Читать книгу Almost Lost - Блейк Пирс - Страница 9

While Cassie stood, frozen in shock and clueless as to how she should handle Dylan’s theft, she realized that Madison had already made up her mind.

“I’m not eating stolen goods,” the young girl announced. “You can have it back.”

She held out the candy stick to Dylan.

“Why are you giving it back? I took it for you because you wanted a candy stick, and the first shop didn’t have them, and then Cassie was being stingy and wouldn’t buy you one.”

Dylan spoke in aggrieved tones, as if he’d expected thanks for saving the day.

“Yes, but I don’t want a stolen one.”

Shoving it into his hand, Madison folded her arms.

“If you don’t take it, I won’t offer it again.”

“I said no.”

Chin jutted, Madison marched away.

“You’re with me or you’re against me. You know what Mum always says,” Dylan shouted after her. With worry surging inside her at another mention of their mother, Cassie detected more than a hint of menace in his tone.

“OK, enough now.”

In a few fast steps, Cassie grabbed Madison’s arm and turned her around, bringing her back so that they all stood facing each other on the cobbled sidewalk. She felt cold with dread. The situation was spiraling out of control, the children were starting to fight, and she hadn’t even addressed the issue of the theft. No matter how traumatized they were, or what emotions they were suppressing, this was a criminal act.

She was all the more appalled that this store belonged to someone who was friendly with the family. The owner had even offered them a ride to town! You shouldn’t steal from a person who’d offered you a ride. Well, you shouldn’t steal from anybody, but particularly not from a woman who had generously tried to help that very morning.

“Let’s go and sit down.”

There was a tearoom on her left which looked full, but, spotting a couple getting up from a booth, she hustled the children to the door.

A minute later they were seated in the warm interior that smelled deliciously of coffee and crisp, buttery pastry.

Cassie stared down at the menu, feeling helpless, because every second that passed was proving to the children that she had no idea how to handle this.

Ideally, she supposed Dylan should be made to go back in and pay for what he’d taken, but what if he refused? She also wasn’t clear what the penalties were for shoplifting here in the UK. He might end up in trouble if the store policy dictated that the clerk had to report it to the police.

Then Cassie thought back to the timeline of events and realized there might be a different perspective.

She remembered that Madison had mentioned roasting chestnuts with their mother just before Dylan had stolen the sweets. Perhaps this quiet boy had heard his sister’s words and been reminded of the trauma the family had been through.

He might have been acting out his repressed emotions over the divorce by deliberately doing something forbidden. The more Cassie thought about it, the more the explanation made sense.

In which case, it would be better to handle this in a more sensitive way.

She glanced at Dylan, who was paging through his menu, looking completely unconcerned.

Madison also seemed to have gotten over her flare-up of temper. Having refused the stolen sweet and given Dylan a piece of her mind, the matter seemed to have been handled to her satisfaction. She was now engrossed in reading the descriptions of the various milkshakes.

“All right,” Cassie said. “Dylan, please give me all the sweets you took. Clean out your pockets.”

Dylan rummaged in his jacket and took out four candy sticks and a packet of Turkish delight.

Cassie stared down at the small pile.

He hadn’t taken a lot. This wasn’t theft on a grand scale. It was the fact he’d taken them at all that was the problem—and that he didn’t think it was wrong.

“I’m going to confiscate those sweets because it’s not right to take something without paying. That shop assistant could get into trouble if the money in the till doesn’t match up with the stock. And you could have landed in bigger trouble. All these stores have cameras.”

“OK,” he said, looking bored.

“I’m going to have to tell your father, and we’ll see what he decides to do. Please don’t do this again, no matter how much you’re trying to help, or how unfair you think the world is being to you, or how upset you are feeling about family issues. It could lead to serious consequences. Understand?”

She took the sweets and stashed them in her purse.

Watching the children, she saw that Madison, who didn’t need the warning, was looking far more worried than Dylan was. He was staring at her with what she could only interpret as puzzlement. He gave a small nod, and she guessed that was all she was going to get.

She’d done what she could. All she could do now was pass the information on to Ryan and let him take it further.

“Are you thinking of a milkshake, Madison?” she asked.

“You can’t go wrong with chocolate,” Dylan advised, and just like that, the tension was broken and they were back to normal again.

Cassie was relieved beyond measure that she’d been able to manage the situation. She realized her hands were shaking and she put them under the table so the children wouldn’t see.

She’d always avoided fights because it brought back memories of the times when she’d been an unwilling, helpless participant. She recalled fragmented scenes of bellowing voices and screams of pure rage. Smashing of dishes—hiding under the dining room table, she’d felt the shards sting her hands and face.

Given the choice, in any fight, she usually ended up doing the equivalent of hiding away.

Now, she was glad that she’d managed to assert her authority calmly but firmly, and that the day hadn’t turned into a disaster as a result.

The tearoom manager hurried over to take their orders and Cassie started to realize how small this town was, because she also knew the family.

“Hello, Dylan and Madison. How are your parents?”

Cassie cringed, realizing the manager obviously didn’t know the latest news, and she hadn’t discussed with Ryan what she should say. As she was fumbling for the correct words, Dylan spoke.

“They’re fine, thank you, Martha.”

Cassie was grateful for Dylan’s brief response, although she was surprised by how normal he’d sounded. She had thought he and Madison would be upset by the mention of their parents. Perhaps Ryan had told them not to discuss it if people didn’t know. That was probably the reason, she decided, especially since the woman seemed to be in a rush and the question had only been a polite formality.

“Hello, Martha. I’m Cassie Vale,” she said.

“You sound like you’re from America. Are you working for the Ellises?”

Again, Cassie winced at their collective mention.

“Just helping out,” she said, remembering that despite her informal agreement with Ryan, she needed to be careful.

“So difficult to find good help. We’re very short-staffed at this time. One of our waitresses was deported yesterday, due to not having the correct paperwork.”

She glanced at Cassie, who looked down hurriedly. What did the woman mean by this? Did she suspect from Cassie’s accent that she didn’t have a working visa?

Was this a hint that authorities in the neighborhood were clamping down?

Quickly, she and the children placed their orders and to Cassie’s relief, the manager hurried away.

A short while later, a stressed-looking waitress, who was obviously a local, brought them their pies and chips.

Cassie didn’t want to linger over her food and risk another round of chitchat, as the restaurant was starting to empty out. As soon as they’d finished, she went up to the front desk and paid.

Leaving the tearoom, they walked back the way they had come. They stopped off at a pet supplies store where she bought more food for Dylan’s fish, which he told her were named Orange and Lemon, and a bag of bedding for his rabbit, Benjamin Bunny.

As they were heading toward the bus stop, Cassie heard music and noticed a crowd of people had gathered in the cobblestone town square.

“What do you think they’re doing?” Madison noticed the activity at the same moment Cassie’s head turned.

“Can we have a look, Cassie?” Dylan asked.

They headed across the road to find that there was a pop-up entertainment show in progress.

In the north corner of the square, a three-piece live band was playing. In the opposite corner, an artist was creating balloon animals. Already a line of parents with young children had formed.

In the center, a magician, formally dressed in a smart suit with a top hat, was performing tricks.

“Oh, wow. I absolutely love magic tricks,” Madison breathed.

“Me, too,” Dylan agreed. “I would like to study it. I want to know how it works.”

Madison rolled her eyes.

“Easy. It’s magic!”

Just as they arrived, the magician completed his trick, to gasps and applause, and then as the crowd dispersed, he turned to face them.

“Welcome, good people. Thank you for being here on this lovely afternoon. What a fine day it is. But tell me, little lady, are you not a bit cold?”

He beckoned Madison forward.

“Cold? Me? No.” She stepped forward, half smiling in wary amusement.

He held out his empty hands and then moved forward and clapped them close to Madison’s head.

She gasped. As he lowered his cupped hands, in them was a small toy snowman.

“How did you do that?” she asked.

He handed her the toy.

“It was on your shoulder all along, traveling with you,” he explained, and Madison laughed in amazed disbelief.

“So now, let’s see how quick your eyes are. This is how it works. You bet me—any amount you like, as I move four cards around. If you can guess where the queen lands, you double your money. If you can’t, you leave empty-handed. So, would you like to place your bet?”

“I’ll bet! Can I have some money?” Dylan asked.

“Sure. How much do you want to lose?” Cassie rummaged in her jacket pocket.

“I want to lose five pounds, please. Or win ten, of course.”

Aware that a new crowd was gathering behind her, Cassie handed Dylan the money and he paid it over.

“This should be easy for you, young gentleman, I can see you have a quick eye, but remember, the queen is a wily lady and she has won many battles.

“Watch carefully as I deal four cards. See, I am placing them face up, for total disclosure. This is almost too easy. It’s like giving the money away. The queen of hearts, the ace of spades, the nine of clubs, and the jack of diamonds. After all, as they say about marriage, it starts off with hearts and diamonds, but by the end all you need is a club and a spade.”

There were roars of laughter from the audience.

The magician’s allusion to marriage going bad had Cassie glancing nervously at the children, but Madison didn’t seem to have understood the joke, and Dylan’s attention was fixed on the cards.

“Now, I turn them over.”

One by one he deliberately flipped the cards face down.

“And now, I move them.”

Swiftly, but not too fast, he shuffled the four cards. It was a challenge to follow but by the time he stopped, Cassie was fairly sure that the queen was on the extreme right.

“Where is our lady queen?” the magician asked.

Dylan paused, then pointed to the card on the right.

“Are you sure, young sir?”

“I’m sure.” Dylan nodded.

“You have one chance to change your mind.”

“No, I’ll stick with that one. She’s got to be there.”

“She’s got to be there. Well, let us see if the queen agrees, or if one of her consorts has managed to spirit her away into hiding.”

He flipped the card over and Dylan let out an audible groan.

It was the jack of diamonds.

“Dammit,” he said.

“The jack. Always ready to cover for his queen. Loyal to the end. But our queen of hearts, the emblem of love, still eludes us.”

“So where’s the queen?”

“Where indeed?”

Cassie had noticed, while he shuffled the cards around, that there was one he hadn’t touched at all—the one on the far left. That had been the ace of spades.

“I think she’s there,” she guessed, pointing to the card.

“Ah, so here we have a clever lady, pointing to the one card she knows it couldn’t possibly be. But you know what? Miracles happen.”

With a flourish, he uncovered the card—and there was the queen.

Laughter and applause rang through the square and Cassie felt a surge of delight as Dylan and Madison high-fived her.

“What a pity you didn’t put money on it, my lady. You would have been richer now, but that’s the way it goes. Who needs money, when love has chosen you?”

Cassie felt her cheeks redden. If only, she hoped.

“As a memento, you may have the card itself.”

He dropped it into a paper bag and sealed it with a sticker before handing it to Cassie, who put it in the side pocket of her purse.

“I wonder what would have happened if I’d chosen that card,” Dylan remarked as they walked away.

“I’m sure it would have been the jack of diamonds,” Cassie said. “That’s how he makes his money, by switching the cards when people bet.”

“His hands were so fast,” Dylan said, shaking his head.

“They must be naturally good and then train for years on top,” Cassie guessed.

“I suppose they would have to,” Dylan agreed, as they reached the bus stop.

“It’s also misdirection, but I’m not sure how that applies when there are four cards so close together. But it must work somehow.”

“OK, let’s practice. Try and misdirect me, Cassie,” Madison asked.

“I will, but the bus is coming. Let’s get on it first.”

Madison turned to look and while her attention was distracted, Cassie snatched the toffee apple out of her jacket pocket.

“Hey! What did you do? I felt something. And there’s no bus.” Madison turned back, saw Dylan burst out laughing, paused for a moment as she replayed what had happened, and started giggling herself.

“You got me!”

“It’s not always that easy. I was just lucky.”

“The bus is coming, Madison,” Dylan said.

“I’m not looking. You can’t trick me twice.” Still snorting with laughter she folded her arms.

“Then you’ll get left behind,” Dylan told her as the sleek single-decker country bus pulled up at the stop.

During the short ride home they all did their best to misdirect each other. By the time they reached their stop, Cassie’s stomach felt sore from laughing and she was warm with happiness that the day had been a success.

As they unlocked the front door, her cell phone buzzed. It was a message from Ryan, telling her he’d be bringing pizzas home, and were there any toppings she didn’t like?

She typed back, “I’m easy, thanks,” and then realized the connotations as she was about to press Send.

Her face felt hot as she erased the words and replaced them with, “Any toppings are good. Thank you.”

A minute later her phone buzzed again and she grabbed it, eager for Ryan’s next message.

This text wasn’t from him. It was from Renee, one of her old school friends from back home.

“Hey, Cassie, someone was looking for you this morning. A woman, calling from France. She was trying to find you but she wouldn’t say more. Can I give her your number?”

Cassie reread the message and suddenly the village didn’t feel remote or safe anymore.

With her ex-employer’s trial upcoming in Paris, and the defense team searching for more witnesses, she was terrified that the net was closing.