‘Oh, you know, little things like … like … ’ Cassie bottled it and fell silent.
‘Like what, Mum?’ pressed Emily.
‘Maybe this is a conversation that can wait until the morning,’ suggested Ben.
Emily looked at him sharply. ‘This has something to do with what you were talking about when I came in, doesn’t it? Why don’t you just come right out and say whatever it is you’re tiptoeing around?’
Ben caught Cassie’s eye as if to say:Over to you. Your call.
‘The thing is, Ems,’ said Cassie, deciding to jump in and to hell with the consequences. ‘Finlay told me something this afternoon that has shocked me and I don’t know what to do about it. Not that I have to do anything, but I feel I should. It would be the right thing to do. For his own good, really.’
‘For God’s sake, Mum, what is this? Is this one of your mountain-out-of-a-molehill moments? Don’t you think we’ve had enough drama?’
‘It’s rather more than that, Ems.’
‘Then just frickin’ well tell me!’
Cassie did just that while Ben silently observed Emily, as though studying her face to see how she would react.
Her response was to ask the same question Ben had posed when Cassie had said her piece. ‘Do you believe Finlay?’
‘I find I can’tnotbelieve him,’ Cassie answered, ‘purely because he was so matter of fact about it and seemed to think that behaviour like that was perfectly normal.’ She gave a little shiver. ‘There was something disturbingly cold-blooded about his admission.’
‘Wait, can we just circle back to the fact that we’re talkingabout a four-and-a-half-year-old boy, and children that age aren’t capable of being cold-blooded. It’s not in their nature.’
‘You weren’t there when he was saying all this,’ said Cassie.
‘But children are always making things up or telling lies,’ Emily said. ‘Maybe he’s just seen something on his iPad or the TV that made him invent this story.’
‘Or he could be telling the truth and as adults we would be doing him a great injustice by not believing him.’
This was from Ben, and Cassie could have hugged him for backing her. It was such a relief she was no longer dealing with this singlehandedly. She’d had all afternoon and evening to go over everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, and the one thing she kept coming back to was that she felt uncomfortable around Finlay, knowing what he’d told her.
It chilled her to the marrow every time she pictured the boy thinking it was perfectly reasonable to throw Venetia’s beloved dog into the river to make him behave. It chilled her too that whenever she looked at him now, she wouldn’t be able to rid herself of the thought that he was a dangerous sadist in the making. She didn’t dare voice this for fear of being accused of overreacting. She could just imagine Emily saying that she’d been listening to too many true crime podcasts and saw the worst in everyone, even a small boy.
‘I remember when I was at junior school,’ Ben said, getting to his feet and going over to the dishwasher to put his plate and glass in the racks, ‘there was a girl who was something of an oddball, she rarely said anything and was as jumpy as hell. She just didn’t fit in and one day, when she was yet again picked on by a group of girls, she went berserk, broke one girl’s nose and kicked another so hard on the ankle, the girl was on crutches for a week.’
‘And the point of that tale?’ asked Emily.
‘It turned out all was not well at home,’ Ben explained, closingthe dishwasher and turning to face them, ‘the father ruled with a rod of iron and the mother regularly had accidents, like falling downstairs or walking into doors. She ended up killing her husband and being sent to prison for it. I never knew what happened to the girl. I’ve often wondered.’
‘Right, so let me get this straight,’ said Emily. ‘You think that Drew, my dad, was some kind of abusive monster and has turned Finlay into a mini version of himself? Is that what you’re both saying?’ She flipped her defiantly challenging gaze between the two of them.
‘It’s something we have to consider,’ Cassie said. ‘Surely you can see that?’
‘Then what? When we’ve considered it from all angles, what do we do?’
That, thought Cassie with a heavy heart, was the million-dollar question.
Chapter Forty-Three
Her eyes thoroughly accustomed to the darkness, Venetia listened to the few remaining leaves rustling on the tree branches above and around her. There was no more than a faint stir of wind on the frigid night air, but it was enough to create a muted swish and rustle. The familiarity of the sound was a soothing comfort to her.
Directly in front of Venetia and where she had often sat in the clearing while Bon-Bon enjoyed himself sniffing and snooping, was where he now lay in the ground. The place was easy to spot as Cassie and Nina had done their best to ensure the hole was not only deep but well earthed up and covered with a thick blanket of leaves and twigs.
Twenty-four hours had passed since her darling dog had been taken from her and the pain of his death was still excruciatingly raw to her. She knew from the many moments of loss and heartache in her life, the worst of the pain would eventually lessen, but there would always be a scar left. And the memories. Good and bad.
She rarely cried but she had wept copiously for Bon-Bon. She was conscious that she wasn’t just mourning the loss of her precious dog; she was grieving for so much more, the loss of the years that were gone and everything that never had been, and never would be.
