by Blake Pierce
There was no way she could defend them from any abuse. In fact, watching as the elderly lady struggled up the high marble staircase, helped on both sides by her mother and the driver, Cassie realized that she could not even physically manage her own self.
Nonna should never have been brought here, supposedly to look after the children, when she was the one who needed the care.
Cassie turned away, feeling sickened by this revelation. No doubt, Ms. Rossi had planned it carefully. Cassie was beginning to suspect that the presence of an adult in the home must be a mandatory requirement for children, but having ticked that box, the businesswoman didn’t care if the adult was capable or not.
This must be why Ms. Rossi had never encouraged her to become personally involved with the children. In fact, she would probably have been very happy if she’d stayed in her room and never interacted with them at all. The legal requirements would still have been met, just as they would be now with the helpless Nonna in residence.
With a flash of anger, Cassie predicted that the girls would end up being their grandmother’s caretakers. It would be only too easy for Ms. Rossi to allocate the menial but demanding job of her care to them. That, in turn, would only add to the girls’ burden and would make their life even worse.
Glancing to her right, Ms. Rossi noticed Cassie standing and watching.
“I have to go to the kitchen, Mama, and I will be back with you in a minute,” she told the elderly lady. Then, to Cassie, she said, “You will come here and assist my mother to her room.”
Reluctantly, Cassie walked over and took the gray-haired woman’s arm. It felt bony and she was trembling as she battled her way up the long staircase.
“Are we at Stefano’s place? Dove è antado?” Nonna asked.
She was asking where Stefano was, but Cassie had no idea what to say, or even who this person could be. She wondered if he might be Nonna’s husband, but if so he must have passed away some time ago because Ms. Rossi had said nothing about her mother being recently widowed.
“I’m not sure,” she said gently. “You’re at your daughter’s house now. This is where you will be staying.”
“Why did she not tell me this was happening? Where is Ottavia now? Is she here?”
Cassie stared at her, appalled. Ms. Rossi had literally been holding her arm two minutes ago, and her mother couldn’t remember?
This fragile woman, whose short-term memory was nonexistent, was the only protection the girls now had from their crazy, abusive, manipulative mother.
Cassie felt tears of defeat stinging her eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Nonna had been allocated a small, cozy bedroom in an annex near the children’s rooms. While Cassie got her settled in an armchair, with a view of the courtyard garden below, the maids unpacked her belongings.
“Where is Stefano?” she asked again. “Portalo qui.”
Was she asking Cassie to bring him here? She wasn’t sure what the elderly woman meant. Perhaps Nonna didn’t know either. Trying to sound calm and reassuring, and not reveal her dismay, Cassie did her best to reassure the frail woman.
“You’re with your daughter now. You’re going to be spending time with Nina and Venetia, your grandchildren. Do you remember them?”
The old woman stared blankly at her and did not reply.
“Remember, the two little girls?” she tried again.
“The children must be punished,” Nonna said softly.
Cassie stared at her wordlessly, panic rising inside her.
At that moment, Ms. Rossi appeared in the doorway and Nonna’s face brightened.
“Ah, Ottavia. There you are. I was asking where you had gone.”
Cassie stepped away, feeling utterly confused. Had Nonna’s mention of punishment been incoherent rambling, or had it been deliberately aimed at the two girls? The old lady had sounded confused beforehand, but straight afterwards, when Ms. Rossi walked in, had seemed to have regained mental clarity.
“I was speaking to the cook, Mama. She is making minestrone tonight for you. And Nina and Venetia have arrived home. Shall they come and greet you?”
“Si, si. They can come.”
Cassie followed Ms. Rossi out of the bedroom, anxious to see how the children would react in this encounter.
“Children,” their mother called sharply. “You may welcome Nonna now.”
Carrying their school bags, the two girls filed upstairs and headed along the corridor to their grandmother’s cozy and secluded bedroom. They didn’t look eager to see Nonna, but rather hesitant and fearful.
Cassie guessed that dementia was frightening for young girls, as Nonna probably acted erratically, and calling for people who were long dead was unsettling. If Nonna hadn’t already mentioned punishing the children, Cassie might have thought it was that simple, but now she suspected there was more to their fear.
“Remember to speak in English to Nonna, as she wants you to improve your language skills,” Ms. Rossi warned the children.
To Cassie she said, “My mother was fluent in English from a very early age, and attended a prestigious girls’ boarding school outside London for her entire school career.”
Cassie nodded, wondering if the boarding school regime back in those days had been a harsh one, which might have contributed to the Rossi parenting style.
She gave Nina a supportive smile, but was surprised when the young girl ignored her, staring ahead as she walked up to the grandmother’s bedroom. Cassie realized that the children hadn’t greeted her since they had come home, or even spoken to her directly. Their behavior reminded her of the way the cook had treated her earlier. She was sure that they had been warned not to speak to her at all, with the threat of punishment if they disobeyed.
“We will eat at six,” Ms. Rossi told her children. “As Nonna has difficulty with the stairs, the staff will move the smaller dining room table into the upstairs lounge this afternoon. Now, go and greet your grandmother. Cassie will return to her room now and finish packing.”
Dismissed with a glance, Cassie trailed away. She was frustrated that she couldn’t even spend time alone with the girls before she left. Ms. Rossi was going out of her way to block all avenues of communication with them.
Cassie bitterly regretted that her room was so far away from the children’s. Between them, they now had Nonna as well as Ms. Rossi, and Nonna did seem to have moments of coherence among her mental fogginess. There was a chance she might hear Cassie passing by, and then Ms. Rossi would know that she’d been trying to sneak to the children’s rooms. Cassie might not suffer consequences, but they would.
As she resumed her packing, she was filled with despair.
Every item she put into her bag felt like an admission of defeat. She was leaving, she’d done nothing to help, and the children would suffer terribly in the future. With the social services—and the local police, from what Ms. Rossi had implied—bought off, all official avenues of help were closed. She had no way of contacting anybody who might be able to save them or at least intervene.
After she’d closed her bag, Cassie looked back through the list of accommodations that she’d made when tracking Jacqui down. She guessed when she was evicted from the Rossi home tomorrow, she would head there and try, once again, to find out if her sister was dead or alive. Now that she was looking for herself, rather than simply making a list of lodgings, she realized how expensive everywhere was in this scenic lakeside town.
The backpacker lodge where Jacqui had stayed was the first place she called, but they were fully booked. She tried other cheaper places—even though “cheaper” in Bellagio was still far beyond her budget, with the same results. Affordable accommodations in this town seemed to be nonexistent.
With a sigh, Cassie expanded her search to include other towns within a short drive, which were not as scenic or well located. She was still busy making her list when she realized that it was almost six o’clock and supper time.
Cassie was strongly tempted
to skip supper. After all, Ms. Rossi had spoken to the girls, and not to her, when she’d said where they would dine. Then she realized that if she wasn’t there, Ms. Rossi would probably seize the opportunity to punish one of her children for some nonexistent infraction and they’d spend dinner time in pain or hunger. For tonight at least, she could be there to stop it happening.
Dreading what the next hour would bring, she left her room and headed to the upstairs lounge.
The dining room table had been laid with five places. Ms. Rossi was busy seating her mother, and Nina and Venetia were already in their chairs.
“There we go, Mama. Are you comfortable? Can I pour you water or perhaps a little wine?”
Ms. Rossi had already been drinking. There was an open bottle of red wine on the table. She didn’t offer Cassie any, but refilled her own glass and poured half a glass for her mother.
“Nina, you may serve us,” she told her daughter.
With her face pinched by tension, Nina stood up and removed the heavy glass lid from the pot of minestrone on the side table.
She ladled the vegetable soup into five bowls and then, with the utmost concentration, carried each bowl to the table. Clearly, spilling as much as a drop would cause the worst possible consequences.
Even though Nina’s hands were shaking with nervousness, she set Cassie’s bowl down in front of her with such care that Cassie barely heard it touch the table.
“Thank you,” she whispered. She badly wanted to squeeze the young girl’s hand and tell her well done, but knew this would be out of line.
Once she was satisfied that her daughter had not spilled any soup, Ms. Rossi sliced a loaf of ciabatta bread and passed it around.
Cassie had never felt less hungry in her life, but she forced the tasty soup down and buttered her bread obediently.
Dinner was a silent affair. The grandmother appeared preoccupied with the simple task of managing her food. She seemed capable of eating, but only just. She had to hold her spoon with both hands to complete its trembling journey to her mouth. Cassie watched each spoonful nervously, worried that if some were to spill, Ms. Rossi would find a way to blame her children for it.
Nina and Venetia ate in silence, and from the way their eyes watched their grandmother’s spoon, she was sure they shared her fear. Any spillages would be punished, and they would bear the brunt.
Ms. Rossi finished her wine, but her mother sipped sparingly at her glass, drinking only a little.
“Cook has made tiramisu for your dessert, Mama,” Ms. Rossi said. “You and I will share it in your room with coffee.”
Clearly the children were not included in the offer of dessert, but Cassie thought they didn’t mind, and looked relieved when their mother said, “Nina and Venetia, you may be excused.”
Cassie guessed that included her. She realized Ms. Rossi hadn’t spoken a single word to her the whole way through dinner. Ignoring her so deliberately was a way to insult and belittle her in front of the family, she guessed. It was as if, in her eyes, Cassie was already gone.
She stood up and followed the children out, blinking tears away all over again as she thought that this was how every single dinner would be from here on—if they went well. If they went badly, Cassie couldn’t bear to think what would happen.
Back in her room, she grabbed a Kleenex, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose, only to start crying again. She felt gutted by the knowledge that she had failed, and would be deserting them.
A soft noise roused her from her grief. Had that been an almost soundless tap on the door?
Cassie wiped her eyes, took a deep, shuddering breath, and did her best to pull herself together before answering.
“Come in,” she said in a low voice, guessing it was the cook or a maid, arriving to remove her uneaten lunch.
The door opened and Venetia entered. She looked pale-faced and stricken. Immediately, she turned and closed the door behind her.
“Please, don’t go,” she whispered. She ran to Cassie and hugged her tight, and feeling her small arms wrap around her, Cassie felt her tears return in full force.
For a while all Cassie could hear were muffled sniffs and gasps as the two of them fought to regain control without making a noise.
“I don’t want to go,” she whispered to Venetia. “I don’t want to leave you. I know you need me but it’s impossible now that your mama has fired me. I’m trying to think of what to do, and how I can help you.”
“I’m so scared,” Venetia told her. “I’m frightened all the time now, and Nina is too. I didn’t sleep last night. I don’t want to stay here. Cassie, do you think I could run away and come with you?”
The idea was tempting, but Cassie dismissed it instantly. That would be abduction, and would play right into Ms. Rossi’s hands, giving her the excuse she needed to lay criminal charges against Cassie.
It was so unfair, she thought, that the ongoing abuse from the children’s own mother was being so blatantly ignored, but any attempt to help from her side that overstepped the law would be considered a crime.
“We can’t do that. Running away won’t help, and they would find us very fast. You mustn’t do that, even when I have gone.”
She remembered her experience with Vadim. Terrible things could happen to these children if they became desperate and ran away from home. They could be kidnapped or trafficked, and end up trapped in another situation that they would never escape from.
With depression weighing her down, Cassie knew she could not offer Venetia the miracle she was hoping for. She couldn’t even offer her a viable solution.
“Running away will be too dangerous,” she whispered, keeping her voice firm. “You mustn’t do it. Are there any teachers at school who could help you? If you could talk to your teachers, they might be able to do something.”
Like go to Social Services, she thought, where their case would be “investigated” by Mr. Dellucci, who would make sure that it never saw the light of day.
“I don’t know which teacher could help us,” Venetia whispered. “I tried to ask one of them to help us before the Christmas holidays but she told my mother and she was very angry, and then I wasn’t allowed to have any food on Christmas day. We are not allowed to play with our toys at all now. That is why they are high up on the shelf.”
“Oh, Venetia.”
Cassie squeezed her small hands tightly. What other solution could there be? Venetia trusted her to help. This was her last chance to come up with something.
As she racked her brains for an answer, a shout rang from down the hallway and they both jumped.
“You will do it!” Ms. Rossi screamed. “You will never, ever say no to me. You are to obey!”
Cassie listened, with Venetia statue-still in her arms, not daring to breathe as she heard the noise of a scuffle followed by a stinging slap.
Then a high-pitched scream rang out.
“Nina?” Venetia cried, her voice small and helpless.
Cassie was out of the room and running toward the sound before she’d even considered the wisdom of her actions.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
The shouting became louder as Cassie sprinted along the tiles. She heard another slap, and another scream.
“Get inside that room!” Ms. Rossi’s voice was thick with rage.
“Please, no! Don’t make me!” Nina sounded desperate, and the terror was audible in her voice. “I can’t!”
“You will help your grandmother take a shower now, and you will get her dressed for bed. This will be your daily task, so you must get used to doing it.”
“I don’t know how to do it. I’m afraid of her.”
As Cassie rounded the corner, she saw Ms. Rossi towering over the young girl, who was huddled on her knees. Leaning forward, the businesswoman slapped Nina hard across her face.
Nina cried out, burying her face in her arms, but Ms. Rossi rained more blows onto her, slapping and punching her shoulders, while shrieking her furious tirade.
; “You will obey me at all times. How dare you defy me! I will punish you for this, you will suffer, you sad, worthless, useless little girl!”
Cassie gasped as she took in the appalling sight. Ms. Rossi was in a screaming rage, hell bent on harming Nina. Perched on her ridiculously high heels, hammering her fists into her crying daughter, Ms. Rossi seemed more than just an abusive mother. She was revealing herself to be a madwoman who took an evil delight in hurting people smaller and weaker than she was.
“Don’t hit her!” Cassie rushed over and grabbed her arm, hoping she could hold her for long enough for Nina to run away and lock herself in somewhere, but she gasped at the steely strength in Ms. Rossi’s tall, solid frame.
“You will not order me around in my own home.”
Ms. Rossi wrenched her arm away and shoved Cassie backward.
Caught off balance, Cassie slipped and fell, knocking her head on the corner of the mahogany table outside the spare bedroom.
The blow was exquisite agony. Pain lanced through her skull and stars exploded in front of her eyes.
Her head whirled, and for a few moments all she could do was lie, sprawled, until the ornate ceiling above her had come back into focus. Blood was throbbing in her ears. Dizzily, she climbed to her feet.
Ms. Rossi was dragging Nina along the floor by her outstretched right arm. The child was screaming hysterically and kicking in protest. She tried to grab onto an open doorway with her other hand as they passed one of the spare rooms, but her small fingers couldn’t get enough grip and her mother pulled her easily away.
“You are going downstairs to the punishment room and you will stay there for a full day and a full night,” she promised. “No food, no water, no light. You will sit alone in the dark and the cold and reflect on what you have done. Then when you leave the punishment room, you will move into Nonna’s room, and sleep in the same bed as her, and look after her morning and night.”