Closing In. Sue Fortin
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say anything but looked encouragingly at her, allowing the silence to give a sense of expectation. A technique he often used with his clients to get them to speak. Invariably it worked. Ellen was not immune to this tactic. ‘I had a flat in North London with my boyfriend but we split up. That’s how I ended up working abroad.’
She stood up and took her bowl and cup over to the dishwasher, clearly not wanting to pursue the conversation.
‘Any chance you’ll get back together?’
‘No.’
The reply was out almost before he had time to finish his sentence. She sure was definite about that.
‘Amicable break-up, was it?’ Donovan knew he was verging on the point of being nosy but he felt his questions justified. He was, after all, entrusting his most precious thing, his daughter, in her safe keeping. She was facing him now and looked as if she was contemplating telling him to mind his own business. He felt compelled to explain his questioning. ‘Look, Ellen, I don’t mean to pry but it’s just I like to know who is looking after my daughter. I don’t want you running off back to your boyfriend if you suddenly decided the grass wasn’t greener after all.’ For a moment he thought she was going to take offence, the indignation clear on her face. He watched as she visibly reined in her emotions, letting out a breath before speaking.
‘Of course, you’re absolutely right to ask. I understand.’ Her voice was calm. ‘I can assure you, there is absolutely no chance whatsoever that I will be going back to my boyfriend. That was all over six months ago and I haven’t been tempted once since then to reconsider my decision. This job is a new start for me and I am fully committed to looking after your daughter. I have her best interest at heart. I really do.’
‘Thank you,’ said Donovan. ‘That’s what I wanted to hear.’
‘Good. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Donovan.’
Ellen firmly closed the door to her room and sank down onto her bed, her legs suddenly feeling weak and her shoulders heavy. She ran her fingers over the circular marks on her right arm. They were rough under her fingertips but no longer hurt. The physical pain had gone. The pain she felt inside, in her mind, was not so eager to leave.
Still feeling bad tempered from his wasted efforts Toby crashed around the kitchen of his apartment whilst making a decent cup of coffee. One which he had no intention of throwing on the floor this time. He had been sure from the guilty look on Kate’s face that the envelope held the key to Helen’s whereabouts. He leaned back against the counter and sipped his coffee, his eyes idly wandering over the notice board on the wall opposite. It was a pink quilted heart that Helen had made and proudly hung in place herself, since he had refused to. It wasn’t his style but he relented and left it there since it was round the corner and not in full view. It still had her stuff on it. A photo of them on holiday in St Lucia last year. Another photo of Scruffs in his usual position; sprawled out across the sofa. His eyes moved over the board. A couple of receipts. A shopping list. A retro black and white postcard of the Hollywood actor Paul Newman, an icon Helen adored, shared the same pin as a dental appointment card alongside a takeaway menu for the local Chinese.
He stopped in mid-thought. His eyes flicked back to the dental card. When was the appointment? Maybe he could wait outside the dentist, just in case she attended. Putting his cup down, his attention firmly fixed on the card, he walked over and unpinned it, ignoring the picture of Paul Newman, which fell to the floor.
He turned the appointment card over and was disappointed to see that the routine check-up had been and gone. He wondered if they would give him any information as to a new address for her. It was too late to ring them now; he’d contact them in the morning. He placed the card in his wallet. As he went to finish making his coffee, his foot kicked the postcard, which had landed face down on the floor. Toby bent to retrieve the card. Absently he glanced at the message on the back, written to Helen from Kate.
I know you said you fancied a new man but this is the best I could come up with.
Lol.
Kate xxx
Toby reread the message. Turned the card over and then back again. New man. Paul Newman. Newman.
He pulled his iPhone from his pocket and hastily located the picture he had taken of the envelope at Kate’s flat. Ellen Newman.
A warm feeling of victory ebbed over him.
‘Clever, sweetheart,’ he muttered, ‘but not that clever.’
Ellen woke early the next morning after a night of restless sleep. She showered and dressed before making her way downstairs to Izzy’s room. Poking her head around the corner of the door, she expected to see the little girl fast asleep, it was so quiet in there. Instead, Izzy was sitting up in her bed looking at a book.
‘Good morning, Izzy,’ said Ellen. ‘You’re up early. You should have come and woken me.’
‘But I’m not allowed. Carla says I must stay in bed until someone comes to get me for breakfast. Is it breakfast time?’
‘Not yet but we can get you dressed and go downstairs, if you want.’
‘We’re not allowed to until breakfast time,’ said Izzy, looking up at Ellen. ‘It’s the rules.’
‘The rules? Whose rules are those?’ Ellen felt her hackles go up. Carla and her rules. Whose house was this? Then, noticing the anxious look on Izzy’s face, she felt bad about asking the child. ‘Hey, don’t worry. We can have some of our own rules. In fact, my first new rule is … we can get up early and go exploring. How does that sound? You can show me the garden. I haven’t been out there yet.’
Izzy looked delighted at the suggestion. ‘The garden? Really?’ Discarding her book with abandonment, she threw back her duvet and jumped onto the floor. ‘I can show you my trampoline.’
‘Excellent! Let’s get you washed and dressed then.’
The grass was still a little damp from the morning dew. Trees shielded the garden from the sight of neighbouring properties, their long shadows cast across the lawn.
The trampoline was at the far end of the garden, next to a wooden climbing frame and swing.
‘Race you to the trampoline,’ said Ellen. ‘Ready, steady … hey! You’re supposed to wait for me to say go!’ She laughed as Izzy sped off down the neatly kept lawn. Ellen ran after her but made sure she didn’t catch up.
‘I win! I win!’ sang out Izzy as she scampered up the steps of the trampoline and through the opening of the safety net. ‘Look at me. I can bounce really high, just like Tigger. Bounce! Bounce! Bounce!’
Ellen wriggled in through the opening, zipping up the net behind her. Wobbling against the spring of the mat, she laughed as she staggered towards Izzy. Holding hands, they bounced up and down, laughing and shrieking as they jumped higher, before Ellen lost her footing and landed in a heap, bringing Izzy down on top of her. Ellen wasn’t quite sure if she was laughing at herself or whether Izzy’s infectious giggling was making her just as bad. Getting to her feet again, she hauled Izzy up.
‘Come on, Tigger,’ she said. ‘Let’s try again. See if we can bounce higher this time.
Ellen didn’t hear Carla at first, but noticing the sudden look of concern on Izzy’s face, she stopped jumping and turned to look back at the house. Carla was marching down the garden towards them.
‘Oh dear,’ said Ellen, looking back at Izzy and pulling an eek sort of face. ‘Carla doesn’t look too happy.’
‘What are you doing out here this time of the morning, making all this noise?’ demanded Carla, as she reached the trampoline. ‘You will have the whole street awake at this rate.