This Other Eden (Skimmerdale Book 1)

by Sharon Booth

'That's hardly true,' Crispin snapped. 'We went on the beach almost every day.'

  'Big deal,' muttered Honey.

  'And if you weren't allowed near the windows, how come you saw the car?'

  'What car?' Eden said.

  'Oh, some car that Crispin is convinced followed us. Anyway, enough of that. How are you getting on with Old MacDonald?' She giggled. 'Does he wear one of those hats with straw sticking out of it and say ooh ah a lot?'

  'How old are you?' Eden sighed. 'Look, you can't stay here. It's far too risky.'

  'That's what I said,' said Crispin.

  'It's no riskier than it was in Dorset,' said Honey firmly. 'Besides, I had a good look round when we got here. There's nothing for miles.'

  'There's a village not ten minutes' walk from here,' Eden said.

  'In one direction. But if you go in the other direction, it's just fields. And sheep. Lots of sheep. I hardly think they're going to ring the papers. No, this is perfect. I can walk around without worrying, and I can go into the village and —'

  'The village? You can't possibly go into the village!'

  'Why ever not?'

  'Because I go into the village. And as far as everyone there is concerned, I'm Jemima Harland's cousin, Honey Carmichael. Remember?'

  'That's all right. I'll be Eden Robinson. That's who I was in Dorset.'

  'To whom?' said Crispin, clearly puzzled. 'You didn't speak to anyone there, did you?'

  'Well, in my mind,' said Honey quickly. 'Anyway, no one will ask me my name. Why should they?'

  'They won't have to ask mine,' said Crispin. 'Someone is bound to recognise me.'

  'Well, you'll have to stay hidden indoors,' said Honey.

  'What? I can't do that! I'll go mad.'

  'Yeah, see how you like it,' she snapped.

  'Honey, listen,' said Eden. 'There's something you don't know. Something a bit worrying.'

  'Oh? What?'

  'There's a man living here who knows I'm not you. He and his wife were friends of Jemima's, and they wanted to check I was suitable to look after her children. He looked me up — I mean, you up — on the internet. He knows who I am, and he'd definitely recognise you. You can't be seen by him.'

  'Why hasn't he told Old MacDonald, then? If he knows, I mean. What did you do to buy his silence?' She giggled again. 'I hope you've been behaving yourself, Eden.'

  Eden blushed. If Honey only knew. 'He wanted me to let him see the children. Eliot had a falling out with the two of them, and his wife misses the girls and George, so in exchange for my silence, I had to make sure they got to see them.'

  Honey frowned. 'Blackmail? I'll be having words with him when this is over. What a cheek! Anyway, stop fretting. Even if, by some chance, he does see me, so what? He can hardly tell Eliot, when he's been blackmailing you, can he? And it's only for a few days, anyway, and then we'll both be going home to Upper Bourbury.'

  'So, you're staying?'

  'Of course we're staying. It will be so good to get one over on my dear mother and father. Did you get my mineral water, by the way?'

  Eden rummaged in her bag. 'Since you insist that you can go to the village, I don't see why you dragged me out. I had to pop into the pub to buy this. Cost a small fortune. The shop closes at six.'

  'I don't see what's wrong with tap water,' mumbled Crispin.

  Honey and Eden both stared at him, and Eden wondered if he knew Honey at all.

  'I have to go,' Eden said, as Honey unscrewed the cap of the bottle and took a large gulp of water. 'Please try to be discreet, and don't keep pestering me to bring you things. I have enough to do with three children to look after, and a house to clean, and four people to cook for as well as myself, and —'

  'Jesus, Eden, have you heard yourself?' Honey shuddered. 'You sound positively homely. You've put weight on, by the way. All that cooking, no doubt.'

  'Phone charger,' called Crispin.

  'Pardon?'

  'Oh, yes, I was just coming to that. We need you to get us a phone charger for Crispin's phone. He left his in Dorset, and his phone's dead, and he's having panic attacks in case Lavinia is trying to contact him. No in case about it, actually. She'll be livid she can't get in touch with him. I've never known such a demanding woman.'

  Eden wondered how anyone could be so oblivious to their own shortcomings. 'Where am I supposed to get a phone charger from? You said it yourself, we're in the middle of nowhere.'

  'But there's that town you were banging on about before you came here,' said Honey. 'There must be shops there and one of them must sell a charger. You can't let me down. My network doesn't seem to work here, and I can't bear another day of Crispin's whining.'

  'Do you mind?' snapped her fallen idol.

  'For God's sake,' said Eden, 'tell me what charger you need, and I'll do my best. You have no idea how difficult this is going to be. It's hard enough to get away from the farm, and I'm not convinced there'll be anywhere that sells them in Kirkby Skimmer, anyway.'

  Crispin handed her a piece of paper with the make of his phone written on it. 'I have to have this,' he said, sounding panicky. 'It's not just about Lavinia,' he added, seeing Honey's disgusted expression. 'I need to keep up with what's going on, and there's no internet connection in this rabbit hutch, so I can't even use my laptop. I need my phone. You can't let me down. Do whatever it takes.'

  'Oh, yes,' said Honey. 'God forbid you miss out on any earth-shattering news from London. Not to mention the fact that there may be a pet shop that needs opening in Windleby-on-the-Weir.'

  'You know, when you're being such a sarcastic little bitch, you're terribly unattractive,' said Crispin.

  'And when you're whining, you're about as appealing as scabies. Suck it up,' she snapped.

  Eden left them to it, muttering to herself as she stomped back to the Beetle. As she rounded the road, heading back through the village, a flash of red caught her eye, and she saw, in her wing mirror, a red Mini moving away in the opposite direction. Something nagged at her, but she couldn't think what.

  She drove back to the farm, wondering what the hell she was going to tell Eliot about her abrupt departure. He'd been in the kitchen when she left the house, having galloped upstairs to pull on her clothes as fast as she could.

  'Just popping out to get a bottle of something!' she'd called, and then she'd escaped, not even giving him time to answer.

  She glanced in the mirror at the bottle of wine on the back seat and hoped he would think it justified her leaving him so abruptly. Personally, she didn't think a bottle of wine cut it, but then, there was nowhere she'd rather be than in Eliot's bed.

  A shiver ran through her as she remembered the last couple of hours. She'd dreamed that it would be good, but she'd never expected it to be as amazing as it had. Eliot had been sheer perfection — loving, gentle, passionate. The only jarring moment was when he'd whispered her name as he kissed her. Except it hadn't been her name, but Honey's. He wasn't really making love to her at all, was he? He didn't even know who she was.

  Eden turned off the main road heading back to Fleetsthorpe. It had made her mind up, anyway. She had to tell Eliot the truth. It wasn't fair on him — on either of them. The only problem was, how was she going to muster the courage to be honest, knowing that the truth might drive him away for good?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  'What exactly is it that you're looking for?'

  Lavinia slammed the drawer shut and turned to face her father, who looked rather alarmed. 'How should I know? Anything that would give a clue as to where they'd go. There must be something, somewhere. Maybe a hotel booking, or something?'

  'He's not stupid.' He shook his head and came to stand beside her, placing his hand on her shoulder. 'You need to calm down, sweetheart. I've never seen you like this before.'

  Probably because she'd never felt like this before. The journey from Portugal had seemed endless, and Lavinia's growing sense of panic hadn't calmed when her father met her at the airport and confirmed he had n
o leads, and no clue where the two of them had gone.

  'He's well-known,' she muttered. 'Wherever he goes, someone would spot him, surely? What the hell is he playing at, risking it all for Honey Carmichael?'

  'Unless he's gone abroad,' suggested her father.

  Lavinia paled. 'He wouldn't, would he?'

  'Have you checked for his passport?'

  She hadn't, and she cursed her stupidity. She should have looked for that first. In fact, she should have removed it from the house when she went to Portugal, taking it with her for safekeeping. That would have ensured that Crispin didn't leave the country. He could be lying on some beach somewhere, sunning himself beside that tart. It didn't bear thinking about, especially as he always refused to go abroad with her, pleading that his skin was far too sensitive. She'd bet that floosy would be able to persuade him, though. She'd be able to talk him into anything.

  'Look, make us a drink and sit down. You're all done in. I'll look for the passport. Where do you usually keep them?'

  'In the bureau in his office, but it's usually locked.' She filled the kettle with shaking hands and sat down at the kitchen table. 'It doesn't matter. It's too late, anyway.'

  'What do you mean, too late? Never say die,' he said, patting her arm. She shrugged helplessly, and he pulled out a chair and sat beside her. 'What is it, sweetheart? I've never seen you in such a state. Why don't you let me call Eddie Holmes?'

  'Who?'

  'Eddie. He works on The Sunday Satellite.'

  Lavinia tutted. 'That tawdry rag. Why would you want to call him?'

  'To arrange an interview, of course. You should get in there fast, before someone spots Crispin and his bit of stuff and the story is blown wide open. You need to reveal the truth in your own time and your own way. Stand up and show the world you're not some cuckolded politician's wife who will stand by her man. Tell them all you found out for yourself and you're out of there, that you've got more about you than that, for God's sake.'

  Lavinia's mouth dropped open and she stared at her father in disbelief.

  He shifted uncomfortably. 'Kettle's boiled,' he announced as the switch clicked. 'Two sugars, please.'

  'You'd better not say a word to that little worm Eddie Holmes,' Lavinia warned him, dropping tea bags into two mugs. 'I mean it. I'm sure you wouldn't want Francesca to know about your frequent visits to The Proud Peacock.'

  His face turned puce. 'How did you —?'

  'I always know,' she said with a sigh. 'That's the bloody trouble. Sometimes, I think being so intelligent is a curse. Milk?'

  He mopped his brow with a handkerchief and coughed. 'It's not what you think. It's business, that's all.'

  'Well, I'm sure money changes hands,' she said, handing him a mug of tea. 'Frankly, Daddy, I really don't care. I can't stand Francesca, anyway. Never have, never will. As long as you're discreet and use protection, it's your business.'

  He almost choked on his tea. 'Bloody hell, Lavinia! What's got into you?'

  'Life,' she said bitterly. She sipped her tea and reached for her phone. 'Still no message or call. It's been four days without a word from him. He's not even pretending any longer. I'm worried, Daddy.'

  'Yes, well, if you won't do what I suggest, I fail to see how I can help you,' he said, rather huffily.

  She shrugged and tapped her phone. If he was going to sulk, she might as well see what else was going on in the world. Any distraction from her problems would be welcome. She tapped the Facebook icon and felt some satisfaction that she hadn't been forgotten by everyone. Over a hundred notifications, three friend requests and a private message. She tapped on the message icon, wondering if one of her friends wanted to meet up for lunch, or if it was yet another sad old man, wanting to tell her how lovely her profile picture was.

  She sighed wearily. 'Romeo Lovegod. For heaven's sake, at least try to be subtle.'

  'Eh? Who's Romeo Lovegod, when he's at home?'

  'Some saddo, who, no doubt, has seen my photo and thinks I'm his soulmate.' She scrolled down the message and sat up straight, her eyes wide. 'Bloody hell!'

  'What is it? Does he want money? See him off, sweetheart. It's all a bloody scam,' her father advised.

  'They're in Yorkshire!'

  'Who is?'

  'Who do you think? Crispin and Honey. They're in the Yorkshire Dales.'

  'Says who?'

  'Romeo Lovegod.'

  Her father raised an eyebrow. 'Right. Well, he'd know, I suppose.'

  'No, listen. It's my sad duty to inform you your husband is currently in Skimmerdale, in the Yorkshire Dales, in a village called Beckthwaite, with Honey Carmichael. The two of them have been having an affair for some time. If you want to save his career you should put a stop to this. I am giving you a chance, but I will be going to the papers very soon, so move quickly. Your friend, Romeo Lovegod.'

  'Well, I never did,' said her father. 'What are you going to do?'

  She gave him a scornful look. 'Well, what do you think I'm going to do? Sorry, Daddy, I'll have to love you and leave you. I'm going to Skimmerdale. Wherever the hell bloody Skimmerdale is.'

  ****

  Eliot kissed his sleepy daughters and said goodnight. They'd had a tiring day, helping him get the sheep gathered, ready to separate more lambs from the ewes. Libby was always sad at the thought of all the lambs going off to market. Ophelia was much more practical.

  'They've got to go, Libby,' she informed her sister. 'We're not a charity, you know.'

  He'd bitten his lip when he'd heard that, to stop himself laughing. Another expression she'd obviously got from Mickey, who'd been heard saying it many times, although usually with a few choice words added.

  'Any road,' she'd added wisely, 'think of the money we're going to get from selling Gideon in a few weeks! He's a double Skimmerdale champion now. We'll make a packet, and we can buy a good quality tup, so we'll get more good lambs next year. It's part of the fun, isn't it?'

  'I know.' Libby had sighed and patted a particularly affectionate hogg. 'Just look at them, though. They're so cute, and you know what will happen to them.'

  'I know. But I like Honey's lamb stew, don't you? And you can't eat lamb stew then whine about lambs going to slaughter, can you? That would make you a hippocrat.'

  'You mean hypocrite,' said Libby, but at least she'd laughed.

  Eliot knew there would be tears when they went to the market, but personally he felt a lot easier than he had. Owning the Swaledale Champion and Overall Champion of the Skimmerdale Show meant he'd be making a tidy profit from Gideon, and he knew he had some good fat lambs to sell, too. Next year, Gideon's daughters would make him more money from their lambs, if he could buy a good tup to put them to, and with the cheque he should get from his champion's sale, that shouldn't be as difficult as he'd feared.

  He closed the girls' bedroom door, feeling that life was really on the up. Farming sheep in these hills was a tough life, but it had been a good summer. His children were happy and cared for, the house was running like clockwork, and the value of his flock had increased beyond his wildest hopes. Best of all, he had Honey. She'd brought love and laughter back into his life, and at times, he couldn't believe his luck. For the last four nights, she'd slept beside him in his bed. He'd fallen asleep with her in his arms and woke each morning to see her beautiful face on the pillow next to his.

  He half dared to dream she would stay with him. It was what she'd wanted, wasn't it? The only nagging worry was her odd behaviour the last couple of days. She'd taken George into the village a few times, while the girls helped him on the farm. She'd come up with the flimsiest of excuses, too.

  'Just going to get a magazine.'

  'A magazine? When do you read magazines?'

  'Well, I haven't had time lately, but I fancy reading one now. Won't be long.'

  Or, the following day: 'Just nipping out. I'll be back in time to make the lunch.'

  'Where are you going?'

  'Er, I need women's things.'


  He hadn't questioned that one any further. It wasn't any of his business, but he was curious and a little anxious. She hadn't even wanted to take George, and he couldn't for the life of him work out why she seemed so tense. The only time she seemed fully relaxed was when they were alone together in bed. She relaxed then, all right. It was almost as if being with him brought her peace. In a way, he felt the same about her. Even so, he couldn't help worrying. Things had become so perfect, something was bound to spoil it.

  He headed downstairs, wondering how long it would be before they could risk going to bed. They'd been very careful not to let the girls suspect anything was going on between them. He didn't want them to get their hopes up, after all, not until he was completely sure that it was for keeps. He found it hard to keep his hands off Honey, though. He'd dragged her into the hallway, while the girls were washing their hands, and kissed her hard, feeling a thrill as he realised that she was as turned on as he was.

  Smiling to himself, he opened the boot room door and collected the present he'd bought for her that afternoon. It had been worth the trip into Ravensbridge. He'd known as soon as he saw them in the shop that they were perfect for her. He hoped she'd understand what he was trying to tell her when he gave them to her. He wasn't good with words but, surely, she'd understand what he was hoping for?

  He carried them down the hall and opened the living room door but stopped dead when he found her zipping up her leather jacket, obviously about to go out.

  Hurriedly, he dropped the present behind the armchair. 'You're going out again? I thought maybe we could spend some time together, now the kids are asleep? Where are you going, anyway?'

  It was a reasonable question, he thought. After all, she didn't know anyone around here, and the village wasn't exactly a hive of activity during the evening. The pub would be open, but who'd want to go to a pub on their own?

  She looked up, her face flushed. 'I thought I'd take a walk,' she said. 'I feel like I've been cooped up indoors all day. Could use some fresh air.'

  She was avoiding him. There was no doubt about it. The sky was heavy with rain. It had been humid all day, and he'd told her the weather was about to break. Besides, she'd had a busy day while he was with the girls, and she'd been adamant that all she wanted to do was have a nice, long soak in the bath and get an early night. She'd said it with a twinkle in her eye. What had happened to change things? Something was on her mind. Was she afraid she'd made a terrible mistake getting involved with him? He supposed he couldn't blame her, if she was.