Distracted, her mind still on the frightening text she’d received, Cassie had got as far as the checkout in Boots when she realised she’d forgotten the bottle warmer she would need for when Samuel stayed with them. Kim had seemed reticent when she’d mentioned it. Cassie realised it would be difficult for her to trust anyone else with her baby when up to now she’d been his sole carer, but she would want a break, some kind of social life, she’d pointed out. And now she could have one, safe in the knowledge that Samuel would be well cared for.
Checking her basket as she walked back to the baby aisle, she found she’d picked up fragranced baby wipes by mistake. Sighing at her incompetence, she swapped the wipes then headed for the bottle warmers. Scanning the shelves, her shoulders sank. She should have researched them online; she was hopelessly out of date. There were different brands, travel varieties, a vast disparity in prices. Staring at them in confusion, she picked one up, attempting to read the bumf, but was still struggling to concentrate. People jostling by every time she tried to crouch down and have a closer look didn’t help.
She would have to leave it. There was no point wasting time here achieving nothing. She was about to go back to the checkout when she spotted a shop assistant flying by the end of the aisle. She left her basket and bag where they were and gave chase.
‘Excuse me,’ she called. ‘Excuse me?’
The assistant turned around. ‘Sorry,’ she smiled and pointed over her shoulder, ‘I’m just with a customer. I’ll be with you shortly.’
Burying a disappointed sigh, Cassie went to collect up her things. Back at the tills, her mind still elsewhere, she queued again and eventually paid for the items.
Glad to be out of the shop, which was becoming claustrophobic, she was halfway across the precinct when a man called out behind her. ‘Excuse me, madam.’
Not sure whether he was speaking to her, Cassie stopped and turned around, and was perplexed to see the security guard she’d passed at the door hurrying towards her.
‘I have reason to believe you have an item in your bag that hasn’t been paid for,’ he said bluntly.
Cassie reeled inwardly. ‘What?’ She laughed, shocked.
‘Do you have a receipt for the items you’ve purchased, madam?’ he asked, stopping in front of her.
Bewildered, Cassie scanned his face. His eyes were steely, hard and unflinching. ‘Of course I do.’ Her throat suddenly parched, she dropped her gaze and searched hurriedly in her carrier bag, only to find no receipt.
‘I paid for everything. I’m sure I did. I had to go to the checkout twice. I picked up the wrong item and… Hold on.’ She rummaged through her pockets. ‘It’s here somewhere,’ she assured him, growing more and more flustered at the curious glances of passers-by. ‘There.’ She practically thrust the receipt at him, relief flooding through her, then waited, a hot flush of humiliation heating her cheeks, as he perused it agonisingly slowly.
Finally he looked back at her, his expression inscrutable. ‘I have to ask you to walk with me back to the store, madam,’ he said dispassionately. ‘We need to check the contents of your bag.’
Cassie’s heart turned over. ‘But… there are only the items I paid for in there,’ she stammered. ‘There must be some mistake.’
The man said nothing, glancing pointedly instead at her shoulder bag.
‘This is ridiculous,’ Cassie muttered, a hard lump climbing her throat. She pulled the bag from her shoulder and yanked it open, and her blood froze. ‘Those aren’t mine,’ she said, sweat dampening her forehead as she stared horrified at the hair straighteners in her bag.
‘If you’d like to come back with me to the store,’ he repeated.
Cassie stared at him, uncomprehending for a second, and then panic clutched at her chest as she realised the police could be involved. Would it be on her record, the last time she’d inadvertently left a store with an item she hadn’t paid for? They’d cautioned her, that was all, taken into account her diagnosis, which she’d had that very morning. She hadn’t even known why she’d gone shopping. She’d never breathed a word to Adam. Why, she didn’t know, except she’d been so embarrassed. Nausea engulfed her as she recalled them saying it would stay on her record for six years. What would happen now? She hadn’t taken anything. Why wouldn’t he believe her? Shehadn’t.
‘I don’t need bloody hair straighteners!’ she shouted tearfully. ‘I have short hair!’
He looked from her face to the hair she’d cropped short when she’d realised the medication she was on was causing it to fall out. She’d been so pleased she’d managed to grow it back a little and could now style it into a pixie cut, but anyone could see she had no need for hair straighteners.
A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face, but he remained resolute. ‘Under section 24A of the Police and Criminal Evidence Act 1984, I have the power to make a citizen’s arrest,’ he informed her authoritatively. ‘Or you could just walk back with me while we clear this up.’
Disorientated, Cassie blinked hard. She didn’t even remember picking the straighteners up. Unless… She’d been so preoccupied. Might she have done it without realising? Or had someone putthem in her bag? But who? Why would they have done that? Were they here in the precinct, enjoying her humiliation?
They were. Cassie could feel it, eyes watching her closely, malice in the air, as, with no other choice, she allowed the man to lead her back to the store.
Seventeen
Cassandra
Still in a state of complete shock, Cassie glanced past the female officer who was standing at the door of the interview room, guarding her as if she were a common criminal. Through the partially open door she could see Adam in the corridor deep in conversation with the solicitor he’d managed to get to the station within half an hour of her being brought into custody. Cassie’s cheeks burned with deep shame as she recalled his stunned response when she’d called him, the incredulity in his voice when he’d repeated, ‘Shoplifting?’ What must he think of her?
Her gaze travelled to the solicitor, a crisp-suited, competent woman in her mid-thirties. Her hair was a lustrous rich brown flecked with subtle auburn highlights. It was shoulder length, the same length Cassie’s own hair had been before she’d decided on her radical cut. It was hard to imagine that she herself had once been that in-control woman. She didn’t know who she was any more. Bit by bit she seemed to have lost little pieces of herself. What made it more frightening was that Adam had looked at her so guardedly. Of all the consequences of this new nightmare, the worst would be for the chasm she’d sensed between them to widen. He’d always been her rock, and she couldn’t bear the idea that he might wake up one day and realise he didn’t want to be there for her any more.
She glanced back at him. He still wore that deep furrow she’d noticed when he’d walked in, looking as shell-shocked as she felt. ‘So what now?’ she heard him ask the solicitor, his voice strained.
The woman offered him a smile, one of condolence, Cassie suspected. ‘Well, she obviously didn’t do it for the purpose of acquiring the item,’ she said, her gaze going to her notes.
