‘It’s my business because Rosalyn and Finlay are living under my roof and it was my friend’s dog that drowned,’ Cassie had retaliated.
‘Oh, so you’re doing this for Venetia, are you, not a way to get back at my father?’
‘Ems, that’s a ridiculous thing to say. Surely if you care about Finlay, you’d want him to be helped because it’s quite clear hehas issues going on that need sorting. And even you must admit, it’s weird what he’s now drawing.’
‘That’s a low shot, Mum,’ Emily had said, forever determined to defend her half-brother, ‘it’s obvious he’s processing what happened that night.’
It might well be obvious but to Cassie it was totally unnerving. Finlay’s artwork now included a lot of pictures of black stick-like trees and a black line representing a river and a black dog supposedly swimming.
Ignoring her daughter, Cassie had decided to tackle Rosalyn, as she’d known all along that she would. She’d approached the conversation when she’d been clearing away the lunch things and fortuitously Emily had taken Finlay outside to play. Rosalyn had been sitting on a stool at the island unit idly scrolling on her mobile, seemingly only too pleased for her son to be off her hands.
As casually as she could make it sound, Cassie had asked if Rosalyn had considered taking Finlay to a see a counsellor, one who specialised in helping children get over the death of a parent.
Barely looking up from her mobile, Rosalyn had said, ‘Why? Why would he need to see someone when he has me to talk to?’
‘Well, sometimes as mothers we’re too close and can’t see what’s really going on.’
That was when Rosalyn had put down her mobile and looked at Cassie. ‘Are you saying I’m not a good mother and that I don’t know my son?’
‘Not at all. Like I say, sometimes we’re just too close.’Tell her,Cassie had thought.Just get it over and done with and tell her.
So she had.
As a result, Rosalyn was now on her feet and giving Cassie the benefit of her outrage.
‘If anyone needs to see a counsellor,’ she said, ‘it’s you! You’re the one who’s clearly not right in the head. You’re heartless and pathetic, making things up about a little boy who’s lost hisfather. God knows what a kind and decent man like Ben sees in a conniving bitch like you!’
Her blood suddenly fizzing with rage, a rage that was visceral, this was too much for Cassie, way too much, and her claws were out in a flash. A line had been crossed. She was a woman protecting the sanctity of her love for Ben, and his love for her. She was a warrior fighting for her man!Hear her roar!
‘Yeah, and I bet you’d just love to make a play for him, wouldn’t you?’ Cassie snarled. ‘You’d roll those tearful poor-little-me-eyes at him and offer yourself up on a plate. So back off, lady. And I think we can both safely agree that you’ve overstayed your welcome. It’s time you and your son moved out! Go on, go and pack! I want you gone!’
Rosalyn opened her mouth to say something else, but wisely in Cassie’s opinion, she decided against it. Snatching up her mobile, Rosalyn whirled round on her feet and flounced off, her Ugg boots squeaking on the polished floor, and leaving Cassie vibrating with fury.
And regret. She shouldn’t have lost her temper. She’d promised Ben that she would be perfectly calm throughout the conversation, but she’d allowed Rosalyn’s comments to get under her skin. It was as if Rosalyn had known her weak spot and had gone for it with a viciously sharp aim.
Her elbows resting on the cool marble of the island unit, Cassie slumped forward and pressed her head against the palms of her hands, which were hot and clammy, in direct contrast with her mouth which was bone-dry after the rush of adrenaline that had flooded through her.
Emily was never going to forgive her for what she’d just done. Ben would wonder how she could have been so hard on a widowed woman and her son. If only Rosalyn had stuck to the script Cassie had so carefully written in her head, the one in which Rosalyn, after the initial shock had worn off, would accept that Drew had been overly strict with his son andtherefore the boy had developed a warped sense of right and wrong.
Ben’s advice to be careful could not have been clearer. ‘Put yourself in Rosalyn’s shoes and imagine how you would react in the same situation. Think how far you would go to protect Emily from any criticism.’
His wise words dropped like bricks from a great height as she contemplated the mess she’d made of things. Because it wasn’t any old criticism Cassie had tossed into the conversation; indirectly she’d implied that Finlay needed help because the abusive actions of his father had turned him into a serial killer in the making! How else could Rosalyn interpret what she’d said?
Lifting her head, she moved away from the island unit and went and stood at the full-length window that overlooked the expanse of lawn, out to where Emily, down by the riverbank, was talking to Venetia while Finlay ran around them waving a large stick in the air.
Cassie hadn’t seen or spoken to Venetia since the day they’d buried Bon-Bon. She had cowardly avoided Venetia, scared that her friend might ask if she had got to the bottom of what had happened that dreadful night. She had sent an occasional text, just to check in with Venetia, but the replies had been minimal, as though Venetia didn’t want to be bothered.
Yet there she was taking advantage of the good weather and chatting to Emily, the weak mid-November sun shining down on them. What if Venetia was asking Emily if Finlay had said anything to her about that disastrous night?
She was just contemplating what Emily might say, when there came an alarming crashing sound, followed by another and then a loud, strangled cry.
There was no doubt as to where the noise was coming from, and after creeping quietly along the hallway, and hardly daring to think what she might find the other side of it, Cassie pushed against the door that was ajar.
There was an opened suitcase on the double bed and clothes piled up on it; at the foot of the bed was Rosalyn. She was on her knees and surrounded by splintered glass and broken photo frames that contained pictures of her and Drew. She must have hurled the frames with some considerable force as there were indentations in the wall in front of her.
Trying not to be annoyed about the damage to the wall, Cassie stepped into the room. ‘Rosalyn,’ she said. ‘What’s going on?’ But her voice went unheeded, and Rosalyn let out another disturbing shriek.
‘Rosalyn,’ she said more firmly this time, going over to put a hand on the woman’s shoulder.
