revelry that would, at any moment, turn violent. Her ears strained, waiting for the smashing of glass. She recognized her father’s voice and that of his latest girlfriend, Deena. There were at least four others down there, maybe more.
And then, over the shouts, she heard the creak of the floorboards as heavy footsteps climbed the stairs.
“Hey, little honey,” a deep voice whispered, and her twelve-year-old self cringed in terror. “Are you there, girlie?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, telling herself this was just a nightmare, that she was safe in bed and the strangers downstairs were getting ready to leave.
The door creaked slowly open and in the spill of moonlight, she saw a heavy boot appear.
The feet trod across the room.
“Hey, girlie.” A husky whisper. “I’ve come to say hello.”
She closed her eyes, praying he wouldn’t hear her rapid breathing.
The whisper of fabric as he pulled the covers back… and then the grunt of surprise as he saw the pillow and coat that she’d bundled underneath.
“Out and about,” he’d muttered. She guessed he was looking at the grimy curtains billowing in the breeze, the drainpipe hinting at a precarious escape route. Next time, she would find the courage to climb down; it couldn’t be worse than hiding here.
The boots retreated out of her vision. A burst of music came from below, followed by a shouted argument.
The room was quiet.
She was shivering; if she was going to spend the night hiding, she needed a blanket. She’d better get it now. She eased herself away from the wall.
But as she slid her hand out, a rough hand grabbed it.
“So there you are!”
He yanked her out—she clutched at the bed frame, cold steel scraping her hands, and began to scream. Her terrified cries filled the room, filled the house …
And she woke, sweating, screaming, hearing Jess’s worried voice. “Hey, Cassie, are you OK?”
The tendrils of the nightmare still lurked, waiting to draw her back in. She could feel the raw grazes on her arm where the rusty bed frame had cut her. She pressed her fingers there and was relieved to find unbroken skin. Opening her eyes wide, she switched on the overhead light to chase the darkness away.
“I’m fine. Bad dream, that’s all.”
“Do you want some water? Some tea? I can call the flight attendant.”
Cassie was going to refuse politely, but then she remembered she should take her meds again. If one tablet didn’t work, two would usually stop the nightmares from recurring.
“I’d love some water. Thank you,” she said.
She waited until Jess wasn’t looking and quickly swallowed another pill.
She didn’t try to sleep again.
During the plane’s descent, she swapped phone numbers with Jess—and just in case, she took down the name of the family Jess would be working for, and their address. Cassie told herself it was like an insurance policy, that hopefully if she had it, she wouldn’t need it. They promised each other that the first chance they got, they would tour Versailles Palace together.
As they taxied into Charles de Gaulle Airport, Jess gave an excited laugh. Quickly, she showed Cassie the selfie her family had taken for her while waiting. The attractive couple and two children were smiling, holding a board with Jess’s name on it.
Cassie had received no message—Maureen had just said she would be met at the airport. The walk to passport control seemed endless. She was surrounded by the babble of conversations in a host of different languages. Tuning in to the couple walking alongside her, she realized how little spoken French she was able to understand. Reality was so different from the school classes and language tapes. She felt scared, alone, and sleep deprived, and she was suddenly aware of how crumpled and sweaty her clothes were, compared to the elegantly clad French travelers around her.
As soon as she had her bags, she hurried to the restroom, put on a fresh top, and fixed her hair. She still didn’t feel ready to meet her family and had no idea who would be waiting. Maureen had told her the house was over an hour’s drive from the airport, so perhaps the children hadn’t come along. She shouldn’t look out for a big family. Any friendly face would do.
But in the sea of people watching her, she saw no recognition, even though she’d placed her “Maureen’s Au Pairs” backpack prominently on the luggage cart. She walked slowly from the gate to the arrivals lounge, looking anxiously for someone to spot her, wave, or call out.
But everyone there seemed to be waiting for someone else.
Grasping the cart’s handle with cold hands, Cassie zigzagged around the arrivals hall, searching in vain as the crowds gradually dispersed. Maureen hadn’t said what to do if this happened. Should she call someone? Would her phone even work in France?
And then, as she made one final, frantic pass round the floor, she noticed it.
“CASSANDRA VALE.”
A small notice board, held by a lean, dark-haired man in a black jacket and jeans.
Standing near the wall, absorbed by his phone, he wasn’t even looking for her.
She approached uncertainly.
“Hi—I’m Cassie. Are you…?” she asked, the words trailing off as she realized she had no idea who he could be.
“Yes,” he said in strongly accented English. “Come this way.”
She was about to introduce herself properly, to speak the words she’d rehearsed about how excited she was to be joining the family, when she saw the laminated card on his jacket. He was just a taxi driver; the card was his official airport pass.
The family hadn’t bothered to come and meet her at all.
CHAPTER THREE
The cityscape of Paris unfolded as Cassie watched. Tall apartments and somber industrial blocks gradually gave way to treed suburbia. The afternoon was cold and gray, with patchy, blowing rain.
She craned to see the signboards they passed. They were heading toward Saint Maur, and for a while she thought that might be their destination, but the driver passed the turnoff and continued on the road out of town.
“How much further?” she asked, attempting conversation, but he grunted noncommittally and turned the radio up.
Rain pattered on the windows and the glass felt cold against her cheek. She wished she’d taken her thick jacket from the trunk. And she was starving—she hadn’t eaten breakfast and there’d been no opportunity to buy food since.
After more than a half hour, they reached open countryside and drove alongside the Marne River, where brightly painted barges provided a splash of color in the grayness, and a few people, swathed in raincoats, walked under the trees. Some of the trees’ branches were already bare, others still clothed in russet-gold leaves.
“It’s
