by Sue Fortin
‘Neither is an option, Ellen, and I mean that,’ said Donovan. ‘You really think running away is going to solve this? I’ve told you before, it will only follow you. He will find you again and then I dread to think what will happen. And if it’s not him, you staying won’t actually make any difference. I can’t let you disappear. I would be worried sick about you. How could I have that on my conscience?’
‘You’re not responsible for me,’ said Ellen.
‘I became responsible for you the moment you walked over that threshold,’ he said. ‘As your employer I have a duty of care towards you.’
‘If I go, you’re not my employer and that duty of care ends.’
‘But you’re also my daughter’s friend, which, by default, means I have a duty of care to you.’ He paused; knew he shouldn’t say what was on the tip of his tongue but also knew he was going to, all the same. ‘And you mean something to me so, once again, by default, I care about you.’
‘What happened to the duty bit?’ Her voice was almost a whisper. He saw her swallow but her eyes held his.
‘There’s no duty where you are concerned.’ Jesus, this was difficult. With the utmost restraint, he remained motionless, fighting every urge to lean forwards to kiss her, yet unable to pull away.
She made the slightest of nodding movements with her head, as if she understood exactly what he was saying, exactly what he was thinking. What she did next would tell him everything. Did she feel the same? Donovan was aware that he was holding his breath. Waiting.
She leaned into him, her head nestling in his shoulder. The answer was yes. A shy, tentative, maybe slightly confused, or even nervous, yes. But a yes, nonetheless.
He held her for a few minutes, stroking her back, twiddling the ends of her hair with his fingers. She looked up at him and he could see exactly what she wanted reflecting back in her eyes.
He leant in to kiss her and without hesitation she kissed him back. A long, deep kiss. His tongue toyed with hers and explored her mouth. Without pausing, she returned the gesture.
Dear Lord, he wanted her in every possible way, however, his need to know the truth about Ellen Newman came to the fore. He had to force himself to stop the physical desire of his body taking over. It took every ounce of resistance he could muster. There were things he needed to know before he could sleep with her. Now wasn’t the time to raise those questions.
‘I’d better go,’ he said standing up. He couldn’t fail to see the look of disappointment settle on her features for a moment or two. Then the disquieting look was gone and Ellen was composed. ‘This isn’t the right time. Not yet. Not tonight.’
‘Yes, you’re right. The timing is all wrong.’
He gave her one last kiss on the mouth. ‘Goodnight. Sweet dreams, Cinderellen.’
Leaving the room, he was well aware he hadn’t handled that as graciously as Ellen deserved but he needed physical distance from her tonight. Plenty of it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Donovan had insisted they have a walk along Felpham seafront again this weekend. The egging of Halloween night had been put behind them. Both Ellen and Donovan had reassured Izzy it was only teenage high jinks, which she seemed to accept. Ellen, too was clinging on to this idea, despite Carla’s polar-opposite opinion and Donovan’s inclination to agree with his PA.
‘If it was someone other than a trick-or-treater, I’m sure they would have done a lot worse,’ said Ellen, doggedly refusing to change her mind. ‘A few eggs and flour is such a teenage thing to do.’
‘Why weren’t any of the other houses egged, then?’ retorted Carla. ‘I checked and no one had any teenage high jinks at their houses.’ She emphasised the expression in a derogatory way.
‘Because, it wouldn’t be particularly wise to egg someone’s house and then nip next door to do it again.’ Ellen huffed out loud. ‘It’s obvious they would run off, probably to the next street or the one after.’
‘All right, let’s leave it there,’ said Donovan.
‘It’s just a coincidence,’ said Ellen, not being able to hold the words back.
‘I don’t believe in coincidences,’ said Donovan. He muttered something along the lines of some people being ostrich-like and Ellen decided that it really was time to drop the subject. Carla appeared to be of the same opinion too. Thank goodness.
Ellen had forced herself to be civil towards Carla, who herself seemed to have adopted the same attitude. Polite and civil but nothing more and purely for Donovan and Izzy’s sake.
Ellen was pleased to get out of the house today, despite the distinctly wintery feel. She was used to the sea air now and actually beginning to enjoy the freshness of the winter wind and salty taste on her lips. Her mask of a city slicker was slipping fast. Perhaps she was a country girl, after all.
Donovan and Ellen held Izzy’s hands and were swinging her between them. A couple walking towards them smiled as Izzy squealed in delight. The thought flashed through Ellen’s mind that the three of them must look like a little family enjoying a Sunday-afternoon walk. The thought was pleasing. She glanced across at Donovan, who must have sensed her gaze, for he looked up and shared her smile, but the look in his eyes betrayed him. There was something there, a look she didn’t recognise.
‘Izzy, why don’t you throw some stones into the water,’ suggested Donovan, slipping his hand from his daughter’s. He picked her up and jumped down onto the stony beach. ‘Go on. Ellen and I will watch you from here.’ He sat on the wall, looking on, as Izzy scrambled down the shallow pebbles to the water’s edge. He didn’t turn as he spoke to Ellen. ‘Come and sit down, Ellen. Or should I say Helen? Helen Matthews.’
The horizon swayed from one side to the other; her legs felt heavy and useless. Quickly, Ellen sat down, afraid she would collapse in a heap if she didn’t. Closing her eyes for a moment, she willed her breathing to a steady rate. When she looked again, the horizon was still.
‘Helen Matthews doesn’t exist any more,’ she said, aware that her voice was no more than a mumble. ‘Helen Matthews was weak, full of self-doubt. She allowed herself to be manipulated, controlled and …’
‘And abused,’ Donovan interjected.
‘I have as little to do with Helen Matthews as possible,’ said Ellen. The wind was making her eyes water. She wiped her face. Watery eyes. Not tears. Who was she trying to kid?
‘You should have told me.’ His voice was soft. There was no reproach in it but there was also no pity. She was glad. She didn’t want to be pitied. But he was right, she should have told him.
‘I know and I’m sorry.’
‘Please, Ellen, is there anything I need to know? I don’t do surprises.’ His hand slid along the concrete sea wall, his fingers finding hers.
Ellen looked on as Izzy ran up and down the beach, dodging the incoming waves and throwing stone after stone into the grey water. She looked down at his hand clasped over her own. She relaxed her fingers and allowed Donovan to lace his through hers.
‘No more surprises.’ She tightened her grip. ‘I promise.’
This time it took a little longer for the note to appear on the doormat. This time it was Izzy who found it.
‘Look Daddy! Look Ellen! There’s a picture of us on the beach.’ Izzy’s voice rang out down the hallway.
Ellen tore down the hall to reach her, nearly bumping straight into Donovan as he shot out from the living room.
‘Give it to me,’ they said in unison, both holding their hands out.
Seeing the look of panic on Izzy’s face, Ellen dropped her hand immediately and, crouching down in front of the child, she smiled. ‘A picture of us? How nice. Why don’t you show it to Daddy first?’ She put her hand reassuringly on Izzy’s back. ‘That’s a good girl. Give it to Daddy. Excellent. Well done. I can’t wait to see it myself.’
‘Yes you can,’ muttered Donovan. ‘That’s a great picture, Izzy. I’ll keep that in my study and I can look at it when I’m busy working. It will make me feel happy.’
‘Of course, run along down to the kitchen, I think Mrs Holloway is doing it now.’
Ellen watched as Donovan dropped a kiss on his daughter’s head before the eight-year-old skipped down the tiled passageway.
‘May I see?’ asked Ellen, taking hold of the edge of the paper. For a moment she thought Donovan was going to refuse, but he must have changed his mind. Ellen let out a little gasp as she looked at the image in front of her.
This time it was a photograph of her, Donovan and Izzy, taken this morning walking along the seafront, all holding hands. The words were once again handwritten.
HAPPY FAMILIES
‘You’re not telling me this is a coincidence, are you?’ she said, needlessly.
Donovan pursed his lips, pinching the bottom one between his finger and thumb. He spoke after a moment. ‘It’s still not clear who this is directed at. You or me?’
‘We still don’t know if it’s from Toby or a client.’
‘I’ll look into getting CCTV put up.’
‘Isn’t that a bit late now?’ said Ellen. It came out with rather more sarcasm than she intended.
‘Not if whoever it is comes back again,’ said Donovan, he held Ellen’s gaze for a moment. He was taking this seriously and left her in no doubt that he did not welcome her tone.
‘Sorry.’ Ellen looked down at the ground, to avoid reading the unspoken words.
‘I’ll be in my office,’ he said before heading back to his study, muttering something about security gates. He seemed to be doing a lot of muttering lately. Ellen let out a sigh. This house would be like a fortress. If only there was some way of finding out who was behind it all and why. Surely it couldn’t be Toby. What purpose would it all serve? He had probably moved on to a new girlfriend by now. He really wouldn’t be interested in her, still.
It was something of a surprise later when Donovan came up to the playroom where Ellen was putting up some new curtains she had bought. They were a lovely pink and green fabric with little flowers. They matched the new bedspread Ellen had ordered, adding some much-needed colour to Izzy’s room.
Izzy was practising her violin, a noise that Ellen had become not only accustomed to but, somewhat thankfully, deaf to as well. The sound of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star being screeched out, like a cat with its tail shut in a door, was rather abusive to the ears.
‘Looks nice in here,’ said Donovan, above the F sharp impersonation of chalk on a blackboard. ‘Izzy. Izzy! Stop a minute, please.’
Ellen looked round as Donovan, smiling at his daughter, gently coaxed the bow away from the strings. ‘Sorry, Izzy, hold fire for the moment. I was just admiring your room. It looks lovely in here. Did you decide what colour you want the fireplace wall painted?’
‘I want it pink,’ declared Izzy. Abandoning the musical instrument, she ran over to her desk and picked up a little pot of tester paint. ‘This one. Ellen painted some squares on the wall and said I could choose. This is my favourite.’
Ellen got down from the chair she had been standing on to reach the top of the curtain pole. She watched Donovan go over to the wall and thoroughly inspect each square. He nodded his approval and in a most serious voice spoke to Izzy. ‘Yes, I like that one too. Not too dark and not too babyish. Good choice.’
Izzy beamed and Ellen realised she was beaming too. It made her happy to think Donovan was pleased.
‘Now, the reason I came up, was this,’ he said, sitting on the edge of the bed with Izzy on his lap. ‘I’ve had a phone call from Mummy this afternoon and she wants to take you out for tea as it’s Sebastian’s birthday. She said you could have a sleepover at her house and she will take you to school tomorrow. How would you like that?’
‘Will we have tea at McDonalds?’ said Izzy with the innocent enthusiasm of an eight-year-old.
Ellen suppressed a giggle but catching Donovan’s eye, who was equally entertained at the idea, she couldn’t stop a snort of laughter erupting out.
‘I don’t think it will be McDonalds. I’m not sure Sebastian would like that for his birthday tea,’ said Donovan.
Izzy pulled a face. ‘It will probably be with lots of other grown-ups.’
This time, Ellen felt a wave of compassion rush over her. Poor Izzy, she was probably right. It would be a load of stuffy grown-ups. She tried to make it sound better. ‘But you get to have a sleepover at Mummy’s. And I bet you’ll get to have a fantastically huge slice of chocolate cake for pudding. Wish I was going.’
‘Can you come too? You can sleep in the same room as me.’ Izzy’s face lit up. ‘Can she, Daddy?’
Ellen pulled an ‘eek’ sort of face at Donovan. He returned it. ‘I’m sorry, angel, but Ellen can’t. She’s supposed to have time off at weekends, but for some reason she still likes to hang around. So, tonight, seeing as you’re not here, Ellen is having the evening off and she’s going out.’
Ellen went to correct this. She wasn’t going out at all. She never went out. And Donovan knew that but she managed to say nothing. Donovan was just getting her out of a sticky situation.
‘Where are you going? asked Izzy, not sounding entirely convinced.
Donovan spoke first. ‘She’s going out to dinner. To a very nice restaurant in Chichester. Now, you need to get bathed and ready for when mummy comes, which I’m sure Ellen will help you with and then after that, you, Ellen, need to get bathed and ready for your night out.’
‘That sounds like a good plan to me,’ said Ellen enthusiastically, going along with her boss.
Donovan got up and lowered Izzy to the floor. ‘So, Izzy, you’re to be ready for five and Ellen, you’re to be ready for seven thirty.’
Ellen gave a mock salute. ‘Sir. Yes, Sir!’
Donovan came over to her. ‘I am actually being serious. Best frock. I’m taking you out.’
Ellen could only watch open-mouthed as he sauntered out of the playroom, throwing her a cheeky wink as he went through the doorway. Her stomach was doing a crazy tumbling act, like an acrobatic display team on speed. Donovan was taking her out. Eeeek!
Chapter Twenty-Three
Looking out of the upstairs window, watching Izzy head off with Amanda, sent an unexpected pang through Ellen. She had grown very attached to the little girl; she was so easy to love. Much like her father. Ellen had to admit she was growing fonder and fonder of Donovan each day. She enjoyed his company and was happiest whenever he was around. Even when he was locked away in his study, the knowledge that he was in the same house as her gave her a warm, reassuring feeling.
Her thoughts migrated back to what was happening that night. Donovan was taking her out for a meal. She couldn’t deny the excitement she felt and, smiling, she gave herself a little hug. Time to get ready.
It wasn’t until she came to look at her clothing selection that Ellen realised the term ‘posh frock’ had never made it to her wardrobe. Not her wardrobe of the last few months anyway. She hadn’t needed anything remotely posh whilst working at the French campsite and since living back in the UK in the Donovan household, she hadn’t needed anything except jeans and a jumper.
She fanned her hand across the clothing hanging on the rail, like a pianist thumbing over the keys of a baby grand. It made no odds. There was nothing tucked away in there she had forgotten about. She had one pair of black trousers that could probably pass for ‘going out’ and a blouse. But they were the stuff job interviews were made of.
Reluctantly she showered and dressed; making an extra effort with her hair and make-up to compensate for the rather sensible clothing. Where was your fairy Godmother when you needed her? How come Cinderella got all the luck?
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. ‘Come in!’ she called. It could only be Donovan. No one else was in the house. She stood on the rug in the middle of the room, feeling slightly embarrassed, not only in her appe
arance, but because it was as though they were having their first formal date. Her first date with anyone in years. The door didn’t open. ‘Come in!’ she called louder this time. Okay, it looked as though she was going to have to open it herself.
Ellen pulled the door open. ‘Ta-dah!’ The words faded onto the empty landing. There was no one there. She poked her head around the doorway and looked down the hall. Empty. It was then she felt her foot make contact with something. She jumped and looked down at the floor.
A white rectangular box, tied up with pink ribbon fashioned into a bow.
‘Donovan?’ she called gingerly down the hallway. ‘Donovan!’
Her pulse began to throb in her neck and her throat constricted. She looked down at the box.
Ellen slowly stepped over the box and backed along the hallway, before turning and running down the stairs, taking them two at a time. She hit the middle landing with such force that she had to grab the newel post to stop herself slamming into the banister that overlooked the hallway.
Two strong arms embraced her. She let out a yelp.
‘Hey! Ellen. It’s me. It’s okay.’ Donovan’s concerned voice brought her eyes into focus. ‘What’s wrong?’ He stood back from her holding her at arm’s length, studying her face.
Ellen looked around, aware she was probably appearing like some wild woman. ‘There’s a box. A white box outside my room.’
Donovan nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘That’s right.’
‘With pink ribbon around it.’
‘Tied in a bow. Yep.’
‘You know about it?’
‘Don’t you like it?’ asked Donovan.
‘Like what? The box?’ Ellen shook her head. ‘How do you know about the box?’
‘I put it there. It’s a present for you.’
‘For me?’
‘You don’t like it?’
