Page 5

“I’m Stewart. Live at number five, with my family.”

For a second, I couldn’t breathe. That word triggered me more than any of the others I preferred not to be mentioned around me.Children. Father. Wife. Ex-wife. Custody. Family court.

There were so many titles I’d carried lately. The defendant. The accused. The parent who lost custody of his own children. The breaker of agreements.

I had fought, and lost. Nothing was fair in life.

“Dylan,” I croaked out. “Dylan…Scotland.”

I wasn’t sure how to introduce myself these days. Two years ago, I would have mentioned my degrees and qualifications, perhaps my company, my line of work in building law and the ages of my children. Things that had once been so much a part of me that when I’d lost them, I’d become paper-thin, worthless. Something that could so easily get washed away in a downpour like this.

“Dylan,” he said warmly, even though he probably felt anything but. He was a handsome fella. Silver hair, grey in his stubble, built well, no doubt looked after himself better than I did.

“Look,” he continued, shifting gently in his chair. People did that, not wanting to startle me. Perhaps I was as insane as they said. Perhaps I was prone to violence or unstable, to be kept heavily medicated at all times. Once I hadn’t been, but these days, I was reliant on those little boxes of pills doled out in small prescriptions once a week to ensure I didn’t overdose. I was supposed to have a phone call with my therapist once every two days. I’d stopped paying her, and the phone calls had stopped. Or perhaps I’d just forgotten about answering her calls.

That was my life. I couldn’t even remember what I was supposed to be doing. Apart from drinking this tea.

Good. Strong. Wet.

Warm.

I needed to get warm.

“Self-preservation instinct,” I said out loud, and he smiled.

“Indeed. So you agree that we should take you inside and get you warmed up?”

“Are you offering?” I had no idea what I meant by that.

“No.” He laughed, like he understood my weirdness. “And yes. I am happy to make you another cup of tea and put that robe in the wash. One fellow human to another.”

“I don’t know.”

I really didn’t, but he looked at me with kindness, no judgement.

It had been so long since someone was kind to me.

“Dylan, you need a hot shower, dry clothes and a good cup of tea. Let me provide that, and then if you want me gone, I’ll be out of your hair.”

What did you say to an offer like that from a stranger?

I had nothing left to lose. He could be a serial killer for all I cared. Perhaps I would welcome his attack. Maybe he would be the one to finally put an end to all this.

“You’re not a serial killer, are you?”

He laughed again. “No. I’m a grandfather with mad skills in the tea-making department. That’s all. You’re not going to launch at me with a kitchen knife, are you?”

“Not that mad…not yet,” I assured him and surprised myself by getting up. Water ran down my legs like I’d wet myself, and I stood there watching it like an idiot.

“I’m going back for a change of clothes, fresh tea and an umbrella,” he said sternly. “I’ll expect you to be showered and dressed in ten. That work for you?”

Who was this guy again?

I had no idea.

3. Stewart

Ihad my phone in the pocket of my dry tracksuit, two cups of tea in one hand and a packet of biscuits under my arm, still managing to balance an umbrella and get his patio door open with the help of my knee and a sharp nudge of my shoe.