Almost Lost. Блейк Пирс

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      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 jacket 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 СКАЧАТЬ