“I don’t want to draw you!” Venetia snapped at Nina, and Cassie had to stop herself from letting out a surprised laugh at the younger girl’s honest response, and her assumption that everyone had to draw their sister. She was glad that Venetia was showing some spirit, and that it hadn’t all been crushed out of her.
“You don’t have to. You can draw anything you want.”
“I’m going to draw a flower,” Nina said.
She still sounded reserved. Cassie guessed she was playing it safe.
“All right,” Venetia decided. “I will draw my horse. I miss him. I was looking forward to riding him today.”
The horse you keep falling off, Cassie wanted to say.
For a while she focused on her own drawing, sketching Jacqui’s face and imagining her hair—now brown, as Tim had described, but he hadn’t said what length. Cassie guessed a few inches below her shoulders, and penciled in the cascading waves. Wishing she had more artistic talent, she detailed Jacqui’s features, remembering the kindness in her blue eyes, and how her sister had always loved to wear thick mascara and eyeliner to enhance them.
She drew Jacqui’s mouth, curved in a smile, praying as she did so that her sister was alive and happy.
Seeing that the children were engrossed in their drawings, she decided to make a start on the casual chitchat.
“Do you ever speak to your dad?” she asked.
Nina glanced up from her drawing.
“We have not spoken to Papa for a long time,” she said.
“Since when?” Cassie asked. “I understand that he and your mama split up?”
Seeing Nina’s frown, she tried to explain better.
“Your parents didn’t want to be married anymore, so your papa moved out?”
Nina’s frown only deepened.
It was Venetia who spoke.
“Papa went to prison. He was always kind to us, but Mama told us that he’s a bad man who did bad things, and that we will go to prison also, if we do not try hard to be good.”
Cassie stared at her in horror, feeling chills prickle her spine. Was this seriously what the children had been told?
Nina nodded in confirmation.
“Mama said he will be in prison for the rest of his life because he did terrible things, and we are to blame for much of what he did. She said the prison does not allow visitors, and that if we go there, they would lock us in and make us stay. So we have to be very careful.”
Cassie closed her eyes as she absorbed this shocking revelation. Could some of it be true? Had the children’s father gone to prison—for white-collar crime, or perhaps he’d harmed someone in a fit of rage? But Ms. Rossi hadn’t mentioned it when she hired Cassie, so more probably this whole story was an elaborate lie which was being used to poison the children’s minds against their father, while also justifying why he was no longer a part of their lives.
She was appalled by how Ms. Rossi had twisted the supposed facts, to point the finger of blame at the children. No wonder they were so cautious and reserved. With an absent father, and this dreadful scenario hanging over them, they were entirely in their mother’s power.
Cassie wished she could tell the children that the prison was right here, within the high, stone walls of this elegant home. They were incarcerated inside it, and she had no idea how she could free them.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
After Nina and Venetia had innocently repeated the story about their father, Cassie decided to abandon her line of questioning. There was nothing they could tell her about his identity or whereabouts.
Cassie wondered how visitation rights worked in Italy. Assuming the children’s father was not in prison, was he legally allowed to have access to his children and spend time with them? Perhaps he had chosen not to stay in touch, or else, more likely, Ms. Rossi was preventing it.
Cassie finished drawing in silence, but her thoughts were in overdrive. Maurice might have been unwilling to speak up, but perhaps their father felt differently. If she was able to contact him he might know more, or else, be willing to investigate.
She put down her pen with a sigh. The children’s drawings were complete now, and it was time for lunch.
“Let me see.” She peered at Nina’s paper.
The flower was drawn with care and accuracy, and Cassie wished that there were crayons available so that Nina could have the fun of coloring the petals.
“It’s beautiful. What a gorgeous flower, I’d be so pleased if it was growing in my garden,” she praised her.
All Nina offered was a polite, “Thank you.”
“Let’s see your horse, Venetia.” Cassie got up and walked round the table.
She caught her breath as she stared down. The horse, cantering out of the page, was drawn in perfect proportion and Venetia’s bold pen strokes had brought its body and movement to life. Cassie recognized that this was serious talent, blazing from the paper. Venetia should be taking art lessons, not focusing on pointless sums.
“Wow, that’s magnificent,” Cassie said. “That is a very special piece of magic, right there. You should do more of this, Venetia. Can I keep the drawing?”
Venetia stared down at her work.
“I don’t want it,” she said dispassionately.
She picked the drawing up.
Cassie expected that she would hand it over to her. Instead, Venetia took hold of the edges of the page.
“No!” Cassie shouted as she realized what the young girl was about to do, but she was too late.
Venetia ripped the drawing in half, and then ripped each of the halves again. Then she crumpled them up and tossed them neatly into the dustbin in the corner of the room.
Cassie fought to hold back her tears. She was devastated, not only for the loss of the drawing, but for what it represented about Venetia’s emotional state. What had it taken for her to
