She slammed the door shut, leaving Cassie standing in the cold, with her feather duster sticking out of her cleaning bag and an overwhelming urge to cry.
She drove back to Red Moss, parked at the vicarage and gave herself a pep talk. Losing clients was bound to happen some time. It was part of running a business, and she shouldn’t take it personally. Then why did she have the feeling that it was personal? Sylvia had behaved as if she actually disliked her, and she had no idea what she had done.
She wiped her tears, pulled the visor down and rubbed the smudged mascara with a tissue. She even put a bit of lip gloss on and forced a smile. There, that was better. She couldn’t get out of the van looking like an angel of doom when she was supposed to be the good mood fairy! Yet doom was all she felt now Stefan had left…
One of her elderly customers – one of the few she had left – had remarked on how downcast she was. ‘What’s the matter with you, love? You didn’t smile at your granddad’s joke although it was a really good one this week… and you didn’t even finish your cinnamon twist.’
The woman was right. The days merged into one another, bleak, grey and lonely. It hadn’t even been a week since Stefan had left, and yet time seemed to stretch endlessly.
Reverend Bennett greeted her with her usual calm, friendly manner. As Cassie was early, she asked if she wouldn’t mind giving the community centre a tidy up before coming back to the vicarage. ‘The children made Christmas decorations last night and I’m afraid they left the place in a bit of a mess.’
A bit of a mess? Cassie thought when she walked into the community centre. The place looked like a tornado had swept through it – twice! As Cassie picked up plastic cups, empty bottles of cordial and packets of crisps that had been left on the tables, she recalled what Stefan told her about the whirlwinds that blew through the Sahara Desert. They were called ‘chasse-poussière’. How loving he had been when he had said she deserved to be called ‘chasse tristesse’ too because she made his sadness disappear…
She let out a shaky sigh and swept up bits of tinsel, cardboard, felt and cotton wool from the floor, as well as glitter and white dust from the plaster of Paris. She was tipping the contents of her dustpan into a bin bag when three elderly women tottered in, with Doris Pearson leading the way.
Cassie looked at her and smiled. ‘Good morning.’
The women didn’t reply but gave her a harsh look before hanging their coats up. As Doris took her gloves off, Cassie noticed a large bandage on the back of her hand.
‘What’s wrong with your hand, Doris?’ she asked. ‘Isn’t that where Fluffy scratched you the other day?’
Doris nodded curtly. ‘The doctor said it was infected and gave me antibiotics. Fluffy would never have scratched me if he hadn’t been upset about you locking him up in your house.’
‘I did say I was sorry, but it wasn’t my fault.’
Doris’s eyes flashed in anger. ‘What about this morning? It wasn’t your fault again, I presume! I’m in a mind to call the RSPCA and report you for animal cruelty.’
Cassie put the rubbish bag down. ‘What are you talking about?’
Doris waved her walking stick at her. ‘Don’t play the innocent with me, Cassie Bell. Not only did you take my Fluffy into your house again, but you used him as a guinea pig for your fancy smelling oils. He came home smeared in some disgusting lemon stuff.’
‘I don’t understand… Are you saying that he was in my house this morning?’
‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’
‘That’s impossible. I checked every single window and door before leaving.’ But she knew it was pointless. If Doris had decided she was guilty, nothing she could say would change her mind. It wasn’t her fault Fluffy preferred Bluebell Cottage to his own house. It was however worrying that the cat had managed to sneak in again.
She carried on tidying up and tried to ignore Doris and the two other ladies who were whispering and staring at her as she wiped all the tables clean with a damp cloth.
‘Are you going to be long?’ Doris asked. ‘Our meeting starts in ten minutes and we have important things to discuss in private.’
Reverend Bennett walked in and smiled. ‘You do exaggerate, Doris. We’re only talking about the rota for the cake stall at tomorrow’s Christmas Fair. It’s hardly top-secret business! Actually, would you mind getting the tea and coffee ready? The others won’t be long.’
Doris cast Cassie one last begrudging look before disappearing into the small kitchen, and the vicar turned to Cassie. ‘I left the vicarage back door open for you.’
‘Thanks.’ Cassie gathered her cleaning things and went into the hallway to put her coat on.
‘You’re far too trusting, vicar, leaving her alone in your house,’ one of Doris’s friends, a woman called Elspeth, said. ‘I hope you locked your cash and jewellery away.’
Cassie’s blood froze, and her heart started thumping so hard it hurt.
‘Nonsense!’ Julie Bennett’s terse reply shot out.
‘Nadine Hartley and Tabitha Sweeney were talking about her in the bakery yesterday and they said it was very odd that all her clients got burgled in the past few weeks.’
‘From what I heard, it’s not all Cassie’s clients, but only a few of them,’ Julie Bennett corrected, ‘and it doesn’t prove anything at all.’
‘Still, they said—’
‘I’m not interested in what these women have to say,’ Julie Bennett’s voice was sharper this time, ‘and I suggest you ladies concentrate on preparing for the meeting instead of spreading malicious rumours.’
‘You can’t ignore what happened to poor Barbara,’ Elspeth remarked. ‘She said that after Cassie’s last visit, her engagement ring – the one with the big ruby – disappeared, along with some money from her savings jar that she always keeps in the kitchen.’
‘I always thought she was a bit odd,’ Doris agreed. ‘Remember that hoo-ha she made when she claimed she saw a murder up at Wolf Tarn and got the police involved? And all this carry-on with my Fluffy… The girl is trouble, I’m telling you. It’s her granddad I feel sorry for. He’ll be devastated when he finds out what she’s been up to.’
So that was why Doris and her friends had looked at her in that way. They thought she was a thief – not just a cat snatcher, but a burglar too. Cassie exhaled slowly, but anger and shock made her whole body shake. Now the way Nadine had followed her around as she was cleaning her house earlier in the week made sense, as did Tabitha’s last minute cancellation the day before, and the three clients who had decided not to employ her any longer.
And what about Barbara? How could the old lady believe that she would steal her favourite ring and help herself to her savings?
Well, she wouldn’t have it. Nobody would call her a thief!
She squared her shoulders and marched right back into the community centre, right up to Elspeth who was placing cups and saucers on a table.
‘How dare you accuse me of stealing from my clients?’
The woman jerked back with a startled cry. ‘Cassie… You heard… Ahem… I was just…’