and cushioned chairs, and a settee than made you want to bounce and sink out of sight.
A gleaming Aga was sending out its gentle warmth across the kitchen, and an ancient collie dog looked quizzically up at her as she entered. He thumped his tail gently against the floor and then went straight back to sleep.
This was home, she thought. This was a real home.
Damn, she had to blink back tears again. The waterworks were surely ready to pounce tonight. The fear had driven every ounce of strength from her.
Bed.
She should go to bed, but…
‘Hot chocolate and a brandy,’ Matt was saying. ‘I know I told the kids warm milk, but you and I need something stronger. I’ve eaten toast. Do you want something to eat? No? Then just a drink and then bed.’ He turned away to fetch mugs and glasses, and while he was faced away his voice changed. ‘You love them, don’t you?’
‘Who?’ She leaned against a chair to steady herself-her legs seemed to have lost all their strength-but she knew instinctively who he was talking about. His next words confirmed it.
‘The twins.’
The hot chocolate made, he turned back to her and gestured for her to sit. There was nothing for it. In her ridiculous night wear she sat, sinking into his squishy chair like she was drowning. She took the chocolate and cradled it, drawing strength from the warmth of the mug.
She thought of the twins and her mouth twisted. ‘I’m pretty fond of them.’
‘You’re a House Mother,’ he said, thinking it through. ‘I thought you’re not supposed to get attached to your charges.’
‘You mean I’m not supposed to care if they go up in flames?’
‘I didn’t mean that.’ He was watching her face. ‘The boys are different, though, aren’t they? To you.’
She shrugged. ‘I guess.’
‘Why?’
That was harder to answer. She thought about it and gave him the easy answer. ‘It’s probably because they’ve been with me more than most. Kids don’t tend to stay in orphanages any more. They get adopted or fostered out as soon as we can find someone who’ll take them. Fifty years ago we used to have scores of orphans. Now we have kids like Tess and Michael who are in for short-term crisis care, or the baby Lori’s taken for me. She’s been with us while her mother made the decision to allow her to be adopted.’
‘And the twins?’
‘That’s the problem. We can’t find anyone for the twins.’
There. It was said-the stark reality that hurt just to think of it.
‘Why not?’ Matt said, watching her face.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Liar.’
She shrugged, and then gave him a weary smile. ‘No. I’m not a liar and I do find it hard to understand. They’re adorable. But the twins push people away, you see.’
‘I don’t see.’
‘You may well see it soon.’ She sighed. ‘Look, they were the product of a one-night stand. Their mother doesn’t remember who their father is, and she has seven other kids to look after. To be honest, the twins reached their mother’s IQ level when they were about three. I’d reckon whoever fathered them wasn’t lacking in the intelligence quotient and they’re smart as paint. Anyway, she can’t cope with them, she rejected them absolutely and she threw them at us for adoption. Unfortunately they were old enough to understand what was happening.’
‘And they’re taking it out on the world?’
‘Only on whoever is deemed to threaten them. And now they expect to be rejected. They won’t let anyone close because they know it’ll end.’ Erin sighed. She was bone-weary and the comfort of the hot chocolate and the sympathy in this man’s eyes was more than enough to push her over the edge. He’d poured her a brandy but she wasn’t game enough to drink it. Her eyes wanted to close so badly…
‘Sleep,’ he said, and leaned over and took the mug from her hands before she dropped it. ‘You’ll find toothbrushes and everything you need in the bathroom.’
‘I already have.’ Her tired eyes smiled. ‘Your mother must have been the best hostess in the district-and you haven’t let her standards slip one bit.’
‘I’m not allowed to.’ He smiled back at her and his weary smile touched something in her insides which hadn’t been touched in a very long time. If ever. ‘Charlotte’s trained the redoubtable Mrs Gregory for me, and she sees to it that everything’s pristine.’
‘Uh, oh.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Before she knew what he intended, he reached forward and took both her hands in his. He pulled her to her feet and then stood for a moment, looking down into her troubled eyes. ‘I’m sure you and me and the twins and Mrs Gregory will get along just famously.’
And Charlotte? Erin added under her breath but she didn’t say it. Instead she looked up at Matt, a crease of worry still behind her eyes.
‘Doc Emily said I should keep an eye on you tonight. You did lose consciousness.’
‘I did,’ he agreed gravely. ‘But I don’t want checking every hour, thank you very much. If I promise not to die in the night, will you promise to go and put your head down on the pillow and let tomorrow’s worries wait until tomorrow?’
Those dratted tears… Damn, they threatened to be her undoing.
She blinked and sniffed and then blinked again.
‘Fine then. Um…you
‘I have at that,’ he told her. ‘It’s cleaned and it’s nicely antiseptic. So we can both go to bed with a clear conscience. Goodnight, Erin.’
‘Goodnight, Matt. And…thank you.’
And then, because she looked so rumpled and lost and forlorn he couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and let his lips brush her forehead.
‘It was all my pleasure,’ he said softly. ‘Now stop thinking about twins and burns and belongings and worries. Think only about yourself for a change. Sleep!’
And she did.
There was simply no choice.
CHAPTER THREE
‘WHERE are we?’
Erin planned to wake the minute they woke, but she must have been too exhausted for her normal House Mother instincts to work. She’d propped open both bathroom doors so the twins could see her as soon as they opened their eyes, and now they landed on her bed in a tangle of legs and arms and astonishment.
‘Did the house really burn down? Did we really ride in a police car?’
That was easy.
‘It did and you did and you’re now at Mr McKay’s farm,’ she said, hugging them to her and hauling them in to lie under the covers. She was wearing an oversized T-shirt, and in their oddly assorted pyjamas they looked just as disreputable as she did. They were like something out of a charity bazaar, she thought and grinned to herself and hugged harder. She didn’t mind. They were safe.
‘The policeman won’t arrest us?’ It was Henry, ever the anxious one.
‘Now why would he arrest you?’
‘Because we made a bomb.’
‘But you’ve promised faithfully never to make another one,’ she said.
