Almost Gone

“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.

CHAPTER SIX

A frightened scream from Ella jerked Cassie back to her present situation. Looking across the road, she saw to her horror that Marc had climbed through the split-pole fence and was feeding handfuls of grass to a growing herd that now included five hairy, gray, mud-encrusted donkeys. They flattened their ears and nipped each other as they crowded him.

Ella screamed again as one of the donkeys barged into Marc, knocking him flat on his back.

“Come out!” Cassie shouted, sprinting across the road. She leaned through the fence and grabbed the back of his shirt, dragging him away before he could be trampled. Did the child have a death wish? His shirt was soaked and filthy, and she hadn’t brought a spare. Luckily the sun was still shining, although she could see clouds gathering in the west.

When she gave Marc his chocolate, he stuffed the entire bar into his mouth, his cheeks bulging. He laughed, spitting bits of it onto the ground, before racing ahead with Antoinette.

Ella pushed her chocolate away and began crying loudly.

Cassie picked the young girl up again.

“What’s wrong? Are you not hungry?” she asked.

“No. I’m missing Mama,” she sobbed.

Cassie hugged her tight, feeling Ella’s cheek warm against her own.

“I’m sorry, Ella. I’m so sorry. I only just heard about it. You must miss her terribly.”

“I wish Papa would tell me where she went,” Ella lamented.

“But…” Cassie was at a loss for words. The shopkeeper had clearly said that Diane Dubois had died. Why did Ella think otherwise?

“What did your Papa say to you?” she asked carefully.

“He told me she went away. He wouldn’t say where. He just said she left. Why did she go? I want her to come back!” Ella pressed her head into Cassie’s shoulder, sobbing her heart out.

Cassie’s head was spinning. Ella would have been four at the time, and would surely have understood what death meant. There would have been a chance to mourn, and a funeral service. Or perhaps there hadn’t been.

Her mind boggled at the alternative; that Pierre had deliberately lied to Ella about his wife’s death.

“Ella, don’t be sad,” she said, rubbing her shoulders gently. “Sometimes people leave and they don’t come back.” She thought of Jacqui, wondering again if she would ever find out what had really happened to her. Not knowing was terrible. Death, though tragic, was at least final.

Cassie could only imagine the agony Ella must have endured, believing that her own mother had abandoned her without a word. No wonder she had nightmares. She needed to find out the real story, in case there was more to it. Asking Pierre directly would be too intimidating, and she wouldn’t feel comfortable mentioning the subject unless he brought it up himself. Perhaps the other children would tell her their version, if she asked at the right time. That might be the best place to start.

Antoinette and Marc were waiting at a fork in the road. Finally, Cassie saw the woods ahead. Antoinette had underestimated the distance; they must have walked at least three miles, and the nursery was the last building she had seen. The road had become a narrow lane, its paving cracked and broken, the hedges bushy and wild.

“You and Ella can go down that path,” Antoinette advised, pointing to an overgrown track. “It’s a shortcut.”

Grateful for any shorter route, she headed down the narrow path, pushing her way through a profusion of leafy bushes.

Halfway, the skin on her arms started to burn so painfully that she cried out, thinking she’d been stung by a swarm of wasps. Looking down, she saw a swollen rash had broken out all over her skin, wherever the leaves had brushed her. And then Ella screamed.

“My knee is stinging!”

Her skin was swelling into hives, the welts deep red against her soft, pale flesh.

Cassie ducked too late, and a leafy branch lashed across her face. Immediately the stinging spread and she yelled in alarm.

From beyond, she heard Antoinette’s shrill, excited laughter.