by Blake Pierce
“My feet are sore,” Ella complained loudly.
Gritting her teeth, Cassie picked Ella up. She was impossible to carry, squirming and fidgeting as she tried to view the revelry from her new, higher vantage point. It was only a minute before Cassie had to put her down again.
The soccer game was degenerating into chaos. An irate mother rushed onto the field, picking up her daughter who had been knocked over in the melee. She started shrieking recriminations at the organizers.
“Marc! Come here!” Cassie yelled, but predictably, the dark-haired boy ignored her.
“Do you think your dad missed your mother, Cassie?” Antoinette nudged her arm, loudly demanding attention. “Or do you think he was glad to be able to enjoy his girlfriends without her there?”
Cassie heard a shocked exclamation from the woman beside her, who quickly shepherded her child away. She stared down at Antoinette, feeling her fear crystallize into fury, because what the hell was this all about? She opened her mouth, ready to give a sharp response, but at that moment somebody tapped her shoulder.
She turned to face an irate referee grasping Marc by his arm.
“Madame, are you responsible for this child?”
“Yes, I am.” Aware of curious stares from the onlookers, Cassie felt her cheeks turn crimson.
“Please control him. He is not allowed to return to the field. He has been disrupting the game and causing injuries.”
The referee let go of Marc’s arm and the dark-haired boy immediately tried to bolt back to the field. Expecting this, Cassie was prepared. She managed to grab the hood of his jacket and haul him back.
“This is not the way to behave,” she reprimanded them, turning from Marc’s rebellious face to Antoinette’s smug innocence.
“Let me go!” Marc struggled in her grasp.
Antoinette tugged her arm, asking in a piercing voice, “What do you mean, Cassie? Having girlfriends? Aren’t men allowed to have girlfriends? Why do you think it’s wrong—can you explain?”
As Cassie turned to her, trying to come up with a measured response to the question even though the words made her want to lash out, she was tugged off balance by Ella. The young girl grabbed Cassie’s belt with both hands, leaning all her weight onto it so that the leather dug painfully into the small of her back.
“I need to be picked up. Carry me now,” she whined.
Antoinette started giggling and pointing at Cassie. “You’re going to fall over! Or else your pants will fall down. Oh, you look so funny!”
Marc’s cries escalated to a furious shout, and he pummeled Cassie’s arm with his fists.
“Let me go! I want to play soccer with the other boys. I don’t care about the rules. I hate you.”
As he paused to take a breath, Antoinette’s barbed question came again.
“You haven’t answered me, Cassie. Don’t you know it’s very rude to ignore people’s questions? Why aren’t men allowed girlfriends and did your dad enjoy himself with them?”
The relentless baiting finally pushed Cassie past her limits. Her belt was about to break, her arm was bruised and aching, and Antoinette’s taunting words and sugary tone were making her want to slap her.
Instead, she yelled so loudly that even Marc was silenced.
“Stop it now! All of you!” she shrieked. “You cannot behave like this in a public place! There are rules for decent behavior.” Cassie was aware more heads were turning her way, but she was so angry she was unable to stop herself.
“You know the rules, and you are deliberately breaking them. It’s unfair to me, to the other children, to everyone here who’s trying to enjoy their day. I know it’s a year today since your mother died, but that does not give you an excuse to do this. This is completely unacceptable.”
Cassie breathed hard, her throat rough from shouting. At last, Marc appeared chastised—but Antoinette was smiling even more smugly than before as she surveyed the crowd. As Cassie took in the shocked stares and comments from the onlookers, she realized, too late, the hurtfulness of what she had said.
And then she heard a sob from behind her.
Ella was staring up at her, wide-eyed.
“My mother died?” she asked in a quivering voice. “Does that mean she is never coming back?”
Frozen, Cassie looked down at her, unable to find any words.
Ella drew in a giant breath and let out a shrill scream of pure grief.
As she gathered the hysterical child into her arms, Cassie realized what a terrible mistake she’d made. In her anger, she’d given Ella a different truth from the one her own father had told her. And she’d done so without consulting Pierre, or finding out the real version of events, or even asking why Ella had never been told.
Pierre would be absolutely furious.
Cold with despair, Cassie wished she could turn back the clock and erase her words. She’d overstepped her boundaries completely with this cruel and angry outburst. When Pierre heard about it—which would happen as soon as they got home—she had no doubt she would be instantly fired.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Driving back to the chateau, Cassie had to force herself to focus on the road. Her fragmented thoughts were spinning in a hundred different directions. She couldn’t stop replaying the scene in her mind. How easy it had been to shout those vicious words to the children while anger boiled inside her. How shocked the onlookers had been, gesturing at her as if she were the evil one.
Their disapproval would be nothing compared to what she could expect when they arrived home.
Ella was huddled silently in the back seat, sucking her thumb. Cassie peered into the rearview mirror, watching her in concern.
“Cassie, stop quick, we’re going to crash,” Antoinette squeaked, startled out of her usual coolness.
Cassie wrenched her attention back to the road, stomping on the brakes to avoid plowing into the Renault in front of her, which had stopped to let a herd of cattle cross.
Marc laughed excitedly at the squeal of brakes.
“Eeeee… Crash!” he shouted. “Crash, crash, crash.”
He entertained himself the rest of the way home with a shouted accompaniment to her driving.
“Vroom vroom! Faster. Eeeee…. Stop! Crash!”
Cassie’s head was throbbing by the time they reached the chateau, and she felt cold with despair. She was a failure. She was totally lacking in the patience and wisdom needed to control these children. This job was beyond her capabilities to perform.
The only thing that gave her a tiny measure of comfort was that she had some change in her wallet from the fifty euros Pierre had given her. She hadn’t spent much at the fair; most of the money was still there. It was all the cash she had in the world right now and if she was fired on the spot, she was going to need it. It would be enough, at least, to get a taxi to the airport.
As soon as she’d parked the car, Antoinette and Marc jumped out and ran off.
Alone with Ella, Cassie realized this was her chance to speak to the young girl, and hopefully do some damage control before they faced Pierre’s wrath. But as she turned around and gathered her thoughts, Ella climbed out and slammed the door.
Cassie swore violently to herself. She hurried after the children, stress curdling her insides.
Antoinette and Marc had detoured to the orchard and were playing tag among the fruit trees, pelting each other with the few overripe peaches that remained. Cassie went to round them up, breathing in the crisp smell of dry leaves, underscored by a hint of rotting fruit.
“Inside,” she ordered wearily, and they abandoned their game and scampered up to the front door.
Her stomach clenched as Pierre opened it. A surge of nausea made her want to throw up and she swallowed hard.
“Please, children, remove your shoes at the door. You have been playing in the orchard; I do not want trodden fruit inside,” he warned.
As Antoinette was carefully unbuckling her boots, he asked, “So, did you have a good time?”
Cassie stared down at her own shoes, wondering if she would have the strength to cope with the storm that would follow.
“Yes, Papa,” Antoinette said in the sweetest of tones. “We ate chocolate crepes, and see our faces? I am a princess, and Marc is a cat. Ella was a mermaid but she messed her paint.”
Unable to believe what she was hearing, Cassie raised her head.
“I played soccer and won!” Marc shouted.
He tossed his shoes into the hallway and ran upstairs, his bare feet thudding on the polished wood.
Realizing that Pierre was looking at her, and that her mouth was hanging open in shock, Cassie hastily forced a smile. Why hadn’t they said anything? Perhaps they were waiting until they could speak with their father in private. But they had both sounded genuinely happy and not as if they were holding anything back. Surely they hadn’t already forgotten how she’d shouted at them.
Ella trailed in, the last of the party, and removed her pink trainers.
Cassie waited anxiously. Antoinette and Marc might have enjoyed the day, but for Ella it had ended in disaster. She must have been holding in her tearful words ever since Cassie dropped the bombshell. Now, surely, they would burst out.
“Did you enjoy the carnival, Ella?” Pierre asked absently, straightening the frame of the brightly colored oil painting that hung above the hall table. Cassie wondered how he could notice the artwork was a degree off center, but not see how tears had smudged the blue sea horses painted on Ella’s cheeks into an unrecognizable blur.
Giving the tiniest hint of a nod, Ella trailed wordlessly upstairs.
Pierre didn’t even glance after her.
“Overtired, I am sure,” he said, stepping back to survey the painting.
“She had a busy morning,” Cassie agreed, feeling as if the conversation had entered the surreal. The knot in her stomach had loosened ever so slightly. Although she was more confused than ever, she no longer felt as if she was going to throw up on the spot.
Pierre turned back to Cassie.
“There is a tray of sandwiches in the dining room for lunch, and dinner will be served early tonight. It will be a simple meal, just bread, cheese, and soup, as most of the staff have the afternoon off.”
“I’ll make sure the children are ready in time,” Cassie said. “And that Ella has a nap this afternoon.”
She needed a nap herself. The bone-deep exhaustion that had suddenly descended must have been caused by the emotional stress of the day
“Good,” Pierre said absently, his attention already elsewhere. He headed out of the house, jingling his car keys in his hand.
Cassie walked slowly upstairs, forcing her sluggish mind to think about what she should say to the children. Antoinette and Marc might genuinely have forgotten her outburst, and if so it would be better not to mention it again. But she couldn’t count on that being the case. While Marc had the attention span of a butterfly and didn’t seem to hold grudges, Antoinette was the opposite. More likely, she had stashed the incident away in her memory and was waiting for an opportune moment to triumphantly reveal it.
When Cassie walked into her room and saw the plastic bottle of pills on her bedside table, she realized with a jolt that her tiredness, nausea, and mental fog weren’t just due to stress. She’d forgotten to take her meds last night, and now she was starting to suffer the effects she associated with skipping a dose.
She opened the bottle and popped a tablet into her mouth before realizing that there was no water in the glass on her bedside table. Picking up the glass, she headed for the bathroom, but as she reached the corridor, she heard someone calling her name.
“Cassie?”
She turned to see Marnie approaching her, holding a piece of paper.
Instead of her usual gray uniform, the housekeeper was wearing black pants and a crimson duffle jacket. She had makeup on and her hair was down, making her look much younger and prettier than she did when she was working.
Was she bringing instructions from Pierre, Cassie wondered hazily, before remembering she’d just spoken to him and he’d mentioned nothing except that dinner would be early.
“I hoped I would find you before I left. I am going to Paris for the evening,” Marnie said.
Cassie nodded. The tablet was starting to dissolve on her tongue, tasting vile and causing her nausea to resurface.
She held up a hand, turned, and rushed to the bathroom. Sloshing water in the glass, she gulped the pill down, drinking some more to wash the taste away.
“Sorry,” she said to Marnie, who had followed her and was waiting outside the bathroom door with a concerned expression. “I had a pill in my mouth.”
“Oh.” Marnie nodded in relief. “I was worried you had eaten something bad at the carnival. You look very pale.”
“I have a headache,” Cassie said, not wanting to explain that she was on anxiety meds. In any case, it wasn’t a lie; her head was pounding.
“I hope it gets better soon. Sorry for disturbing you now, but there is something I want to tell you in private.” She said the last words in a low voice.
“What?” Cassie felt her heart sink. Could anything else go wrong today?
“While you were out somebody phoned the chateau’s landline. It was a young man, asking to speak to you.”
“To me?” Cassie frowned. “Do you know why?”
Her best guess was that someone from the carnival had recognized the children and was calling to reprimand her for the way she’d yelled at them in public.
“He said he was your boyfriend, Zane.” Marnie handed her the paper.
“Zane?” Cassie’s voice was high with incredulity. “He’s not my boyfriend, he’s my ex. I never gave him the number—I don’t know it myself. The agency wouldn’t have given it out to anyone, would they? I can’t imagine how he found out I was here.”
Marnie shrugged sympathetically.
“I am glad I answered it,” she said. “Pierre does not like staff receiving personal calls on the house landline. I told Zane you would phone back when you were in town. It will be better if you to ask him not to call here again. Here is his number, and the message he left for you.”
“What message?”
She stared down at the page. In Marnie’s neat, forward-sloping hand was written, “Cassie—please come home.”
*
That evening, Cassie couldn’t stop thinking about Zane’s message. How on earth had he found out she was here? She urgently needed to call him back. Now that he knew the number, it was a certainty he’d try to get hold of her again, and next time she might not be as lucky.
Pierre and Margot did not come down to dinner. With Marc in his own world, Ella still not talking to her, and Antoinette reading a book at the table, supper was a quiet affair, but Cassie did her best to seem cheerful.
“Isn’t this soup delicious?” she asked the silent trio. It wasn’t hard to compliment the food here, which was wonderful—the beef and vegetable soup was rich and full of flavor. It was only her lack of appetite that was preventing her from enjoying the meal to its full.
No wonder she didn’t feel hungry when she was stressed to the max. It seemed as if every conscious decision she made here had turned out a disaster, and now other people’s decisions, which she had no control over, were going the same way.
Knowing that Antoinette would be on the alert for any sign of vulnerability, Cassie forced herself to eat a full bowl of soup and a chunk of baguette. She served the children a generous helping but although Antoinette and Marc cleaned their plates, Ella barely touched hers.
“Are you ill, Ella?” Antoinette asked sweetly, giving Cassie a sideways look that told her she knew exactly why Ella wasn’t eating.
Ella shook her head wordlessly.
“It’s been a long day,” Cassie said. “I am sure she will feel better after a good sleep. Everything seems better in the morning.” She smiled at Antoinette, feeling her face ache with the effort.
“Oh, I’m not
so sure,” Antoinette countered. “Sometimes things can be much worse in the morning.”
Cassie had to use all her self-control to prevent herself snapping furiously at the dark-haired girl. Antoinette knew exactly how to push her buttons. Instead, with a huge effort, she kept her smile glued into place.
“If everyone’s finished, let’s go upstairs,” she said calmly. “It’s time for bed—and Ella, you haven’t had a bath yet.”
Antoinette looked disappointed that she hadn’t risen to the bait, and Cassie felt a glow of satisfaction.
Cassie ran Ella a bubble bath to try and cheer her up, but the young girl wouldn’t even look at Cassie while she helped her bathe. She stared down at the mass of bubbles in the bathwater, and Cassie could only guess at the turmoil going through her mind.
“I’m so sorry, Ella,” she said gently. “What I said upset you and I feel so bad about it. It was a terrible way for you to find out what happened to your mother. You must be feeling very sad. Would you like me to read you a bedtime story to cheer you up?”
Ella shook her head firmly.
Cassie put her to bed, turned off her light, and closed the door, wishing there was something more she could do. This poor innocent girl had already been damaged by her toxic family, and now Cassie had added to her burden. She was sure Ella would never trust her again. Why should she? She’d believed Cassie to be her friend, and on her side, and Cassie had betrayed her in the cruelest possible way.
Back in her room, Cassie noticed to her alarm that she hadn’t put her pills away. She’d left them on her bedside table, where anyone could see.
As she looked down at the bottle, she felt a surge of fright.
It wasn’t full. There were at least four pills missing. That meant four days—and she’d started the new bottle just before she’d left the States. She must have taken her pill last night, and completely forgotten about it. If so, why had she thought she’d missed a dose? Had her symptoms been triggered by the insane stress she’d experienced?
Thinking it over, Cassie found she genuinely couldn’t remember if she’d taken a pill the previous night or not, and attempting to do so only left her more confused. The gap in her memory frightened her, but she told herself that this was what stress did.
