by Sue Fortin
Her peripheral vision caught sight of someone standing near the fence. She turned her head in what seemed like slow motion. She could hear the blood pumping through her, a womp, womp, womp throb, blocking out all other noise. The effort of merely turning her head sapped her strength; it was as if an invisible force was pushing against her every movement. She couldn’t focus properly. The figure moved out of her vision. She had no energy to turn to follow it. Ellen wanted to call out but her mouth had ceased taking orders from her brain. Her feet were having a similar problem. She was aware of her foot catching on something and that she was falling. The Italian travertine patio slowly rising to meet her. Or was she on her way down to it? She couldn’t decipher the sensation.
Somewhere in the distance, a muffled voice shouted her name. Hands grabbed her and then everything went black.
Chapter Fourteen
Donovan watched Ellen sip the hot, sweet tea Carla had just made. Sitting on the sofa with a blanket around her, Ellen looked pale and drawn. Her jumper, with soaking-wet sleeves, had been discarded as soon as he had carried her in from the garden in a semi-conscious and clearly distressed state.
He glanced at Carla, who was perched next to Ellen, supervising the tea-drinking process. Donovan had arrived home early and wandering through the seemingly empty house from the kitchen had come across Carla in the garden, kneeling beside Ellen.
‘So,’ he began softly, ‘do you know what happened?’
She lowered the cup, resting it on her knees, her hands shaking slightly. Carla took the cup and placed it on the coffee table, where Donovan was now sitting directly opposite Ellen.
‘I … er … there was something on the lawn. A cat’s collar. I went out to get it.’ She pulled the blanket tighter around her, keeping her arms covered. ‘I looked at the name tag and it said Ding dong bell, Pussy’s in the well.’
Donovan exchanged a look with Carla and was then instantly annoyed with himself, as he realised Ellen had caught the exchange. She sat up straighter, a look of indignation on her face. He cut in before she could say anything. ‘Go on. What happened next?’
Her demeanour remained defiant, daring him to disbelieve her. ‘I heard a splash. I knew it was the water butt. There was a cat in it. I grabbed it. It scratched me. I dropped it and it ran away.’
‘And then you fainted,’ said Carla.
‘It wasn’t quite like that. Maybe it was. I don’t really know. I felt frightened. Something wasn’t right. It was like everything was swaying and I couldn’t get my balance. A bit like being on a boat in a rough sea.’
‘Like I said, you fainted.’
‘I don’t know,’ repeated Ellen.
‘The cat’s collar,’ said Donovan. ‘What happened to that?’
Ellen looked blankly, then at Carla. ‘I can’t remember. I had it in my hand.’ She frowned as if she was thinking hard. ‘Yes, I definitely had it. I remember, because it smelt funny. My fingers smelt strange.’
‘Strange, in what way?’ Donovan wondered if she was getting a bit confused.
‘Like a sweet sort of alcohol smell.’ She put her fingers to her nose. ‘It’s gone now. Was the cat okay?’
Donovan looked to Carla for the answer. She shrugged. ‘I didn’t see any cat. And I didn’t notice any collar either. Sorry.’
‘I didn’t imagine it,’ shot back Ellen.
‘I’ll go and look in the garden,’ said Donovan getting up. ‘See if I can find the collar.’
‘It’s all right. I’ll go,’ said Carla. ‘You stay with Ellen.’ She raised her eyebrows slightly at him. She clearly felt Ellen was imagining the whole thing. Maybe she was, but somehow it didn’t seem Ellen’s style and, even if she was, to what end? He nodded to Carla and she left the room, he manoeuvred himself to Ellen’s side, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders.
‘I didn’t imagine it,’ said Ellen. Donovan felt her relax slightly as she allowed him to pull her closer. Donovan sat stroking her hair, saying nothing, until Carla came back in.
‘I can’t see anything out there at all,’ she said standing in the doorway.
Ellen sat bolt upright. ‘It must be there.’
Carla shook her head. ‘Nothing,’ she said. She looked directly at Donovan. Another raise of the eyebrows.
‘I’m telling the truth.’ Ellen’s voice was insistent. ‘Donovan, look at me. Ask me about the cat. Look at my eyes. Left or right? You’ll know if I’m telling the truth.’ She was shaking his arm.
‘Stop, Ellen. Calm down.’ He held her shoulders firmly.
‘Do it. Ask me!’
She looked so agitated and desperate. ‘Please, Ellen, listen to me,’ he said. ‘Whatever happened out there has been a nasty shock. I have absolutely no intention of doing the whole eyes to the right, eyes to the left thing. Anyway, like you said, it’s only a theory. It doesn’t prove anything.’
‘I can prove it,’ she said, an anxious look sweeping over her face.
‘Ellen, please …’
‘No. I can.’ Her voice was firm. The anxiety replaced by a look of determination. She threw off the blanket and thrust out her right arm. ‘Look.’
Donovan’s eyes dropped to her arm. Four fresh, angry scratches, about two inches long, graced Ellen skin. These, coupled with the circular scars already on her arm made him inwardly wince.
Carla came over and looked at Ellen’s arms. ‘Thorns,’ she said.
‘What?’ Donovan wasn’t following.
‘The roses. Ellen, you fell into the archway just before you fainted. They must be scratches from the thorns.’
Carla didn’t mention the scarring, for which Donovan was grateful. Ellen covered her arms back up with the blanket. ‘It was the cat,’ she mumbled, the conviction from her voice gone.
Carla gave him an apologetic look. ‘I’ll be in the office if you need me.’ She put a hand on Ellen’s shoulder. ‘And you as well.’
‘Thank you, Carla,’ he said, aware that the gratitude was more for her gesture towards Ellen. He waited for his PA to leave the room before lifting Ellen’s arm out from the blanket. He ran his index finger lightly over the marks.
‘What happened, Ellen?’ It was almost a whisper.
She looked at him for what felt like an eternity.
‘I’m sorry, Donovan. I can’t tell you.’
Before he could respond she was standing up, grabbing her wet jumper and heading towards the door.
‘Ellen! Wait!’ Donovan sprang to his feet, catching the top of her arm in his hand. He went to turn her around but stilled as he saw her flinch, shying away from him. An automatic reaction? One she must have performed many a time and now was her natural response if she was grabbed. He let go of her instantly. She took a good two steps away from him.
‘Don’t touch me!’ It was a shout he hadn’t been expecting.
‘I wouldn’t hurt you. I was merely …,’ his words faded away as she ran from the room and up the stairs.
By the time she had reached her room, Ellen knew it was an overreaction. She had no reason to be frightened of Donovan; he had never given her cause to doubt him once. Things were different. He was different.
What a mess this was turning out to be. She didn’t understand what was going on or why. Who would have done that to her earlier? She mulled this over. The logical explanation seemed to be Carla. No one else was in the house this afternoon. Carla had ‘found’ her. Carla had been out looking for the cat collar and apparently not been able to locate it. This was added to the fact that Carla didn’t actually like her. Perhaps this was her way of getting rid of her. But then Carla had been almost kind to her at the end.
Then there was Toby to take into consideration. And, of course, any one of Donovan’s mad clients or suspects he’d interviewed.
She buried her face in her hands and rubbed her eyes. Definitely a mess. She felt her emotions swinging one way and then the next. She knew she needed to apologise to him for her overreaction. She splashed some cold water ov
er her eyes and applied a bit of mascara.
Donovan was genuinely relieved to see her reappear about an hour later. He stood up as she came into the room.
‘Hey,’ she said, offering a small smile. Her voice was soft, no hint of confrontation there now.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Come on in.’ He put his arm out in a welcoming gesture.
‘I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have stormed off like that. It was an overreaction.’ She looked up at him from under her eyelashes. Jesus, she looked so lovely when she did that. Her vulnerability somehow mixed in with her desirability oozing from her eyes. He was sure he’d forgive her anything at that moment. He tamped down all those desirable thoughts that were attempting to push their way up from inside him.
‘It’s okay. I understand. Come and sit down.’ Donovan motioned to the sofa. Ellen sat down and he sat himself close to her, taking her hand in his. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. It was good to feel her hand close around his own. ‘Look, you probably see yourself in a no-win situation. Think of it this way, what have you got to lose? You can’t tell me anything that I haven’t come across at some point in my career. You won’t shock me. You won’t offend me. I just want to know so that I have peace of mind.’ Somewhere at the back of his mind, a little voice added: ‘and to protect you’. Donovan had no idea where that came from. Another thought to drive down. She still didn’t look convinced. One last attempt on his part. ‘Why don’t we go for a walk and chat?’
Neutral ground might make her feel less defensive with other things around them to focus on. Sitting side by side in the living room was perhaps a bit too intense for her.
‘What about Izzy?’
He was touched that Izzy was her first concern. ‘Don’t worry, Carla is still here. I’ll ask her if she doesn’t mind staying a bit late tonight. She does from time to time.’
He waited, watching Ellen consider the proposition. Her feelings were so transparent at times. She was now in the midst of inner conflict, whether she should accept his offer or not. It was a good sign, thought Donovan. She wasn’t dismissing the idea immediately. He allowed her the time to come to a decision.
‘Okay, why not?’
Yes. She was agreeing, just as he had hoped.
Chapter Fifteen
‘I don’t think Carla was too impressed about babysitting,’ said Ellen, as they walked through the village towards the local pub.
‘She’s fine, honestly.’
‘For a psychologist, you really have trouble reading the signs sometimes.’
He looked across at her, amusement and irony clearly on her face, despite the darkness of the evening. ‘I was trying to make you feel better,’ he said.
She laughed at this. No words needed. They both knew Carla was anything but fine. ‘I thought maybe she was a bit jealous.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really. Having to share you with someone else, i.e. me.’
Donovan let out a laugh. ‘Listen, I do the psychoanalysing around here.’
‘Okay, maybe not jealous. What about protective?’
‘Let’s settle for loyal.’
‘Okay. Loyal it is,’ said Ellen. ‘ Although, tonight she was more flustered than anything else. She went off saying something about needing to make a phone call.’
Donovan considered this for a moment. ‘Yes, you’re right, she did seem agitated, now I think about it.’
‘Has she got a partner or husband that she would have to ring about staying late?’
‘No. She lives on her own. She’s a widow. She’s got a brother nearby and her mother.’ Donovan paused. There was more to Carla’s situation than just that but it wasn’t for him to say. Client confidentiality still existed, no matter how long ago the counselling had taken place. However, he was also acutely aware that explaining things in more detail to Ellen might actually help the working relationship between the two women. He decided to expand slightly, without breaking any ethical obligation. ‘Carla’s had it tough over the years. It’s not easy becoming a widow when you’ve barely been married, especially when you find your soul partner later in life.’
‘Oh, that is sad. How did her husband die?’
‘A road traffic accident. Carla was driving.’ He paused mid-stride while he considered how much more to reveal. So far he had said nothing that hadn’t been widely reported in the local papers at the time. He continued. ‘Foreign lorry driver, totally miscalculated the bend. There was absolutely nothing she could do.’ He let out a sigh. ‘Carla naturally took it badly. I mean, who wouldn’t? A widow within ten months of becoming a bride. She felt totally responsible for his death. It’s been very difficult for her and continues to be. Anyway, I helped her as much as I could.’
‘Counselling? But I expect you can’t tell me that. Client confidentiality etc. And she now works for you. Is that you still helping her?’
‘She’s an excellent PA. I think she helps me more.’
‘Very diplomatic.’
‘And very true.’ He began walking and taking hold of her hand, gave Ellen little option but to follow.
They were now making their way along a very narrow road in the village. It had no footpath and was flanked on either side by high flint walls. Headlights swung round the bend, dazzling them both.
‘Jesus!’ exclaimed Donovan. The car accelerated, apparently not seeing either of them. He threw himself against Ellen, pushing her hard against the flint wall, shielding her body with his. The car swerved at the last moment but didn’t slow down. ‘Bloody idiot!’ Donovan shouted into the darkness as he moved back from Ellen. He turned to her. ‘Are you okay?’
Ellen was rubbing her cheek. ‘Yes, I’m fine. I caught my face on the wall.’
‘Here, let me see. Donovan placed his hand under her chin and examined her cheek. He couldn’t see much without any street light, and took his iPhone from his pocket, switching on the light.
The purr of a car distracted him. He could hear the ticking over of an engine, the vehicle stationary and out of sight, just around the corner behind them. The beam of the headlights crept along the wall, casting a white glow across the road. He looked at Ellen. Her eyes were wide, looking over his shoulder. She’d heard it too.
The engine revved. Once. Twice. Three times. The last time it practically roared, staking its claim as king of the tarmac jungle. Donovan heard the change in the roar of the beast. It had begun stalking its prey. Without wasting a moment more, he grabbed Ellen by the coat sleeve, pushing her forwards, then overtook her, dragging her along. ‘Run!’
Donovan looked over his shoulder. Two beams of light illuminated the lane, dazzling him completely. Then the lights went out. He recognised the change in the roar as the clutch was dropped, the lights went onto full beam and the beast burst into life. Donovan heard himself shout to Ellen to run faster. If they could get round this corner…
‘Over the wall!’ he shouted, as they ran. He was glad Ellen was light on her feet and not stupid enough to stand and question his orders. She hurled herself at the wall and Donovan pushed her backside, rather unceremoniously, tipping her over the low part of the flintwork, straight into a cottage garden. He didn’t need to glance back to know that the car was upon them. He threw himself over the wall. Something hit his flailing foot. He didn’t know if it was the wall or the car. He didn’t care. Landing on top of Ellen was not ideal but they were safe.
He rolled over and jumped up, trying to get a good look at the car. With its lights now switched off, he had no hope of trying to work out what make or model it was. In an instant it was gone. The cottage garden they had landed in was illuminated only by the porch light. There were no signs of life from within. Their encounter had gone unnoticed.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, crouching down. Ellen was now in a sitting position. She put her hand on his shoulder and he helped her stand up.
‘I think so.’ Her voice was shaky at first, then the shakes began to ripple through her body. She wa
s in shock. Donovan drew her to him, squeezing firmly to try and stop the tremors. He rubbed his hand up and down her back and made soothing sounds, not dissimilar to those he’d make to comfort Izzy. It seemed to do the trick and after a minute or two she had regained her composure.
‘I’m fine. It shook me up, that’s all.’ Ellen pulled away from him and wiped a stray tear away with her fingertip. Donovan passed her a tissue from his pocket, one of the benefits of being a single-parent dad. He had learnt to always keep a clean tissue on him.
‘Come on, let’s get out of this garden, for a start,’ he said, guiding her by the elbow towards the little gate. He checked up and down the road, listening carefully. Not a sound. ‘Let’s go and have a drink at The Fox. I think we both need it.’
They made themselves comfortable in a corner seat of the pub, grateful that for midweek it wasn’t too busy. Donovan had his usual whiskey and opted for a strong Bacardi and coke for Ellen. She had stopped shaking but he could see the upset in her eyes. Wait, make that fear. She was frightened.
‘Thank you,’ she said, taking a small sip of her drink, followed by a larger one. ‘I suppose this is where I tell you everything.’
‘That’s kind of how I thought it would go,’ he replied.
Ellen knew there was no getting out of it now. He had saved her life and he deserved an explanation. Especially, as he would now most definitely sack her.
‘It’s a long story so I’ll give you the abridged version,’ she said, taking a rather large gulp of her drink. ‘Please don’t judge me. Or analyse me, for that matter.’
‘I won’t judge you. Like I said, there’s nothing you can say that will shock me. As for analysing, I’ll do my best not to.’
She appreciated his smile. ‘When you said about running away, you were right. I’ve run away from my ex-boyfriend. I didn’t tell him I was leaving. I hadn’t planned when I would do it, yet I had known for some time that I would. It was just a case of timing.’ Another gulp of her drink. She realised half of it was gone already. ‘I had been with Toby for three years. Lived with him for the past year. Initially, he was great fun to be with. He was the life and soul of the party. Had a good job as a city banker. Lots of friends. Everyone liked him and looked up to him. We did lots of things. Holidays. Parties. Meals out. Weekends away. All that sort of thing.’