“Do you think your father would like anything?” She felt a rush of warmth inside her as she spoke about Ryan.
“He likes nuts,” Madison said, and pointed to a display of roasted cashews. “Those are his favorite.”
Cassie added a bag to her basket and headed for the till.
“Afternoon,” she greeted the shop assistant, a plump, blonde young lady with a name tag that read “Tina,” who smiled at her and greeted Madison by name.
“Hello, Madison. How’s your dad? Is he out of hospital yet?”
Cassie glanced in concern at Madison. Was this something she hadn’t been told about? But Madison was frowning, confused.
“He hasn’t been in hospital.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood. When he was last here, he said—” Tina began.
Madison interrupted her, staring at the cashier curiously as she rang up the purchases.
“You’ve got fat.”
Horrified by the tactlessness of this comment, Cassie felt her face going as crimson as Tina’s was doing.
“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled in apology.
“That’s all right,”
Cassie saw Tina looked crestfallen at the comment. What had gotten into Madison? Had she never been taught not to say such things? Was she too young to realize how hurtful those words were?
Perceiving that no more apologies would redeem the situation, she grabbed her change and hustled the young girl out of the shop before she could think of anything else tactless and personal to announce.
“It’s not polite to say things like that,” she explained, when they were out of earshot.
“Why?” Madison asked. “It’s the truth. She’s much fatter than when I saw her in the August holidays.”
“It’s always better not to say anything if you notice something like that, especially if other people are listening. She might have a—a glandular problem or be taking medication that makes her fat, like cortisone. Or she could be expecting a baby and not want anyone to know yet.”
She glanced at Dylan on her left, to see if he was listening, but he was rummaging in his pockets and seemed preoccupied.
Madison frowned as she thought this over.
“OK,” she said. “I’ll remember for next time.”
Cassie let out a deep breath of relief that her logic had been understood.
“Would you like a toffee apple?”
Cassie passed Madison her toffee apple, which she put into her pocket, and handed the other to Dylan. But when she gave it to him, he waved it away.
Looking at him in disbelief, Cassie saw he was unwrapping one of the candy sticks from the store they’d just visited.
“Dylan—” she began.
“Ah, no, I wanted one of those,” Madison complained.
“I got you one.” Dylan reached into the deep pocket of his coat and to Cassie’s horror, pulled out several more.
“Here,” he said, and passed her one.
“Dylan!” Cassie felt suddenly short of breath and her voice sounded high and stressed. Her mind was racing as she struggled to take in what had just happened. Had she misread the situation?
No. There was no way Dylan could have bought the candy. After Madison’s embarrassing comment, she’d hustled them straight out of the store. There hadn’t been time for Dylan to have paid, especially since the assistant hadn’t been very adept at working the old-fashioned till.
“Yeah?” he asked, looking at her inquiringly, and Cassie felt chilled by the fact that there was no trace of emotion in his pale blue eyes.
“I think—I think you might have forgotten to pay for that.”
“I didn’t pay,” he said casually.
Cassie stared at him, shocked beyond words.
Dylan had just coolly admitted to having shoplifted goods.
She’d never imagined that Ryan’s son would do such a thing. This was beyond the scope of her experience and she was at a loss to know how she should react. She felt shaken that her impression of a perfect family, which she’d believed in, was far from reality. How could she have been so wrong?
Ryan’s son had just committed a criminal act. Worse still, he was showing no remorse, no shame, nor even any sign that he understood the enormity of his action. He stared back at her calmly, seeming unconcerned by what he had done.
CHAPTER SIX
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 j
acket 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 poin
ted 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.
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