This Other Eden (Skimmerdale Book 1)

by Sharon Booth

  Luckily, he hadn't done anything vile, and it was a quick and easy job to change him. After pulling up his trousers, she left him on the carpet, while she rushed into the kitchen, deposited the nappy in the bin and washed her hands. Then she rushed back into the room, picked him up, and sat him on her knee. It was only half past ten and she was knackered already.

  'Shall we put the telly on for a bit? Bound to be something there to occupy you.'

  Maybe, if she could distract him for half an hour, she could change the litter tray. It definitely needed doing. Once he fell asleep, she might risk vacuuming the bedrooms and checking all the beds were made. Then she'd have to think about dinner. Or tea, as the Harlands called it. She picked up the remote and flicked the television on, putting her arm around George and letting him snuggle into her. She'd let him settle and then she'd tackle the litter tray.

  'Having a nice, easy morning, are you?'

  George whooped in delight. 'Daddy!'

  Eliot smiled and ruffled the little boy's hair. 'All right, Georgie? So, not finding things too difficult, then, Honey?'

  Eden glared at him. The injustice of it! After all her hard work, too. 'I was trying to settle George, then I was going to change the litter tray.'

  'Right.' He obviously didn't believe her.

  She stared at him crossly. 'What are you doing back, anyway? Aren't you supposed to be getting your baby lambs ready to be murdered?'

  He didn't rise to the bait. 'Cup of tea time. I'm parched. Stick 'kettle on, will you?'

  'What did your last slave die of?' she snapped but got up anyway. The least she could do was make him a drink, even if his attitude was infuriating.

  'Did you find the school all right?' he asked, when she returned with the drinks.

  'Yes, no problem.' She hesitated. 'Is Libby okay at school?'

  'What do you mean?' He peered at her over the mug. 'Okay in what way?'

  'I don't know. Just, she seemed a bit reluctant to go inside.'

  'Oh.' He shook his head. 'Probably wants to hang around here. Can't blame her, can you? And she's besotted with that pony of theirs, so I reckon she'd far rather be riding round the place than stuck in some classroom. I were the same at her age.'

  'I don't doubt it.'

  George seemed enthralled by some colourful television programme he was watching and kept pointing at the screen and insisting Eliot look, so Eden didn't pursue the subject.

  After ten minutes, Eliot stood up. 'Right, well, thanks for the drink. I'll be in around half twelve, if you wouldn't mind having some dinner ready.'

  'What am I? Your personal servant?'

  'Thought that was why you were here,' he pointed out. 'To help. After all, I'm not charging you anything to stay here.'

  'I should hope not!'

  'You'd be amazed how much folks pay to stay in the Dales. You're lucky to get it all for free.' He scowled at her, planted a kiss on George's head, and left the house.

  Eden folded her arms. Typical that he'd come in just as she had sat down. Now he'd never believe all the work she'd done that morning. Although, she supposed, that could be a good thing. If Cain rang that night, it would set alarm bells ringing if Eliot praised her for the quality of her ironing. Honey didn't even know where the iron was kept.

  George finally fell asleep at twenty-past eleven, and Eden whizzed round the place with a vacuum cleaner and tidied the girls' beds. She hesitated outside Eliot's room, wondering if she should clean in there, but decided against it. It felt like too much, too soon. She would ask him if he wanted anything doing at the weekend. She supposed she ought to think about his lunch, or rather, dinner. That was confusing enough. Dinner at lunchtime and tea at dinnertime. Crazy. Oh, and there was another problem. How could she prepare him good, hearty meals, when Honey couldn't cook?

  She searched the cupboards and fridge, wondering what she could rustle up that would fill his belly while not demanding too many skills. In the end, she made him a pile of cheese sandwiches and hoped for the best.

  When he entered the kitchen at twenty-past twelve, she was dismayed to see he wasn't alone. Two men were with him — one so old, Eden wondered how he still stood unaided. The other was young and pleasant enough. They both nodded at her, where she stood at the sink, almost up to her elbows in suds as she washed the cups and knives.

  'This is Mickey,' Eliot said, indicating the old man. 'He used to work for my father, and he's forgotten more about sheep than I'll ever know. This other fella's Adey. He's hoping to become a farmer, and he helps me out now and then.'

  'Thought we'd come and see the new member of staff.' Mickey cackled.

  Eden drew herself up indignantly. 'Do you mind? I'm hardly staff. I'm a guest.'

  Mickey glanced at the other two. 'Eliot, fancy making tha guest wash pots,' he said, nodding at her in amusement.

  She remembered the suds and scowled, ignoring Eliot's laugh. 'I think you'll find you're the staff,' she said coolly, thinking Honey would make mincemeat of these two, but she daren't push it that far.

  'No, they're not,' said Eliot. 'They're friends, and I couldn't have managed without them. Mickey retired years ago, but he's always ready to lend a hand when I need it, and Adey's at agricultural college. Comes up here when he can, to get hands-on experience.'

  'Oh. Well, where are your real staff?' she asked.

  'What staff? Just me and these two, as and when.'

  'But you must have hundreds of sheep!' she said, astonished.

  'Over a thousand. Like I told you this morning, there's hardly any money in it these days. Can't afford full-time help anymore. Usually, it's just me. Except for busy times, of course, like lambing. Mickey does most of the shearing, and someone comes to do the dipping now. Too many rules and regulations, see. Other than that — well, now you know why I'm needing a bit of help. Speaking of which, did you do me some dinner?'

  'Yes.' She felt embarrassed as she handed him the plate of cheese sandwiches.

  'By heck,' said Mickey, shaking his head. 'What a feast. Did tha go to catering college to learn that, love?'

  If he only knew, she thought. She could wipe the smirks off their faces and rustle them up a meal to marvel over, if only she wasn't being Honey. Instead, she tried to look affronted and informed them of her expensive private education, and her unique little shop in Upper Bourbury, failing to mention that it hadn't made a penny and was now closed permanently.

  'Blimey,' said Adey. 'Should I curtsey?'

  'Daft bugger,' said Eliot. He sat down and picked up a sandwich. 'You couldn't make these two one, could you? Hungry, lads?'

  Lads! Mickey looked about a hundred and two. Still, she didn't mind making them a sandwich and a cup of tea.

  'So, tha's Jemima's cousin, eh?' said Mickey, chewing on his sandwich ten minutes later, with what remained of his teeth.

  'I am.' Eden tried to calculate the exact relationship, but it was too complicated for her. 'Well, second cousin, or something.'

  'Hmm.' With one word, Mickey managed to convey exactly what he thought of her. Whether that was because he didn't think much to Jemima, or because she was part of the family that had snubbed Eliot's wife after their marriage, she couldn't be sure.

  They looked round, as George called from the living room. 'I'll go,' said Eliot, standing up and leaving the kitchen.

  'Good lad, that,' said Mickey, sucking loudly on his sandwich. 'Gave him a proper hard time.'

  'Who did? Oh, you mean the family.' Well, she couldn't argue with that. They'd been horrible, but knowing Freya, she was hardly surprised.

  'He's been through hell,' said Mickey, leaning towards her and watching her with eyes that seemed to bore into her soul. 'Not that I'm saying owt about it. None of my business, like. Took us ages to bring him through it, didn't it, lad?'

  Adey swallowed his crust and nodded. 'Oh, aye. Terrible times.'

  'Yes, well, at least he's all right now,' said Eden.

  'Does tha think? Well, think again,' said Mickey. 'Not t
hat I'm saying owt, mind. Wouldn't betray a confidence, would I?'

  'I'm sure you wouldn't,' said Eden.

  'He's still not right. Not proper right. Mind, this is between me and thee, and I wouldn't say owt normally, but tha's going to be here with him for the next few weeks, and tha should know how it is.'

  'Right.' Eden frowned. 'So, how is it?'

  'He's delicate, like.' He must have seen her face because he shook his head impatiently. 'Not physically. Strong as an 'oss. I mean up here,' he said, tapping his temple, 'and in 'ere,' he added, putting a rather grubby hand over his heart. 'Bruised and battered, like. We don't talk about it,' he said with a sigh. 'But I know.'

  'Oh,' said Eden. She didn't see what else there was to say.

  'Tha'd best be good to him,' said Mickey sharply. 'No messing him about. Lovely lad, that. Salt o' t' earth.'

  Eden nodded. Well, she could agree with him on that, even if she didn't have the first idea what Mickey was trying to tell her.

  Chapter Eleven

  'So that's it. You're free now!'

  Eden suppressed a smile, as Eliot swept his daughters into his arms and gave them a huge hug. It was hard not to show her delight at the little girls' excitement that the school term was finally finished, and the holidays had officially begun. More than six weeks to run around, exploring the countryside, playing with the dogs, riding the pony, and generally having fun. Honey, however, wouldn't be thrilled at that prospect, so she turned away and busied herself making drinks and hunting around for some biscuits. They always seemed to be starving when they got home from school, and, as Eliot didn't really stop working 'til gone six, the evening meal was late. They needed something to fill the gap until then. She had queried why they couldn't have their meal earlier, but Eliot had been adamant they all ate together.

  'With me out all day, and them stuck in school, it's our chance to sit at the table and catch up wi' what's been going on. Precious time. I'll not have you coming in and changing that to suit yersen.'

  Eden had held up her hands in defence. 'Okay, it was just a suggestion. If you're happy to let your children starve for two hours, that's up to you.'

  He'd given her a poisonous look and stamped outside. She hadn't suggested any more changes. Now, as she poured cups of juice, she realised this was where things really got tricky. The girls had been out most of the day up 'til that point — miles away at the school in Ravensbridge. She'd certainly attracted some attention when she turned up at the school gate in her bright yellow Beetle, and tottered into the playground in Honey's Jimmy Choos — bought over two years ago, and, though worn only twice, deemed fit for only Eden to wear now — and her leather biker jacket, which had cost over three hundred pounds from Whistles last winter, over an almost-new Stella McCartney day dress. That one outfit alone had cost more than Eden had earned in a month working at The Red Lion. No wonder the mothers of the other children had looked astonished. She felt ridiculously out of place and overdressed, and, although Honey owned some lovely clothes and Eden was thrilled to have been given them, they really weren't suitable for looking after children and tidying the house.

  That was another problem. Eliot didn't seem to expect her to do anything, except look after George all day, take the girls to school and pick them up afterwards, feed them all and make sure they were safe. She'd assumed he'd demand she clean the house, but he hadn't. To her amazement, he'd washed up after both the evening meals she'd cooked, and she'd longed to tell him to sit down and let her do the dishes, but Honey wouldn't have dreamed of doing that, and she was desperately afraid he would give a glowing report to Cain, so she had to let Eliot get on with it. It made her feel heartless, particularly when she could see how tired he was after a day's work.

  She had no idea how he'd managed before she got there. He must have been exhausted. She wondered how much he'd been relying on Daisy. He didn't seem to have anyone else. It was a good job men rarely noticed when housework had been done. She was vacuuming, dusting, ironing and washing, and he didn't even seem to have realised. No wonder her mum complained so much about her dad's lack of appreciation, she thought.

  'You'll have your work cut out now.' She hadn't realised he was standing beside her, and her hands shook as she tried to open the packet of biscuits. 'Do you think you're up to this?'

  'I'm sure that, after a two-year-old, an eight and ten-year-old will be easy.'

  He grinned. 'You've a lot to learn.' He had the most beautiful smile. She wished he'd smile more often, although, with having to put up with "Honey's" dreadful behaviour on top of the workload he had, expecting him to smile was probably too much.

  'Are you in for the day?' she asked. He wasn't usually around when she brought the girls home from school, but he'd obviously made a special effort to be there to greet them on their last day of term.

  He shook his head. 'Not finished yet. I'll probably be done in a couple of hours.'

  'I'll have tea ready for six.'

  'Aye. Grand.' He dropped kisses on the heads of all three children, and whistled to Lug, who was lying patiently under the table. Once he'd left, the kitchen felt empty.

  Ophelia sidled up to her. 'What are we having for tea?'

  That was another problem. Eden had racked her brains to think what sort of things Honey could cook. She was having to tread so carefully. With Cain in constant touch with Eliot, demanding to know in minute detail what she'd been up to, she could hardly start whipping up hearty casseroles and stews for Eliot, much as she'd like to. She'd remembered, with immense difficulty, that Honey had once cooked a stir-fry, and she'd managed to do a curry once, although that was using a jar of sauce and microwave rice. A quick search of Eliot's cupboards and fridge had revealed no jars of sauces or packets of noodles. or even any rice — microwave, or otherwise. She'd contented herself with sticking to basics like egg and chips, jacket potatoes and beans, and sausages and mash. It was a bit boring. She loved to cook — often putting her skills to use feeding the Carmichaels — and she thought the Harlands deserved something a bit better than they were getting. She would have to put her thinking cap on.

  If only Cain would stop pestering Eliot for details, but he didn't seem about to give up. He had tried, in vain, to speak to her and seemed to have accepted that she wasn't going to give in and talk to him, but he wanted Eliot to tell him everything she was up to. There was no mobile phone signal at the farmhouse, but she'd managed to get one in Ravensbridge. She'd had a message from her mother on her own phone, telling her Tenerife was fabulous, and she and her father were having a lovely time, missed her, and they hoped she was all right and enjoying the summer. On Honey's iPhone, there were six missed calls from Cain and four texts, begging her to talk to him. Then there was a final message that said, "Well, bugger you then. Don't think I'll stop calling because I won't, and Eliot tells me EVERYTHING so be warned!"

  Eliot, meanwhile, seemed to have reconciled himself with the fact that he'd have to update Cain on her behaviour at frequent intervals. He'd been perplexed about the whole thing and had asked her several times what on earth she'd done to warrant such close observation. Cain had even asked him to put a child lock on the phone, which only Eliot would know the pin number for. Eliot had more-or-less agreed to do it, but informed Eden he had no intention of carrying out Cain's wishes.

  'What if there's an emergency and you need to call an ambulance for one o' the bairns? Think I'm jeopardising their safety 'cos you can't be trusted? Think on.'

  It was fine by Eden, too, though she knew that if Cain had an inkling that "Honey" had free access to the phone and could have called Crispin at any time she chose, he would have a fit.

  'Fish fingers and chips okay for tonight?'

  The girls seemed to have no problem with that. She would give Eliot extra portions and bulk it up with bread and butter. Maybe she could buy a cookbook and pretend to learn from that? Something would have to be done.

  George seemed delighted at the news, too. He had a passion for chips. He a
lso seemed to have developed an extraordinary fondness for Eden. He ran to her frequently to show her things and asked her endless questions and wanted cuddles. Eliot was baffled, as Eden rarely spoke to George when in his presence. He wasn't to know that, when it was just the two of them, she read him stories, sang songs to him, and played endless games with him. George, who had probably been lonely until her arrival, lapped it all up and had evidently decided "Honey" was his new best friend.

  'Honey, would you like to meet Flora now?'

  Flora was the girls' pony. Libby had tried to take Eden to meet her several times. She had resisted so far, not least because she had no suitable footwear or clothing, but also because she had a fear of horses she could hardly confess to, given Honey's apparent prowess in the equestrian field. With three eager faces looking up at her, though, she couldn't bring herself to say no.

  Instead, she gave an exaggerated sigh and said, 'I suppose so, though don't expect me to touch the dirty thing.'

  Ophelia giggled and grabbed her hand. 'Come on, then.'

  'Hang on! Let me put George's shoes on. And put your coats on, please. It's raining, in case you'd forgotten. Just for a change.'

  They set off from the house ten minutes later, Ophelia pulling excitedly on her arm while Libby led the way, clearly bursting with excitement to be able to show her precious pony off to her. Tuppence, the elderly Border collie, emerged from the garden and followed them. She was Lug's grandmother, and much loved by the family. Two little Jack Russells raced round excitedly, yapping loudly. They were called Fagin and Dodger, and lived in one of the outbuildings, being excellent ratters, apparently.

  Ophelia ran ahead, splashing ungraciously through puddles, past the barn and the garden, on past the row of stone outhouses and stables, to the gate at the end of the track.

  'She's here,' she called excitedly. 'Come and say hello.'

  Eden gripped George's hand tighter — partly to stop him running ahead and getting into the paddock, where he could be mowed down by a vicious beast with four hooves and some very big teeth, and partly to steady her own nerves. She hadn't had much to do with horses. They seemed very big and very scary to her. She wasn't sure she could bluff her way out of this one.