This Other Eden (Skimmerdale Book 1)

by Sharon Booth

  She blinked. It wasn't the conversation she'd been expecting at all. 'Of course. Why wouldn't he be?'

  'There was no … no unpleasantness?'

  Eden frowned. 'What do you mean?'

  James sighed. 'Look, Eden, this is awkward. I know you work for him, and I appreciate your loyalty, but Eliot — well, he is rather known for his temper.'

  'His temper?' Eden shook her head. 'I've never seen evidence of his temper. I mean, he can be a bit abrupt at times, but that's all. What are you implying?'

  He fiddled with the menu, turning it round and round in his hand, then he leaned toward her, his face serious. 'Eliot's not what you think. Jemima had a hell of a life with him. You do know they were on the verge of divorce, when she died?'

  Eden's mouth fell open. 'I don't believe it! He adored her. I mean, they were devoted to each other. The girls are always telling me how much he cried when she was killed.'

  He gave an abrupt laugh. 'Yeah, right. Probably guilt.'

  She felt a wave of discomfort as she recalled his strange conversation with Beth at the open day. What did they have to feel guilty about? Had they been having an affair? Did James know?

  'The thing is,' he continued, 'their marriage was a sham. Had been for years. Eliot was a brute to Jemima, and she was — well, she was a real lady. She wasn't used to it, and she couldn't cope. Didn't know how to handle him. Oh, there was no physical violence, don't get me wrong, but he could be extremely cruel in other ways. Cutting. Putting her down all the time. Bullying, really. He's all right with you?'

  Eden didn't know how to answer. It was so utterly not what she'd expected to hear. Eliot's marriage to Jemima had been a sham? But he seemed so genuinely upset about her, and the children were adamant he'd been heartbroken when she died. Was it really all an act? Or was James right, and it had been guilt that had caused his tears, rather than grief?

  James patted her hand. 'I can see this has come as a shock to you. Well, obviously, you've not seen that side of him, then. I'm glad. Maybe losing Jemima has brought him to his senses, and he's learnt to control his anger. I hope so. Beth will be relieved, too. I'm not a bad person, Eden. I know you probably think the worst of me because I made you bring the children to the open day, and then today ... But, you see, I have to keep an eye on them. I — we — owe Jemima that. I suppose he hasn't made a move on you, yet?'

  'What?' Had she heard him right?

  'Bit of a ladies' man, I'm afraid. I think, at one point, he had a bit of a thing for Beth. Not that she'd ever be interested in him,' he added, with a laugh. Eden swallowed, as James continued, 'Then there's Daisy, of course. She's devoted to him. Jemima was well aware of the fact. Always suspected they were having an affair.'

  An affair? Daisy and Eliot? So, where did Beth fit in, then? This was all getting too much for Eden.

  'She'll always stick up for him, no matter what. She hated Jemima. Well, she would, wouldn't she? Jemima lured away the man she was destined to marry. At least, that's how Daisy sees it. She made Jemima's life a misery. Between the two of them ...' He shook his head sadly. 'Jemima had a hell of a life. And she didn't deserve it. She really didn't.'

  'I —-I see.' Except she didn't. Not really. The man James spoke of seemed like a complete stranger to her. All right, Eliot had been a bit gruff with her sometimes, and he had glowering down to a fine art, but he wasn't cruel.

  She recalled the moment when he'd turned up at the open day and shouted at her. He'd seemed quite menacing, his eyes dark with rage. He'd been a bit intimidating, she had to admit it. Everyone lost their temper occasionally, though, and God knows, she'd pushed him far enough.

  As for womanising ... She realised that was possible. He was gorgeous, after all, and Daisy was obviously devoted to him. And Libby had seen him and Beth kissing ...

  'Just don't be fooled by him,' said James, his voice suddenly urgent. 'You can see why it's important that you continue to allow Beth and me access to the children? You do see that?'

  'Of course. Yes.' She didn't have time to think about it, as Beth returned with the girls, who shuffled back into their seats, arguing about the fact that Ophelia had taken so much time to choose a dessert after changing her mind and deciding she didn't want a banana split, after all.

  'Well, you have to think about these things,' protested Ophelia. 'I didn't want to choose the wrong one, did I?'

  'It's only pudding,' said Libby, rolling her eyes.

  'So, what did you get?' asked James.

  'I got treacle tart and custard, and Ophelia got a knickerbocker glory,' Libby informed him.

  'Sounds lovely. I hope you enjoy them.'

  Hovering beside the table, Beth tapped her wristwatch. 'Sorry, darling, but it's almost time for our appointment.'

  'So it is. I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you lovely ladies to it. Time flies when you're having fun.' He stood, scraping back his chair and smiling broadly at them all.

  'Thank you for paying for all this.' Eden waved her arm vaguely across the table. 'It was very kind of you.'

  'Not at all. We look forward to seeing you all again at the show.'

  As he turned, Eden felt the same prickly unease that she'd felt before. There was something ...What was it? Something nagging away at her.

  She pushed it away as he walked out of the café. She had more important things to think about. Like how to make sense of that entire conversation.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Eliot had forgotten how tiring it was, entertaining a two-year-old for hours. They'd sung songs, played games, watched some God-awful programme on the television that George apparently watched with Honey and obviously adored, and had a picnic on the living room floor — which was probably a bad idea, given the quantity of crumbs and splodges of butter, and trampled-in biscuit that now covered the carpet. He knew he'd better clean that little lot up before Honey got back, but George had finally fallen asleep on the sofa, and Eliot didn't want to risk waking him by switching on the vacuum cleaner. Besides, he was tired himself. He wouldn't mind a nap for ten minutes.

  When he opened his eyes, he wondered where he was for a moment. He seldom slept downstairs, so it was a shock to find he wasn't in his bedroom. Then he remembered it was still the afternoon, and he'd been sitting beside George. He must have fallen asleep, after all.

  He turned his head, expecting to find his son sound asleep beside him, but George wasn't there.

  Frowning, Eliot glanced around the living room. He wasn't there, and the door was open.

  Okay, Eliot, don't panic. He went into the kitchen, where there was still no sign of George. The back door was closed, and he hurried into the hallway. The door to the boot room was open.

  He glanced inside. The place was a mess but there was no sign of his son. At least the door into the garden was closed. The front door was closed, too. Even if, by some miracle, George had managed to open the door, he would hardly have closed it behind him, would he?

  He ran upstairs, calling his son's name, and checked all the bedrooms and the bathroom. There was no sign of him there, either. Stay calm, he thought. Just think!

  But what if someone had taken him? He tried to think logically, but the fear persisted, and he knew why. Where else could he be?

  He ran out into the garden, but there was no sign of him either in the garden or yard. Should he check the barns? Call the police? He couldn't think straight. Would Beth know?

  The thought kept nagging at him and he couldn't shake the feeling that calling her was his only choice.

  He was about to go back in the house when he heard a car and felt almost sick with relief on realising Honey was back. He didn't know what he expected her to do, but he was so glad she was home. Somehow, she made everything easier to deal with.

  'What is it?' Her concern showed in her voice, and he realised the panic he was feeling must have been reflected in his face.

  Not wanting the girls to worry, he whispered in her ear, 'I can't find George. He's gone, Honey.'
He heard the anxiety in his voice and cursed his own weakness, but the fear was growing. Had the thing he dreaded most finally occurred?

  'All right calm down. Tell me what happened.'

  Her voice was soothing, and he quickly explained the situation to her. 'How could I have been so stupid as to fall asleep?' He pulled at his hair in frustration, and she reached out and took hold of his hand.

  'Stop that. Help the girls with the shopping. I won't be a moment.'

  'What? Where are you going?'

  'Just checking something out. Help the girls,' she called.

  Eliot stared after her. Didn't she realise how serious this was?

  'Is everything all right, Dad?' Libby stared up at him, her eyes curious.

  He patted her head and tried to smile. 'Aye, everything's fine, love. Come on, let's get the shopping, eh?'

  'We got loads,' said Ophelia, struggling with three bags. Eliot took them off her and quickly got the rest from the boot. He was so worried, he didn't even notice how many there were, but he didn't miss the look of anxiety that passed between his daughters.

  After slamming the door of the boot shut, he followed the girls into the house. He dumped the shopping in the hallway and called for Honey.

  'In here!'

  Her voice came from the boot room. He headed that way and stopped dead, his spirits soaring when he saw her standing there, holding George in her arms.

  He'd checked the boot room. His son hadn't been there. 'Where the hell was he?'

  She grinned. 'He was playing his favourite game. Hide and seek. Didn't you notice the mess?'

  He looked around, seeing for the first time the piles of laundry spread over the floor. 'He was under that lot?'

  'No.' She giggled. 'He was in the laundry basket.'

  'What?'

  'He emptied it, then pulled the basket over him. He was easy to see, but I expect you were panicking by then.'

  He leaned against the doorframe, his legs suddenly weak. 'Aye, you could say that. Little bugger.'

  'It's my fault. We play all the time, and he's very familiar with the laundry basket,' she admitted.

  'Is he?'

  'Yes. You see, he helps me count the socks when I do the washing, and he likes to help me fold the clothes.'

  'Does he?' Eliot asked, astonished. He looked at Honey with new respect. She was amazing.

  'Well, why don't you take Georgie into the living room and let the girls show you their new things? I'll clean this mess up, and then I'll make us a strong cup of tea. I reckon you could use plenty of sugar in yours for shock.

  She smiled at him, and he fought the urge to pull her into his arms and hug her tightly. Instead, he nodded and took George from her. 'Thank you,' he murmured. 'I feel proper daft now.'

  'Don't,' she assured him. 'I expect every parent has one of those awful where the hell is my child moments.'

  No doubt, he thought, but not every parent has a real reason to worry. 'Come on, Georgie Boy. Can't believe you did that to me. Nearly finished me off, do you know that?' George smirked at him, and he laughed. 'Aye, you know it all right, don't you? I'm going to have to watch you.'

  He glanced at Honey, but she wasn't laughing any more. She was staring at George in a most peculiar way.

  'You all right?' he asked.

  She blinked. 'What? Oh, yes, yes. Go on, get out of here. Bet the girls are dying to show you their new stuff.'

  He nodded and carried his precious load away, vowing that, before long, he would fix a lock on every dratted door in the house.

  ****

  Eden gathered the clothes from the floor and shoved them back in the laundry basket, wondering how she hadn't seen it before. Now that she had seen it, it was obvious, and she wondered how she'd not noticed from the beginning. Things were becoming increasingly confusing.

  Eliot was sitting on the sofa when she went through to the living room, George on his knee while he watched the girls hold up their various purchases and tell him excitedly of their day in Kirkby Skimmer. Eden's tummy flipped as she waited for the bombshell. Sure enough, Ophelia was the one who brought it up.

  'And we had lunch with Mr and Mrs Fuller. They bought us pudding. I had knickerbocker glory, and Libby had treacle tart. There was loads. I was really full up, but I finished it all, even though I felt sick, but Libby left some of hers.'

  'I ate all the custard, though,' said Libby.

  Eden put the cups of tea on the coffee table and sat down, waiting for the inevitable outpouring of anger. Eliot kissed the top of George's head and said calmly, 'You met the Fullers again? Quite a coincidence.'

  'I know! I think they must like cafés as much as we do,' said Ophelia. 'They didn't stay long, though. They had an appointment.'

  'Right,' said Eliot. He glanced at Eden.

  She gave him an apologetic look. 'They were just there. What could I do?'

  He shook his head. 'It's all right. How is Beth, anyway?'

  'She's fine.'

  'Mrs Fuller thinks Honey should enter in the cake show, Dad. What do you think?'

  He peered up at her. 'I think that's a grand idea. Mind, you won't win. Not with the vicar's wife taking part.'

  'So I've heard,' she said.

  'You should win, though, if there's any justice. You make the best cakes I've ever tasted. Any road, I think it would be good for you to enter. Be part of the community, like.'

  'You do?'

  His gaze held hers, and she held her breath as she saw the expression in his eyes. What was he trying to say? He swallowed and looked down at George. 'What do you think, Georgie? We love Honey's cakes, don't we?' He waved his hand apologetically at the floor. 'Looks like we've walked a full cake into the carpet. Sorry.'

  Eden registered the mess for the first time. 'Good grief, look at the state of that! What's been going on in here?'

  It was Eliot's turn to look apologetic. 'We had a picnic. Sorry. I meant to clean it all up, but then I lost Georgie here, and I forgot all about it.'

  'I'd better get that vacuum cleaner out,' she said.

  'No. Let's drink our tea, then I'll clean it up.'

  She looked at him, surprised. 'Are you sure?'

  He nodded and smiled at her. Relieved, she smiled back. Evidently, finding George had put her in his good books. He even seemed willing to overlook the lunch with the Fullers.

  They all had a pleasant evening together. Eden helped the girls carry their new things upstairs, while Eliot vacuumed the living room, keeping a close eye on George, who sat on the sofa, beaming at him and clapping his hands. He obviously found the sight of his father cleaning up most amusing. While Eliot bathed his son, Eden, Libby and Ophelia hung the girls' new clothes in the wardrobes, before Eden started work on the evening meal. As Eden did the dishes, Eliot and Ophelia fed the dogs and went for one last wander round the farm. Later, Eden and Libby shut the hens up for the night and made hot chocolate, and they all settled down to watch the television for an hour or so.

  Finally, when all the children were in bed, Eden and Eliot sank onto the sofa and reflected on a long and eventful day.

  'Have you recovered from the trauma, yet?' she teased him.

  He shook his head and placed his hand on his heart. 'It's still jumping about all over the place,' he said. 'What a bloody fright I got. Thank God you knew where to look. What would I have done without you?'

  She bit her lip and turned away, feeling an ominous tingling of desire. When he looked at her like that, when he spoke to her so kindly, she melted.

  After a moment of quiet, he said, 'So, the Fullers again, eh?'

  That broke the spell. She shrugged. 'They were just there. I didn't know what to do. I know you don't like them, and I can understand why.'

  'Can you?' He seemed doubtful. 'Beth's all right. I've nowt against her. It's him. He's —'

  'I know.' She drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. 'He's dodgy. I don't like him.'

  'You don't?' He sounded surprised, reli
eved even.

  'No.' She gave him a slight smile. 'Oh, he's very charming. He knows exactly what to say. But I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him.'

  His eyes twinkled. 'You're a bloody good judge of character, then.'

  'Were he and Jemima very close?' She knew she was pushing it, talking about Jemima, but she wanted to know. She needed to know. And, she thought, maybe it was time he started to open up, for all their sakes.

  The twinkle disappeared. 'He was her sort of person, I suppose. Him and Beth. They chummed up with her pretty quickly. Like finds like, I guess. It became obvious, soon after she moved here, that she wasn't going to fit in with the other villagers. I suppose, finding the Fullers came as a big relief to her.'

  So, Jemima hadn't fitted in with the other locals? Well, that was news to her. None of them had said a bad word about her to Eden, but she supposed they were loyal to Eliot. She decided to try again. 'What did she look like? It's just — well — I noticed you don't have any photos of her around the house.' She decided not to mention the lockets.

  'No. I don't.'

  'So, what did she look like?'

  'Fair hair, blue eyes. Look at Georgie if you want to know. He's the spitting image of her. Well, mostly.' He began to fidget, pulling at a thread on a cushion.

  'So, why don't you have any photographs of her? I get that you must miss her, and it must be painful for you to see her, but don't you think you should face up to that after two years? And I'm sure the girls would love to have photos of their mum around the house.'

  'It's none of your bloody business!' He stood up, throwing the cushion onto the sofa and stormed out of the room.

  Moments later, she heard the front door slam and realised she'd pushed him too far. She cursed her impatience. She should have been gentler, more careful. Served her right. They were back at square one.

  She sat there, wondering what to do. There was no point going after him, she knew him that well, at least. Should she go up to her room, get out of his way? He would probably take the quad bike and go round the farm. Unless he went into the village. Maybe he'd go to the pub, meet up with Daisy? The thought was unexpectedly painful. She imagined them sitting together, discussing the nosy childminder. She pictured Daisy pouring sympathy over Eliot, and even worse, Eliot lapping it up, responding.