The man was already walking back through his gate when she heard her name being called. She turned and saw Harry. He had one hand on his trash can and the other raised in a wave.
“Nice night for a walk.”
Was it? She hadn’t been aware of the light fading or the appearance of myriad silver pin pricks that darned the black sky. She hadn’t noticed anything about her surroundings until now, but Harry’s welcoming smile beckoned her like the spill of a porch light. Shaking, she walked straight to him and lost her battle not to cry.
“Crikey.” Harry’s arms wrapped around her. “You’re freezing. Let’s get you inside.”
Between shivering and sobbing, she couldn’t form any words, but she let him usher her up the steps and into the house. Once on the couch, he tugged an old woolen Aran fishing sweater over her head and tucked her up in the blanket the kids used when they watched TV.
“Will you be right for a sec?” He peered at her, concern bright in his eyes. “I’ll be back with a hot drink.”
She sucked in some breaths, desperately trying to find a kernel of calm to grab onto, but it only spiraled her into another noisy, snotty crying jag. Brutus, who always gave her a wide berth, wandered over and rested his head on her lap. Her tears splashed onto his nose, but he didn’t seem bothered and he stayed put, his soulful brown eyes gazing up at her. She reached for some tissues and realized she’d left the house without her handbag.
Harry returned and pressed tissues into her hands, tucked a heat pack in behind her and pulled her still-shivering body against his warmer one. “Where’s that unwanted heat source of yours when you need it, eh?”
Alice didn’t know if it was because she couldn’t be any more vulnerable or sink any lower than this total emotional collapse, but she laughed. Given she was so full of snot and tears it was more like a bubbly snort.
Brutus barked and licked her face. Alice ruffled his velvet ears. “Totally gross, Brutus.”
Harry laughed. “There’s nothing Brutus loves more than a good messy cry, right, mate?”
Between the heat pack and Harry’s body temperature, the cold she hadn’t been aware of seeping into her bones started to lose its icy grip. Her trembling limbs slowly stilled and her noisy gulping breaths returned to normal quiet ones.
“You think you can safely hold a mug now?” Harry asked.
She nodded and he handed her a hot chocolate with a marshmallow melting creamily into the frothy liquid.
“The kids love this, but I can make you tea if you prefer?”
“This is perfect. Thank you.” She drank it, feeling its sugary warmth streaking into her and bringing with it a measure of control. “Where’s Holly and Hunter?”
“Mid semester disco and scouts. Brutus has been pining all evening so you dropping in like this has really helped him out.”
Alice set down her mug. “I didn’t actually set out to visit you. I needed to get out and I just started walking and …”
“Well, I’m glad your feet brought you here, but it’s not the night to be walking in a sleeveless top. Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Are you safe? Do you need to call the police?”
“The police? Why would I need to call the police?”
“Alice, you never go anywhere without lugging that giant bag of yours. You’re half-dressed for the weather and you’re in bare feet. It looks like you’ve run from a date gone very wrong.”
She stared at her feet, surprised not to see her shoes. “It wasn’t a date.”
He moved slightly and her shoulder shifted against his chest, but he didn’t let go of her. “If you don’t want to talk to me about it, then please promise me you’ll talk to someone. I hate the idea that you might find yourself this distraught and alone again.”
Whether it was his obvious worry for her or his calm force field and comforting bulk nestled behind her, the fact she wasn’t facing him or that over the preceding months he’d already learned most of her secrets—or none of those things—somehow it seemed perfectly natural to tell him.
“It’s messy. I don’t really understand it myself.”
“That’s okay. Telling me might help you make more sense of it.”
“Ha!” She blew her nose then sucked in a long breath. “Okay. Here goes. When I last saw you, I was reeling from the news I couldn’t have children, because I’m defective.”
“You are not defective, Alice.”
“We can debate that another time. Anyway, when I showed Libby the results of the blood tests there was some confusion over my blood group so she repeated the tests. Everything came back the same. I’m still in early menopause but my blood group was right after all. It means my parents aren’t my parents.” Her voice cracked. “And Libby’s not my twin.”
“Bloody hell.” He breathed the heartfelt words into her hair. “No wonder you’ve been wandering around in the dark and the cold. You’re in shock.”
“I feel numb but it hurts like hell too.” She turned and looked at him. “I mean how can it be true? I was raised on the story of my birth. I was the undiagnosed twin. Their surprise special baby girl. But it’s all lies!”
“Did you grow up feeling loved and special?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then it’s not all lies.”
“But it’s not the truth either.”
“No.” His arm, which had been slung casually along the length of hers, moved and he gently squeezed her hand. “What did your parents tell you?”
“Nothing. When Libby told us what my blood group meant, my mother collapsed. It was like everything was happening a long way away and I was watching it through a
