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That night he’d come into the trailer, that horrible creepy smile on his face and he’d reached for little Annie because Winifred was too old for him.
Winifred had screamed at him to leave, but he’d laughed in her face, told her not to be stupid. He wasn’t going to hurt Annie, he just wanted five minutes alone with her, but Winifred knew he was lying.
She’d been so angry. Angry with her mother for not seeing what Aaron truly was, for not believing her when she told her about the way Aaron looked at her and her sisters. Angry with Aaron too, so angry.
So when he’d reached for Annie, Winifred had dashed into her mother’s bedroom and grabbed the gun she knew was in the top drawer, because she was tired of being under threat. Tired of not being able to protect the little ones. Tired of feeling so powerless.
She’d waved the gun at him and told him to let Annie go, but he’d only laughed again. So she’d shot him. She hadn’t known the gun would have a kick and since she’d been aiming at his legs, it had veered. Getting him right between the eyes.
Still lost in the memories, she didn’t see Augustine move until he’d pulled her into his arms again, his large, warm hands cradling her face. ‘What did he do, Winifred?’ he asked gently.
She was trembling. ‘He was my mother’s boyfriend. He’d keep looking at my sisters and me, and it made us all feel...dirty somehow. I hated it. I tried telling Mom, but she wouldn’t listen. She didn’t believe me. And one night he tried to drag my little sister away and so I grabbed my mother’s gun and... I stopped him.’
Gently, Augustine slid his hands down her neck to rest on her shoulders, his warm thumbs caressing the hollows of her collarbones in a soothing movement.
His presence was so immensely reassuring. She’d noticed before how he radiated calm strength, as if he could solve any problem, smooth over any difficulty. There had been a terrible accident a couple of years ago, a building collapse and several people had lost their lives while dozens of others had been injured. He’d come to the site to pay his respects and to give his sympathies to the families of the victims, and she’d witnessed firsthand the effect his presence had had, how his steady compassion had calmed everyone, allowing them room to grieve.
‘Sounds to me as if you did the right thing,’ he said.
‘I was so angry,’ she said desperately. ‘I shouldn’t have grabbed the gun. I shouldn’t have sh-shot him. I should have done something else,anythingelse.’
‘How old were you?’ Augustine asked.
‘Sixteen.’
‘And he was bigger than you, yes?’ His voice was very gentle.
She gave a jerky nod, because it was true. Aaron had been a big man.
‘So, you were a very young girl,’ Augustine went on, ‘trying to protect your sister from a much bigger, much older man.’
‘I know, but—’
‘But what?’
‘I killed him,’ she burst out, making herself say the words. ‘I shot him. I should have—’
‘Could anyone else have stopped him?’ Augustine interrupted softly. ‘Was there another adult who could have helped you?’
Her throat closed and all she could do was shake her head, because no, there hadn’t been. Only her mother and her mother hadn’t cared about anyone but herself. ‘There was only me,’ she forced out.
Augustine nodded as if this was completely understandable. ‘So you did what was necessary in order to protect your sisters,’ he said calmly. ‘They were younger and more vulnerable than you. They couldn’t protect themselves and so you did what you had to do.’
He made it sound so logical, and yet the aftermath kept replaying in her brain, the horror of it. Her mother not even mourning Aaron’s death, only screaming at her about how she certainly wasn’t going to take the fall for her daughter’s mistakes, and that Winifred had to turn herself in immediately.
Except she hadn’t.
‘I ran away.’ The unshed tears kept coming, prickling and hurting. ‘I... I was so afraid, and I didn’t want to go to prison. Because if I did, that would leave my sisters unprotected and I just couldn’t do it. So, when I left, I took them with me, and I...I tried to take care of them myself, but I had no money, and I couldn’t get a job because they were too little to be left on their own. In the end, I had to leave them with social services.’ She swallowed, her throat tight and painful, remembering how her sisters had cried as the social workers had taken charge of them, and the tearing sense of loss in her own heart. ‘It was best for them, and they were fostered together eventually. I tried to get in contact with them after a while, but I couldn’t reveal who I was so I wasn’t allowed any information about them. I ended up leaving the country.’ It was difficult to hold his gaze, but she made herself do it, letting him see that while she’d lied before, she was telling him the truth now. ‘I’ve been saving money for them, but I...I ruined their lives.’ The tears she’d been trying to hold back eventually overflowed, running down her cheeks, and all she could do was cover her face with her hands, drowning in the grief and shame, unable to bear his steady blue gaze any longer. ‘I ruined yours too. And I’m so sorry, Augustine. I’m so sorry for all of it.’
Augustine stared at her slight figure, her long slender fingers covering her face as she wept. Shock was still reverberating through him; he’d had no idea the depth of his little PA’s secrets.
He’d come up to the battlements for some fresh air after his sleepless night and seeing Freddie standing there in her pink silk robe, he hadn’t been able to resist drawing her into his arms. They needed to talk some more, and he’d thought they could do thatafterhe’d thoroughly seduced her and taken her to bed.
Yet...he’d never expected this.
She’d lied to him. She’d been lying to him for years, and he should be angry about that. He should be furious. He should also be extremely doubtful that she was telling the truth now.
Except she was sobbing, the sounds of her distress tearing at something inside him. She wasn’t lying now, and this was not an act, that was painfully clear.
