Closing In. Sue Fortin

      He looked at Scruffs stretched out on the sofa next to him. Toby reached over and ran his fingers up and down the cat’s neck. He could feel all the tiny bones of its skeleton beneath the fur and skin. Scrawny little thing. Helen adored that cat and, yet, she had left it. This was all so out of character for her. Running out on him, on the cat, on their life together. It was the last thing he thought she would do. How had he not seen this coming and where in God’s name could she have gone? He was sure Kate knew. In fact, he’d stake his Square Mile bankers’ salary on it. Scooping the cat up, Toby continued to stroke the tortoiseshell fur as he walked over to the full-length window. He stood looking out over the Islington skyline.

      His finger and thumb massaged the back of the cat’s neck, before sliding all the way around, meeting under its chin.

      ‘You’re out there somewhere, Helen.’ He dropped Scruffs to the floor, ignoring the squeak of protest at the rather unceremonious dismissal. Toby pressed his forehead against the glass, the palms of his hands following suit. ‘I’m not letting you go without a fight, that’s for sure, sweetheart.’

       Chapter One

       Six months later

      Ellen checked the address on the piece of paper in her hand. The Lodge, Sea Lane, Felpham, West Sussex. She looked up at the flint-built house, with its imposing black front door, flanked each side by two sets of Georgian-style paned windows. Her gaze followed the building up to the roof, where a pair of dormer windows looked out like eyes peering across the rooftops. Ellen wondered if you could see the beach from up there. It would be nice if that was going to be her room. Her eyes travelled back down the building, locating the circular brass bell embedded in the flintwork. She pushed it in for a couple of seconds, hearing the buzz coming from inside before releasing it. She took a polite step back from the door. Ellen felt uncomfortable and self-conscious as she waited. A little bubble of nerves bounced around her stomach as she heard the lock being turned from the other side, shortly followed by the door being opened.

      ‘Can I help you?’ A woman stood before Ellen. She was probably in her early forties, hair tied back neatly and she was wearing a business-like skirt and jacket.

      ‘Hello, I’m Ellen Newman.’ Ellen hoped she sounded casual, as if she’d being saying her name all her life, rather than just the past six months. Choosing a name so close to her original one, Helen, had made the transition easier. There hadn’t been many times when she had missed someone addressing her as Ellen. She forced herself to exhale slowly. The woman said nothing but cast her eyes over her. Ellen pushed on. ‘I’ve come from Cherubs Nanny Agency. Mr Donovan should be expecting me.’ She tried a smile.

      ‘Oh, yes. That’s right. Come in.’ The woman opened the door wider and stepped back to reveal a spacious, almost square hall, black and white tiles covering the floor and a dark oak staircase sweeping up and round. ‘I’m Mr Donovan’s PA. Carla Grosvenor. But we just call him Donovan. No need for the Mr.’ Ellen nodded as the PA continued. ‘Do you have a letter of introduction from the agency? I have your file with your photo ID; I need to confirm you are who you say you are.’

      Ellen took the letter from the agency out of her bag and handed it over. She was relieved to see her hand was steady, even though her heart was racing. Carla read the letter.

      ‘That all seems in order,’ she said. ‘If you follow me, I’ll show you to your room. I’ll leave you to sort your things out and then a bit later I can give you a tour of the house.’

      Ellen nodded. She was about to ask after the child she was going to be nanny to, when a movement caught her attention. Ellen looked around the PA down the hallway. A little dark head bobbed behind a doorway out of sight and then, after a second or two, slowly looked around the corner. Two big brown eyes met with Ellen’s before once again disappearing from view.

      ‘Oh, that must be Izzy,’ said Carla. ‘She’s very shy. Izzy! Izzy! Come and meet your new nanny … err,’ she looked at the letter in her hand. ‘Ellen.’

      ‘Don’t worry about it now. I can meet her in a little while,’ said Ellen. She didn’t quite like the sharp tone of voice Carla was adopting.

      ‘Izzy! I said, come here. Now,’ continued Carla without acknowledging Ellen at all.

      ‘Please, it’s really not a problem,’ said Ellen. ‘Don’t force her. There’s plenty of time.’

      Carla let out an impatient sigh. ‘No, I’ve asked her to do something. She shouldn’t ignore me.’

      At that moment, another woman appeared from around the doorway. She was in her late sixties, Ellen estimated.

      ‘Come on Izzy.’ The woman gently pulled the child out into the hallway and led her to where Ellen and Carla were standing. ‘Hello, I’m Mrs Holloway. Housekeeper.’

      She extended a hand to Ellen. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Ellen, shaking the pudgy digits of the housekeeper.

      ‘This, here, is Izzy.’

      Automatically, Ellen crouched down so she was level with the little girl and hopefully would seem less intimidating. ‘Hello, Izzy,’ she said. ‘My name’s Ellen. I’m going to be your nanny.’ She waited for a response but wasn’t particularly surprised when none was given. ‘I’ve just got here, so I’m going to go up to my room and unpack my things and then later perhaps we can do something together. Yes?’ Still no response.

      ‘Don’t be rude, Izzy,’ said Carla. ‘Say hello.’

      ‘Really, it’s okay,’ insisted Ellen.

      After sending Izzy on her way back to the kitchen with Mrs Holloway, Carla proceeded to show Ellen up to her room.

      ‘You’re up on the top floor. Your bedroom is next door to the playroom. Izzy sleeps on the middle floor. She doesn’t usually wake up so it doesn’t matter that you are sleeping on a different floor.’

      Ellen’s room did indeed have a sea view, albeit a glimpse through the trees and rooftop of the house on the opposite side of the private road. All the houses on the Sea Lane estate were individual affairs; some more subtly designed than others, but all very expensive-looking. Her room itself had a double bed, covered in a pretty flowery, very French-looking eiderdown, next to a dressing table and a wardrobe on the opposite wall. A further door led to a small, but modern, shower room.

      Ellen began unpacking her case. It didn’t take long. After all, her life had only begun six months ago. If it had been Helen Matthews standing here, then there might be a whole lot more stuff to unpack. A little flutter of unease flew through her but she fought it down. She’d been safe for the past six months. The longer the time passed, the more distance she put between Helen Matthews and Ellen Newman, the safer she was. If anything was going to happen, surely it would have done so by now. She unzipped her handbag and took out the little brown bottle of tablets; they rattled against each other and the plastic bottle as she shook out one small white pill. She popped it into her mouth and swallowed, the film coating making the journey to her stomach easier. Ellen replaced the bottle in her bag, taking deep breaths, allowing the moment of fear to pass over her. She noted with satisfaction that these anxiety attacks were becoming less frequent and passing quicker. She was still safe.

       Chapter Two

      An hour later, Ellen was following Carla around the house for her guided tour. The middle floor comprised bedrooms for Izzy, Donovan and for Carla.

      ‘I don’t stay very often,’ explained Carla. ‘I prefer to go home these days. Things to do.’

      The house was immaculately kept, noted Ellen, as they trawled through the rooms. A formal dining room led off one side of the entrance hall and a large sitting room on the other. Halfway down the hall on the