Free Broadchurch: The End Is Where It Begins: A Series Two Original Short Story by Erin Kelly, Chris Chibnall

ELLIE MILLER
    They all know. They don’t say anything, but they all know.
    The first time Ellie enters the staff canteen at Exmoor nick, her fellow officers set down their cups and cutlery, all the better to stare at her. It feels like there are hundreds of eyes on her, making something as easy as choosing between a bacon roll and an omelette an impossible task. Exmoor is a huge police station, three or four times the size of Broadchurch, and the canteen is shared with the county’s traffic division, who operate out of a giant garage next door. Ellie chose this place because she thought that big would mean anonymous. But it’s clear to her, as she picks up a bottle of water, that they know her history. She ploughs silence before her wherever she goes and trails whispers in her wake.
    She carries her tray to the counter and imagines seeing herself through her new colleagues’ eyes. Even if they’ve got the right version of the facts, it must be hard to process what she’s doing here in Devon. Going back into uniform was Ellie’s choice, but it usually means a demotion. It’s shorthand for disgrace. As far as Ellie’s concerned, the uniform helps. Her collar and cravat let her hold her head up high, and she walks easy in regulation flat shoes. This is a move sideways, not downwards; she’s still a Sergeant. Her salary stays the same, and that’s important. Ellie’s staring down the barrel of single parenthood, paying for the childcare that Joe used to do for free. Resigning would mean sacrificing her pension, and with a good fifteen years’ service left in her, that’s not an option.
    But there’s more to it than money. It doesn’t feel right to go back into CID until Joe’s been sentenced. She’s never told anyone this, but it feels like that way, she’ll be able to put Danny behind her. But going into uniform, that felt right. Ellie understands now what Hardy meant by atonement. By serving another community, she can atone for what Joe did to her own. Leaving the force, taking a sabbatical, all the other things that people told her to do: none of these was an option. This move is, above all else, a massive fuck you to Joe. Fifteen years, Ellie’s been on the force. When he took Danny’s life, he took Ellie’s best friend, her community, their eldest son. She will not let him have her career as well.
    She’s got no appetite: she opts for a cereal bar in the end and eats it on her own at a corner table, her back to the room.
    Ellie’s new partner is PC Cliff Kendall. His black vest showcases his barrel of a belly, and his close-cropped greying hair highlights his lack of a neck. Ellie immediately nicknames him Mr Potato Head but it’s hard to smile about that when there’s no one apart from Fred she can share the joke with.
    ‘You’re a lucky lady,’ Cliff says. ‘Twenty-three years I’ve been on this beat. This is basically my nick, lord of all I survey, although don’t tell the chief super I told you that. Ha!’ He laughs at his own non-joke in a way that suggests it’s not the first time he’s said this. She doesn’t join in, and his eyes narrow. Ellie can picture him off-duty, in T-shirts with sitcom catchphrases on them, bullying people into organised fun and practical jokes. ‘Anyway,’ he continues, ‘you couldn’t ask for a better tour guide to the fleshpots of North Devon.’ As he leads her through the unfamiliar corridors, Cliff tells her about his kids (in particular his outrage that PE isn’t compulsory at GSCE level), his journey into work and his cholesterol levels. By the time they’re in the car park, he’s moved on to his profound displeasure at having to share a canteen with the traffic division. ‘The most joyless, jobsworth bastards you’ll ever meet. The famous Black Rats.’ He twitches his nose and laughs again. ‘They’re even worse than internal affairs and that’s saying something.’ The wink he gives Ellie is clearly meant to be conspiratorial. ‘I