Page 24 of Close Protection

To Daphne, I’m just an employee.

To me, Daphne is a job. Just a job.

At least that’s all she should be.

Job. Her.

Employee. Me.

Walking into the backyard and pulling out the equipment I need for today, I refocus on the task at hand: teaching Daphne how to defend herself. I just need to focus on training her, maintaining professional boundaries and minding my business and we’ll be fine.

‘Good morning, Mr Petrov,’ I hear from behind me as I stomp on the base of the free-standing target, fixing it in place. ‘What delightful task do you have for me today?’ As I walk back towards the patio, I see Daphne chewing on someblueberries, her eyes roaming over the row of knives I’ve placed on the table. Any trace of her earlier distress is long gone.

Her slick, straight hair is pulled up into a neat ponytail, and her face is void of any tear marks or puffiness. She’s wearing pink leggings again, with the hoodie that I never got back after our first day of training. I’m not mad, though. She wears it better than me. It practically drowns her, coming down to her mid-thighs, but she has the sleeves rolled up so she still has range of motion. The black is a stark contrast to her usual pink or white variety of gym wear, giving her a just-rolled-out-of-my-boyfriend’s-bed-and-needed-something-to-put-on look.

Why do I kinda love that?

Boundaries, Petrov. Boundaries.

‘You wanted to learn knife throwing. Today I’m gonna teach you.’ She looks up at me with an unexpected smile on her face, which slowly morphs into a fully-fledged grin.

‘Finally, something fun.’ I resist the urge to chuckle at her endearing eagerness, remembering what I just told myself about keeping my distance.

Job. Her.

Employee. Me.

Blurring the lines would be a really stupid decision.

I pick up a knife and throw it at the target, hitting thecentre with ease. ‘The goal is for you to be able to do this after a couple of lessons. But, before you even touch a blade –’ I pluck the knife that she’s just picked up out of her hands and place it back on the table – ‘you need to learn the basics, so you don’t hurt yourself. Let’s warm up first.’ I hand her the jump rope that she’s actually come to like and walk to the shed to retrieve the mats.

‘I didn’t know they teach knife throwing in the military,’ she says, opening up the rope and starting to jump.

‘They don’t.’

‘Oh… so where did you learn it?’

‘I was in a children’s home when I was a kid. The older boys taught me.’ I cringe at my words. She doesn’t need to know that. No one does, but most of all her.

‘You were in care?’ she asks, abruptly pausing her skipping, a look of concern on her delicate features.

‘Yes. Keep skipping.’

‘That must’ve been hard for you. I’m so sorry,’ she says, beginning to skip once again. I know I shouldn’t look at her but my gaze catches hers anyway. The peaceful sincerity in her voice makes me want to hit a wall. Not many people know I was in the system, and those who do have never sounded as genuinely caring as she just did. Something about this girl makes me want to sit down and tell her my life story. Every single rough detail. But I will never subjectsomeone as pure as she is to something as dark and dirty as my past.

‘It was fine.’ I walk past her and drop the mats on the floor, lining them up, nodding towards them once they’re in the right place. ‘Push-ups now.’

Daphne stops skipping and comes to the mats to start her push-ups, still breathless from the skipping. ‘You must’ve been living in a rough area, if the older children were teaching you how to throw knives.’

‘Keep your lower back down,’ I say, ignoring her implied question. I crouch down beside her and push gently down on the base of her spine, correcting her form. I really shouldn’t be this close to her.

From here I can feel the heat radiating from her body. I can smell her marshmallow and orange blossom scent and hear her quick, shallow breaths, taking my mind to places it really shouldn’t be going.

‘Do you not like talking about your time in care?’ she digs, breathless.

‘No.’

‘Oh, okay… well, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m always here to listen.’ She sits up and places her hand on my forearm with a soft smile. After a beat, she removes it, standing up. Creating some much-needed space.

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