Almost Dead

by Blake Pierce

  Cassie took a brush and smoothed her dark hair back before fastening the hair tie around it.

  “It’s not too tight?” she asked.

  “It’s fine. Thank you.”

  Venetia’s stomach rumbled audibly, reminding Cassie that breakfast still had to be organized.

  “I’ll head down and make a start on food,” she said. “What would you like? Same as yesterday—toast and jam? Orange juice?”

  Venetia shook her head. “I am not hungry, thank you.”

  “Not hungry?” Cassie frowned, wondering if Venetia’s noisy stomach was a sign she’d eaten something bad, or had the stomach flu. “Not hungry at all? Are you feeling well?”

  “Yes, but I will not eat.”

  Perhaps Venetia wasn’t always a morning eater. Some people weren’t. Even so, she should have something to take with her.

  “I’ll pack you a snack,” Cassie said. “Would you like a sandwich?”

  But Venetia insisted, “No, thank you.”

  Cassie looked at her more closely. She must not be feeling well.

  “Have you at least had something to drink?” She recalled that dehydration was a risk with stomach flu.

  “I have had water, yes.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  Cassie was frustrated that the child seemed to have reverted back to her overly polite, shut-down mode. She’d thought that they had made strides in getting to know each other yesterday, but it seemed to be two steps forward, one step back.

  “I am fine.”

  Giving up on the discussion, Cassie headed downstairs to the kitchen. She wasn’t sure what the situation was with packed lunches. Who made them? The kitchen seemed to be managed by the cook, who only worked there part of the day. She didn’t know if she was allowed to raid the fridge for school lunches or snacks.

  When she went downstairs, she found Ms. Rossi in the kitchen, with Maurice hovering nearby. She was having a discussion with the cook. Clearly this was a working day for her, too.

  “Good morning,” she greeted Cassie, who was relieved that her tone was friendly. Maurice didn’t greet her. He was busy checking something on his iPad.

  Cassie had expected to see Nina in the kitchen. Where was she?

  As if reading her mind, Ms. Rossi said, “Nina went to school early today.”

  “Ah, OK, thank you. I was wondering where she was. I guess she wanted to prepare for her spelling test,” Cassie said, hoping that Ms. Rossi would be impressed by her knowledge of their routine.

  She didn’t seem to be, but turned away and continued her discussion with the cook in Italian.

  “Um, can I possibly take a few snacks from the fridge?” Cassie asked.

  She hated to interrupt, but she was worried that the driver would arrive at any moment to take Venetia to school.

  “You are hungry?” Ms. Rossi inquired.

  “It’s for Venetia. She didn’t want breakfast.”

  “Then there is no need. She has money for food and can buy something herself.”

  Cassie found herself dismissed with a glance. It took just one look from Ms. Rossi and her feet were walking out of the kitchen as if of their own accord.

  Venetia hadn’t mentioned money, but then, Cassie hadn’t asked her about that.

  As she reached the hallway she saw Venetia hurrying downstairs to meet the driver.

  “See you later,” Cassie said.

  A moment later, Ms. Rossi swept past her and headed for the garage. Maurice followed close behind, carrying a large leather briefcase and speaking on his cell phone as he walked.

  “Salve, Ronaldo!” she heard him say. “Yes, we are on our way. Arrivederci!”

  On her own again, Cassie realized that she had another long, lonely morning ahead of her. She hadn’t asked the children what time they would be back. She hadn’t had the chance to speak to Nina at all because she’d overslept, and with rushing around trying to organize snacks for Venetia, she hadn’t checked when school finished today.

  Yesterday they had arrived home at two-thirty after a singing lesson, so school probably ended at about one p.m., or one-thirty.

  That meant she might have enough time to drive to Bellagio, speak to Mirabella at her boutique, and drive back again, before the children returned.

  Cassie ran back upstairs and spent a while assessing the route, consulting her GPS, and trying to factor in stops for gas, getting lost, and anything else that might go wrong. She was desperate to find out the truth about her sister, but she couldn’t risk messing up in her job again. The thought of Ms. Rossi’s disapproval, or worse still, her anger, was too frightening.

  Even with all the possible delays accounted for, Cassie calculated that she could do it. There was enough time. She could get there and back.

  She felt breathless with excitement as she grabbed her purse, put her phone and charger inside, and pulled her jacket over her shoulders. With her car keys clutched in her hand, she headed downstairs.

  Cassie was on her way to the front door when she heard the noise, almost inaudible. It was only because the house was so silent that she picked it up.

  A young girl was speaking, her voice faint but unmistakable.

  She was conversing softly in a singsong fashion, but Cassie couldn’t hear anybody speaking to her in response.

  Cassie stood still, holding her breath, her heart accelerating at the weirdness of this sound.

  What was it? Had someone left a TV on?

  This wasn’t the background babble of TV. It was more random; snatches of words interspersed by silence.

  Her spine prickled into gooseflesh as she listened.

  She knew it was completely fanciful, but hearing this soft, disembodied voice was making her wonder if this building might be haunted.

  That was what it sounded like, a ghostly voice coming from nowhere.

  Cassie stepped back, feeling totally spooked. What if there had been a little girl who had perished here decades ago?

  “What the hell is happening?” she whispered.

  Cassie didn’t want to go anywhere near that sound. She wanted to get far away and hope that it was gone by the time she came back. But, at the same time, she needed to know what it was, because she was the one who was spending hours in this house by herself.

  She hurried to the kitchen, wondering if the cook might know what it was.

  The kitchen was empty. Although ingredients had been set out ready to prepare a meal, there was nobody on duty. Most probably the cook worked shorter hours on weekends. That meant Cassie was alone in the house, together with the ghostly voice.

  She crept back toward the place where she’d heard it, feeling her nerves growing more taut with every step she took.

  “Hello?” she called softly. She could hear how scared she sounded.

  She waited and listened, but the soft voice continued. It was as if the speaker hadn’t heard her. Or couldn’t hear her.

  The sensible decision would be to get the hell out of the house, but instead, she found herself turning and tiptoeing down the passage in its direction.

  There was a door on the left, but she knew where it led; she’d hidden inside during their hide-and-seek yesterday. It opened up into a small storeroom that appeared to be used as a guest cloakroom.

  As quietly as possible, Cassie opened the door, and with a shaking hand she reached inside and turned on the light.

  There was nobody in the room, and all she could see was her own reflection in the large mirror on the back wall. But something looked wrong with her reflection—it was distorted.

  Cassie caught her breath as she realized that the mirror was not just a mirror.

  It was, in fact, a mirrored door, set into the back wall of the cloakroom. This door was now slightly ajar.

  The small voice was clearly audible now, coming from behind that door.

  Summoning all her courage, Cassie crept across the cloakroom floor. She saw her reflection loom in the mirror; her pale face framed
by dark auburn hair, her worried eyes, her hand shaking as she stretched it out to the glass.

  She pushed the door and it creaked inward.

  Cassie couldn’t help herself. She let out a breathy shriek of terror as she saw what she had imagined.

  Inside the small, dark room sat a girl, dressed in a white nightgown, with her head bowed and her back to the door.

  She was talking to herself in a quiet, singsong voice.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  As Cassie recoiled from the apparition, the girl raised her head and looked round.

  “What the hell?” Cassie couldn’t stop the high-pitched exclamation that burst out of her.

  She wondered if she was dreaming, or maybe even hallucinating, because this was impossible, it was beyond her comprehension.

  This was no ghost. It was a real live child.

  In fact, it was Nina, still wearing her nightgown, her hair tangled from sleep.

  “N-nina?” she stammered. “Are you OK? What on earth are you doing in there?”

  She felt blindsided by the child’s presence in this room. She wasn’t even supposed to be home; she’d gone to school early. Had she somehow sleepwalked here, or else had she hidden herself away?

  The door hadn’t been locked, nor even fully closed, so she wasn’t trapped. She could have pulled it open at any time and left. What on earth was going on?

  “Come on out,” she said, taking a step into the room.

  It was claustrophobically small, and smelled damp and musty. The bare concrete floor was cold. Nina would get sick, sitting on this chilly surface. But why wasn’t she moving?

  “Come on, Nina, you need to have a hot drink and get into proper clothes. Why aren’t you at school? What about your spelling test?”

  Cassie didn’t want to spend another moment in this creepy place. The sooner they could get back into the warmth and light of the main house, the better. But when she took the girl’s arm to help her up, Nina tugged away from her.

  “I will stay in here,” she said, and Cassie was taken aback by the firmness in her voice.

  “But you can’t! It’s a school day. Have you even had breakfast?”

  Since the young girl didn’t seem willing to move at all, Cassie got down on the floor beside her.

  “Come on, aren’t you ready to get up now? You must be hungry.”

  She took the girl’s hand and realized it felt cold. With a shock, Cassie noticed that her feet were bare, too.

  Her mind was boggling at the weirdness of the situation. It felt as if reality had warped around her. Why was she having to entice the child into leaving this small, dark, uncomfortable room?

  Cassie suddenly thought of a disturbing possibility. Nina might be suffering from severe psychological issues, which were causing her to behave in this abnormal fashion.

  “I am not hungry. I need to stay here,” Nina insisted.

  “Does your mother know you didn’t go to school?” Cassie asked.

  The girl didn’t answer, just looked down at the floor.

  Cassie leaned forward, hoping that Nina would look at her so she could make eye contact, which might allow for more honest communication, but the girl kept her gaze fixed on the floor.

  “Why did you come in here?” Cassie asked softly.

  There was no reply. She saw that Nina’s lips were pressed together, as if she wasn’t letting herself speak at all.

  “Did you ask anybody if you could stay home from school?” Cassie tried again, but silence was her only response.

  Cassie shook her head. How could Ms. Rossi not have known about this? After all, she was the one who hired the driver who took the children to and from school. If Nina hadn’t been there when the driver came to fetch her, Cassie was sure her mother would have been instantly informed.

  Cassie felt a flare of anger over the glib explanation she’d been given, that Nina had gone to school early. It had seemed so plausible, she hadn’t questioned it. Now she was wondering why she had been told a lie.

  Was Ms. Rossi in denial about her daughter being mentally unstable? If she knew, why hadn’t she done something about it? In such a wealthy family, Nina could have access to the best therapists money could buy. She didn’t have to be stuck on her own in this dark room, talking to herself in that weird, singsong way.

  Yet here she was, refusing to move.

  Cassie couldn’t make her leave the room, short of dragging her out, and she had a feeling that would cause Nina more harm than staying would do.

  “Nina, you can sit here if you like, but I am going to bring you a cushion and a blanket. Sitting on the cold floor like that will make you sick and I am forbidding you to do it. Do you understand me?”

  For a moment, she thought Nina wouldn’t reply, but then she gave a tiny nod.

  Relieved that she’d managed to negotiate a small victory, Cassie rushed upstairs and took one of the big Continental pillows off Nina’s bed. She grabbed her dressing gown and slippers from the cupboard, and found a spare fleece blanket in there, too.

  She’d abandoned all thoughts of making the trip to find out about Jacqui. There was no way she could leave the house now.

  Cassie rushed back downstairs, detouring to the kitchen to make a cup of hot chocolate.

  Then, carrying the bedding under her arm and the drink in her hand, she returned to the hidden room.

  It didn’t look as if Nina had moved a muscle in the time she’d been away.

  “Here you go.” Cassie pushed the door wider to let in some light.

  “Now, I’m not willing to compromise on this. Slippers on. Dressing gown on. Sit on the cushion. Then you must drink the cocoa right away, so I can take the empty cup out with me.”

  To her relief, Nina complied. Cassie realized that she was shivering with cold.

  She got her settled on the cushion and stood over her, watching anxiously until she’d drained the last drop of the warm drink.

  Then she took the cup from her and wrapped her up in the blanket.

  “When you’re hungry, come and call me. I’ll make you some hot food, and run you a bath.”

  She stepped out of the dark, chilly room, leaving the door ajar, and took the cup back to the kitchen.

  She realized that she didn’t have Ms. Rossi’s work number, as she’d deleted the photo of the au pair ad from her phone. She was sure that she could find the number somehow, but if the businesswoman already knew this was happening, it wouldn’t help to call her and tell her so.

  Cassie sighed. That only left one option and she was already dreading it.

  When Ms. Rossi arrived home, she was going to have to ask her for a meeting, and discuss the sensitive topic of her elder child’s odd behavior.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Cassie spent the rest of the day fretting over what she should say, and how she should start the conversation, which she was sure wouldn’t be easy. In between making regular trips downstairs to check on Nina, she compiled a list of points that she felt were important.

  She was sure that if she handled this in an organized way, it would go down better with Ms. Rossi.

  First on the list was the fact Nina had been supposed to go to school.

  Second was her refusal to leave the room.

  Thirdly were some ideas on what could be done—a visit to a psychologist to determine the root cause, perhaps also a meeting with her schoolteachers in case Nina was experiencing any bullying or other problems.

  Armed with the list as guidance, Cassie hoped that the conversation would be productive.

  All the same, she felt paralyzed by nerves when, in the late afternoon, she heard the front door click and rattle, and knew that Ms. Rossi had arrived home.

  Cassie rushed downstairs, relieved to see that Venetia had arrived home with her mother. Ms. Rossi must have collected her from an after-school activity. She’d been concerned about the younger girl, because it was now well after five p.m.

  “Good afternoon,” she greeted Ms. Rossi. “Hell
o, Venetia.”

  Venetia nodded in reply, and Cassie thought she looked pale and miserable.

  To Cassie’s frustration, Maurice Smithers hurried into the house behind them. Clearly there was still work to be done, and that meant she’d have to wait.

  As Ms. Rossi and her assistant headed to the office, Venetia trailed up the stairs.

  “Did you have sports today?” Cassie asked, as she followed her.

  “I sat in the library and did homework,” Venetia told her.

  “All afternoon?”

  Venetia nodded.

  “You should have told me!” Cassie felt terrible that she’d had to stay at school the whole day, especially on a Saturday. Even if the driver had been busy, she could have fetched Venetia from school, and the young girl could have done her work in comfort at home.

  Ms. Rossi might be angry at her for not having used her initiative to ask if she could fetch her daughter, and that thought filled Cassie with apprehension.

  “You’d better get changed before suppertime,” she told Venetia.

  “I am not hungry,” Venetia said.

  Cassie stared at her, stupefied.

  “You’re not? But you didn’t have breakfast.”

  She remembered that Ms. Rossi had said Venetia would be able to buy food at school, so perhaps she’d had a big lunch.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to eat?”

  Venetia nodded.

  “I am going to lie on my bed and read now,” she said.

  “Well, all right.”

  Cassie left the room and closed the door. She was feeling increasingly unsettled by the way the children were behaving, and worried that this behavior had somehow been triggered by her presence in the house.

  Seeing that it was close to six o’clock, she hurried downstairs and was reassured to see that Nina, in her slippers and dressing gown, had come out of the hidden room and was sitting at the kitchen counter.

  Footsteps and voices from the study told her that Maurice was on his way out again. A moment later, Ms. Rossi joined them.

  The cook placed a steaming tray of chicken, vegetables, and polenta on the countertop.

  “If you will excuse me, I am going to take a plate into my office. I have to finish off some work before going out to attend a launch,” Ms. Rossi said.