The words poured over Alice like molten metal, encasing her in unwanted information. “Maybe I can understand why you didn’t tell me I was the child of a drug addict, but why didn’t you tell me from the start that your sister died and I’m your niece? Why lie and tell us you’re an orphan? Why fabricate the story about Libs and me being twins? For years, I’ve whipped myself that Libby turned to Jess because I wasn’t a good enough twin. Thanks a lot!”

Karen visibly sagged. “Alice, everything we’ve done comes from love.”

“We moved down here to keep you safe,” Peter said quietly. “We had two little babies born on the same day and everyone assumed you were twins. We went along with it, because we thought it gave you added protection.”

“But Nanna and Grandad?” Libby asked. “How did you get them to agree?”

“Wait!” Alice was shaking her head. “This sounds like something out of a TV show. Who were you protecting me from?”

Karen looked to Peter and then back to Alice. “From my father.”

“He was a very damaged man,” Peter added.

“He hated to lose,” Karen said. “When he expelled me from the family he still had Lisa. When she ran from his abuse, he lost her too. He’d have been ashamed of her drug addiction so he wouldn’t have tried to find her, but if he’d learned she’d had a baby and that I was the guardian, he’d have moved heaven and earth to get you. He’d tried to control my life and he ruined Lisa’s. I wasn’t going to let him anywhere near you.”

Alice shuddered. “Is he still alive?”

“Thankfully, no.”

“Then you should have told me the truth when he died!” Alice’s mind whirled. “Hang on, what about my father? Why did you deny me the right to know him? Maybe he wanted to be involved in my life? Maybe he was the artistic one?”

“You got your artistic talent from Lisa,” Karen said with some of her old briskness. “She drew beautifully just like you do.”

“But what about my father?”

Karen’s gaze, which had been fixed on Alice for the entire conversation, suddenly dropped to the tessellated tiling. Alice’s stomach dropped with it.

“Peter’s your father.”

“Who is my birth father?’ Alice asked doggedly, avoiding looking at Peter’s sad eyes.

“Oh, Alice. Does it matter? Let it go. You’ve got a loving father right here in front of you, who’d do anything for you.”