you’re making one, that would be great. Thank you. Black, no sugar,’ Donovan replied, moving over to the oven and lifting the lid on a saucepan. ‘Ah, butternut squash soup. Mrs Holloway’s speciality. Would you like some?’ She seemed to hesitate. Donovan sensed she probably wanted to say yes, but was too polite. He took two bowls out of the cupboard. ‘It really is delicious. You’ll love it, I promise. And I’d be glad of the company. It will give us a chance to get to know each other, seeing as you’re working for me now. ’ Without giving her a chance to say no, he set two places at the table and ladled the creamy orange liquid into the bowls.
Getting out some bread and buttering several slices, he sat down at the table and was satisfied to see Ellen sit down opposite him.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘It does smell lovely.’
‘I’m sorry we haven’t had the chance to meet before,’ said Donovan. ‘I usually like to interview staff myself but it was an emergency and I know Cherubs Nanny Agency is very thorough with its checks. You came with very good references.’
Ellen nodded. ‘Yes, I must admit it is a little unusual not to meet the parents first, but as you say, it was exceptional circumstances. The agency said your previous nanny left because of a family bereavement back in Scotland, is that right?’
Donovan nodded. ‘Yes. She didn’t want to come back, said it was too far away from her family. I suppose the bereavement made her take stock of things. You haven’t come quite so far, have you?’
‘No, only from London. I’ve been here, well, West Sussex and the south coast, before. When I was a child, but not for a long time. You know, family holidays.’
‘And your family now, where are they?’
He watched as she hesitated and toyed the spoon in circular motions through the soup. ‘My mum died when I was young. I’m an only child. My dad is remarried with his own young family. I don’t see him much.’
He sensed she wasn’t comfortable talking about it and, not wanting to make her feel uneasy, he let the subject drop. ‘How long have you worked for Cherubs?’
‘Seven years, now. They have always placed me with very good families so I had no reason to doubt them this time, despite not having met you beforehand.’
‘And is your room okay?’
‘Yes, it’s really nice. Thank you.’
‘I know you’re a bit out of the way on the top floor, but it’s nice for Izzy to have the run of it. Downstairs isn’t quite so child-friendly. I don’t want her to have to creep around all day simply because I’m working.’ He watched her face take on a slightly surprised look.
‘Oh, right,’ she said. ‘It’s nice she has a big playroom on the top floor.’
‘Exactly. And you’ve met Carla, my long-suffering PA of over ten years?’A nod and what Donovan suspected was a forced smile. Ellen had obviously already felt the brusqueness of her colleague. ‘Carla can sometimes come across as a little starchy. Please don’t take offence. It’s just her way.’
‘Okay. I’ll bear that in mind.’ Ellen pushed her empty bowl away from her. ‘You were right, the soup was lovely.’
She looked as if she was preparing to leave, but Donovan wanted to question her a bit more, call it a post-employment interview. Okay, it was probably a bit late now, but he would feel better if he knew a bit more about her.
‘Ellen, tell me, how was it you were able to start here at such short notice?’
‘I’ve been working abroad for the last six months. I’ve had a spell in France at a campsite, running their children’s club. Now the high season has finished, I’m back here in the UK. The timing couldn’t have been better.’
It was a simple and very plausible explanation. ‘Where were you working before in the UK? Were you live-in? Sorry for all the questions.’ He smiled at her.
She smiled back, although he still sensed a slight unease. ‘It’s okay. I was working for a family in London and, no, it wasn’t a live-in position.’ He didn’t 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
