Cassie expected someone to comment on what she’d said, or offer sympathy, but Ryan was leaning over Trish’s shoulder, absorbed by her project.
“I remember you in that wedding dress,” he said. “Wow, it brings that day right back.”
Trish laughed.
“To think how I almost chose a massive white meringue gown. Then at the last minute, my mother of all people intervened. She said, go for elegant.”
“Go for stylish.” Ryan stared down admiringly.
“Why thank you,” Trish said.
“Weren’t we married just before you got your skipper’s license?” Ryan asked.
“No. I already had that. But if you remember, I was working on my MBA at that time. You joked that I’d be project managing the wedding.”
Ryan smiled.
“You organized it perfectly. It was such a special day.”
Cassie turned away from them, unable to deal with any further revelations about Trish’s accomplishments. She guessed ten years ago, Trish would have been about the same age as Cassie was now. She had already been highly qualified in numerous skills and clearly successful. What had Cassie achieved? Nothing. All she could boast so far was that she’d been an average restaurant waitress and a catastrophically unsuccessful au pair.
How could she have thought for a moment Ryan would be serious about her?
She wasn’t a highly intelligent, multi-skilled pillar of society like Trish was. How could she not have seen this entire debacle for what it was—a husband messing around with the temporary help, behind his wife’s back?
She could never be the caliber of Trish or Ryan, she never had been and she never would be. When she compared herself to them, she felt ashamed of herself, and everything she’d ever strived to achieve. Her independence, her self-sufficiency, the few qualifications she had managed to earn, were pathetic compared to what these wealthy, successful people had accomplished.
She had to stop herself from slinking out of the kitchen there and then. Instead, she forced her mind back to what Madison needed, seeing the child’s actual parents were both preoccupied by Wedding Appreciation Hour.
She stood up. “You should eat something before school. Can I pack you some cheese? Dried fruit? Take it with you. Eat it on the bus.”
“All right,” Madison agreed, and Cassie filled a lunch box with a selection of snacks.
“Talking of the bus, you two should get your bags,” Ryan said, glancing at the kitchen clock.
“I’ll fetch you at one,” Trish said.
Cassie realized that with Trish’s return, she had become redundant. Trish was taking the reins, and she had a car, whereas Cassie’s was out of action for who knew how long.
She needed to find out about the car. As soon as it was fixed, she was going to leave.
For her own sanity, it was the only solution.
Cassie got her coat and walked with the children to the bus stop. It was a relief to be out of the house and to be able to pretend, for a little while, that everything was normal.
Even so, she didn’t think the children were fooled. Madison wasn’t herself at all, and since she wouldn’t tell Cassie what was wrong, Cassie could only suspect that she’d picked up on the atmosphere in the house.
As for Dylan, she had no idea what to say to him. Normal conversation seemed impossible when every time she looked at him, she imagined him reaching into the cage, grabbing his pet, and snapping its neck with brutal force.
Suddenly, Cassie imagined doing the same to Ryan. It was what he deserved for the pain and anguish he’d put her through, and it gave her some bitter comfort to visualize clamping her fingers around Ryan’s strong, smooth-skinned neck and squeezing until she throttled him. Or, better still, taking one of the sharpest knives from the expensive array in the kitchen, and stabbing it deep into his traitorous heart.
Even though she knew she could never do such a thing, fantasizing about revenge made her feel better.
There was no point in going back to the house after the children had left. What would she do there? Sit around and listen to Ryan and Trish loving each other up? Although, thinking back, Cassie realized it had been Ryan complimenting Trish and her agreeing with him.
When the bus had gone, she headed into the village, hoping to walk off some of her anger. Perhaps she could find the Seafarer’s Arms and see if it looked romantic.
In the cold, gray morning, the magical charm of the village had worn off completely. It looked somber and dull, the colors muted. The few people she met along the way were unfriendly, huddled in jackets and hurrying to get out of the drizzle that had started to fall.
Cassie turned her face to the rain. The icy drops scoured her face, and she welcomed the distraction, because every word Ryan and Trish spoke, every one of his attentive gestures to her, was corroding her inside. She couldn’t bear it. She felt as if an unstoppable force was building up inside her; a toxic mix of anger and guilt. Who knew what would happen when it exploded?
She randomly turned right, then left, then right again. Zigzagging through the streets, Cassie realized the homes were becoming smaller and higher, most double-story, built onto a steepening hill. Space was at a premium here, and the elevated view was the draw card.
Then she stopped, frowning.
Parked ahead of her was a car, low-slung and white, and she was sure the number plate was the one she remembered.
FZR. Now that she saw the letters in front of her, she remembered their order clearly. That was definitely the plate she had seen.
Cassie was so embroiled in her thoughts that she nearly walked on past.
Then she changed her mind.
The driver of that car had nearly killed her in that narrow lane. This was her chance to find out who the person was, and whether it had been intentional or a terrible mistake.
Cassie marched up to the white-painted front door, raised
