Almost Lost Read online

  “I moved your shoes. One of them fell off the edge,” Dylan said to Madison.

  “What? Over the cliff? Dylan, those are my favorite trainers! Go fetch it, now.”

  “He can’t—” Cassie began, but Dylan interrupted.

  “It’s on the rocks. The tide’s on the way out. I’ll walk there in half an hour.” He looked at Cassie. “There’s a path that goes down.”

  “Why did you do that?” Madison still sounded angry. “I washed them because they were muddy after the run. I brought the newspaper to put inside so they would dry, like Dad taught us to do. And now you moved them and the one will be all dirty again.”

  “I thought it would be a game. I didn’t mean for it to fall over.”

  Cassie cleared her throat.

  “Madison could have fallen while fetching the shoe. You could even have slipped off the edge while putting it there. Dylan, that was a nasty thing to do.”

  He stared at her calmly.

  “Neither of us have vertigo,” he said.

  The word hit Cassie like a slap in the face. It dragged her straight back to the moment when she’d looked over the balcony with Ryan.

  Dylan knew what had happened. The way he’d said it told her so. He must have been passing by the family room at the time and seen them outside. Now he was using the word intentionally to show her that he knew, and this put a different spin on his behavior.

  Cassie suspected that this was some sort of revenge move.

  Dylan was getting Madison, or herself, or both of them, back for something, and she was sure it was because of what had taken place in town. They had criticized him, accused him of theft. He hadn’t shown much emotion at the time but their words must have stung, and now he was retaliating.

  Fury surged inside her and she knew was about to lose it. She was going to scream at him, let rip with the most vicious, hurtful things she could think of, to try and break through his nonchalant shell and force him to feel the same pain she was feeling now.

  She almost did it, she almost couldn’t stop herself, and she saw from his wary expression that he was expecting it.

  At the very last moment, she paused.

  Was she screaming because she felt angry at him? Or was she angry at herself, for having been so wrapped up in what she was doing that she hadn’t checked on the children?

  It would be unfair to make Dylan the target when she was the one to blame.

  Dylan’s behavior was troubling, and a little scary, but it hadn’t been malicious. It had been a mean joke, that was all; his way of showing her how clever he was, and how sensitive, too.

  She remembered his words, defensive and ever so slightly threatening.

  “You’re with me or you’re against me.”

  Instead of shouting, she kept her voice calm as she spoke.

  “It’s no problem, Dylan. I’ll walk down the path with you as soon as the tide’s far enough out, and we will rescue Madison’s shoe. Deal?”

  Dylan looked surprised, as if he hadn’t expected this response from her at all and hadn’t thought about how to handle it.

  “Deal,” he said hesitantly, and Cassie knew with a surge of relief that she’d made the right call.

  *

  The path down to the sea was a few hundred yards away, in a place where the cliff face was less sheer. Cassie had worried that it might be dangerous, but although it was steep and stony, the winding trail was not risky to negotiate.

  Once she and Dylan were at the bottom, they walked single file along the exposed section of narrow, stony beach.

  “When the tide’s in, this is completely covered,” Dylan called to her. “The sea breaks onto the cliffs, basically.”

  It was freezing cold down here and the spray from the waves was shocking but exhilarating. Cassie guessed that on a windy day, you’d be drenched just walking alongside the sea.

  “There you are.”

  The pink trainer was lying on a rock and Dylan picked his way between the sharp boulders to collect it. He handed it to Cassie and they hurried back, scrunching over the pebbled beach and scrambling up the path again.

  Cassie realized the good weather was passing by, and she was glad they’d managed to get the shoe when they had. The afternoon was clouding over and the wind was starting up again, icy and strong and blowing from the north.

  When she checked on Madison, she found she was in her bedroom, doing a puzzle on a tray. Dylan headed into the dining room with a book and sprawled down onto the bean bag in the corner.

  Cassie stuffed both the shoes with newspaper and set them near the radiator in the laundry to dry.

  Only then did she allow herself to return to the kitchen, and she made sure to keep her thoughts on a tight rein. When she wasn’t focusing on the food, she listened out for any sounds that meant Dylan or Madison might need her.

  When she heard the click of the front door opening, her heart leaped, despite the stern talking-to she’d given herself. It was only two thirty in the afternoon. She hoped everything was all right, and that Ryan hadn’t had a crisis at his work. She rushed out of the kitchen to say hello.

  As she reached the hallway, Cassie stopped, staring in astonishment.

  A young woman with pale pink hair had come in and was locking the door behind her.

  She turned, saw Cassie, did a double take, and regarded her with the same surprise.

  “Who’re you?” she asked.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Cassie stared at the pink-haired woman with suspicion.

  “I’m helping out here,” she said, this time remembering to be careful about how she worded her role. “I arrived on the weekend. But who are you?”

  The woman had just let herself in. She obviously had a key. Surely Ryan would have mentioned that to her?

  She looked to be a couple of years younger than Cassie, and was very pretty, wearing faded, low-rise jeans that showed off her hourglass figure. With her fair skin and local accent she was clearly from the area.

  “My name’s Harriet. I work for Maids of Devon, and I clean here two afternoons a week. Usually Mondays and Fridays, unless the Monday is a bank holiday.”

  “Oh,” Cassie said.

  She was still distrustful, wondering if she should call Ryan to make sure, when Dylan shouted from the dining room, “Hi, Harriet!”

  “Hey, Dylan,” Harriet called back.

  She removed her lilac jacket, hung it on the coat stand, and took a smock out of her backpack.

  “Anything special needs doing today?” she asked.

  Her tone wasn’t friendly.

  “What do you usually do?” Cassie felt at a loss.

  With a shake of her candy floss hair, Harriet replied. “Usually put on a load of washing, get it in the dryer, fold it. Change the bedding weekly in all rooms—today’s bedding day. Clean the bathrooms and the kitchen weekly, usually on Friday. Vacuum the house, dust, tidy, and then do any other jobs that need doing, but not ironing. If you don’t have anything else today, I generally start in the rooms.”

  She headed purposefully for Ryan’s room.

  Cassie still felt totally confused. She wanted to follow Harriet into the bedroom and question her further but thought it would be rude. She had to accept that Ryan had just forgotten to tell her. After all, he’d left so early this morning he’d been gone before she was out of bed.

  Even so, when she’d arrived on Saturday, Ryan had told her he’d cleaned especially for her. He hadn’t mentioned that a housekeeper had been in the day before and done it all.

  Feeling flustered by the alternative version of events that now existed, Cassie returned to the kitchen and finished preparing supper. She’d seasoned and spiced the pumpkin she’d bought yesterday, which was now ready to roast. She had cooked and mashed some potatoes, and made onion gravy to accompany the chicken pies she’d found in the freezer.

  Harriet sashayed into the kitchen carrying a laundry basket piled high with bedding and towels.

  She headed thro
ugh the back door to the laundry room and in a minute, the washing machine started up.

  Then she returned to the kitchen.

  “I see you’ve been busy,” she said, looking at the results of Cassie’s efforts.

  “I thought I’d help out today,” Cassie said.

  “You were hired as a cook, or to help with the kids?”

  “I’m mostly helping with the kids.”

  Rattled, Cassie wondered whether Ryan had omitted to tell her about other staff, and a cook might make an appearance at the front door tomorrow.

  Harriet left the kitchen again, returning with the empty wine bottle and the glasses that they’d left out on the balcony the previous night. She stared at the two glasses for a moment before packing them in the dishwasher and then glanced back at Cassie.

  “So you’re from the States, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You been here long?”

  “In the country, about three weeks. I started this job on the weekend.”

  “How’d you hear about it? This isn’t where most people go. Usually it’s London.”

  “My friend au paired for Ryan last year during the school holidays and she told me he was looking again,” she said.

  “So you came all the way down here?”

  “I have a car so I drove down. It’s parked outside.”

  “Ah, yeah, I saw it. The little white Vauxhall?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Where’re you sleeping?” Harriet put on a pair of rubber gloves and wrung a cleaning cloth out at the sink.

  “Sleeping? In—in the spare bedroom, of course.”

  Her nonstop questions were disconcerting for Cassie.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean where in the house, I just wondered if you’re sleep-in or sleep-out.”

  “Sleep-in,” Cassie confirmed, but she doubted whether that was what Harriet had meant by the question.

  Seeing Harriet was hard at work cleaning, and since Cassie had had enough of the unsettling conversation, she left the room and went to check on the children.

  Lounging on the bean bag and engrossed in his book, Dylan reassured her he didn’t need anything and had no homework. Madison, on the other hand, had completed her puzzle and was frowning over a math worksheet.

  “These sums are confusing,” she complained.

  Perching on the bed, Cassie leaned across the desk and did her best to help her by explaining, rather than solving the problems for her. She thought she had made some headway when the front door opened again and this time it was Ryan.

  “Hello, all,” he called, and Madison shouted back an excited, “Hi, Dad!”

  Cassie leaped up from the bed and rushed to the front door. She was looking forward to seeing Ryan after his day at work, but felt anxious when she remembered about the delivery of the envelope.

  She was fast, but Harriet was faster, and Cassie found her already at the door.

  “Hel-lo, Mr. E,” she greeted him, smoothing back her pretty pink hair.

  “Afternoon, Harriet.” Ryan gave her a friendly nod before turning to Cassie.

  “I’m so sorry, I was in a rush this morning and completely forgot to tell you we have a cleaner come in twice a week.”

  “That’s no problem. We’ve introduced ourselves.”

  With Harriet practically treading on her toes, Cassie decided it would be better to wait before telling Ryan about the unpleasant delivery man.

  “Good, good.” Ryan turned toward the bedroom but Harriet stepped in front of him.

  “Did you notice?” she asked, shaking her head back.

  Ryan stared at her and then glanced at Cassie, perplexed.

  “Notice?”

  Harriet sighed.

  “My hair.”

  “Oh.” Frowning, Ryan looked.

  “It’s pink.” Harriet smiled, twirling a lock around her finger.

  “Ah, so it is. Did Madison see yet? You know how much she loves pink, right?”

  Ryan sounded at a loss, as if he wasn’t getting what she was trying to say. And Cassie thought that Harriet was becoming frustrated. She wondered if Harriet had wanted to prove that she was more valued by her employer than Cassie was.

  To Cassie’s surprise, Harriet then said, “I made you your tea already, Mr. E. Where would you like it?”

  “That’s very kind, but I had tea at work. Perhaps the children want some?”

  She didn’t miss the flash of anger that darkened Harriet’s face.

  “I’ll ask them,” Cassie said, and headed down the hall, wondering why Harriet was so upset.

  After she’d put dinner into the oven, she and Madison ended up sharing the tea in the family room while Harriet mopped the kitchen floor. Harriet seemed to be putting a lot of energy into her efforts. The bucket clattered across the tiles.

  As soon as she was finished, Cassie returned to the kitchen, anxious to move ahead with her cooking. As she opened the oven, the delicious aroma of spicy pumpkin and cooking pastry wafted out. Ryan, who was passing, stopped in his tracks.

  “Did you make food? Cassie, you’re an angel. It smells wonderful.”

  From the broom cupboard, Cassie heard a loud bang as Harriet shoved the mop inside.

  “Thanks. I hope it tastes as good as it looks. It will be ready in about half an hour,” she said, putting the bowl of mash in to warm up and the pot of gravy onto the burner.

  The cupboard door slammed.

  Harriet marched out of the kitchen, pushing past Cassie.

  As she passed her, she muttered something, and a moment later, the front door slammed and she was gone.

  Perplexed, Cassie turned back to the stove.

  She didn’t like Harriet, and wondered if she might be bipolar. She’d seemed very moody and the cryptic words she’d snapped in an undertone as she departed hadn’t made sense.

  Cassie thought she had said, “Don’t get too close.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  As soon as Harriet had left, Cassie hurried to find Ryan, picking up the manila envelope on the way.

  He was in the family room, paging through a brochure advertising boats.

  “Ryan, someone delivered this earlier today.” Cassie handed him the envelope. “The delivery person took a photo of my passport. I don’t know why, and I’m worried that it might somehow get you or me into trouble.”

  She felt bad saying the words, as if she’d brought the trouble here herself.

  Ryan frowned as he turned the envelope over.

  “You mustn’t worry. This is probably something I need to sign for the divorce. I had papers delivered last week that looked similar. I was home at the time so took them myself.”

  As he made to open it, his phone rang. Cassie realized it would be rude to listen in. She forced herself to walk out of the room, even though she longed to hover nervously nearby so that he could open it, and she could be sure.

  She guessed that if a legal document was delivered, proof of identity of the recipient would be required. That must be why the unfriendly man had photographed her passport.

  Even so, she remembered how he’d threatened that he’d be back soon if the notice was not attended to. The repairs at Ryan’s business seemed to be reaching a crucial stage, and with so much to think about, she hoped that the document would not slip his mind. If there was anything to sign, she needed him to sign it, because she felt uneasy at the thought of the dark-haired man coming back.

  *

  On Tuesday morning, Madison reminded Ryan that she would be having extra math lessons on Monday and Wednesday the next week, and would need to be picked up an hour later from school.

  Cassie could see Ryan was completely distracted. He’d already taken two phone calls that morning, speaking in angry tones to the repair company. She guessed from the conversation that he was a different person at work and that he must have a hard, uncompromising side that was hidden at home.

  “You won’t forget, Dad?” Madison asked anxiously.

  “
I’ll write it on the timetable,” Cassie promised, as Ryan strode out of the room with his phone ringing yet again.

  As soon as the children had left, she went into Ryan’s room to adjust it.

  She hadn’t been in his bedroom for longer than it took to dart in, pick up an empty cup, and head out again. She was trying to stay away because the room felt so much like his personal space. It smelled of the deodorant he wore, and there were books on the bedside table that he was reading, a beautiful sea view painting on the wall opposite the bed that she was sure he would have chosen, and even a notepad with a few words scribbled in his forward-tilted, precise hand.

  Cassie couldn’t help it. She stood in the middle of the room, on the shiny floorboards, and closed her eyes and breathed in the smell. She imagined him in this room, whistling softly to himself as he pulled off his shirt and walked over to the white-curtained window, staring out for a moment at the restless sea. Then she imagined herself there, too.

  At that point she opened her eyes, abandoning the vivid images that were becoming way too personal.

  A quick glance around the room confirmed there were no family photos. No wedding portraits, not even pictures of the kids. She wondered if there had been photos in the room before the divorce, or whether Ryan kept everything online.

  He’d said the timetable was on the inside of a cupboard. Which one?

  She opened one at random and blinked in surprise, because inside, neatly arranged on hangers, were several sets of women’s clothes.

  Smart business suits, high-heeled shoes, a variety of blouses in neutral colors.

  It looked tidy and untouched, but the presence of the clothes bothered Cassie. It meant that there hadn’t been closure. Either Trish was coming back for them, or else she hadn’t wanted them, and if she hadn’t wanted them, surely a plan should be made? They could be given away to a secondhand store or charity shop. They looked like top-quality garments that were relatively new. They could be used again, rather than moldering in here.

  Frowning, she closed the door and moved to the next cupboard.