ahead.” The ground sloped steeply down and she could hear flowing water.
“Let’s go back now. It’s time to go home.”
“I don’t want to go home,” Marc grumbled, dragging his feet as he followed her.
Nor do I, Cassie thought, feeling sudden sympathy for him.
But when they arrived back in the clearing, Antoinette was the only one there. She was sitting on a folded jacket, braiding her hair over her shoulder.
“Where’s your sister?” Cassie asked.
Antoinette glanced up, seemingly unconcerned.
“She saw a bird just after you left, and wanted to have a closer look. I don’t know where she went after that.”
Cassie stared at Antoinette in horror.
“Why didn’t you go with her?”
“You didn’t tell me to,” Antoinette said, with a cool smile.
Cassie breathed deeply, controlling another surge of rage. Antoinette was right. She should not have abandoned the children without warning them to stay where they were.
“Where did she go? Show me where exactly you last saw her.”
Antoinette pointed. “She went that way.”
“I’m going to look for her.” Cassie kept her voice deliberately calm. “Stay here with Marc. Do not—do not—step out of this clearing or let your brother out of your sight. Understand?”
Antoinette nodded absently, combing her fingers through her hair. Cassie could only hope that she would do as she was told. She walked over to where Antoinette had indicated, and cupped her hands around her mouth.
“Ella?” she shouted as loud as she could. “Ella?”
She waited, hoping to hear an answer or approaching footsteps, but there was no response. All she could hear was the faint rustle of leaves in the strengthening wind.
Could Ella really have gone out of earshot in the time she’d been away? Or had something happened to her?
Panic surged inside her as she headed into the woods at a run.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cassie ran deeper into the forest, weaving through the trees. She yelled Ella’s name, praying that she would hear an answer. Ella could be anywhere; there was no clear path for her to have followed. The woods were dark and creepy, the wind was gusting harder, and the trees seemed to muffle her cries. Ella might have fallen into a ravine, or tripped and knocked her head. She could have been snatched by a vagrant. Anything could have happened to her.
Cassie skidded down mossy tracks and stumbled over roots. Her face was scratched in a hundred places and her throat was raw from shouting.
Eventually, she stopped, gasping for breath. Her sweat felt cold and clammy in the breeze. What should she do now? It was starting to get dark. She couldn’t spend any more time searching or she’d put them all in danger. The nursery was her closest port of call, if it was still open. She could stop there, tell the shopkeeper what had happened, and ask him to phone the police.
It took her ages, and a few wrong turns, to retrace her steps. She prayed that the others would be waiting safe and sound. And she hoped beyond hope that Ella might have found her way back.
But when she reached the clearing, Antoinette was stringing leaves together in a chain, and Marc was curled up on the jackets, fast asleep.
No Ella.
She imagined the storm of anger on their return. Pierre would be justifiably furious. Margot might simply be vicious. Flashlights would shine into the night as the community hunted for a girl who was lost, injured, or worse, as a result of her own negligence. It was her fault and her failure.
The horror of the situation overwhelmed her. She collapsed against a tree and buried her face in her hands, trying desperately to control her sobs.
And then Antoinette said, in a silvery voice, “Ella? You can come out now!”
Cassie looked up, staring in disbelief as Ella clambered from behind a fallen log, brushing leaves from her skirt.
“What…” Her voice was hoarse and shaky. “Where were you?”
Ella smiled happily.
“Antoinette said we were playing hide and seek, and I mustn’t come out when you called, or I would lose. I’m cold now—can I have my jacket?”
Cassie felt bludgeoned by shock. She hadn’t believed anyone could dream up such a scenario out of pure malice.
It wasn’t just the cruelty, but the calculation in her actions that chilled Cassie. What was driving Antoinette to torment her, and how could she stop it from happening in the future? She could expect no support from the parents. Being nice hadn’t worked, and anger would only play right into Antoinette’s hands. Antoinette held all the cards and she knew it.
Now they were heading home unforgivably late after telling nobody where they had gone. The children were muddied, hungry, thirsty, and exhausted. She feared that Antoinette had done more than enough for her to be instantly fired.
It was a long, cold, and uncomfortable walk back to the chateau. Ella insisted on being carried the entire way, and Cassie’s arms had just about given out by the time they reached home. Marc trailed behind, grumbling, too tired to do more than throw an occasional stone at the birds in the hedgerows. Even Antoinette seemed to be taking no pleasure in her victory and trudged along sullenly.
When Cassie knocked on the imposing front door, it was snatched open immediately. Margot faced her, flushed with rage.
“Pierre!” she shouted. “Finally they are home.”
Cassie started to tremble as she heard the angry stomping of feet.
“Where in the name of the devil have you been?” Pierre bellowed. “What irresponsibility is this?”
Cassie swallowed hard.
“Antoinette wanted to go to the woods. So we went for a walk.”
“Antoinette—what? For the whole day? Why the hell did you let her do that, and why did you not obey your instructions?”
“What instructions?” Cowering from his wrath, Cassie longed to run and hide, just as she had done when she was ten years old and her father had gotten into one of his rages. Glancing behind her, she saw the children felt exactly the same. Their stricken, terrified faces gave her the courage she needed to keep facing Pierre, even though her legs were shaking.
“I left a note on your bedroom door.” With an effort, he spoke in a more normal voice. Perhaps he’d noticed the children’s reactions too.
“I didn’t find any note.” Cassie glanced at Antoinette but her eyes were downcast and her shoulders hunched.
“Antoinette was supposed to perform at a piano recital in Paris. A bus arrived to collect her at eight-thirty but she was nowhere to be found. And Marc had soccer practice in town at twelve.”
A
