‘Is she still like it?’
Mrs Holloway shrugged as she dropped a halved potato into the pot of water. ‘Says she’s not. She got herself sorted and then ran off to Paris with some French bloke. More fool him.’
‘I’ve yet to have the pleasure of meeting her,’ said Ellen.
‘Don’t rush yourself on that score.’ Mrs Holloway lifted the saucepan of potatoes over to the hob. ‘Now, a little birdy tells me it’s your birthday tomorrow.’
‘I didn’t realise anyone knew,’ said Ellen in surprise.
‘That will be Carla for you. She’s extremely organised. Nothing gets past her.’
‘I’m not sure she would worry about my birthday.’
‘She wouldn’t want to let Donovan down. He’s been very good to her,’ said Mrs Holloway, turning to look at Ellen. ‘Besides, she’s not that bad really. Her bark is worse than her bite. Right, clear those peelings away for me and I’ll show you how to make puff pastry.’
The next morning, Ellen was practically dragged downstairs by Izzy and was greeted in the kitchen by the rest of the household singing Happy Birthday. Even Carla appeared to join in.
‘Thank you,’ said Ellen, a smile stretching across her face. ‘What a lovely way to start the day.’
‘We’ve bought you presents,’ said Izzy excitedly. She grabbed a beautifully wrapped pink box from the table. ‘It’s chocolates.’
‘Izzy!’ chorused Donovan, Carla and Mrs Holloway.
‘What?’ said Izzy looking round.
‘You’re supposed to wait for Ellen to open the present herself otherwise there’s no surprise.’ Donovan gave a laugh and turned to Ellen, mouthing sorry across the top of Izzy.
‘It’s fine,’ said Ellen. She bent down to Izzy, who was looking embarrassed. ‘Hey, want to help me unwrap these lovely chocolates then?’ Awkward moment over.
‘Happy birthday,’ said Mrs Holloway, taking a chocolate from the box Ellen offered round. ‘Don’t mind if I do.’
‘Not for me, thank you,’ said Carla. ‘Too early in the day. Oh, and happy birthday.’
‘Donovan?’ Ellen held the box towards her boss.
‘Well, seeing as it’s your birthday.’ He took a chocolate and then slipped it to Izzy with a wink and a stage whisper. ‘Don’t let Ellen see I’ve given you another chocolate.’
‘Are you going to give Ellen the other present?’ said Izzy as she stuffed the second chocolate into her mouth. ‘You know the …’
‘No! Don’t say anything. Remember, it’s a surprise.’ Donovan pressed his finger to his daughter’s mouth. ‘You concentrate on eating.’ He picked up another beautifully wrapped box and held it out to Ellen. ‘This is from all of us. Happy birthday.’ He stepped forward and leant in, kissing her on the cheek.
Ellen hoped she hadn’t blushed as much as she felt she probably had; her face definitely warm. ‘Thank you.’ She took the box and unwrapped it. ‘Oh, I can’t believe it. Really, you shouldn’t have. I can’t accept this. It’s too much.’
Donovan held up his hand. ‘Shhh…’
‘No, really Donovan, it’s very generous but I couldn’t possibly …’
‘You’re as bad as Izzy.’ Donovan picked up a chocolate and popped it in Ellen’s mouth. ‘Be quiet, eat your chocolate and enjoy your present. You haven’t got a laptop and this is only a small notebook. It’s not expensive, but it will do the job for what you need. Now I don’t want to hear another word about it.’
Ellen guessed that objecting any further would be futile and might possibly offend. She concentrated on swallowing the chocolate before speaking. ‘Thank you. I’m delighted and extremely grateful. It’s very kind of you.’
‘Right, well I must get off. I’ve got a very important meeting with the local constabulary this morning.’
‘One that might involve eggs and bacon?’ said Ellen.
‘You’ve got the idea. A breakfast meeting with the DCI.’ He scooped Izzy up and kissed her. ‘That’s Uncle Ken to you. Now be a good girl, have a lovely day at school and when I get home tonight, we will all have birthday cake!’
It was a touching scene, if you liked that sort of thing. If you didn’t know any better you’d think they were one big happy family. He shifted from his spot in the bushes, his legs beginning to get pins and needles where he had stood still for so long observing the early morning birthday celebrations. Time to take his leave. He’d seen enough. His suspicions were confirmed. He now had plans to make. He was going to enjoy himself.
‘Morning, Ken,’ said Donovan, shaking his friend’s hand. ‘Are we going for a full house today?’ Donovan sat down at the table of the café with the DCI. ‘The sea looks calm this morning.’ He looked out of the window. It was a bright day for October and the sun was warming through the glass nicely where they sat. Donovan could see a lone figure standing on the edge of the seafront promenade. The fact that the man had his hood up and a scarf covering his mouth and nose belied the warmth that Donovan felt. ‘Nippy out there though, nevertheless.’
‘Yep, summer has definitely gone,’ replied Ken following Donovan’s gaze. ‘Even so, that’s a bit over the top.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Hood and scarf.’
‘Takes all sorts, I suppose,’ said Donovan. ‘Ah, here comes the waitress.’ After placing their orders, Donovan look out of the window again. A sixth-sense feeling was drawing his eyes away from his companion. Donovan frowned.
‘You all right?’ asked Ken.
‘Mmm, I think so. Probably nothing.’ Donovan was talking to himself more than to Ken. The man wrapped in the scarf was still standing there – looking right at the café. At himself and Ken. Donovan turned to Ken. ‘Friend of yours, is he?’
‘What?’
‘That bloke, out there.’ Donovan looked again, his eyes locking with the voyeur.
‘Nothing to do with me,’ said Ken. ‘At least I don’t think so. Hard to tell.’
The man then raised his arm and made a pistol with his hand, two fingers pointing straight at Donovan and Ken. With his other hand he pretended to cock the gun and fire it, flicking his hand slightly to signify the bang.
‘What the …?’ Donovan stood up, his chair scraping noisily on the floor.
The man turned and sprinted off out of sight.
‘Sit down, mate,’ said Ken. ‘No point running after him. Just some bloody idiot. Take no notice.’
‘What was that all about?’ A rhetorical question.
‘Look, here comes our breakfast,’ said Ken, flapping his napkin open and laying it across his lap. ‘Come on, tuck in.’
Donovan sat back down. The breakfast was a far more tempting option.
‘So, any progress on the Stella Harris case? Have you been able to find any evidence against Lampard?’ Donovan spoke in a quiet voice. The café wasn’t busy but you could never tell who was eavesdropping, albeit unintentionally.
Ken swallowed and putting his cutlery down, dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. ‘In a word, no.’ He let out a sigh. ‘All circumstantial