“I’m so sorry you had to go through this,” she said softly.
Ryan was looking at her closely and she returned his gaze, staring into pale, piercing blue eyes.
“Cassie, you seem to understand,” he said.
She thought he was going to ask her something else, but at that moment the front door opened.
“The children are home, just in time.” He sounded relieved.
Cassie glanced out the window. Raindrops were spattering the glass, and as the door slammed, a cold winter shower started pouring down.
“Hey, Dad!”
Footsteps thudded along the wooden floor and a slim young girl wearing cycle shorts and a green tracksuit top came sprinting into the kitchen. She stopped when she saw Cassie, looked her up and down, and then marched over and shook her hand.
“Hello. Are you the lady who’ll be looking after us?”
“My name’s Cassie. Are you Madison?” Cassie asked.
Madison nodded, and Ryan ruffled his daughter’s shiny brown hair.
“Cassie is still deciding whether she wants to work for us. What do you think? Will you promise to be on your best behavior?”
Madison shrugged.
“You always tell us not to make promises we can’t keep. But I’ll try.”
Ryan laughed and Cassie found herself smiling at the cheeky honesty of Madison’s response.
“Where’s Dylan?” Ryan asked.
“He’s in the garage, oiling his bicycle. It was squeaking on the way up the hill and then the chain fell off.” Madison took a deep breath and walked to the kitchen door.
“Dylan!” she yelled. “Come here!”
Cassie heard a distant shout. “Coming!”
“He’ll take forever,” Madison said. “Once he starts fussing with the bikes he doesn’t stop.”
Noticing the plate of snacks, she made a bee-line for them, her eyes lighting up. Then, looking down at the contents, she gave an exasperated sigh.
“Dad, you made egg sandwiches.”
“Is that a problem?” Ryan asked, his eyebrows raised.
“You know my views on egg. It’s like having sick in a sandwich.”
She carefully selected a muffin from the opposite side of the plate.
“Sick in a sandwich?” Ryan’s voice combined outrage and amusement. “Maddie, you shouldn’t say that kind of thing in front of a visitor.”
“Watch out, Cassie, that egg stuff sticks to everything,” Madison warned, making an unrepentant face at her father.
Cassie suddenly felt a weird sense of belonging. This banter was exactly what she’d hoped for. So far, this seemed to be a normal, happy family, teasing each other, looking out for each other, even though she was sure each of them had their own quirks and difficulties. She realized how tense she’d been, anticipating that something would go wrong.
She hadn’t yet taken any food because she had felt self-conscious about eating in front of Ryan. Now, she realized how hungry she was, and decided she’d better have something before her stomach embarrassed her by growling audibly.
“I’ll be brave and try a sandwich,” she volunteered.
“Thank you. I’m relieved somebody appreciates my culinary excellence,” Ryan said.
“Egg-cellence,” Madison added, making Cassie laugh.
Turning to Cassie she said, “Dad does all the cooking. He just hates to clean.”
“That I do,” Ryan said.
Madison took another deep breath and faced the kitchen door.
“Dylan,” she yelled.
Then she added, in a normal voice, “Oh, there you are.”
A tall, lanky boy strolled in. He had the same brown, shiny hair as his sister and Cassie wondered if he’d just had a growth spurt, because he looked to be all limbs and sinew.
“Hi, pleased to meet you,” he said to Cassie, somewhat absently.
In his boyish features, she could see a similarity to Ryan. They shared the same strong jaw and well-defined cheekbones. In Madison’s pretty, oval face she saw less of Ryan and wondered what the children’s mother looked like. Were there family photos anywhere in the house? Or had the divorce been so acrimonious that these had been removed?
“You must shake hands,” Ryan reminded his son, but Dylan turned his hands outward and Cassie saw the palms were black with oil.
“Uh-oh. Come over here.”
Ryan hurried over to the sink, turned on the tap, and poured a generous amount of dishwashing liquid into his son’s hands.
While Ryan was distracted, Cassie took another sandwich.
“What was wrong with the bike?” Ryan asked.
“The chain was skipping when I changed up the gears,” Dylan explained.
“Did you fix it?” Ryan was monitoring the progress of the handwashing with some concern.
“Yes,” Dylan said.
Cassie expected him to elaborate further but he didn’t. Ryan passed him a towel and he dried his hands, grasped Cassie’s hand briefly in a formal hello, and then turned his attention to the snacks.
Dylan didn’t say much while he ate but Cassie was impressed by how much food he managed to put away in a few minutes. The plate was nearly empty by the time Ryan returned it to the fridge.
“You’re not going to have an appetite for dinner if you keep eating, and I’m about to make spaghetti Bolognese,” he said.
“I’ll eat all the spag bol too,” Dylan promised.
Ryan closed the fridge.
“Right, kids, I need you to go and change out of your cycling clothes now, or you’ll catch a chill.”
When they had gone, he turned back to Cassie and she noticed that he sounded anxious.
“What do you think? Are the children what you expected? They’re good kids, although they can have their moments.”
Cassie had liked the children immediately. Madison, in particular, seemed like an easy child and she couldn’t imagine there being any shortage of conversation around the talkative young girl. Dylan seemed more complex, a quieter, more introverted person. But it could also be that he was older, heading into his teens. It made sense that he wouldn’t have very much to say to a twenty-three-year-old au pair.
Ryan was right, they seemed like easy children, and more importantly, he came across as a supportive father who would help with any problems if they occurred.
Decision made, then. She would take this job.
“They seem lovely. I’ll be happy to work for you for the next three weeks.”
Ryan’s face lit up.
“Oh, that’s great. You know, Cassie, from the time I saw you—no, from the time I first spoke to you, I was hoping you’d agree. There’s something about your energy that intrigues me. I would love to know what you’ve been through, what has shaped you, because you seem—I don’t know how to describe it. Wise. Mature. At any rate, I feel my children will be in excellent hands.”
Cassie didn’t know what to say. Ryan’s praise was making her feel awkward.
Ryan added, “The kids are going to be thrilled; I can see they like you already. Let’s get you settled in and I’ll give you a quick tour of the house. Do you have your bags with you?”
“Yes, I do.”
Taking advantage of a lull in the rain, Ryan walked with her to the car and picked up her heavy bags with ease, carrying them into the hallway.
“We only have one garage, which is the Land Rover’s domain, but parking on the street is totally safe. The house is simple. We have the living room on the right, the kitchen ahead, and on the left is a dining room we hardly ever use, so it’s turned into a jigsaw puzzle, reading, and games room. As you can see.”
Peering in, he sighed.
“Who’s the puzzle enthusiast?”
“Madison. She loves working with her hands, crafts, anything she can get busy and do.”
“And she’s sporty?” Cassie asked. “She’s multi-talented.”
“I’m afraid with Maddie, schoolwork is the weak point. She needs help academic
ally, especially in math. So any assistance you’re able to offer, or even just moral support, will be great.”
“What about Dylan?”
“He’s a passionate cyclist, but can’t be bothered with any other sport. He’s very mechanically minded, and a straight A student. He’s not sociable, though, and it’s a fine balance with him because he can be a moody boy if he feels pressured.”
Cassie nodded, grateful for the input on her new charges.
“Here’s your room. Let’s put these bags down.”
The small room had a beautiful sea view. It was decorated in turquoise and white, and looked neat and welcoming. Ryan placed her larger bag by the foot of the bed, and the smaller one on the striped armchair.
“The guest bathroom is down the passage. We have Madison’s room on the right, Dylan’s room on the left, and finally mine. Then there’s one other place I must show you.”
He accompanied her back down the hall and they headed into the family room. Beyond it, through the glass doors, Cassie saw a covered balcony with wrought-iron furniture.
“Wow,” she breathed. The sea view from this vantage point was exquisite. There was a dramatic drop to the ocean below, and she could hear the waves crashing against the rocks.
“This is my peaceful place. I sit here every evening after dinner to unwind, usually with a glass of wine. You’re very welcome to join me any evening you choose—wine’s optional, but warm, windproof clothing is compulsory. The balcony is solidly roofed, but not glassed in. I considered doing it but found I couldn’t. Out there, with the sound of the sea and even an occasional gust of spray on stormy nights, you feel so connected to the ocean. Take a look.”
He opened the sliding door.
Cassie walked out onto the balcony and headed to the edge, grasping the steel railing.
As she did so, dizziness flooded her, and suddenly, she wasn’t looking down onto a Devon beach.
She was leaning over a stone parapet, staring in horror at the crumpled body far below, flooded with panic and confusion.
She could feel the stone, cold against her fingers.
She remembered the hint of perfume that had still lingered in the opulent bedroom, and the way that nausea had boiled inside her and her legs had gone so weak that she’d thought she would collapse. How she’d been unable to remember how the events of the previous night had played out. Her nightmares, always bad, had become far worse and more vivid after that shocking sight, so she’d been unable to tell where dreams ended and memories began.
Cassie thought she’d left that terrified person behind, but now, as the darkness rushed up to swallow her, she understood that the memories, and the fear, had become a part of her.
“No,” she tried to scream, but her own voice seemed to come from a distant, faraway place and all that came out was a ragged, inaudible whisper.
CHAPTER FOUR
“There, take it easy. Just breathe. In, out, in, out.”
Cassie opened her eyes and found herself looking at the deck’s solid wooden floorboards.
She was seated on the soft cushion of one of the wrought-iron chairs, with her head on her knees. Firm hands were grasping her shoulders, supporting her.
It was Ryan, her new employer. His hands, his voice.
What had she done? She’d panicked and made a complete fool of herself. Hastily she struggled upright.
“Easy, take it slow.”
Cassie gasped. Her head was whirling and she felt as if she was having an out-of-body experience.
“You had a serious attack of vertigo there. For a minute I thought you were going to fall over the railing,” Ryan said. “I managed to grab you before you blacked out. How are you feeling?”
How was she feeling?
Icy cold, lightheaded, and mortified by what had happened. She’d been desperate to make a good impression and to live up to Ryan’s praise of her. Instead, she’d screwed up badly and should explain why.
How could she, though? If he knew the horrors she’d been through, and that her ex-employer was facing trial for murder at this very moment, he might change his mind about her and feel that she was too unstable to care for his children at a time when they needed stability. Even a panic attack might be cause for concern.
It would be better to go along with what he’d assumed—that she’d suffered a bout of vertigo.
“I’m feeling much better,” she answered him. “I’m so sorry. I should have remembered that I get severe vertigo if I haven’t been around heights for a while. It does improve. In a day or two I’ll be fine out here.”
“That’s good to know, but you must be careful in the meantime. Are you OK to stand up now? Keep holding my arm.”
Cassie got up, leaning on Ryan until she was sure her legs would support her, and then he slowly walked her back into the family room.
“I’m good now.”
“You sure?” He held her arm a moment longer before letting go.
“Take some time now to unpack, rest up, settle in, and I’ll have supper ready by six-thirty.”
*
Cassie took her time unpacking, making sure her belongings were neatly packed in the quaint white wardrobe, and that her meds were stashed at the back of the desk drawer. She didn’t think this family would go through her stuff when she wasn’t there, but she didn’t want to field any embarrassing questions about the anxiety medications she took, especially after the panic attack she’d had earlier.
At least she’d recovered from the episode quickly, and that must be a sign that her anxiety was under control. She made a mental note to take her nighttime tablets before joining the family for dinner, just in case.
The delicious aroma of cooking garlic and browning meat wafted through the house long before six-thirty. Cassie waited until a quarter past six and then put on one of her prettiest tops, with beadwork around the neck, lip gloss, and a touch of mascara. She wanted Ryan to see her at her best. She told herself it was important to give a good impression because of the earlier panic attack, but when she thought back to those moments on the porch, she found what she remembered most clearly was the feel of Ryan’s toned, muscular arms as he’d held her.
She felt lightheaded all over again when she remembered how strong, yet gentle with her he’d been.
Leaving her room, Cassie nearly bumped into Madison, who was heading eagerly for the kitchen.
“This food smells so good,” Madison told Cassie.
“Is it your favorite dinner?”
“Well, I love spag bol the way Dad makes it, but not when we eat out in restaurants. They don’t do it the same. So I’d say this is my favorite home food, and my second favorite is roast chicken, and my third favorite is toad in the hole. Then when we go out, I love fish and chips, which you get all over the place here, and I love pizza, and I hate hamburgers, which happen to be Dylan’s favorite, but I think restaurant burgers are yuck.”
“What’s toad in the hole?” Cassie asked curiously, guessing it must be a traditional English dish.
“Have you never eaten it? It’s sausages baked in a sort of pie, made with eggs and flour and milk. You have to have it with lots of gravy. I mean, lots. And peas and carrots.”
The conversation had taken them all the way into the kitchen. The wooden table was laid for four, and Dylan was already sitting in his place, pouring a glass of orange juice.
“Burgers are not yuck. They’re the food of the gods,” he countered.
“My teacher at school said they’re mostly cereal and bits of the animals you wouldn’t eat otherwise, ground up finely.”
“Your teacher is wrong.”
“How can she be wrong? You’re stupid to say that.”
Cassie was about to intervene, thinking Madison’s insult too personal, but Dylan got his comeback in first.
“Hey, Maddie.” Dylan pointed a warning finger at her. “You’re either with me or you’re against me.”
Cassie couldn’t work out what he meant by that, but Madison
rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him before sitting down.
“Can I help you, Ryan?”
Cassie walked over to the stove, where Ryan was lifting a boiling pot of pasta off the heat.
He glanced at her and smiled.
“Everything’s under control, I hope. Dinner time is T minus thirty seconds. Come on, kids. Grab your plates and let’s dish up.”
“I like your top, Cassie,” Madison said.
“Thank you. I bought it in New York City.”
“New York City. Wow. I’d love to go there,” Madison said, wide-eyed.
“The sixth form economics students went in June on a school trip,” Dylan said. “Study economics, and you might go, too.”
“Does that involve math?” Madison asked.
Dylan nodded.
“I hate math. It’s boring and difficult.”
“Well then, you won’t go.”
Dylan turned his attention to his plate, piling it high with food, while Ryan rinsed the cooking utensils at the sink.
Seeing Madison was looking mutinous, Cassie changed the subject.
“Your dad told me you love sports. What’s your favorite?”
“Running and gymnastics. I quite like tennis, we started it this summer.”
“And you’re a cyclist?” Cassie asked Dylan.
He nodded, piling grated cheese onto his food.
“Dylan wants to be a professional and win the Tour de France one day,” Madison said.
Ryan sat down at the table.
“You’re more than likely going to discover some obscure mathematical formula and get a full scholarship to Cambridge University,” he said, gazing affectionately at his son.
Dylan shook his head.
“Tour de France all the way, Dad,” he insisted.
“University first,” Ryan retorted, his voice firm, and Dylan scowled in response. Madison interjected, asking for more juice, and Cassie poured it for her while the brief moment of discord passed.
Letting their conversation wash over her, Cassie ate her food, which was delicious. She’d never known anyone quite like Ryan, she decided. He was so capable and so caring. She wondered if the children knew how lucky they were, having a father who cooked for his family.
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