The loss of her son had been devastating, but her emotional house, with Nick at its center, was still standing. Now the house had been washed away in a flood of faithlessness and lies. Some days, it was almost too hard to get out of bed, let alone turn up to work and be the doctor her patients depended upon to treat them correctly. So many times in the previous weeks, she’d felt the papery touch of an elderly hand on hers, bringing her attention back with a start. It was always followed by the question, “Are you okay, dear?”

At least she’d only broken down in front of a patient once.

Libby tracked Alice down in the Gazette’s office and her twin glanced up, blinking, as the bell over the door tinkled. Libby’s heart rolled at the familiar sight—a reassuring salve in the turmoil that was her life.

“You’re drawing again!”

Alice grimaced. “Trying to. I have an idea for a sketch to accompany my article about tree vandals, but between my uncooperative fingers and this expletive deleted desktop publishing program, I’m going nowhere fast.”

“I thought Jim did the layout?”

“He does, but it’s Lillian’s birthday and he’s taken her to Canberra for a couple of days. Heaven help him, but I’m in charge of getting this edition sorted.” Alice stood up and kissed Libby. “It’s great to see you.”

Libby unloaded her shopping bag. “I brought lunch.”

“Bad morning?”

“Does it have to be a bad morning for me to have lunch with my sister?”

Alice paused mid-rip of a salad dressing sachet. “I want to say no.”

Guilt spiraled on a continuous helix. Since her ex-friend’s heartless betrayal, Libby knew she was relying on Alice in ways she’d never done before. It wasn’t only for support either, but for much needed friendship. Unfortunately, it threw up in stark relief how many years she’d put that woman ahead of her twin.

“If you’re too busy …”

“Don’t be silly. Besides, I can’t afford to say no to a free lunch.” Alice grinned and forked spinach, roasted squash, pine nuts and goat’s cheese into her mouth. “Mmm, yum!”

“The paternity test came back,” Libby blurted out. That was one thing she’d noticed about herself since the apocalypse—she no longer had the ability to make polite chit-chat.

“And it’s conclusive that Nick’s Leo’s father.”

The fact Alice hadn’t framed it as a question pressed down on Libby like lead weights. “Oh, Al! I didn’t want to believe them. I’ve babysat him, I’ve changed his diaper and played with him.” Her voice cracked. “What does it say about me that I didn’t notice he looks so much like Nick?”

Alice’s eyes filled with sympathy. “You trusted them so you never had a reason to look.”