“An amazing bunny. I’ll miss you,” Madison agreed.
Madison had been tearful earlier but was calmer now, and Cassie thought that perhaps Ryan’s instincts had been right, because although unusual, the ceremony was allowing them all to have closure for the death of their pet.
“I thought you were lovely, Benjamin. Rest well,” Cassie said.
She hiccupped out a sob before holding her breath to try and prevent an onslaught of tears.
She had expected that Dylan would open the jar and scatter the fireplace ashes to the wind, but he didn’t. He weighed it briefly in his hand and then tossed it out over the bluff.
The setting sun glinted on the glass as it tumbled and fell out of sight. The sea was raging so hard that she didn’t hear it hit the rocks, far below.
That did it for Cassie.
Letting go of Madison’s hand, she dropped to her knees, doubling over on the soaking, muddy grass with her head buried in her arms. Sobs burst out of her, rough and unstoppable.
“I’m so sorry,” she gasped. “It’s all my fault, I’m to blame. I should have done more. If I had done something earlier it might all have been OK.”
Grief overcame her and her sobs turned into cries.
“Oh, Cassie, don’t be sad.”
Madison wrapped her arms tightly around her, just about climbing on top of her as she tried to comfort her.
“It’s not your fault. Not at all.”
Ryan crouched down beside her, stroking her hair, pushing the locks away from her tear-drenched face.
“Don’t be sad, lovely,” he murmured to her. “Or I’m going to start to cry, too.”
Gradually, Cassie regained control and climbed to her feet. Her jeans and top were sodden.
“I’m sorry for that,” she muttered.
“I understand. Sometimes you need to let out what’s inside you, and that can only happen when you feel safe enough,” Ryan said.
She felt grateful that he understood.
“Now we’d better get you into some dry clothes. Let’s all have a glass of sherry and roast those chestnuts over the fire, so we can warm up before supper.”
Ryan and Madison helped her to her feet and they walked into the house. In her bedroom, Cassie spent a few minutes breathing deeply, until she was sure there would be no more outbursts of tears. Then she changed into a dry top and fresh pair of jeans and dabbed a cold cotton-wool pad over her swollen eyes. Finally, she felt ready to rejoin the family.
As she left her bedroom, she almost bumped into Dylan, who was standing outside. She felt a wave of guilt about being complicit in the alternative story he’d been told. Did he suspect it wasn’t the truth?
To her astonishment, he gave her a quick, clumsy hug.
“Feel better?” he asked in a low voice.
“Yes, I do. What about you?”
He shrugged.
“I’m OK.”
She waited for him to move aside, but he didn’t. Instead, he asked her, “You never told my dad that I took those sweets from the shop, did you?”
Cassie took a deep, shaky breath.
“I never found the right moment and in the end I decided not to. If you do it again, I’ll have to, though.”
He considered this in silence for a few moments and she looked at his expressionless face and wondered what exactly this highly intelligent, but strangely dissociated boy was thinking.
“I like you, Cassie,” he said.
“Thank you.” She felt taken aback by the compliment, which she’d never expected to receive.
“We can talk more another time. And I’ll tell you other stuff you need to know.”
Now she felt a twinge of misgiving; where was this conversation headed?
But Dylan seemed to have had his say. He turned around and headed for the kitchen, with Cassie following close behind.
In the kitchen, Ryan poured sherry for the whole family—Madison received a tiny sip, just a thimbleful, and Dylan received a child’s glass. They all toasted the bunny and drank their sherry, and then the children showed her the best way to roast the chestnuts, while Ryan cooked fish fingers and chips.
Cassie felt grateful for the close support of this family, and realized how much she felt a part of it already. She knew she would always remember this evening; the smell of the chestnuts roasting, the children’s faces flushed in the warmth after the cold outdoors, and Ryan preparing comfort food which everyone would enjoy.
Even so, she felt unsettled by what had happened that afternoon. When she and Ryan joined each other for their nightly glass of wine, she promised herself she would ask him why he’d done what he did.
*
For the first time ever, Ryan wasn’t sitting out on the balcony but was in the family room, on the settee overlooking the ocean.
“It’s not just the cold, it’s the wind,” he explained when she arrived. “It would blow the glasses right out of our hands.”
He patted the cushion beside him and she sat down, being careful to keep some space between them and not to involuntarily brush against him, or do anything that might hint to him how head-over-heels she was.
“I wanted to discuss the way you explained Benjamin Bunny to Dylan,” she said hesitantly.
She was nervous about bringing the subject up—so nervous that she felt it would be better to get it over and done with.
“Yes. It wasn’t what happened, was it?”
“No. That’s what I’d like to talk about.”
She felt a pang of relief that she hadn’t misremembered and wasn’t going mad. There had been an alternative version.
“I’ll gladly explain. I was very troubled, and thought hard about what to do, and I only reached a decision after we were back from the pub. You see, Dylan’s an extremely sensitive child. His IQ is off the charts. Super intelligent. I think, at times, it can put him at a disadvantage. He reacts differently from other children.”
Cassie understood what he meant. Dylan didn’t behave normally, and he acted out his anger in strange ways.
Ryan continued. “I thought that it would be more comforting for him to know that Benjamin had a proper diagnosis and was cared for as
