Closing In. Sue FortinЧитать онлайн книгу.
the car beeping?’
Ellen felt that now was a good time to intervene. ‘I stalled the Fiesta at the traffic lights and the other driver got really impatient. Some young boy racer, you know the sort.’
‘You can rule him out as your admirer, then,’ replied Donovan and gave a chuckle. ‘Right, where’s this birthday cake? I’ve been looking forward to a slice all day.’
‘Birthday cake! Birthday cake!’ chanted Izzy.
Whilst Ellen was relieved that Donovan didn’t seem overly concerned about her slip of the tongue, equally, he appeared just as uninterested in the rose. Surely if he had left it there, then he would have said something or at least dropped a hint. However, it was something she would have to consider later as everyone was now demanding her attention to blow out the candles on the cake Mrs Holloway had produced at that moment.
The next few days passed uneventfully and Ellen took the opportunity to do some exploring of the local area, Coronation Park at the top of Sea Lane became her favourite spot. A winding pathway trailed a circuit around the edge of the park, taking in a children’s play area, a basketball court and two football pitches. These different areas were separated by shrubs, bushes and trees; Ellen particularly liked the majestic oak tree that stood at a turn in the path.
Sundays were deemed to be Ellen’s day off as Donovan liked to have at least one day a week to devote to his daughter. Although Ellen had tended to spend a lot of her free time either pottering around the house or reading in her bedroom, more often than not, she would end up joining in with whatever Donovan and Izzy were doing. Ellen enjoyed being part of the household and they appeared to have accepted her, albeit to varying degrees. Carla was still spiky but Ellen was getting used to that and it was bothering her less and less.
So far the weather had been pleasant but as October rolled on, it was definitely beginning to turn more wintery. Monday morning had greeted them with a blustery wind and a light drizzle. Ellen and Izzy had spent most of the previous day indoors doing jigsaw puzzles and colouring. Donovan had asked Ellen if she could look after Izzy the previous day, despite it being a Sunday, as he needed to complete some urgent reports
‘It’s not very nice out there today,’ said Ellen as she gathered Izzy’s book bag and lunch box up. ‘You ready? Go and say goodbye to Daddy.’
Right on cue, Donovan came out of his office as he always did to see his daughter before she went to school. Ellen was surprised to see him dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a jumper.
Donovan smiled at her. ‘Thought I’d join you two ladies this morning, if that’s okay?’
‘Yippee!’ squealed Izzy. She gave her father a big hug. She had missed Donovan over the last few days, thought Ellen, and judging by the expression on Donovan’s face, it was a mutual feeling. It was a warming thought.
‘We’ll take my car,’ said Donovan. ‘Come on, let’s go.’ He scooped Izzy up. ‘Bye Carla! Bye Mrs Holloway!’
The journey to school was chatty and laughter-filled. Izzy clearly delighted to have Donovan with them, which was having a contagious effect on Ellen. She dismissed the fact that she might be buoyed by his company herself. No, it was definitely Izzy’s enthusiasm.
Surprisingly, Izzy went into school quite happily. Ellen had almost expected her to be reluctant to leave her father but that wasn’t the case.
‘She enjoyed you taking her today,’ said Ellen as they drove out of the school grounds.
‘I’ve been really busy over the last few days and I know I’ve neglected her a bit,’ said Donovan. ‘Thanks for stepping in despite the fact that Sundays are supposed to be your own. I really appreciate it.’
‘It was no problem. I didn’t have anything planned and I enjoy Izzy’s company.’
‘I won’t make a habit of it. If you need any extra time off to see your friends or family, just shout and we can sort something out. Don’t want people to think I’m making you work all day, every day.’
Ellen didn’t reply. She couldn’t exactly say that she wasn’t in contact with anyone, except for Kate, and that was only by secret email. Instead, she simply smiled at Donovan, mumbled thanks and turned her attention to the passing scenery.
As they reached Felpham, Ellen realised that instead of turning onto the Sea Lane estate, where Donovan’s house was, he had driven into the village itself. He brought the car to a stop near the seafront and cut the engine.
‘Come on,’ he said hopping out of the vehicle. ‘We’re going for a walk.’
Ellen looked through the windscreen at the grey clouds stalking the sun across the sky. The drizzle had stopped but it still didn’t look very nice out there. From where she was sitting, high up in the four by four, she could see the beach. The sea itself didn’t look a dissimilar colour to the sky, only broken now and again by the waves crashing over and turning the caps of the water white.
‘You really want to go for a walk on a day like this?’ she said, as Donovan paused midway through closing his door.
He grinned. ‘Come on, don’t be a wimp. It’s great walking along the beach on squally days and, besides, it will be practically deserted. Just how I like it.’ He pushed his door closed and, looking back through the window, gestured with his head for Ellen to follow.
‘I’d sooner be walking along here in my shorts and t-shirt with an ice cream in my hand and the sun blazing down,’ Ellen said, as they strode along the seafront against the wind.
‘Stop moaning,’ said Donovan good-humouredly.
‘It’s freezing too.’
‘What do you expect? You’ve only got a little fleece on. You really are a townie, aren’t you? Nothing like a bit of sea air to clear the lungs, or would you sooner be breathing in exhaust fumes and jostling for pavement space with commuters?’
Ellen could hear the amusement in his voice. He had a point. They walked along the path, Ellen spending most of her time admiring the beautiful gardens of the houses that backed onto the beach. They were all very large and grand, much like Donovan’s. As they walked further along, they passed some pretty blue and yellow beach huts. Another five minutes round a small spit in the shoreline and some rather less-attractive beach huts greeted them.
‘They don’t look very nice,’ said Ellen, taking in the dreary grey colour of the wooden huts with peeling paint and broken windows. Pieces of roofing-felt flapped in the wind, hanging down like depressed bunting, where stormy winds had ripped them from their fixings.
Donovan explained that the beach huts were disused and in the pipeline to be demolished. ‘More picture-postcard blue and yellow ones will follow in their place,’ he said.
‘So where exactly are we now?’ asked Ellen.
‘This is called Old Point,’ said Donovan. ‘No one comes down here much as it’s a bit isolated. You can only access the shoreline from one road that, back in the 1930’s, used to service a small holiday camp. You know, Hi-De-Hi sort of thing. It finally closed down about twenty years ago.’
‘Why hasn’t anyone developed it in all that time?’ said Ellen, looking beyond the battered wooden huts to where boarded-up rows of chalets stood, alongside larger buildings, which she assumed were once the dining hall, ballroom and entertainment lounge. ‘It’s a shame to let something that was once so full of life fall into such a neglected and dead state.’
‘There’s been so many different plans put forward for developing the whole site. It’s been the topic of heated public debates. Finally, though, last year plans and funding were agreed and they intend to start work on it next spring. These old beach huts don’t really fit in, as you can imagine.’
‘You can say that again.’
‘Let’s go down onto the beach,’ said Donovan, steering her in the direction of the pebbles.
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