Closing In

by Sue Fortin

Ellen caught it and mirrored his actions, making out she was weighing the stone up, before rubbing it against her sleeve and pretending to spit on it. ‘More than two bounces? Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.’

  Donovan laughed out loud. ‘You sound like Izzy. Again.’

  ‘You won’t be laughing in a minute,’ said Ellen. She pulled her arm back and, crouching slightly, she flicked the stone out across the water. ‘One, two, three! Oh, yes!’ Ellen jumped up and clapped her hands together. ‘Beat that.’ She bent down picked up another pebble and chucked it in Donovan’s direction.

  Donovan caught the pebble and turned it over in his hand a couple of times, before throwing it underarm into the sea. Ellen could tell by the look on his face the game was over. What had she done wrong? Was he really that bad a loser? Without turning his gaze from the English Channel, he spoke.

  ‘You made me think about Izzy’s mother and how different you are. Amanda, my estranged wife, has never been particularly light-hearted or maternal.’ He dug his hands into the pockets of his jacket. ‘Swap the “n” of maternal for an “I” and that’s more like her.’

  Ellen did the alphabetical gymnastics. ‘Material.’

  ‘Exactly. Much more material. Especially if it comes in the form of alcohol, handbags, shoes or clothes, in that order.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ said Ellen, fully aware of the angst in his voice. ‘How long has Amanda been in France?’

  ‘Three years but she’s moving back to the UK.’

  ‘Is that not a good thing, though? Won’t Izzy be able to see her mother more?’

  She watched Donovan’s face as he continued to stare at a fixed spot on the horizon. ‘No, it’s not a good thing. She wants custody of Izzy.’ Now he turned to face Ellen. ‘And that is going to happen over my dead body.’

  Ellen had no doubt that he meant exactly what he said. That it was no idle threat or cliché. She watched as he stomped his way back up the shingle incline, every footstep planting into the stones with purpose.

  Sighing to herself that the good mood of the day was broken, Ellen followed him back up to the promenade. She took the hand he extended to hoick her up from the stones and, offering a murmur of gratitude in return, was gifted a small smile. The grouchiness was apparently over. She liked this about him. It didn’t seem he sulked for long. Unlike Toby. This turn of thought made her shudder involuntarily. She blinked her eyes slowly and swallowed, to regain her equilibrium. She mustn’t think about him. She needed to stay calm and exorcise him and his actions from her mind. She had managed this quite well when she had been abroad, so she could continue it now.

  ‘You all right?’ Donovan’s concerned voice pierced her thoughts. ‘You look very pale. It must be the cold getting to you. You really should invest in a warmer coat.’

  Ellen managed a nod. ‘Yes, I must.’ She was quite happy for him to believe it was the cold sending a shiver down her spine and taking the colour from her face. She realised she was rubbing her right forearm agitatedly, and quickly stuffed her hands in her pockets. Looking out the corner of her eye, she was met by Donovan’s gaze. He looked down at her arm and then back at her again without saying a word. His eyes looked right into her own, as if they could read the memories unwillingly forming in her mind. When he stopped walking and turned to face her, Ellen knew what was coming next.

  ‘There’s something I need to ask you. I wouldn’t normally pry but I have Izzy and her wellbeing to think of. My daughter is my number-one priority. Do you understand?’ He paused and Ellen obliged with a small nod. He continued. ‘The marks on your arms … what are they from?’

  Ellen could feel her breath quicken and a small rush of adrenalin zip to her fingertips. She pulled the zip on her fleece up to the top. ‘Psoriasis,’ she said.

  ‘You see, the thing is, Ellen, as a psychologist, I’m an expert in body language. That also includes the eyes. Now if a person looks up and to the left, neurophysiology tells us they are accessing visually constructed images. Things that have happened, that they can recall. This tells us they are telling the truth. However, if they look up and to the right before they answer a question, they are activating the creative censors in the brain. They are constructing an image to fit the question. In other words, they are lying.’

  ‘I believe this is a theory rather than a fact. If it was that easy, there would be no need for lawyers. Or criminal psychologists,’ said Ellen.

  ‘True, there’s a whole lot more to it than just that,’ said Donovan. ‘Four things happened before you answered me. One. Your eyes shot upwards and to the right. Two. Your breathing quickened. Three. Your face went ever so slightly pink. Four. You fiddled with the zip on your jacket.’

  ‘Thanks for the psychology lesson.’

  ‘That was a very brief introduction. Do you want me to continue? Or would you like to say something?’

  ‘I really don’t want to talk about it.’ And she really didn’t. The story of her scars was not something she had shared with anyone. Ellen felt uncomfortable with his persistence.

  ‘What are they from, Ellen?’ He placed his hands on her shoulders so she couldn’t turn away. She had to answer him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ellen could feel the shame and anger bubbling up inside her. She fought to control her reaction. One of her pills wouldn’t go amiss right now, but she absolutely couldn’t take any in front of Donovan. She focused her mind on delivering a calm response.

  ‘I said, I don’t want to talk about it. If you’re worried about Izzy’s safety around me then you have two choices. Either believe me when I say that your daughter is at no risk whatsoever, or if you don’t believe me, then sack me.’ She felt sick at the thought of being sacked. Where would she go, for God’s sake? Who would employ her once they knew she had been fired because her boss thought she was a danger to his child?

  Donovan dropped his hands from her shoulders. ‘Okay,’ he said with a shrug.

  Ellen’s eyes raced around his face, trying to read the implication of that simple, non-committal response. What the hell did that mean? ‘Okay? Okay what? You believe me or I’m sacked?’

  Donovan was already walking on towards the car. ‘Okay, you’re not sacked,’ he called back over his shoulder.

  Ellen jogged to catch up with him, falling into step at his side. ‘So you believe me?’

  They reached the Range Rover. Donovan pressed the remote lock and with a blip and a clonk the vehicle unlocked. He opened Ellen’s door for her.

  ‘I didn’t say that.’ He flicked the door shut behind her and she sat in the passenger seat watching him walk around the front of the car to the driver’s side. He got in and fastened his seat belt. ‘And before you say anything, if I were you, I’d remember that old saying of quitting while you’re ahead.’

  With that he started the engine. Conversation ended, it would appear. Although, Ellen suspected that it was more like conversation suspended until further notice. She didn’t believe for one moment that Donovan was satisfied with her answer.

  Carla was at the door before Donovan had even time to switch off the engine. Ellen could feel the PA’s eyes, like laser beams, searing into her.

  ‘There’s Carla,’ she said, needlessly glancing at Donovan. His eyes turned to the front door.

  ‘So it is.’ Then he looked back at Ellen. The smile he flashed at Ellen was followed by a small pat on her knee, which although was the lightest and fleeting of touches, felt as if it had seared through her jeans, heating her skin underneath.

  As Ellen got out of the car and followed Donovan up to the door, she found herself wondering what it would be like to feel his hands on her bare skin for real. This thought was quickly dispelled. Donovan was her boss, who was probably merely being friendly. The touch wouldn’t have meant anything to him.

  The sound of Carla cooing at Donovan broke her reverie.

  ‘Is everything all right, Donovan? I was concerned when you didn’t come straight back.’

  ‘We stopped off at
the beach for a bit of fresh air. Sorry, Carla, I should have let you know.’

  Ellen watched as Donovan smiled engagingly at Carla and apologised winningly. Sweet as it was, Ellen couldn’t help wondering why Donovan felt the need to grovel to Carla like that. He was, after all, the boss.

  Ellen smiled at Carla as she closed the door behind the trio. A smile that she so didn’t mean and she suspected Carla knew it.

  ‘I suppose I’d better get back to the coalface,’ said Donovan. ‘Thank you for your company this morning. I’ll catch you later.’

  ‘Bye,’ said Ellen, aware of the feeling of disappointment creeping through her that he would be shut away in his office now for the rest of the day.

  Sighing to herself, Ellen went up to her room and plugged the laptop in. It was completely dead, so while she waited for some life to be fed back into it, she decided she needed to do something constructive to keep herself busy.

  Izzy’s playroom was a good place to start. It could do with brightening up and making into more of a child’s room rather than a sterile medical waiting room. White, plain walls, white shutters and matching white furniture made it feel very clinical. What the room needed, no, correction, what Izzy needed, was brighter colours, pictures, posters, pretty curtains, a rug to cheer the room up and make it a place that a young girl would want to spend time in. It all looked very chic as it was now, but it really wasn’t any fun. Ellen began to make a note of things she wanted to change. Needing a tape measure, she went downstairs to see if Mrs Holloway had one.

  At the foot of the stairs, Ellen noticed a white folded piece of paper on the doormat. She was sure it hadn’t been there when they had come in as someone would have noticed it. She picked it up and, seeing no name on it, opened it out.

  It took a moment for the black, handwritten words to make any sense but when they did, an uneasy feeling of fear launched itself from somewhere in the pit of her stomach.

  SAW YOU AT THE BEACH

  Ellen stared at the words. Obviously it was referring to her and Donovan that morning, but who had seen them? Questions raced each other to the front of her mind. Why had this been sent? What was the purpose of this note? Was it a warning of some kind? And exactly who was it meant for – her or Donovan?

  The door to the office opened and Donovan appeared in the hallway, his mobile to his ear.

  ‘No, it definitely wasn’t me or my secretary. I’m just going to check with the nanny, although she’s been with me all morning, so I can’t see how it could have been.’ He moved the phone away from his mouth. ‘Ellen, you didn’t ring Izzy’s school this morning to make sure she was all right, did you?’

  ‘No,’ replied Ellen. She frowned and shrugged. Donovan gave a small nod of acknowledgement and turned his attention back to the caller. Ellen slowly folded the paper back in half and discreetly slid her hand and the note behind her back. She didn’t know why, but for some reason she didn’t want Donovan to see it, not yet anyway. Not until she had time to think about it. She didn’t want him to be any more twitchy about her presence in the house. She needed this job.

  ‘No. It wasn’t anyone here, Mrs Hudson. Have you checked with Izzy’s mother? Maybe she … Oh, you already have. And it wasn’t her either … well, I can’t really explain it then … Okay. Thank you. Goodbye.’ Donovan ended the call.

  ‘Something wrong?’ asked Ellen.

  Donovan pursed his lips and then shook his head. ‘No. I think the school must have got muddled up with another parent or something. For some reason they thought I had rung to make sure Izzy was okay.’

  ‘But we only left her an hour or so ago.’

  ‘Exactly. And she’s fine so I don’t really know what all the fuss is.’ He turned to go back to his office, then paused, apparently changing his mind, and walked over to Ellen. ‘What’s that you’re hiding?’ His voice sounded light-hearted but Ellen got the distinct feeling he wasn’t actually joking. Obediently, she held the piece of paper out to him.

  ‘I came down just now and found it on the doormat,’ she said.

  Donovan opened the paper and read it. His eyes flicked from the paper to Ellen and back again. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing I should know about you?’ His voice matched the deadpan look on his face.

  ‘It might not be for me,’ she replied nodding towards the note.

  A raise of his dark eyebrows. ‘So you think it’s for me?’

  Ellen shrugged. ‘That could be one theory. Maybe one of your clients?’

  ‘True. And what do you think the purpose of it is?’

  ‘I suppose it depends who it’s for.’

  Donovan appeared to consider this for a moment before folding the paper up again. ‘All very odd.’ This time he eyes rested on her as if he was studying her; trying to make up his mind about something. After a long moment, he spoke. ‘I tell you what, have a little think about things today and come and see me after Izzy’s gone to bed. We’ll have a chat. There might be something you’ve forgotten to mention.’

  Ellen nodded. She didn’t like the cold look in his eyes that perfectly matched the temperature of his voice. She also didn’t like the fact that she may have to tell him more than she wanted.

  Chapter Twelve

  Donovan sat at his desk and looked again at the note he had taken from Ellen. If you could call it a note. He wasn’t sure five words constituted a note. What the hell was it all about? Someone was playing games. What with the hoax telephone call to the school and now this, he didn’t believe in coincidences. Things happened for a reason.

  The sound of his mobile going off and the distinctive tune of the French Marseillaise ringing out told him it was Amanda. Slipping the note into his desk drawer, he answered the call.

  ‘Donovan. I’ve just had a phone call from Isobel’s school. Is everything okay? What’s happening? Is there something wrong?’ Donovan sat patiently waiting for Amanda to pause for breath. ‘The school said Isobel has a new nanny. Is that right? Why haven’t you told me about this?’

  The pause came.

  ‘One question at a time,’ said Donovan. ‘Now listen. Izzy is fine. There is nothing to worry about. The school simply got a message muddled up. Yes, Izzy has a new nanny and I was going to tell you about her the next time we spoke.’

  ‘Really?’

  He could detect her sarcasm in just that one word, but Donovan took a deep breath and made a conscious effort to retain his civility.

  ‘Yes, really. Her name is Ellen and she’s from the agency. Izzy likes her and she seems very nice. She’s great with Izzy. It’s nice to see the pair of them playing together.’

  ‘It sounds like Isobel is not the only one to like her.’

  Donovan chose to ignore this typically barbed Amanda remark. ‘Is there anything else? Only I’ve got a meeting shortly.’

  ‘Text me this girl’s number so I have it in case of emergencies. I’ll be over next weekend to meet her.’

  Amanda finished the call in the same abrupt manner in which she started, leaving Donovan to ponder next weekend’s meeting. He’d better give Ellen the heads up as to what to expect from Amanda. Carla was one thing, but Izzy’s mother was in a different league. That was assuming he hadn’t sacked Ellen by then. It all depended on what she said tonight. She’d only been here a few weeks and she had raised far more questions and concerns than Donovan was comfortable with.

  He buzzed through to Carla in the adjoining office.

  ‘Carla, have you got Ellen’s CV, please?’

  A few minutes later, Carla appeared in his office with a manila file in her hand. She passed it across the desk to him.

  ‘Is anything wrong?’ she asked.

  ‘No, no. Nothing at all.’ Donovan smiled to reassure his PA. ‘Amanda is coming over at the weekend and wants to meet Ellen. I just wanted to get up to date with Ellen’s employment history and so on.’

  The file told him nothing other than the official line. Ellen was twenty-eight, had worked as a nanny for over nine years
, the past seven of those with Cherubs Nanny Agency. She was a qualified nursery nurse. She had been working abroad recently. Came with excellent references. She seemed perfect. That was if you believed in perfect. Donovan didn’t.

  Ellen had been hoping that Donovan wasn’t totally serious about wanting to talk to her that night. However, after sitting through a rather subdued evening meal at the table with him and Izzy, Donovan reminded her of their meeting, as he took Izzy upstairs to read her a story.

  ‘I’ll put Izzy to bed tonight and I will see you at about eight thirty in the living room.’

  It was less of a request, than an order. Ellen nodded her head and mumbled an okay. She gave Izzy a smile and blew her a kiss goodnight.

  ‘I want Ellen to read me a story,’ said Izzy.

  Ellen glanced at Donovan; his face was expressionless. ‘Daddy’s going to sort you out tonight. He’s going to bath you, read you a story and put you to bed. Now, isn’t that nice?’

  Izzy shrugged. Ellen suppressed a groan. She didn’t want Donovan to feel pushed out by his own daughter. She tried again, remembering Donovan had told her about a late business meeting he had scheduled the following day. ‘I’ll do it tomorrow night. Promise.’

  ‘Possibly,’ said Donovan under his breath. Ellen pretended not to notice. He continued. ‘Half eight then, Ellen.’ He picked his daughter up and blew a raspberry on the side of her neck. ‘Come on, gorgeous, let’s get you sorted.’ Izzy giggled in delight. Her apparent desire to have Ellen put her to bed was forgotten.

  The allotted time came round far too quickly for Ellen’s liking. She had decided she would tell Donovan some of the things, but not everything. She would play it by ear and see how much she could get away with not saying. The fact that he was a criminal psychologist could put a bit of a dampener on her plan. She rather suspected he would know far more than she realised.

  Going downstairs, she tapped gently on the living-room door, which was slightly ajar.

  ‘Come in.’ Donovan was sitting on one of the large pale-blue sofas situated either side of the fireplace. The far wall housed built-in white shelving stocked with books. An array of scatter cushions filled the seating in the bay window and French doors opened onto the side garden. The room was decorated in neutral, pastel tones, creating a calming and airy feeling which, together with the high ceilings, made it seem twice as big as it was. Ellen had only been in here once before, choosing to spend her evenings in her room or the kitchen. She noted with approval the original coving and the ornate ceiling rose. Very tasteful. Although, it was no different to what she would have expected. The rest of the house was exactly the same. Understated, but expensive.