This Other Eden (Skimmerdale Book 1)

by Sharon Booth

  She sat beside him on the sofa, quiet for a moment. Then she took hold of one of his hands and squeezed it. Unknowingly, she'd lit the touch paper. Horrified, he watched as her image became blurred, distorted. Dear God, he was crying. He was actually crying. He hadn't let the tears fall since —

  'Jemima,' he murmured, and Beth put her arms around him, and he found he was sobbing onto her shoulder and couldn't stop.

  She said nothing, stroking his hair and letting him cry, until there seemed to be no tears left. Then she kissed him softly on the forehead, stood up and disappeared into the kitchen. He sat there for a moment, wiping his face and wondering what the hell had happened. Bloody whisky. He'd never touch the stuff again, that was for sure. He was mortified with shame.

  Beth returned, carrying two steaming mugs. 'Coffee. Black. Drink.'

  He took a sip and pulled a face. Bloody hell, it was almost as vile as the whisky.

  She grinned at him. 'Serves you right.'

  'Aye,' he acknowledged. 'Reckon it does.'

  She put her mug on the coffee table. 'Right, Eliot. I don't care whether you want to, or not. Tonight, you and I are going to talk all this through, once and for all. Time to get it out in the open, don't you think?'

  He put his own mug down and ran a tired hand across his forehead. 'Maybe you're right, Beth. I don't think —' He broke off and swallowed hard, blinking away fresh tears. '— I don't think I can carry on like this much longer. I need your help. I need to make sense of it all. And the one thing I need to know more than anything is, was it my fault? Did I kill my wife?'

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  'Is this what it's all been about, Eliot? You seriously believe you're responsible for Jemima's death?' Beth took hold of his hands and studied his face carefully. 'You do, don't you? My God!'

  'Well, what else am I to think? We drove her mad that last day. We lied to her and tipped her over the edge. She took off in that bloody car like a bat out of hell and look what happened. It was my fault. You can't deny it.'

  'Well …' Beth shook her head. '… if it was your fault, it was just as much mine. I was standing right there beside you, telling the same lies, remember? You can't blame yourself and not me.'

  'You had good cause. You'd been driven half mad.'

  'Oh, and you hadn't? Look, Eliot, the simple fact is, she did it to herself. She was besotted with James, and she wanted him. Worse than that, she wanted to hurt you — as if she hadn't already hurt you enough. She was driving too fast that day out of spite. No other reason. She wanted to get to Kirkby Skimmer as soon as she possibly could, to make it all official and break your fucking heart. She was a cruel bitch, and that's that.' She bit her lip. 'I'm sorry. I know you loved her.'

  He laughed suddenly. 'Loved her? Oh, no. That died way before she did, Beth. Trust me on that score.'

  Her eyes met his. 'But I thought —'

  'I know what you thought. I know what everyone thought. Poor Eliot. Lost the love of his life. Heartbroken. How will he ever recover? You see what a bloody hypocrite I am, Beth? I let them believe that. I let everyone think I was grieving for my dead wife. But the truth is, if she was still alive, we'd have divorced a long time ago, and you know it. I'd have lost my kids. All of them. Fact is, it worked out better for me, her dying. Not that I wanted it. Not that I don't hate myself every single day for driving her to speed off in that damn car. Not that I don't wish, every time I look at my children's faces, that their mother was here for them — even if it meant only seeing them once a month, or so.'

  After a moment, she said, 'She was my best friend, Eliot, but that day, I wished her dead. I admit it. It's funny, there are times when I remember the laughs we used to have, and I miss her. Really miss her. It's like I can almost forget she was sleeping with my husband behind my back. Even —' She broke off, looking away.

  He squeezed her hand. 'You can say it. You know it, and I know it. That's what caused this whole mess in the first place, after all.'

  She sighed. 'Even that she had my husband's child.' She looked into his eyes, and he saw his own pain reflected back at him.

  'It's becoming more obvious every day,' he said softly. 'For a long time, he was pure Jemima. I could see her in George's little face every time I looked at him. But lately, I can see James. The odd expression, the shape of his chin. There's no mistaking it.'

  'Will it — ' Beth swallowed. 'Will it affect how you feel about him?'

  Eliot shook his head vehemently. 'Of course not. I knew he wasn't mine from the start. Didn't stop me loving him. When she died, I had to be there for him, and he needed me. I love that bairn. I'm his dad, and nothing will change that.'

  'You were always sure, weren't you?'

  'Oh, aye.' He rubbed his forehead. 'She tried her best to convince me we'd got together that night we celebrated Roger's sale. I know I was a bit drunk, but not so drunk I couldn't remember everything that happened. And I know I never went near her. We hadn't slept together for months. Why would that night be any different, particularly as she spent the entire time flirting with James?'

  'I remember that night.' Beth blushed suddenly. 'I kissed you. I still feel bad about it.'

  He shook his head. 'You were upset, and no bloody wonder. You needed some comfort, Beth. No one could blame you for it, least of all me. I knew it was James you were wanting. Don't let it bother you.'

  They sat quietly for a moment. Eliot remembered the day Jemima died so vividly. She'd been brazening it out for weeks, even going so far as to point out to every visitor who'd come to bring cards and presents for the new baby how like Eliot George was. He hadn't been able to stand it and had made a point of getting out of the house every time someone came to coo over the little boy. He and Beth had discussed it regularly. He'd been reluctant to tell her the truth, but she'd guessed and wanted — needed — confirmation. Eventually, he'd admitted there was no way the baby could be his, and Beth had finally had to face up to the fact that her husband and best friend had been having an affair behind her back — something Eliot had realised more than a year earlier.

  After that, Beth had begun to unravel fast. Her own inability to get pregnant had made the situation even more fraught for her, and, weirdly enough, she truly loved James. Eliot had never fathomed out why. She was a lovely woman and deserved better than that. There was no accounting for taste, he supposed. Look at him. He'd loved Jemima once, with a passion.

  When Beth had arrived at the farm that afternoon, she was tearful and on the verge of hysteria. Luckily, Eliot had found her before she reached the house and taken her to the barn to calm down a bit. Gradually, she'd stopped crying, and he'd agreed with her that things couldn't go on. Playing the game was getting them nowhere. It was time Jemima knew they were both aware of the truth. The girls were at school. James had gone into Kirkby Skimmer to see his solicitor about a business deal. They had to get it over with.

  They'd expected Jemima to deny it, but she'd only laughed at them. As Eliot watched Beth crumble, his wife had put her hands on her hips and demanded to know what they were going to do about it.

  'More to the point,' he'd heard himself saying, 'what are you going to do about it?'

  She'd shrugged, looking from one to the other. 'I'll probably leave here now. There's no point in staying, and God knows, I've served my time. James loves me and wants me. I shall take the children and move into Thwaite Park. I'm afraid you,' she said, nodding at Beth, 'will have to search for alternative accommodation.'

  He didn't know where the lie had come from. He supposed, looking back, he'd wanted to wipe the smug look off her face and defend Beth, who seemed unable to defend herself. 'Funny that.'

  'What's funny?' she demanded. 'Don't even try to stop me from taking the children. The girls will be far better off with me than stuck out here in this dump, and we all know you have no rights over George at all.'

  'It's funny, because James doesn't want them,' he said, trying to keep his voice calm. It was taking every ounce of his stren
gth not to trash her precious kitchen and throw her out into the yard. He drew in a deep breath. He had to stay focused.

  Jemima looked from him to Beth. 'Don't be ridiculous. Of course he wants them. We've discussed it, many times.'

  'He doesn't.' Beth seemed to have found new strength. She faced her former best friend with cold eyes. 'He regrets the whole thing. It seems the reality of having an actual baby to look at has brought it all home to him. He confessed your affair to me this morning and asked for my forgiveness.'

  'I don't believe you.' But there had been doubt in Jemima's eyes. Eliot saw it and had seized on it.

  'He wants nowt more to do with you. He's chosen Beth. He doesn't want to play father to his own bairn, never mind two of mine. Reckon you've had it, love.'

  He'd wanted to hurt her. He had no idea what he had thought would come of it. Eventually, Jemima would have found James, and he would have denied the story, and that would have been that. But at that moment, he was so angry and so hurt for Beth that he didn't care.

  'I'll call him,' said Jemima, hurrying towards the hallway.

  'Don't bother,' said Beth. 'His phone is switched off. He's in a meeting.'

  Jemima had tried, anyway, but her face told Eliot that Beth was right.

  Panic filled Jemima's eyes. 'I'm going to see him,' she said, her face white. 'Where are my car keys?'

  She'd run into the living room, and they'd followed her. When she moved towards George's carry cot in the corner of the room, Eliot had stopped her. 'No you don't. You're not trailing this little one all over the place, while you go looking for lover boy.'

  'You can't stop me,' she said, fury in her eyes. 'He's nothing to do with you.'

  'He stays here,' said Eliot.

  She stared at him for a moment, pure hatred in her expression. Then she grabbed her car keys off the coffee table. 'Right, he can stay here, for now. I'm going into Kirkby Skimmer. I'm going to find James, then we're going to the registrar's. Together. And we'll register George's birth, naming James as the father.' At the horror she must have seen in their faces, she laughed. 'Yeah, not so clever now, are you?'

  'James doesn't want to have anything to do with George,' said Beth, shakily. 'He'll never agree.'

  'Well, if that's the case, I'll leave the father's name blank,' said Jemima. 'Either way, you won't be his father, Eliot Harland. I can promise you that. And when I leave here, I'll be taking all three children with me. I swear to you, I'll do everything in my power to make sure you only see them once in a blue moon.'

  He'd almost lost it then. If Beth hadn't been there, pulling on his arm, he dreaded to think what he might have done. As it was, he let her leave. Thank God, at least, that he'd stopped her from taking the baby with her. But when the police had arrived at the farm, less than an hour later, he'd known he'd driven her to her death. He'd sunk to the floor in grief and shock and guilt. The tears had started and hadn't stopped for days. It was only when Beth told him that James had, indeed, confessed the affair to her and admitted he didn't want to take on the children, that he'd stopped wallowing and started thinking about the three little people who needed him. The irony of it didn't escape him. The lie they'd told had come true. James wanted no part in George's upbringing, and that baby needed a father.

  Trying not to think about the implications of lying on an official document, he'd registered George as his own child and stepped up for the little boy. He'd been George's daddy ever since.

  The fear that James would one day change his mind had never left him, though. He couldn't stand the sight of the man and tried his best to keep his children — particularly George — away from him. He knew it had hurt Beth. She loved the girls and had been close to them, but Beth came as a package with the man she still, unbelievably, loved. By choosing to stay with him, she had forced Eliot to keep her away from the children, too. He was sorry for that, but he couldn't risk James Fuller bonding with his son. He loved George. He couldn't lose him. Not now.

  Beth stood and went to the window. 'James is taking me away, Eliot. We're going on a cruise. We'll be gone for a couple of months. Then we may, or may not, return for Christmas. I don't know. I've always fancied spending Christmas in New York.'

  'What's brought this on?'

  She turned to face him. 'You. You didn't turn up at the market. The biggest, most important sale of the year, and you didn't show up. You sent your champion tup with Mickey. I went into the village earlier to buy some stamps and everyone was talking about it. Then Granny Allen collared me.' She wrinkled her nose. 'It wasn't a pleasant experience, but I'm still glad she did. She told me you'd been buying bottles of whisky. She was worried about you.'

  He couldn't help smiling. 'Bless her. She's a funny old stick, but heart of gold.'

  'She was of the firm opinion that it was because you were pining for that nice little blonde lass.'

  His smile faded. 'Daft old bugger.'

  Beth laughed and came to sit beside him again. 'I couldn't believe you were drinking whisky. I had to check it out for myself, so I told James I was coming to see you this evening.'

  'Huh. Bet he loved that.'

  'No, he didn't. Not at all. But I was adamant, and I told him why.'

  'Oh, great. So now he thinks I'm a drunk. What if —'

  'Eliot, trust me.' She patted his arm. 'I know what's been hanging over you, but it's not going to happen. We had a long talk this afternoon. Lots of things came out that we hadn't discussed before — not properly, anyway. James admitted to me that he knows you've been a wonderful father to George. He couldn't do better. He has no intention of trying to take him away from you. He's — he's ashamed of the affair. He wishes it had never happened. There were reasons. Jemima was —'

  'I know what Jemima was. Downright miserable and bitterly resentful that she'd landed herself with a farmer with no money to spare for fancy clothes and holidays abroad. I wish I could have made her happy, but I couldn't. I should never have married her. Reckon she thought, with James, she'd found one of her own, and she'd be welcomed back into the family fold.'

  'Probably,' Beth admitted. 'As for James — well, she was beautiful. Hard to resist. And we were struggling. Every month it was the same devastation of no baby. I suppose it wasn't much of a life for him.'

  'Don't reckon it were a picnic for you, either,' said Eliot wryly.

  'No. And I'm not making excuses for him. What he did was wrong, but he knows that, and he has been trying to put things right. He feels especially bad that I lost touch with the girls. He wanted to make it up to me, so he ...' She looked at him, nervously.

  He raised an eyebrow. 'He did what? Go on, Beth.'

  She took a deep breath. 'He was blackmailing Eden.'

  'You what?'

  'I'm sorry, Eliot. He was only doing it for me. He told me this afternoon. He realised pretty quickly that she wasn't the real Honey Carmichael, and he told her, if she didn't make sure I got to see the girls now and then, he'd have no hesitation telling you the truth.'

  'My God.' Eliot could hardly take it in. So, that was why she'd taken them to the open day. Poor Eden. 'First Honey and then James. She must have been so stressed,' he murmured.

  'Absolutely.'

  'But she never gave any sign. I mean, she were so good with the kids, and she brightened up this place no end. You'd never have known.'

  'Is Granny Allen right, Eliot? Is this really all about Jemima, or is it Eden you're so upset about?'

  He hesitated before finally admitting it to himself. 'I suppose it's both. Losing Eden, well, it brought all the other stuff to a head.'

  'Losing her? So, you care for her? I mean, more than as a friend?' He said nothing, and she sighed. 'Eliot, come on. We said we'd get everything out in the open, didn't we? Time for honesty.'

  He shrugged. 'I suppose so. Yes, I cared for her.'

  She rested her chin on her hand. 'How much?'

  There was a long pause, then he said quietly, 'I suppose I fell in love with her. Or I thought I did.
But how could I? I don't even know who she was, not really. I thought she was Honey, and that terrified the life out of me, because the last thing I wanted was to fall for someone like Jemima all over again. But I couldn't help myself. She made everything good again. I tried to stop it, I swear I did, but she won me over. I kept thinking, what if she turns out the same? What if it ends the way it did with Jemima? What if I'm not good enough for her one day?'

  'But Eden wasn't Honey. She didn't come from a rich family, did she? She fitted in here, the whole village knows that. If Mickey and Granny Allen think she belongs here with you, it must be true. So, what's the problem?'

  He looked at her as if she was mad. 'She lied to me, Beth! She could have told me who she really was, but she didn't. She deceived me, and she deceived my kids. How can I ever trust her?'

  She sighed. 'Sometimes we have to get over it, if we love someone enough.'

  'Don't compare her with James,' Eliot said, indignant.

  She smiled. 'I'm not. Seems you are, though.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'Eden didn't intend to have a relationship with you, Eliot. She didn't intend for you to fall in love with her. She came here because she had no choice. She deceived you because she was being blackmailed—first by Honey, then James. She must have wondered what the hell she was caught up in. Yet, she still did her best to make your children happy, and to take care of you all. Imagine how terrifying it must have been for her, wondering how and when to tell you the truth, wondering if you'd be able to forgive her. And she's not the only one who's been living a lie, is she? I shouldn't imagine you've told her you're not really George's father. Or am I mistaken?'

  'No,' he mumbled. 'I haven't.'

  'Sometimes, we tell lies. We don't mean to, but we have to. Then we have to live with them. I should think she suffered every single day, knowing she was deceiving you. If Mickey is to be believed — and I do believe him, because I saw it for myself that day at the show — she'd fallen head over heels for you ages ago, so she must have been hurting for a long time. Eden's not Jemima, Eliot. Don't make her pay for Jemima's crimes. And don't — please don't — make yourself pay any longer. You've suffered enough. Jemima died because she was driving recklessly. She wanted to punish you. It wasn't your fault. Let the past go and look to the future. Find Eden. Let yourself be happy.' She stood, picking up her bag. 'I must go. I've stayed here long enough, when I have a lot to organise. We leave at the weekend.'