Читать книгу Almost Gone - Ophelia Night - Страница 7

Cassie opened her eyes, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling in confusion. It took her a few moments to orient herself and to realize where she was—in Ella’s bed, with the morning light streaming through a gap in the curtains. Ella was still sleeping soundly, half buried under the duvet. The back of Cassie’s head throbbed when she moved, the pain reminding her of everything that had happened last night.

She sat up hurriedly, remembering Margot’s words, the stinging slap, and the warnings she’d received. Yes, she had been at fault for not attending to Ella immediately, but nothing that happened after that had been fair. When she’d tried to stand up for herself, she had only been punished further. So perhaps she needed to calmly discuss some house rules with the Dubois family this morning, to make sure this wouldn’t happen again.

Why hadn’t her alarm gone off yet? She’d set it for six-thirty, hoping this would mean a punctual arrival for breakfast at seven.

Cassie checked her phone and found with a shock that the battery was dead. The constant searching for signal must have drained it faster than usual. Climbing quietly out of bed, she went back to her room, plugged it into the charger, and waited anxiously for it to power up.

She swore under her breath when she saw it was nearly seven-thirty. She’d overslept, and would now have to get everyone up and ready as fast as possible.

Hurrying back to Ella’s room, Cassie pulled back the curtain.

“Good morning,” she said. “It’s a beautiful sunny day, and it’s breakfast time.”

But Ella didn’t want to get up. She must have battled to fall asleep after her bad dream and she’d woken in a mood. Grumpy and tired, she clung tearfully to the duvet when Cassie tried to pull it back. Eventually, remembering the candy she’d brought with her, Cassie resorted to bribery to get her out of bed.

“If you’re ready in five minutes, you can have a chocolate.”

Even then, further struggles lay ahead. Ella refused to put on the outfit Cassie selected for her.

“I want to wear a dress today,” she insisted.

“But Ella, you might be cold if we go outside.”

“Don’t care. I want to wear a dress.”

Cassie finally managed to compromise by choosing the warmest dress she could find—a long-sleeved corduroy frock, with long socks and fleece-lined boots. Ella sat on the bed, legs swinging, lower lip quivering. One child was finally ready, but there were another two still to go.

When she opened Marc’s bedroom door, she was relieved to see he was awake and out of bed already. Clad in red pajamas, he was playing with an army of soldiers scattered over the floor. The large steel toy box below his bed was open, surrounded by model cars and an entire herd of farm animals. Cassie had to step carefully to avoid standing on any of them.

“Hello, Marc. Shall we go to breakfast? What do you want to wear?”

“I don’t want to wear anything. I want to play,” Marc retorted.

“You can carry on playing afterwards, but not now. We’re late, and we must hurry.”

Marc’s response was to burst into noisy tears.

“Please don’t cry,” Cassie begged him, aware of the precious minutes ticking away. But his tears escalated, as if he were feeding off her panic. He flatly refused to change out of his pajamas and not even the promise of chocolate could change his mind. Eventually, at her wits’ end, Cassie wedged a pair of slippers on his feet. Taking his hand in hers and placing a soldier in his pajama pocket, she persuaded him to follow her out.

When she knocked on Antoinette’s door, there was no response. The room was empty and the bed neatly made with a pink nightdress folded on the pillow. Hopefully, Antoinette had made her own way to breakfast.

Pierre and Margot were already seated in the informal dining room. Pierre was wearing a business suit, and Margot was also smartly dressed, with her makeup perfectly done and her hair curled over her shoulders. She looked up when they walked in, and Cassie felt her face start to blaze. Quickly, she helped Ella into a chair.

“Sorry we’re a little late,” she apologized, feeling flustered and as if she was already on the back foot. “Antoinette wasn’t in her room. I’m not sure where she is.”

“She has finished breakfast, and is practicing her piano piece.” Pierre gestured his head in the direction of the music room before pouring more coffee. “Listen. Perhaps you recognize the music—‘The Blue Danube.’”

Faintly, Cassie heard an accurate rendition of a tune that did indeed sound familiar.

“She is very talented,” Margot offered, but the sour tone of her comment didn’t match the words. Cassie glanced at her nervously. Was she going to say anything about what had happened last night?

But, as Margot stared back in cool silence, Cassie suddenly wondered if she’d misremembered some of it. The back of her head was tender and swollen from where she’d slipped, but when she touched the left side of her face, there was no bruise from the stinging slap. Or maybe it had been the right side? It was frightening that she couldn’t remember now. She pressed her fingers into her right cheek, but there was no soreness there, either.

Cassie told herself firmly to stop worrying about the details. She could not possibly have been thinking clearly after a hard bang on the head and possible concussion. Margot had definitely threatened her, but Cassie’s own imagination could have conjured up the actual blow. After all, she’d been exhausted, disoriented, and had emerged straight from the throes of a nightmare.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Marc demanding breakfast, and she poured orange juice for the children, serving them food from the breakfast trays. Ella insisted on taking every last piece of ham and cheese, so Cassie made do with a jam croissant and some sliced fruit.

Margot drained her coffee in silence, staring out the window. Pierre paged through a newspaper while he finished his toast. Were breakfasts always so silent? Cassie wondered. Neither parent showed any desire to engage with her, the children, or each other. Was this because she was in trouble?

Perhaps she should start the conversation and straighten things out. She needed to apologize formally for her lateness in reaching Ella, but she didn’t think her punishment had been fair.

Cassie composed her words carefully in her head.

“I know I was slow to attend to Ella last night. I didn’t hear her crying but next time I’ll leave my bedroom door open. However, I don’t feel that I was fairly treated. I was threatened and abused, and received two consecutive warnings in as many minutes, so could we please discuss some house rules here?”

No, that wouldn’t do. It was too forward. She didn’t want to appear antagonistic. She needed a softer approach, and one that would not make more of an enemy out of Margot.

“Isn’t it a lovely morning?”

Yes, that would definitely be a good start and bring a positive angle to the conversation. And from there, she could lead into what she really wanted to say.

“I know I was slow to attend to Ella last night. I didn’t hear her crying but next time I’ll leave my bedroom door open. However, I’d like us to discuss some house rules now, in terms of how we treat each other and when warnings should be given, so that I can make sure I do the best job.”

Cassie cleared her throat, feeling nervous, and put down her fork.

But as she was about to speak, Pierre folded his newspaper and he and Margot got up.

“Have a pleasant day, children,” Pierre said, as they left the room.

Cassie stared after them, confused. She had no idea what to do now. She’d been told the children were to be ready by eight—but ready for what?

She’d better run after Pierre and check. She headed for the door, but as she reached it, she almost collided with a pleasant-faced woman wearing a staff uniform and carrying a tray of food.

“Ah—oops. There. Saved.” She righted the tray and slid the slices of ham back into place. “You are the new au pair, yes? I am Marnie, the head housekeeper.”

“Nice to meet you,” Cassie said, realizing this was the first smiling face she’d seen all day. After introducing herself she said, “I was on my way to ask Pierre what the children need to do today.”

“Too late. He will have gone already; they were heading straight for the car. Did he leave no instructions?”

“No. Nothing.”

Marnie set the tray down and Cassie gave Marc more cheese and helped herself hungrily to toast, ham, and a hardboiled egg. Ella was refusing to eat the pile of food on her plate, pushing it around fretfully with her fork.

“Perhaps you can ask the children themselves,” Marnie suggested. “Antoinette will know if there is anything arranged. I would advise waiting till she has finished playing the piano, though. She does not like her concentration disturbed.”

Was it her imagination or did Marnie roll her eyes at those words? Encouraged, Cassie wondered if they might become friends. She needed an ally in this house.

But there was no time to forge a friendship now. Marnie was clearly in a hurry, collecting empty plates and dirty dishes while she asked Cassie if there were any problems with her room. Cassie quickly explained the issues, and after promising to change the bedcovers and replace the light bulb before lunch, the housekeeper left.

The sound of the piano had stopped, so Cassie headed to the music room near the hallway.

Antoinette was putting the music away. She turned and faced Cassie warily when she walked in. She was immaculately dressed in a royal blue frock. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and her shoes were perfectly shined.

“You look beautiful, Antoinette, that dress is such a pretty color,” Cassie said, hoping compliments would endear her to the hostile girl. “Is there anything you have planned for today? Any activities or other things arranged?”

Antoinette paused thoughtfully before shaking her head.

“Nothing today,” she said decisively.

“And Marc and Ella, do they need to go anywhere?”

“No. Tomorrow, Marc has soccer practice.” Antoinette closed the piano lid.

“Well, is there anything you would like to do now?” Perhaps allowing Antoinette to choose would help them bond.

“We could go for a walk in the woods. We all enjoy doing that.”

“Where are the woods?”

“A mile or two down the road.” The dark-haired girl gestured vaguely. “We can leave immediately. I will show you the way. I just have to change my clothes.”

Cassie had assumed the woods were within the estate and was taken aback by Antoinette’s reply. But a walk in the woods—that sounded like a nice, healthy outdoor activity. Cassie was sure that Pierre would approve.

*

Twenty minutes later, they were ready to leave. Cassie looked into every room as she escorted the children downstairs, hoping she would see Marnie or one of the other housekeeping staff, so she could tell them where she was going.

She didn’t see anybody and had no idea where to start looking. Antoinette was impatient to leave, jumping from foot to foot with excitement, so Cassie decided that humoring her good mood was more important, especially seeing they weren’t going to be gone for too long. They headed down the gravel drive and out, with Antoinette leading the way.

Behind a huge oak tree, Cassie saw a block of five stables—she’d noticed them when she arrived the previous day. She walked over to have a closer look and found they were empty and dark, the doors standing open. The field beyond was unoccupied, the wooden railings broken in parts, the gate hanging off its hinges and the grass growing long and wild.

“Do you have horses here?” she asked Antoinette.

“We used to, many years ago, but there have been none for a long time,” she replied. “None of us ride anymore.”

Cassie stood staring at the deserted stables while she absorbed this bombshell.

Maureen had given her incorrect and seriously outdated information.

The horses had played a part in her decision to come here. They had been an incentive. Hearing about them had made the place sound better, more appealing, more alive. But they were long gone.

During the interview, Maureen had stated that there would be an actual opportunity for her to learn to ride. Why had she misrepresented things, and what else might she have said that wasn’t true?

“Come on!” Antoinette tugged her sleeve impatiently. “We need to go!”

As Cassie turned away, it occurred to her that there was no reason for Maureen to falsify information. The rest of her description about the house and the family had been fairly accurate and as an agent, she could only pass on the facts provided.

If so, that meant it must have been Pierre who had lied. And that, she realized, was even more troubling.

Once they had rounded a bend and the chateau was out of sight, Antoinette slowed her pace, none too soon for Ella, who was complaining that her shoes hurt.

“Stop whining,” Antoinette advised. “Remember, Papa always says you mustn’t whine.”

Cassie picked Ella up and carried her, feeling her chubby weight increase with every step. She was already carrying the backpack crammed with everyone’s jackets, and her last few euros in the side pocket.

Marc capered ahead, breaking branches from the hedges and throwing them into the road like spears. Cassie had to remind him constantly to keep off the tarmac. He was so inattentive and unaware, he could easily jump into the path of an oncoming car.

“I’m hungry!” Ella complained.

Exasperated, Cassie thought of her untouched plate of breakfast.

“There’s a shop around the next corner,” Antoinette told her. They sell cold drinks and snacks.” She seemed strangely cheerful this morning, although Cassie had no idea why. She was just glad that Antoinette appeared to be warming to her.

She’d hoped the shop might sell cheap watches, because without a phone, she had no means of telling the time. But it proved to be a nursery, stocked with seedlings, baby trees, and fertilizer. The kiosk at the till sold only soft drinks and snacks—the elderly shopkeeper, perched on a barstool next to a gas heater, explained there was nothing else. The prices were freakishly high and she was filled with stress as she counted out her meager stash of money, purchasing chocolate and a can of juice for each child.

While she paid, the three children rushed across the road to take a closer look at a donkey. Cassie shouted for them to come back, but they ignored her.

The gray-haired man shrugged sympathetically. “Children will be children. They look familiar. Do you live nearby?”

“Yes, we do. They are the Dubois children. I’m their new au pair and this is my first day of work,” Cassie explained.

She had hoped for some neighborly recognition, but instead, the shopkeeper’s eyes widened in alarm.

“That family? You are working for them?”

“Yes.” Cassie’s fears surged back. “Why? Do you know them?”

He nodded.

“We all know of them here. And Diane, Pierre’s wife, used to buy plants from me sometimes.”

He saw her puzzled face.

“The children’s mother,” he elaborated. “She passed away last year.”

Cassie stared at him, her mind whirling. She was unable to believe what she’d just heard.

The children’s mother had died, and as recently as last year. Why had nobody said anything about this? Maureen hadn’t even mentioned it. Cassie had assumed Margot was their mother, but now realized her naivety; Margot was far too young to be the mother of a twelve-year-old.

This was a family that had recently suffered bereavement, been ripped apart by a major tragedy. Maureen should have briefed her on this.

But Maureen hadn’t known about the horses being gone, because she hadn’t been told. With a stab of fear, Cassie wondered if Maureen had even known about this.

What had happened to Diane? How had her loss affected Pierre, and the children, and the entire family dynamic? How did they feel about Margot’s arrival in the home so soon afterward? No wonder she could feel tension, taut as a wire, in just about every interaction within those walls.

“That’s—that’s really sad,” she stammered, realizing that the shopkeeper was regarding her curiously. “I didn’t know she’d died so recently. I guess her death must have been traumatic for everyone.”

Frowning deeply, the shopkeeper handed her the change, and she put the meager stash of coins away.

“You know the family background, I am sure.”

“I don’t know much, so I’d really appreciate it if you could explain what happened.” Cassie leaned anxiously over the counter.

He shook his head.

“It is not my place to say more. You work for the family.”

Why did that make a difference? Cassie wondered. Her fingernail dug into the quick of her cuticle and she realized with a shock that she’d resumed her old stress habit. Well, she felt stressed all right. What the elderly man had told her was worrying enough, but what he was refusing to say was even worse. Perhaps if she was honest with him, he would be more open.

“I don’t understand the situation there at all, and I’m scared I’ve gotten myself in over my head. To be honest with you, I wasn’t even told Diane had died. I don’t know how it happened, or what things were like before. If I had a better picture, it would really help.”

He nodded, looking more sympathetic, but then the phone in the office rang and she knew the opportunity was lost. He walked out to answer it, closing the door behind him.

Disappointed, Cassie turned away from the counter, shouldering her backpack which seemed twice as heavy as before, or perhaps it was the disturbing information the shopkeeper had given her that was weighing her down. As she walked out of the shop, she wondered if she would have a chance to come back on her own and speak to the elderly man. Whatever secrets he knew about the Dubois family, she was desperate to find out.