he demands, and grabs me so tightly, I gasp. ‘What the fuck? Sylvie, you could have … What were you doing?’ He stares at me, looking quite aghast. I suppose I am quite an apparition, what with the shorn hair and the blood dripping down my face. ‘Were you trying to surprise me? Or shock me? Or give me a heart attack? Is this real?’ He touches my cheek and as blood comes away on his fingers, he looks even more shocked. ‘Jesus Christ.’
‘I wasn’t trying to surprise you,’ I manage, my breaths still short and fast. ‘That’s not what this is. I just … I just had to see you. Didn’t you get my messages?’
‘Messages?’ His hand goes automatically to his pocket. ‘No. My phone’s fucked. Sylvie … what is this? You can’t do heights.’ He looks at the ground, thirty feet below, then at me. ‘You can’t even do a stepladder.’
‘Well.’ I rub my bloody face. ‘Looks like I did them.’
‘But … your face. Your hair. What’s happened? Sylvie, what the hell—’ He suddenly turns ashen. ‘Have you been attacked?’
‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘No. I cut my hair off myself. Dan, listen. I know. About …’ I have to get this through to him, urgently. ‘I know.’
‘You “know”?’ A familiar guarded expression comes across his face, as though ready to bat away my questions. And in that moment I realize just how much he’s been keeping from me. What a constant pressure it must have been. No wonder he’s fed up.
‘I know, OK? Believe me. I know.’
The other dads who were on the platform with Dan have tactfully headed off to the zip-wire platform, where all the children, including our two, are clustering with play leaders in branded T-shirts. We’re alone.
‘What do you know, exactly, Sylvie?’ says Dan cautiously. And his willingness to protect me, even now, makes my eyes hot. I stare back at him, thoughts swirling around my mind. What exactly do I know? Nothing, it feels like, most of the time.
‘I know that you’re not the man I thought you were.’ I gaze into his guarded blue eyes, trying to get beneath the surface. ‘You’re so, so much more than I ever realized.’ My throat is suddenly tight, but I press on. ‘I know what you’ve been doing, Dan. I know what all the secrets are. I know about my father. Joss Burton. The whole thing. I read the emails.’ I take a deep breath. ‘I know my father was a liar and a shit.’
Dan visibly flinches and stares at me incredulously. ‘What did you say?’
‘My father was a liar. And a shit.’
There’s silence as my words sit in the air. I’ve never seen Dan look so shoffed. I don’t think he can speak. But that’s OK, because I have more to say.
‘I’ve been living in a bubble.’ I swallow hard. ‘A climate-controlled, safe bubble. But now it’s burst. And the weather has blown in. And it’s … exhilarating.’
Dan nods slowly. ‘I can see. Your face. It’s different.’
‘Bad different?’
‘No. Real different. You look more real.’ He surveys me, as though trying to work it out. ‘Your eyes. Your expression. Your hair.’
I put up a hand and feel my bare neck. It still feels unfamiliar. Exposed. It feels like a new me.
‘Princess Sylvie is dead,’ I say abruptly, and there must be something about my tone, because Dan nods gravely, and says:
‘Agreed.’
I suddenly become aware of an extendable ladder being placed against the platform we’re on. A few moments later, a guy in his twenties appears, holding a helmet. As he sees my bloody face, he recoils, aghast.
‘Did that injury happen on our premises?’ He has a reedy voice and sounds freaked out. ‘Because you are not an authorized client, you have not undergone the health-and-safety briefing, you are not wearing approved headwear—’
‘It’s OK.’ I cut him off. ‘I didn’t injure myself on your premises.’
‘Well.’ He gives me a resentful look and holds out the helmet to me. ‘All clients must wear protective helmets at all times. All clients must register before using any apparatus and be fitted for a harness.’
‘Sorry,’ I say humbly. I take the helmet from him and put it on.
‘Please descend from the apparatus,’ the guy adds in such a disapproving voice that I feel an involuntary giggle building. ‘Forthwith.’
Forthwith? I glance at Dan and see that he’s hiding a