by Sue Fortin
‘You can buy them over the counter.’ Her voice called out. ‘A natural herbal remedy for stressful situations. Non-addictive. Totally legal.’
Donovan returned the pills to the bottle and after replacing the lid, he put it back in the wash bag. The relief was back but this time accompanied by a sense of shame. He couldn’t help but feel a complete shit. He’d had no right to march in here and go through her belongings as though she was some criminal. She deserved to be treated better.
He returned to the bedroom. Ellen was still standing in the middle of the room.
‘Do you believe me now?’ she said.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Donovan. It was wholly inadequate. Sorry didn’t even begin to cover it.
‘You only had to ask.’
He nodded. ‘I know.’ He stood in front of her, closer than was necessary. He knew he was invading her personal space but he wanted to be near her. He wanted to hold her, feel her against him, trace a line over her shoulders with his hands. Hold her. Kiss her. Explore her. He held those thoughts at bay. There was more he needed to know.
‘I’ve got to ask you a couple of things. I’m only going to ask once and I want you to give me an honest answer. Promise?’ His voice was low, his forehead almost resting on the top of her head. He could feel the warmth of her breath against the hollow of his neck.
Looking up at him from under her eyelashes, she looked so beautiful. There was a vulnerability but also depth. ‘I promise.’ The strength in her voice dared him to ask her, challenging him to beat her. He liked her spirit. She was a fighter, that was for sure.
‘Have you ever slapped a child?’
She drew breath sharply and the look of surprise on her face told him she wasn’t expecting that. The look of indignation that swiftly followed told him the answer before she even spoke a word.
‘No. Categorically and emphatically no. Never.’ She took a step back as if the mere suggestion was too distasteful to be near.
It was the response he wanted. His hopes rose a level. Now for the next question.
‘Is there a shred of truth in what Toby suggested earlier.’
This one she had obviously been expecting. She looked him straight in the eye. Her hands moved to her sides and her shoulders tipped back.
‘Not. A. Single. Shred.’
Again it was the response he hoped for. It was the truth. That he was sure about.
‘Thank you,’ he said softly.
‘You believe me?’
‘Without a doubt.’
She crumpled. He caught her in his arms. She cried. He held her tight.
A tsunami of emotion flooded from her. Most of all he sensed the relief. He continued to hold her until the wave of feeling receded and the sobs had died to a sniffle.
‘Oh, Donovan. I was so worried you would think I had mental health problems. That you would believe him.’
‘He was good, but not that good.’ He cupped her face and kissed her tear-streaked skin. ‘Like you said, it’s in the eyes.’
He felt her hands draw across his back and his own made their way down her neck, over her shoulders, pulling her tightly to him, their bodies melding together.
God, he wanted her. His kisses travelled to her mouth and she responded eagerly. Her hands now at the waist band of his trousers. He groaned as she slipped her hand inside his boxer shorts.
Discarding her clothing like a quick-change artist, Ellen positioned herself on the bed, propped on one elbow, running her fingers tips over her thigh as she watched him undress.
He forced himself to take his time as he climbed onto the bed, rolling her onto her back, his hands either side of her head as she opened her legs so his knees were in between hers.
‘Wait, I need to ask you one thing?’ she said.
‘What? Now?’ He kissed her and smiled. ‘Is it important?’
‘Yes. Your name. What’s your name? It doesn’t seem very romantic calling you by your surname all the time.’
He let out a laugh. ‘Believe me, my surname is the better option and if I told you now it would kill the moment. It is neither exciting nor romantic.’
He kissed her again, this time not breaking contact, so she couldn’t say anything. She made a small whimper of a noise, turned her head away and mumbled. ‘Okay, you win. For now.’
He closed his mouth on hers and let her guide him into her. Soft, warm and welcoming. She clearly wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Donovan paused to enjoy the sensation of being inside her, not moving, just taking a moment to commit this feeling to memory. Her gaze met his. Intense and sincere. His own feelings reflecting right back at him.
‘It’s always in the eyes,’ he said.
She nodded. ‘Always.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
When Ellen arrived downstairs the following morning with Izzy for breakfast, she was surprised to see Donovan sitting at the kitchen table with a man she had never seen before. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, his hair was cut quite short, rather like someone who was in the military. He was wearing a suit and Ellen assumed he must be a business colleague of Donovan’s, here for a breakfast meeting. This idea was supported by the fact that Carla was there too. Mrs Holloway was busy making a fresh pot of tea. She turned and smiled at Ellen, indicating that she should sit down at the table. A proper welcoming committee, if ever there was one. Perhaps they weren’t having a breakfast meeting, after all. Ellen ushered Izzy into her seat.
‘I didn’t expect to see you this morning, Donovan,’ said Ellen, buttering Izzy a slice of toast. ‘I thought you were away in London for a few days. Profiling for the Met.’
‘I’m going up there a bit later. I wanted to introduce you to Ben.’ Donovan nodded towards the man.
‘Hello,’ said Ellen, still not sure what this was about. Was she supposed to know who Ben was? Had Donovan mentioned him? She didn’t think so.
‘Good morning, Ellen. Hello, Izzy,’ Ben said. He smiled at them both.
‘Ben is going to be with us for a while. He’ll be able to drive you around, do the school run, after-school clubs, shopping, that sort of thing. He’ll even go to the park with you,’ said Donovan. The over-casual tone to his voice, told Ellen everything in a heartbeat. Ben was, in effect, going to be some sort of bodyguard. Donovan was obviously spooked enough about the latest incidents. Ellen wasn’t quite sure how she felt. In some respects, having Ben there would be reassuring but on the flipside, his presence would just reinforce the idea that she was in danger.
‘You are going to be our driver?’ asked Izzy.
‘That’s right,’ said Ben. ‘I’m here to help out your dad, especially while he is away.’
‘Okay.’ It was a simple acceptance. Izzy appeared unperturbed by it. Maybe Ellen should simply accept it like Izzy had. She could tell by Donovan’s tense body language that there really was no choice in the matter.
‘I have to leave now,’ said Donovan, standing up and taking one last mouthful of his tea. He put the cup back down on the table and, walking round to Izzy, kissed her on top of the head. ‘Now be a good girl for Ellen and I’ll be back in a few days.’
‘Are you coming back for the music show?’ asked Izzy.
‘Of course, I wouldn’t miss your show. I’m looking forward to it.’ Donovan half-grinned, half-grimaced across the table at Ellen. She suppressed a giggle. Hearing Izzy play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on the violin for the past few weeks had been painful enough, but the thought of hearing a quartet of eight-year-olds doing the same was terrifying.
‘Daddy is really looking forward to hearing you all play together,’ said Ellen, smiling at Izzy whilst trying not to laugh.
‘I most certainly am,’ said Donovan. ‘I tell you what. Why don’t we bring Ellen along too? I’m sure she’d love to listen to you.’
Ellen was about to protest when she saw the look of excitement on Izzy’s face. ‘Will you come, Ellen? Please.’
How was Ellen supposed to say no? ‘I
’d love to. What a good idea.’
‘Excellent. That’s that sorted,’ said Donovan. He grinned at Ellen and then had the effrontery to throw her a cheeky wink. ‘I really must go. Have a good week everyone and I’ll see you soon.’
Ellen realised that she was still grinning as she poured herself another cup of tea. She looked up. Carla was looking at her. Only this time, instead of a frosty glare, Ellen was certain there was almost a warmth behind the PA’s eyes. That would be a first. As if confirming Ellen’s thoughts, Carla smiled at her. Another first. Ellen smiled back, the previous feeling of empathy morphing into camaraderie. It felt good.
The next few days felt like a week. The time dragged while Izzy was at school and three-fifteen became Ellen’s highlight of the day. Ben proved to be a good companion for the few days Donovan was away. It was nice to have someone who she could relax with and just chat about everyday things. Donovan was due back the following day and Ben was helping Ellen put the finishing touches to the paintwork in Izzy’s bedroom.
‘That looks great. Thanks for all your help,’ said Ellen.
‘No problem. I quite enjoyed it.’
‘Is there no end to your talents?’
‘Probably. Just haven’t found it yet,’ said Ben.
She had tried to probe him about his background but he had been particularly vague. She had managed to glean dribs and drabs from conversations that he had, indeed, been in the military once upon a time, but now worked in the private sector. He used the term ‘driver’ but Ellen knew as well as he did that he was far more than merely a driver. She had to admit that despite the thought slightly unsettling her, it was outweighed by the comfort this knowledge brought. She liked the feeling of security he offered. It was the same feeling she got when Donovan was around. Having Ben there kept that sense of security in place.
Ellen was also pleased with the new direction her relationship with Carla had taken. Although they hadn’t yet reached the cosy-sit-down-and-have-a-chat-over-coffee level, things were definitely improving between the two of them, which had a positive knock-on effect to the whole house – the atmosphere was definitely much lighter.
After dropping Izzy at school, Ellen now found herself with time on her hands. She flicked on her laptop and fired off an email to Kate.
Hi
Hope you are well. How’s that lovely little brother of yours – turned into a miserable teenager yet?
I had a bit of a shock the other day. Toby turned up at the house. I have no idea how he found me. It was awful. I’ll have to tell you about it properly when I see you but, basically, he spoke to Donovan and was trying to convince him I had mental health issues – that I was crazy. Fortunately, Donovan didn’t believe him.
There’s been a lot of weird things going on around here lately. I’d say come down and visit but it’s probably best to leave it until all this stuff has died down. Don’t worry about anything, though, I’ll keep you up to date. Just be on your guard with Toby. I wouldn’t put anything past him, as you well know.
Love and hugs, as ever.
Xx
By the time Thursday afternoon arrived, Ellen wasn’t sure who was most excited at the prospect of Donovan coming home. Her or Izzy.
The whoop of delight and being swept up into his arms in a big hug was, however, strictly reserved for Izzy, much as Ellen felt she wanted to do pretty much the same. She had missed him being around the house this week.
‘Wasn’t sure I was going to make it; the traffic has been dreadful,’ said Donovan, putting Izzy down and closing the front door behind him. To Ellen’s surprise and, she had to admit, delight, he then proceeded to give her a kiss on the mouth and wrapping his arm around her held her for a moment. ‘That feels good.’ He didn’t seem the least bit bothered if anyone saw. He continued to talk as if it was the most natural thing in the world. ‘How’s everything been? All quiet on the Western Front?’
‘Nothing to report,’ said Ellen, trying to maintain a calm exterior, despite the happiness she felt inside that he was home. ‘Everything is fine.’
‘That’s good. Oh, hello Carla,’ he said, looking beyond Ellen’s shoulder. ‘I’ll be with you shortly.’
‘Hello, Donovan. I’ll make you a coffee.’ She returned to the office.
Donovan looked at Ellen. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘She’s got a lot on her mind at the moment?’ said Ellen. ‘I’ll tell you about it later.’
Donovan raised his eyebrows, a look of curiosity on his face.
‘Later,’ insisted Ellen, stealing another kiss. ‘Come on, we need to get ready for Izzy’s music concert.’
‘Now you’re using the word music very liberally,’ said Donovan.
‘All the right notes, just in the wrong order,’ said Ellen through a smile. She flicked him lightly on the arm. ‘Now get moving.’
Donovan and Ellen sat next to each other on blue plastic chairs, squashed in the hall, with about one hundred other proud parents, all there to watch the annual music evening. There was barely any room to move, especially as it was a cold wintry evening and most people were wrapped in bulky coats. Ellen found herself squeezed right up against Donovan, their shoulders touching. It was a nice feeling, one which Donovan appeared to share in, for instead of moving his end seat further out into the aisle, he chose to stay where he was. Throughout the event, they exchanged small smiles of amusement as they watched and listened to the children file on stage with their various instruments, play a well-rehearsed tune and then totter off again. Some had rather more musical prowess than others.
‘Here we go, Izzy’s turn,’ whispered Donovan, leaning even closer to Ellen. ‘Have I got the earplugs or have you?’
Ellen got through the performance without wincing too much. She swapped sideways looks with Donovan every now and then when a note wasn’t quite achieved. Fortunately, this particular rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star was only one verse and one chorus long. At the end they both applauded loudly, Donovan clearly sharing in Ellen’s relief that it was over. Bless Izzy, she did look so proud of herself and, despite the torture his ears had endured, Donovan too, looked extremely proud of his daughter. Father and daughter waved and smiled at each other, which Ellen found touching.
The scramble to leave the hall at the end of the concert was second only to the January sales in Oxford Street, thought Ellen, as avoiding elbow nudges and impatient feet clipping the back of their heels, they were swept along in a throng of parents.
Out in the playground, where they had to wait at the classroom doors to collect their children, the parents gathered in the rain. The poor weather had started off earlier as a gentle drizzle but had now developed into a steadier downpour. Ellen wished she had thought to bring an umbrella.
‘We’re going to get soaked getting to the car,’ she said, remembering that Ben had needed to park outside the school grounds. The school car park was only small and had been full when they arrived. The driveway of the school swept round to the main entrance, providing a one-way system for drop off and pick up. ‘Shall I go and find Ben and get him to bring the car round here?’
‘I’d rather you didn’t go off on your own,’ began Donovan, before he was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder from another parent.
‘Hello, it’s Isobel’s father, isn’t it? Plenty of room under here for you,’ said a mother, raising her umbrella to cover Donovan’s head.
Ellen didn’t relish the thought of either trying to squeeze, uninvited, under the umbrella, or standing in the rain while the two parents chatted. ‘Be back in a minute,’ she said quickly, before breaking into a small run and heading out to find Ben and the car. She heard Donovan call after her but chose to ignore him. All she wanted to do right now was to get in the dry.
Oakdale School was in a truly lovely setting, thought Ellen; a small Sussex village nestled in the South Downs. On a winter’s evening like tonight, however, with the persistent rain, the wind whipping up, and to make matters worse, hardly an
y street lighting, the appeal just wasn’t there.
Ellen peered up the road, her eyes scanning the row of cars parked along the grass verge. She thought she’d be able to see the black Range Rover above the other vehicles, but only now she remembered that a large four by four was a popular choice amongst the parents. The lack of lighting wasn’t helping, and the fact that all the vehicles were empty, their owners no doubt waiting, like Donovan, for the children to be let out. Ellen made her way along the narrow footpath. She could see a big black four-wheel-drive at the end which looked as though it could be Donovan’s.
The slamming of something or someone into her shoulder was so unexpected that, at first, Ellen didn’t even register the pain. Her brain didn’t have time to make sense of what was happening as she collided with the high brick wall that surrounded the school grounds.
She felt a hand grab her shoulder. To stop her falling, she thought. Funny how you can think things in a nanosecond. Ellen wondered if she was thinking quickly or if events were happening slowly. She turned her head to see who had come to her rescue, but instead of seeing a friendly face, she saw the silver of a watch strap and the hand at the end, clenched in a fist coming her way. In that moment, the sudden realisation that she was being attacked registered. Instinctively, she threw her head to the right to try and avoid the blow. Hard-boned knuckles connecting with her left cheekbone, sending a ripple of pins and needles surging out across her skin. Her right eyebrow made contact with the brick wall but the adrenalin tearing through her body smothered the pain, much the same way as her attacker’s hand smothered her mouth, eliminating any sound.
Ellen heard a stifled groan and realised it had come from her. She clawed at the hand over her mouth but the grip was tight, squeezing the sides of her face so firmly into her mouth, she thought her skin would tear.
She knew she was panicking. She needed to think straight. Her survival instinct kicked in. She brought her knee up swiftly, using all the strength she had in her, making contact with his groin. Simultaneously, she forced her mouth to open wider, the top of his hand slipped between her teeth. She bit down on the flesh. He let out a yell of pain and instantly released his hold on her.
