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.
“Bury your head in my shoulder,” Cassie commanded, wrapping her arms tightly around the young girl. Taking a deep breath, she barged along the path, shoving blindly through the stinging leaves until she burst out into a clearing.
Antoinette was screaming in glee, doubled over a fallen tree trunk, and Marc was following suit, infected by her mirth. Neither of them seemed to care about Ella’s outraged tears.
“You knew there was poison ivy there!” Cassie accused as she lowered Ella to the ground.
“Stinging nettles,” Antoinette corrected her, before bursting into renewed peals of mirth. There was no kindness in the sound—the laughter was utterly cruel. This child was showing her true colors and she was without mercy.
Cassie’s surge of rage surprised her. For a moment her only desire was to slap Antoinette’s smug, giggling face as hard as she could. The force of her anger was frightening. She actually stepped forward, raising her hand, before sanity prevailed and she lowered it quickly, appalled by what she had nearly done.
She turned away, opened her backpack, and rummaged for the only bottle of water. She rubbed some over Ella’s knee and the rest over her own skin, hoping it would soothe the burning, but every time she touched the swelling, it seemed to make it worse. She looked around to see if there was a tap nearby, or a water fountain, where she could run cold water over the painful rash.
But there was nothing. These woods were not the family-friendly destination she’d expected. There were no benches, no notice boards. No garbage cans, no taps or fountains, no well-maintained paths. There was only ancient, dark forest, with massive beech, fir, and spruce trees looming out of tangled undergrowth.
“We need to go home now,” she said.
“No,” Marc argued. “I want to explore.”
“This is not a safe place for exploring. There’s not even a proper path. And it’s too dark. You should put your jacket on now or you’ll catch a cold.”
“Catch a cold, catch me!” With a mischievous expression, the boy darted away, weaving swiftly through the trees.
“Damn it!” Cassie plunged after him, gritting her teeth as sharp twigs tore at her inflamed skin. He was smaller and faster than her, and his laughter taunted her as he dove through the undergrowth.
“Marc, come back!” she called.
But her words only seemed to spur him on. She followed doggedly, hoping he would either get tired or decide to abandon the game.
She finally caught up when he stopped to catch his breath, kicking at pine cones.
