Closing In

by Sue Fortin

  Donovan stood up. ‘You didn’t have to knock. Please, sit down.’ He indicated one of the sofas before making his way over to the cabinet on the right of the oak fireplace. ‘Would you like a drink? Gin? Vodka? Wine?’

  ‘A glass of white wine would be nice, thank you,’ said Ellen, perching on the edge of the seat. She’d only have one glass, it would take the edge off her nerves but wouldn’t loosen her tongue.

  Donovan passed Ellen her drink and then sat down opposite her with what looked like a whiskey. He took a mouthful then spoke. ‘I’ve been looking at your CV, Ellen. It’s very impressive. Both agencies speak very highly of you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Ellen said, guardedly.

  ‘But, if I’m honest, it doesn’t really tell me a lot about you. About Ellen Newman.’ He sat forward, resting his arms on his knees, swirling the amber liquid around in the crystal tumbler. He looked at her expectantly.

  Ellen shrugged. ‘What do you want to know? I grew up in London. Went through college. Got a job…’ She stopped as Donovan held up his hand.

  ‘I can see that from your CV.’ Again, his steely grey eyes fixed on her. ‘Maybe it will be easier if I just ask the questions.’

  ‘Okay.’ Why she said okay, when it really wasn’t, Ellen didn’t know, but it seemed she had no choice.

  ‘What’s with the scars on your arms? That’s not psoriasis.’

  Straight for the jugular. No messing around. Ellen felt her throat dry up and was aware that her breathing was getting heavier. ‘Splash marks. Boiling water from a kettle.’

  ‘Wrong. Eyes went to the right, Ellen,’ said Donovan. ‘I’m very patient and my rules are that I don’t have to accept your first answer. Or your second one for that matter. Try again.’

  ‘It’s not really any of your business,’ said Ellen, not daring to make eye contact in any form. She stared into her wine glass. For a psychologist, he wasn’t very subtle. It was a wonder he had any clients.

  ‘That’s wrong again. Three strikes and you’re out. Did I forget that rule?’ He took another sip of his whiskey and then let out a sigh. ‘Look Ellen, I don’t mean to sound rude and uncaring. In fact, I’m anything but uncaring. I care a great deal. As I’ve said all along, Izzy is my number-one priority and I can’t have her surrounded by people I don’t feel one hundred per cent positive about. I really like you and so does Izzy. I want you to stay. Normally, I’m not very tolerant of things like this, but if you let me know a bit more of your background, I will feel happier and can make a better judgement.’

  It was Ellen’s turn to let out a long sigh. She was in a no-win situation. If she didn’t tell him, he’d sack her, and if she did tell him, well, he’d still sack her – probably. Should she gamble? She came to a decision.

  ‘I’m sorry, Donovan, but maybe I should leave. I’m not sure we can work together.’ She put her glass on the table. ‘I would like to say goodbye to Izzy in the morning, if that’s okay with you? I don’t want to just abandon her.’

  ‘Before you make any rash decisions, let me reassure you that anything you say to me will go no further than the two of us. I promise.’

  Donovan came and sat beside her. He was close. Closer than he needed to be. It felt unnerving, or was it exciting? Ellen couldn’t make up her mind. She could feel his eyes trained upon her. She wanted to move away. But she couldn’t. She continued her examination of the contents of her wine glass. His hand slid over hers. Long slender fingers that were as soft as his voice when he spoke.

  ‘Please, think carefully before running away. Eventually, whatever it is you’re running from will catch you up. If it hasn’t already.’

  ‘I’m not running away from anything,’ she managed to croak out, while the word liar screamed inside her head.

  He inched closer. Their bodies were against each other and Donovan slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him. Her head resting under the crook of his chin as he ran a strand of her hair through his fingers. The kiss he dropped on top of her head sent a zing right through her body. She could hear his heart beating a steady rhythm, whilst acutely aware hers was all over the place like a scat-fest. Ellen allowed herself the luxury of being held; a haven of safety.

  ‘We all run from something at some point in our lives,’ said Donovan, tipping her face up to look at him.

  ‘Even you?’ Ellen found it hard to imagine that Donovan would do anything other than meet life head on. She couldn’t imagine him running.

  ‘Even me.’ There was a momentary flash of vulnerability in his eyes. ‘Amanda and her drinking. I ignored it for far too long.’

  Ellen understood but any notion of pursuing this thought was wiped away as he kissed her on the mouth with such tenderness, Ellen wasn’t sure she had experienced anything like it before. Her body was way ahead of the game as she kissed him back. Her mind, however, had other ideas.

  Disentangling herself, Ellen pulled away. ‘This isn’t right.’

  ‘Who said?’

  She shrugged. Despondent. ‘Maybe, just not right at this moment.’

  He nodded. ‘Okay.’

  She hated his okay. She couldn’t decipher it. Neither could she decipher her own feelings. She needed space. Everything was closing in around her.

  ‘I must go,’ said Ellen standing up.

  ‘Don’t run, Ellen,’ said Donovan.

  She took a step back as he rose from the sofa. She had to be strong and not give in. She couldn’t let herself become attached to Donovan. She’d done that before with Toby, and look how that had turned out. The thought frightened her.

  ‘I’m sorry. I can’t stay. Goodnight, Donovan.’ Somehow her legs obeyed her brain and carried her steadily out of the living room and up the two flights of stairs to her bedroom. Locking the door, she rushed to the en-suite and grabbed her wash bag. With no regard for the contents, she tipped everything out into the sink and snatched at the bottle of pills. She could feel the clamminess of her body as a cold bead of perspiration streaked down her spine. Her eyes felt heavy and her head light. Anxiety fought to take hold of her and the walls seemed to be closing in around her. With a herculean effort, she focused on the bottle, tipped several pills out into the palm of her hand. She grappled to get two between her fingers, finally managing to keep hold, as the rest dropped into the sink. She popped them in her mouth and washed them down with a tumbler of water. Just the knowledge that she had taken two of them was enough to begin the calming process.

  She caught sight of her reflection in the cabinet mirror. Helen Matthews looked back at her. Tears she had been unaware of were chasing down her face. Ellen couldn’t bear to look. She didn’t want that person to come back again. Helen was weak. Ellen was strong.

  Bowing her head, Ellen rested her hands on the sink and concentrated on making her breathing deep and controlled. Gradually, the haze in her mind cleared and her thoughts became more cohesive.

  He was wrong. She could run. She’d done it before and she’d do it again. She had no choice.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Damn it!’ Donovan slumped back into the sofa. That didn’t go well. He hadn’t planned to kiss her, it had just kind of happened. And he didn’t do just kind of anything. Not until now, anyway.

  On top of his impulsive action, he had underestimated her fear. Not purely of her past, but fear of her future too. He’d been way off the mark and now she was leaving. He closed his eyes. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t want Ellen to go. Why, because of Izzy, or for his own reasons? Both, truth be told. Ellen had trouble written all over her, yet he felt as though he hadn’t had nearly enough of her.

  This was no good, thought Donovan, as he slugged back another whiskey. He wasn’t known for being passive and just letting things happen. He was a doer. Time to be proactive.

  Within a minute, he was outside Ellen’s door, waiting for her to answer his knock. He could hear movement from inside the room. He tapped again, this time a bit harder. ‘Ellen? It’s me, Donovan.
’ As though he needed to introduce himself. Who else would it be? He felt slightly stupid. ‘Ellen. I’m sorry for upsetting you. Could you open the door, please?’ He waited patiently and was rewarded by the sound of her footsteps crossing the room and the bolt sliding on the other side of the door. She opened it wide enough for him not to feel like a deranged axe man, but not so wide that she made him feel like Prince Charming and was inviting him in. Her eyes looked red. She’d been crying. He felt guilty, despite suspecting the tears were for the fear she felt, whatever the fear was.

  ‘I’m sorry I upset you,’ he repeated. ‘I was being very clumsy. I’d like to blame it on a difficult day, if that’s all right with you?’ He smiled, hoping it would look unassuming and warm.

  ‘Okay, we’ll stick with a difficult day excuse.’ She returned his smile.

  ‘I’ve got a busy couple of days coming up. Tomorrow I’m in London, giving evidence in a court case. There’s a possibility it may run on and I’ll have to be away overnight.’

  ‘So, you’d like me to stay until you get back?’

  ‘Pretty much, yes.’ He pursed his lips, taking time to choose the next words carefully. He didn’t want to put pressure on her. She needed to feel she was in control and making her own decisions. ‘Maybe you could reconsider leaving? Not now, but while I’m away. We could chat when I get back. Both Izzy and I would really miss you if you left. But, if you’re intent on leaving, I’ll do everything I can so you are safe.’

  Despite the dim lighting of the table lamp in her room, he could see tears threatening to tip the rims of her eyes. She swallowed hard and blinked them back before speaking.

  ‘Okay, I’ll think about it.’

  He wasn’t entirely convinced but he’d have to accept it for now. He kissed his first two fingers and then pressed them briefly to her mouth.

  She caught his hand and held it to her face. Closing her eyes, a stray tear cascaded down her cheek and mingled with their entwined fingers. Stepping forwards, he instinctively wrapped her in his arms, holding her close and breathing in the coconut scent of her hair. He could feel her body sink into his and for a moment he felt as if he had soaked up all her fears and anxieties. She needed to trust him. Not just him, but herself as well. There was definitely a feeling between them but she was scared. He knew he needed to exercise patience. Some things were easier said than done, though.

  ‘Hey, it’s okay,’ Donovan whispered into her hair. He kissed the top of her head and pulled away slightly so he could see her face. He moved the strand of her hair that had fallen across her eye. The watery eyes that met his own made his stomach flip. He felt he could read them like a book as they skipped between fear, shyness and desire. He smiled what he hoped was reassurance. ‘Listen to me, Ellen,’ he began, ‘Don’t panic. No knee-jerk reactions. No running. Promise?’

  She appeared to consider for a few seconds. A small smile accompanied the nod of her head. ‘Okay, I promise.’

  ‘Good. I’ll be back in a day or two and we can talk then,’ he said. ‘You’ve nothing to be frightened of. You’re safe here.’

  Christ, he hoped he was right.

  Ellen sat down in the kitchen with a cup of tea. Mrs Holloway was having a day off and Izzy was at school. Other than Carla, who had tucked herself away in her office all day, Ellen was alone with the house. Ellen looked at the photograph on the kitchen windowsill of Donovan and Izzy, both standing proudly beside a snowman they had built. It was probably only last year, mused Ellen, Izzy didn’t look much younger than she did now. Her eyes rested on Donovan. He was due back that evening. She was looking forward to seeing him; somehow, the house wasn’t the same without him. The last few days had given her time to calm down and to think rationally. He had been right; her reaction the other night had been knee jerk. The need to flee had been quelled by his reassuring words, which had twirled around in Ellen’s head time and time again. Nearly as often as the memory of his body close to hers, his arms, his hands and the sweet sensation of his kisses, albeit the latter only briefly. The desire to trust him, to believe him was so strong, but it was rather ironic that it was this very strength that was frightening her. She didn’t really know Donovan that well. She had only worked for him for a short time. She thought she had known Toby, but how wrong she had been there and she had paid a high price.

  A movement beyond the window somewhere in the garden caught Ellen’s attention. She looked down the green lawn, strewn with autumn leaves, which were being gently bowled around by the wind. She was sure she had seen something dart beyond the hydrangea bush. A person? As far as she was aware Donovan didn’t have a gardener and, besides, he would have made himself known and there would be signs of someone actually gardening. She stood up and walked over to the bank of full-length glass that separated the outside space from inside. Her eyes scanned the length and breadth of the garden. Nothing. No one.

  Ellen was about to go and sit back down when she noticed something on the grass. Something that didn’t belong there. Putting her cup on the table, she went out to investigate.

  Lying in the middle of the lawn, the blue object stood out against the dead, brown leaves. As Ellen approached it, a sense of foreboding unfurled itself from within her and, despite the thickness of her jumper, she shivered. A rustle from the bushes startled her. Her eyes flicked towards the sound. The hydrangea flower heads were dead now and the leaves were dropping from the plant. Whoever had originally planted the shrubs must have known their stuff for there were also evergreen bushes and plants in the flowerbed ready to fill the space; their green and heavy foliage making it impossible to see through.

  She looked the length of the garden. Empty of anybody, not least a gardener. She was letting her imagination get the better of her.

  A scrambling sound broke through the rustle of leaves and whistle of the wind. Ellen jumped and let out a yelp. She spun round, trying to locate the sound.

  A cat ran along the top of the fence, before leaping into next door’s garden.

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake,’ sighed Ellen, holding her hand to her fast-beating heart. ‘Get a grip of yourself, girl.’

  The wind gave an extra whip and the leaves tumbled across the grass. Ellen turned her attention back to the foreign object and walked over to it.

  A thin, blue leather collar. She stooped and picked it up. A cat collar. Like the one Scruffs, her cat, had. Scruffs, who she had left with Toby. A small pang of guilt spiked at her. She looked towards the fence where the cat had disappeared. Had it been wearing a collar? It had probably come off, especially if it hadn’t been fastened properly. There was a little ID barrel, which Ellen unscrewed. Maybe she could return it to the owner.

  After a bit of fiddling, Ellen managed to pluck the tightly rolled piece of paper from the barrel and open it out.

  She read the typed words and frowned, putting her finger to her lip in thought. She noticed a sickly sweet smell. She inspected her fingers but they were clean. She brought the note up and sniffed. It stung her nose and she stepped back, a light-headed feeling rushing through her. She took a moment to recover before turning her attention back to the words on the note.

  Ding dong bell, Pussy’s in the well.

  This was weird. This was wrong. Ellen wondered about the strange sickly aroma. Holding her hair back from her face as the wind uncaringly tossed it around, she raised the note and breathed in.

  ‘Urgh.’ It was no better second time around. She closed her eyes to try and overcome the head rush and opening them, refocused on her surroundings. It was then she heard a slosh of something slipping into water, swiftly followed by a frantic scratching and splashing noise coming from somewhere to her right. She swung around. The lid of the water butt was resting against the side of the greenhouse. Ding dong bell, Pussy’s in the well. The words of the note repeated in her mind and slowly her eyes scaled the plastic tub.

  She felt slightly giddy, not only from the smell on the tag but from fear. Ellen broke out into a staggering, swaying run
, somehow managing to stay on her feet. Ding dong bell, Pussy’s in the well.

  She smashed into the water butt, dropping the collar and note as she put her hands out to break her stumble. The splashing was subsiding. A dark shape flailed in the water. Ellen dove her hand into the water. It touched something furry. Something bony. Not knowing what part of the creature she was grabbing, she tried to catch hold. It turned in the water and she felt sharp claws scratch at her arm through her jumper. The pain made her snatch her hand away.

  Her head felt woozy, almost drunken. She refocused her eyes and forced herself to concentrate.

  This time she propelled both hands into the water and scooped up the animal. Lifting it out in one swift movement, a wet, bedraggled and distressed cat appeared. It turned and hissed, clearly frightened. Ellen dropped it to the ground before falling to her hands and knees, as the light-headed feeling engulfed her. When she looked up, the cat had gone. She gripped onto the side of the water butt and hauled herself to her feet.

  A deluge of fear swamped her. She could feel her heart racing, her breathing becoming shorter. Her pulse was throbbing in her neck and her throat constricted. She recognised the signs. She was having a panic attack. A bad one. She needed to get out of the garden. Away.

  Stumbling blindly, she made for the house, staggering through the rose arch that led onto the patio, her jumper catching on the thorns as she struggled to negotiate the iron framework. Everything was swaying in front of her eyes. She felt dizzy. Her limbs felt heavy, as though her feet were encased in concrete blocks.