This Other Eden (Skimmerdale Book 1)

by Sharon Booth

  At a pound a ride, the fairground was good value for money, but it still meant an expensive afternoon for Eden. By the time Ophelia declared that she needed a break from whizzing around on rides that even Eden would have thought twice about, Eden had spent a small fortune.

  Having surrendered half an hour previously, Libby was sitting on the grass, recovering from her dizzy spell, when her sister bounced over and declared herself ready for a jam and cream scone.

  'Are you sure you can face it?' said Eden doubtfully.

  'Of course I can! What's up with you, Libby? You look green.'

  'I'm all right,' said Libby, forcing herself to her feet and giving Ophelia a defiant look. 'Cream tea sounds good to me.'

  More money, then, thought Eden, checking in her purse and sighing. It may have been for charity, but she didn't even know which one. She hoped it was worth it and wasn't simply lining the pockets of James Fuller.

  'Hook-a-duck!' Libby seemed to have recovered her composure and pointed the stall out to her sister as they headed towards the tea tent.

  'We have to go on that,' confirmed Ophelia. 'I'm ace at hooking them. Takes me ten seconds, or less. Can we have a pound, Honey?'

  'Have your scone and a drink first,' Eden advised. 'We've got all afternoon. Take it easy.'

  Ophelia pulled a face but didn't argue. The lure of the scent of freshly-baked scones was probably too strong to resist. They did smell delicious. Eden's stomach rumbled in anticipation.

  As she devoured the last bite of her cream tea, Eden sank back in her chair and sighed. 'That was gorgeous. Would it be too greedy to buy another, do you think?'

  'You can finish mine, if you like,' said Libby, pushing her plate towards Eden. 'I think maybe I should have said no to the waltzers, after all.'

  'You're such a wimp,' said Ophelia. 'Bet George would have loved them.'

  'I think the merry-go-round was fast enough for George,' said Eden firmly. She eyed the little boy, who was smeared in jam and cream and had a good spattering of crumbs around his mouth. 'I'd better clean him up,' she said, reaching in her bag for the baby wipes. 'Do you want to go on the hook-a-duck now?'

  Ophelia nodded eagerly, and even Libby looked a little less green at the prospect. Eden fished around for her purse and handed them a ten-pound note. 'Right, there's enough there to go on a couple of games, and to get yourselves a candy floss or toffee apple to take home with you. You have to promise not to wander off, though. Just stay near the stalls. Promise?'

  The girls agreed and Eden finished cleaning up George as they shot out of the tea tent, the ten pound note clutched tightly in Libby's hand. Within moments, Eden was joined by Beth, who laughingly admitted that the two of them had practically knocked her over in their rush to get to the hook-a-duck stall.

  'Sorry. They're really excited. They've had a lovely afternoon.'

  'I'm so glad. They deserve it, after all they've been through.' Beth sat down beside her and folded her hands in her lap. 'I must say, I'm astonished Eliot allowed them to come here.'

  Eden felt her stomach flip over with nerves. Was the woman onto her? She was pretty certain she'd guessed Eliot had done no such thing. The question was, why? Why was Eliot so against his children spending time with his late wife's friends?

  'He does tend to keep the children close to him since Jemima passed. Not surprising, of course. It was a terrible tragedy, wasn't it?'

  'Um. Terrible.'

  'She was a remarkable woman, wasn't she?' Beth stared toward the cream tea counter, where a long queue had gathered. Eden had the strongest feeling that Beth wasn't even seeing the people standing in line so patiently. 'Incredibly beautiful. No wonder Eliot fell for her.'

  'To be honest,' Eden said, 'I never met her.' Then she remembered what Freya had said to Honey and tried to amend her statement. 'At least, Mother says I did, but I honestly can't remember.'

  'Really? I'm surprised. Once seen, never forgotten,' she said.

  After a moment of quiet, Eden put the dirty baby wipes in her bag and smoothed George's hair. He grinned up at her, and she smiled back at him.

  'You're very fond of them all, aren't you?' said Beth suddenly.

  Eden suppressed a sigh, wishing she'd clear off. She couldn't shake the feeling she was compounding her disloyalty to Eliot by talking to the Fullers, and Beth was getting annoying with her inane remarks. 'Yes, I suppose so. How could I not be?'

  'You're right, of course. I used to be very close to them,' Beth said, a hint of sadness in her voice.

  Eden peered at her. 'What do you mean, used to be?'

  'Things were … strained — at the end. Jemima and I had a falling out, of sorts. We would have made it up eventually,' she added hastily. 'It's just, we never got the chance.'

  'That's a shame.'

  'Yes.'

  Her voice was wistful. She reached out and stroked George's face.

  He responded by sinking his teeth into her hand.

  'Ouch!'

  'Sorry,' Eden said. 'Think he needs a bone to gnaw on, or something. He's always biting something.'

  Beth smiled. She looked lovely when she smiled. She was an attractive woman, when she didn't look so pinched and anxious. 'I expect he's getting some more teeth.'

  'He is,' Eden confirmed. 'His top molars are coming through. He's not happy about it.'

  George informed her that he was thirsty, so she asked Beth if she'd mind getting the bag that was hooked over the buggy's handlebars. She obliged, and Eden rummaged around, managing to retrieve his cup.

  'Is that your phone ringing?' Beth asked suddenly.

  Eden froze. Was it? Or was it Honey's? She listened intently. It was her own ring tone. She grabbed the phone from the bag and glanced at the screen. Cain! What the hell did he want with her?

  'Would you mind holding George a minute?' she asked. 'I need to take this.'

  Beth looked nervous. 'Me? Well … I suppose so.'

  Eden handed George, who was happily supping from his cup of juice, over to her and moved away to a corner of the tent. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she watched as Beth awkwardly sat George on her knee and felt uneasy. Another betrayal of Eliot's wishes. Sighing, she answered her phone. What would Cain be ringing her for?

  Chapter Twenty

  Cain closed his eyes and sighed. 'Aw, that's better. Nothing takes your aches and pains away like a hot tub.'

  'I wouldn't know,' said Roxy. 'I haven't got any aches and pains.'

  He frowned. Show off. Just because she was thirty-odd years younger than him, there was no need to rub it in. Unless it was an anti-inflammatory gel. He found that stuff increasingly valuable. 'It was a figure of speech,' he lied. There was no need to remind her of the age gap by banging on about his creaking knees, aching back, and various other ailments. The only part of him guaranteed to be stiff these days was his neck. It was a sorry state of affairs.

  'Can I play Candy Crush?' She peered longingly at his iPad, which lay tantalisingly close on the edge of the hot tub, but was strictly out of bounds, as far as Cain was concerned. He liked to keep it close at all times, but she knew as well as he did that it wasn't allowed too near the water. He'd told her enough times.

  'No, you can't. You'd probably drop it, and then where would we be? Besides, you're not here to play Candy Crush.'

  'Ooh, so what am I here for?' she cooed. 'Are we going to play park the purple Porsche again?'

  God forbid, thought Cain. Sitting there, with the soothing water bubbling all around him, he was pain free for the first time in ages. He wasn't going to risk losing that for a bit of how's-your-father with a woman who was irritating him more every day.

  He tensed as her hand reached out and stroked his chest. 'Why don't you sit back and relax?' he asked her, trying to keep the annoyance from his voice.

  'But I'm bored, Cainey baby. Are we playing hide the sausage, or what?'

  She was doing that stupid childlike voice again. He shuddered. 'For Gawd's sake, Roxy, play your bleeding Cand
y Crush. But if you drop my iPad, you'll pay for a replacement. Right?'

  She smirked and reached out for the iPad, but tutted when she picked it up. 'Someone's trying to get in touch.'

  'Who? Is it Honey?'

  He sat up straight, forgetting all about the risks of water to the device, and grabbed the iPad from her. His face dropped into a scowl when he realised who was trying to call him.

  'Freya! What the bleeding hell does she want?'

  'Ignore her,' Roxy began, but he'd already accepted the call, and his ex-wife's face loomed up on the screen.

  'What do you want?' Cain snapped.

  Freya wrinkled her nose. 'Well, aren't you all charm. Where on earth are you? Please tell me you're not in the middle of something distasteful. You appear to have forgotten your shirt.'

  'I'm in the hot tub.'

  'Oh, dear God. Do not lower the iPad, I beg of you. I still have nightmares about your nether regions.'

  'Have you just rung me to insult me?' he demanded.

  Roxy tutted. 'Are you gunna be on that thing long? I wanna play Candy Crush.'

  'Oh, you're babysitting again,' purred Freya. 'How sweet of you. Give the child some Smarties and send her off to play while the grown-ups talk.'

  'Don't be a bitch.' Cain noticed Roxy was wearing a most unattractive pout and had folded her arms. She looked scarily like a stroppy teenager. He nodded at the back door. 'Rox, go and pour us a drink. I'll be there in a minute.'

  Roxy glared at him, but she climbed out of the hot tub and padded up the path towards the kitchen. Cain watched her for a moment, wondering how many bikinis one woman could possess. He didn't think he'd ever seen her wearing the same one twice. No doubt, he'd paid for them all, too. He was beginning to think she wasn't worth it.

  'Earth to Cain Carmichael. Hello?' Freya's voice caught his attention, and he blinked.

  'Sorry. I was —'

  'I know what you were doing, thank you very much. I recognise that leer. Ugh. Anyway, enough of all that. I wondered how you were feeling?'

  'Eh?' Cain peered at the screen suspiciously. 'What are you on about? I'm fine. Why shouldn't I be?' And why the hell would she care, anyway?

  'Oh, that's good. I was so worried about you, after I saw it on the news. I thought you'd have taken it badly, but I forget you're made of sterner stuff, being working class. I should have known.'

  'What the hell are you babbling on about, woman?' He was growing increasingly annoyed. Bleeding women. They did your head in, no doubt about it.

  She smiled, which thoroughly unnerved him. Freya smiling was always a bad sign. 'Well, the line-up, of course. You know. Rex Scotman's mega-gig.'

  'Mega-gig!' He almost spat in disgust, but her words suddenly hit him. 'What line-up? What are you on about?'

  'Didn't you see the news? Rex was on again. I must say, he's quite the flavour of the month, isn't he? I'll be astonished if he's not made a knight of the realm before too long. The concert's all organised. Everyone who's anyone is playing. I must say, I was surprised you weren't taking part. I suppose you're too busy? Are you helping Roxy with her homework that evening?'

  'Piss off, Freya.'

  'Well, that's lovely. I can see you're not in the mood for socialising, so I'll bid you farewell. Do give my love to little Roxy, won't you? Such a shame she won't be able to watch the concert herself, what with the teenybopper bands playing, but I expect she'll have to be in bed by the time it's shown on television.'

  'Freya!'

  She giggled. 'Bye, Cain. We must do lunch sometime. Maybe in twenty years or so?'

  She vanished, leaving him glaring at the blank screen. He fought the urge to throw the iPad as far from him as he could manage, though given his dodgy shoulder that wouldn't be very far. Instead, he put it down gloomily and sank back, feeling the water churning around him. He hadn't felt this gloomy since his twenty-second album, Fucking at Hell's Door, had failed to make the top one hundred. Even having the title track banned on Radio One, the offending word on the album cover replaced with a row of asterisks, and a fake demo organised outside the record label's offices, in protest at the lewd and blasphemous content, hadn't shifted it. It had been the end of his recording career, to all intents and purposes. In recent years, he'd gathered some new fans and a certain nostalgia value. He'd guested on modern artists' tracks and had hoped his career would be revived. And now that twat Rex Scotman had scuppered his chance to headline in the biggest gig of the decade. How had it come to this?

  'Cainey!' Roxy's whiney voice drifted out from the kitchen.

  Cain sighed. She'd be standing there, drink in hand, all lip gloss and quivering bosom. He really couldn't be arsed. And that was worrying in itself, come to think of it. He'd really lost his sex drive lately. Even her sister had failed to raise more than a polite interest. Was this what old age did to a man? He needed taking out of himself. He needed someone to argue with, someone who didn't simper and sulk and want sex every five minutes. He didn't want Roxy's company. He wanted Honey's. She'd always been his favourite kid, although that wasn't saying much, truth to tell. She was a git and gave him a headache, with her arguments and demands, but she made him laugh, and she was a match for his quick wit. Not many were, least of all Roxy.

  He picked up the iPad and stared at the screen, unsure. What if she wouldn't talk to him again? He didn't think he could stand much more. As if it wasn't bad enough that the rest of his kids thought he was a waste of space, to lose his baby would be too much. He should never have sent her away. It was his own fault.

  A minute later, he put the iPad down and rubbed his forehead wearily. She hadn't answered. What did he expect? There hadn't been any answer from either the farm, or her mobile. He'd sent her dozens of texts in the last few weeks and she'd ignored them all. Anyone would think he was the one who'd been shagging the Tory MP, the way she was acting. On impulse, he picked up the iPad again and tried another tack.

  After several rings, she answered. 'Hello?'

  'Eden! Thank Gawd! At least you're talking to me. Have you heard from her?'

  'No. Haven't you?'

  'Jesus. I thought she'd at least have spoken to you. What the hell's going on?'

  'She's sulking. You should know what she's like. Don't let her rattle you.'

  'I feel bleeding mean. What if she's really miserable up there? Was I wrong?'

  'Look, Cain, that's Honey's problem — you always give in to her. Stop feeling guilty. You didn't have much choice, did you? You know what Honey's like, once she makes her mind up about something. She would never have stopped seeing Crispin, if you didn't make her.'

  'True. True.'

  There was a long silence before Eden, sounding agitated, said, 'Was there something else?'

  'Not really. I wanted to talk to her. Little git's all I got, really. You won't believe what's happened. That bleeding Rex Scotman's bin on the news again, announcing the line-up for his charity gig. Everyone's taking part. I mean, everyone. There'll be Sting and Bono and Macca, and all the other usual suspects.'

  'Well, that's good,' she said.

  'No, it ain't. Notice anyone missing?'

  'Er, Elton John?'

  Was she trying to wind him up? 'Me! The miserable git ain't asked me! Can you believe it? I mean, how's it gunna look, eh? Biggest charity event of the decade, and yours truly ain't gunna be part of it. How am I ever gunna get me knighthood? He's done me over, Eden. Stitched me up like a kipper. I ain't bleeding happy.'

  'No, well, you wouldn't be. Why don't you call him? Ask him what's going on?'

  'Are you mad? Give that lousy, stinking pig the opportunity to laugh at me? Let him know he's got one over on me? Hell will freeze over first.' He gave a big sigh. 'I wanted to talk it over with Honey. Me other kids wouldn't listen, or care. Honey would snap me out of it. She'd tell me to stop being so pathetic and get a grip.' He sighed again, fondly. 'Maybe I should go up there to Yorkshire. Talk to her.'

  'Are you mad?' Eden sounded horrified. 'You can't g
ive in to her like that.'

  'But I miss the little git, Eden,' he said wistfully. 'I wanna hear her voice, and if she won't talk to me. ..'

  'Look, I'll call her. See if she answers me.'

  'You won't be able to get through on her mobile. No signal up there. I can give you the house number, though. Have you got a pen?'

  'Yes, yes. Go on.'

  Cain reeled off the number, which he knew by heart after dialling it so much.

  'Okay, got it. I'll call her and persuade her to talk to you.'

  'Promise? If you can do that, Eden, I'm your pal for life. If she won't — well, I reckon I'm gunna have to pay her a visit. I'll speak to you later, kid. See you.'

  'Bye, Cain.'

  He put the iPad down again and climbed out of the hot tub. He'd had enough. Even the bubbles weren't helping to soothe him anymore. Stupid thing had been a waste of money, anyway. Roxy's idea, of course. "Everyone's got one, Cainey. They help you relax, Cainey. All them bubbles will do you the world of good, Cainey."

  Bleeding bubbles. If he wanted bubbly water, he just had a bath after eating a curry. Made plenty of bubbles then.

  He pulled on his towelling robe from off the back of a nearby chair, fastened the belt, and, collecting the iPad, headed into the house, where Roxy would, no doubt, be waiting for him. He'd have to make the effort, he supposed. At least he had one thing Rex Scotman didn't have — a blonde, buxom beauty with half a brain cell, and a libido on overdrive. Lucky him.

  ****

  Eden ended the call from Cain and immediately scrolled through the phone book, searching for Honey's new number. 'You'd better answer this,' she muttered.

  The phone rang and rang, and Eden began to despair, but just as she was about to give up, Honey's voice said, 'What?'

  Her usual charming self, then, thought Eden. 'Honey, your father's rung me.'

  'And you answered? Are you stupid?'

  'He rang me, not you!' She was calling Eden stupid? Rich. 'He's desperate to talk to you.'

  'He can be as desperate as he wants,' she said sullenly. 'He shouldn't have packed me off to the wilderness, should he?'