Meg drops her stick, curls back her lips to display teeth, bristling and growling.

Klempner frowns…

“Shhh… It’s alright.” I scratch her ears, calm her down. “As I said, she's a shelter dog,” I explain. “A rescue. And they know, more than almost anyone else, that there are monsters in the world...”

His eyes dart between me and Meg…

Dare I say it?

“… And some of those monsters walk around looking just like real people.”

I stoop, pick up Meg’s stick and throw it overarm as far as I can. She races after it, scattering snow behind her, the rest of the dogs in her wake.

Klempner relaxes, drooping his eyelids, head shaking so slightly.

Apology?

“Self-knowledge can be unsettling, can it not?” he comments. But his voice is mild. “So… given that you claim to have the answer to the perfect relationship, returning to the start of our conversation, why are you out here? Agonising over the right thing to do with your Ryan?”

I don’t have an answer. I settle for prevarication. “Why are you out here?”

“If you insist, I’m trying to decide how to go forward with Mitch.”

That was settled…

… Wasn’t it?

“You don't know? I thought you and she were…”

“No, I don’t know. You’re right. Mitch was a hooker. But what I wanted from her was never for sale. Not until the day Jenny was in danger. Then she offered herself to me.”

“And...?”

“And... I didn't accept. I didn't want her on that basis.”

Enthralled by the revelations coming from this dangerous, fascinating man, “What did you want?”

“I wanted her to want me. That's all I ever wanted.”

Meg returns, carrying her stick, to drop it at Klempner’s feet. He ignores her and she yaps, lashing her tail.

“So, what’s your problem now?” I ask. “The pair of you looked pretty chummy to me when we were inside.”

He grimaces. “I… never expected to get this far. I’m not sure what comes next.” He grins, quite disarmingly, then, “Why are you talking to me like this, Kirstie?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

prepared to trust me with… personal stuff… And to think

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He casts startled eyes down at my barrel-bodied little girl, then around at the other dogs, cavorting in

That suggested to me that you're worth getting to know. And considering what Haswell is trying

*****

dogs collapse in a heap and

of the fire, lies eyes closed, upside down, all four legs in the air; doing his best ‘Dead Bluebottle’ impression. Archie nudges up beside him trying, unsuccessfully, to ease him to

expression neutral. “Is that a natural position for

favourite,” I say. “When he’s chilled out.” Mac’s tail twitches and

in

another…” I mouth the word

cheek. Subdued, he returns the kiss, but his voice is slow. “Is everything alright, Kirstie? You

fine. We were

of a stepladder, places a final

from her paper-folding.

out. I was sure we’d picked

gloves, Archie pricking up his ears as I do so. “I’ll go get some more. The dogs would enjoy another walk.” As I utter the W-Word, Mac revolves through

in a smile. “Thanks, Kirstie. I’ve

“Mind if I

If you’d like to. You can reach higher branches than

the scarf around my neck, Archie starts yapping and Scruffy, Meg

the fire. “No, I think I’ll

blocking my way to the hall.

*****

about that branch there?” I point up at a bough, glossy green with leaves,

snipping at the branch and passing it back down. I lay it on the stack

of themselves. Until, with a sharp yap, Archie announces,

tree and away. The dogs give chase, their

performance. “Is it always

yes… That branch there would be a good one. It’s covered

stretches out with the secateurs,

“Something wrong?”

eyes are scanning the

is it?” His expression is savage, and something bites in

Baxter…

pocket. “Get back.” Reaching out, he grabs me by the wrist and tugs, pulling me backwards, placing himself between me

a Crack! Then a

intent in the spot. Leaves quiver, shedding their load of snow. Reaching into his

brought that

mutters. Then, gun levelled, he stalks to within a few feet

only response is another shiver of the

It’s too low…

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