by Sharon Booth
Sharon Booth
Being Emerald
Published in Great Britain in 2018 by:
GREEN GINGER PUBLISHING
Yorkshire, England
Copyright © 2018 Sharon Booth.
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.
Also available by Sharon Booth
Kearton Bay Series
There Must Be an Angel
A Kiss from a Rose
Once Upon a Long Ago
Skimmerdale Series
This Other Eden
Moorland Heroes Series
Resisting Mr Rochester
Saving Mr Scrooge
Fabrian Books' Feel-Good Novels
Baxter's Christmas Wish
New Doctor at Chestnut House – Bramblewick 1
Christmas at the Country Practice – Bramblewick 2
Fresh Starts at Folly Farm – Bramblewick 3
'Whatever any one does or says,
I must be emerald and keep my colour'
~ Marcus Aurelius
FEBRUARY
Chapter One
'Libby, can you just pass George another spoon, please, love, and put that one in the sink? There's a good lass.' Eliot surveyed his four-year-old son and wondered how any child could make so much mess eating a simple bowl of porridge. Most of it seemed to be on the table or smeared around George's mouth. He nodded his thanks, as his eldest daughter handed her brother a clean spoon, then gave an impatient sigh as the phone continued to ring against his ear. Where is she? Why isn't she answering?
'What time's Auntie Beth coming?' Ophelia, his youngest daughter, licked a splodge of jam from the back of her hand then reached for another slice of toast. 'You ought to get a shifty on, you know. If you're late, Mum'll throttle you.'
Was she really only ten? Eliot often thought she had the mind of a forty-year-old. Mind you, she wasn't wrong about him needing to hurry up. He glanced at his watch. He'd better start getting ready. 'Should be any time now,' he informed Ophelia, then brightened as the phone was finally answered. His heart leapt, and he found he was smiling. 'Hello? Thank God. I thought you were never going to pick up. I — oh, hell! Hang on a minute.'
He rushed over to the table and just managed to prevent George from catapulting a spoonful of porridge into an unsuspecting Libby's face. 'Right, me lad, I think that's quite enough from you. You can do without breakfast now, and if you're still hungry it serves you right.'
George folded his arms and pouted. 'I want some toast.'
'I want never gets.' Eliot blinked, wondering when he'd turned into his mother. It had been one of her most-used sayings.
'Do you want me to clean him up, Dad?' Libby offered.
'If you don't mind, love. I won't be a minute. Just going to have a word with your mum.'
Clutching the phone in his hand, he rushed out of the kitchen and into the boot room, where he closed the door behind him and leaned against it with an exhausted sigh, deliberately ignoring the piles of washing on top of the dryer, the puddle of water that Tuppence, the aged border collie must have caused by knocking over her bowl, and the bundle of coats that lay on the floor because the children always hung too many on the hooks and, inevitably, some always slipped off. 'Right. I'm back. God, I've missed you so much. I can't wait to see you again.'
He shuffled, the phone hot against his ear. He wasn't a natural flirt, and he was useless at romantic stuff, but the fact was he'd missed Eden, and he worried sometimes that she'd like him to be more open about how he felt. Feeling a bit stupid, he murmured, 'Bed were empty without you. Kept imagining you beside me, and what I'd be doing to you if you were here. Are you wearing that sexy lilac satin nightie? The one with the tie strings up the side?'
'Actually,' came the reply, 'I'm wearing a pair of tartan pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt that says If you're feeling down, I can feel you up. But hey, after that little speech, I'm willing to wear anything you like.'
Bloody hell! Horrified, Eliot almost dropped the phone. 'Who's that?'
The sound of laughter reached his ears, and heat seared his cheeks. He felt even more stupid than if Eden had heard his pathetic attempts at flirting. He knew he didn't do seduction for a reason. Basically, he was rubbish at it.
'Sorry, mate. I should have told you, but truthfully, you had me at hello.'
Eliot swallowed. 'Is that Cain?'
'You've guessed it. But you can call me Cainey, now we're so well acquainted.'
'Oh, shut up. Where's Eden? What are you doing with her phone?'
'She's in the next room with the rest of the coven. It's like bleeding Loose Women here, with all the cackling and gossip going on. It's all face masks, hairspray, and push up bras. I feel threatened, mate, I'll be honest, and you ain't helped, wanting me to wear some sexy nightie. Where are you, anyway? Nearly here? I could use some male company. I can feel me testosterone draining away as we speak.'
Cain Carmichael, seventies rock god turned respectable country gent. He wasn't fooling Eliot. Cain wore almost as much makeup and hairspray as any woman, and more than Eden who rarely wore any.
'Er, not exactly. I'm still at home.'
'You're kidding me, right? How long's it going to take you to drive down here?'
'About five hours, if the traffic's okay,' Eliot admitted, crossing his fingers that during his long drive from Skimmerdale in the Yorkshire Dales down to the Cotswolds, he wouldn't encounter any unexpected delays.
'You do know the wedding's at four?' Cain demanded. 'Cutting it a bit fine, aren't you?'
'Not really. Besides, what could I do? Weather's bin bad. It's freezing here, and we've still got snow. Sheep needed feeding, and Beth's not here yet, to mind the bairns.'
'I suppose so.' Cain heaved a big sigh. 'Well, you'd better be here before the service starts, that's all. And I hope you'll make yourself presentable. No wax jackets or wellies, please. It's not snowing here, remember.'
Eliot scowled. 'I have a tuxedo, as requested on the invitation. Eden took it with her. I'll be at the hotel by three at the latest, no problem.'
'Hmm, if you say so. Now, do you want me to get your fiancée, or have I turned you with my talk of tartan trousers?'
'If you could get Eden, that would be grand.' Eliot moved away from the door as the handle rattled behind him. Ophelia peered round. 'What is it, love?'
'Auntie Beth's here. Didn't you hear her at the door?'
'No, sorry, I was a bit, er, preoccupied. I'll be with you all in a jiffy.'
'Righty-oh. Can I speak to Mum?'
'She's not on the phone yet, love. I'll tell her you send your love.'
Ophelia nodded, seeming satisfied, and Eliot closed the door after her.
'Eliot?' The sound of Eden's voice flooded his body with warmth, and he leaned back, feeling all his tension slipping away. 'How's it going? Are you missing me?'
'Hell, you have no idea.' He wanted to say so much more, but he didn't know how. 'I—it's not the same here without you. I hate it.'
Bloody hell, couldn't he do better than that?
'I hate it, too. I'm counting the hours. I love you.'
Her reply soothed his frazzled nerv
es. 'I love you, an' all.'
'I can't wait to see you. Are you setting off soon?'
'Aye. Beth's just arrived, so I'll sort meself and the bairns out, then I'll be on me way. I'll be there in time to get a shower and get changed, don't worry.'
'I'm not worried,' she replied, and he could hear the smile in her voice. 'I know you'll be here. Take care, okay?'
'I will. Kids send their love.'
'Give them all kisses from me.' He heard someone calling her name, and his spirits sank when she said, 'I've got to go. Apparently, I have to have my nails done. Honey thinks they're a disgrace, now I'm a farmer's wife or as good as.'
'Happen she's right. Can't say I've noticed your nails, but you do your fair share of grafting round here, and I don't suppose it's good for your hands.'
She laughed. 'As if I care. I'll see you soon, my love. Love you.'
'Love you, too.' Bloody hell, he'd forgotten what he'd meant to say to her! 'Eden —'
The phone went dead, and he left the room, replacing the receiver on its base in the hallway. Bugger! He'd not wished her a happy Valentine's Day. Well, no matter. He'd wish her it in person soon enough.
Right, time to get organised. He had to give Beth instructions, put his overnight bag in the Land Rover, and get himself off to the Cotswolds hotel, where the grand wedding of Cain's daughter, Honey Carmichael, and Theodore Scotman was taking place. He couldn't say he was looking forward to it. It was being paid for by All the Goss Magazine, and there would be lots of posh people and celebrities there.
He only hoped that none of Honey's mother's relatives would be present. Since they were also relatives of his late wife, Jemima, it would be awkward, to say the least, particularly as they'd thoroughly disapproved of him, and had practically cut Jemima off from the family, as a punishment for marrying a lowly sheep farmer. Oh, well, if they were there, he'd deal with it. Things had moved on since Jemima's death. He had Eden in his life now. With her beside him, he could cope with anything.
****
Beth laughed as Ophelia and Liberty launched themselves at her, taking no notice of her wet coat. 'All right, all right. You'll knock me over in a minute. Goodness, you get taller every time I see you.'
She cast a sideways glance at George and forced a smile. 'And you, too, young man. Getting to be a big boy, aren't you?'
George beamed at her, and she felt the familiar pang of guilt. It wasn't his fault, any of it. She couldn't hold him responsible for the actions of his parents. Yet, every time she looked at him, she could see James. It was becoming more obvious who his real father was as time passed, and he was a constant reminder of her husband's betrayal.
How could Eliot stand it, she wondered. He clearly loved George as much as he did his own two daughters and didn't seem to harbour any resentment. Maybe because he'd moved on. His late wife Jemima's affair with James didn't hurt him anymore, now that he had Eden in his life, whereas she was still with James — still struggling to forgive and forget. Perhaps that was the difference.
'Sorry Beth. I didn't hear you arrive.' Eliot strode into the kitchen, and her eyes widened.
'Aren't you ready? Good grief, I thought you'd be standing by the car, ready to go.'
'Eh? Oh, you mean this?' He glanced down at his jeans and boots and shrugged. 'I'm good to go. Need to get my bag in't Land Rover, then I'm done.'
She raised an eyebrow. 'Don't you think you should shower and change first?'
He frowned. 'I have. Not half an hour ago.'
She shook her head. 'You mean, you deliberately changed into those clothes for the journey? I assumed you'd been working in them. Haven't you got anything a little smarter?'
He reddened. 'Does it matter? I'm only driving, and I'm getting changed into me wedding suit at the hotel.'
Beth shrugged. 'Fine. I mean, it's up to you. It's just that you haven't seen Eden for two days, and I would have thought you'd have wanted to make a better impression on her than that.'
'Dad's useless with clothes,' Ophelia said. 'He's done well, putting on a clean shirt.'
Eliot glared at them. 'Thanks a lot. If it matters that much, I'll get changed again.'
'I would, if I were you,' Beth confirmed. As he turned, she murmured in his ear, 'I'm sure Eden would appreciate the effort. And have a shave for goodness sake.'
He scowled. 'I can do that at the hotel. Besides,' he tilted his chin, 'Eden's quite fond of my designer stubble.'
She saw the gleam in his eyes and felt a moment's envy. Had she and James ever been that much in love? It was hard to remember. She blinked and gave Eliot a shove. 'Go on, get on with it. You're up against the clock, aren't you?'
He left the kitchen and she turned to the children. 'Right,' she said, unbuttoning her coat, 'time to get this place — and you lot — cleared up, don't you think?'
By the time Eliot returned, the kitchen was gleaming. She glanced up, noting his smart black trousers and navy-blue shirt. His hair was still a tangle of black curls, but that was rather attractive. He wasn't one to faff around with mousse or gel. And she had to admit, the designer stubble didn't detract from the overall effect. Eliot Harland was a good-looking man, no doubt about it.
'That's better.' Beth smiled. 'Cup of tea on the worktop for you. The children are all cleaned up and I've got them settled in the living room, watching television. I'll take them out this afternoon.'
He'd been about to take a sip of tea, but hesitated. 'Where are you taking them?'
'Probably the playground in Ravensbridge.' She saw the fleeting fear in his eyes and moved to reassure him. 'Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere near Thwaite Park.'
She knew he didn't want his children around James. Especially George. That had been the unspoken deal, when he'd allowed her back into their lives. Once, Beth had been Jemima's best friend, but after the affair had been revealed, and Jemima had died, she'd chosen to stay with James. It had taken a long time for Eliot to trust her with his family again. Despite her assurances that James had no interest in George, he wasn't prepared to take the risk, and she wasn't prepared to gamble on losing the Harlands' friendship again.
'Sorry, Beth,' he mumbled. 'I know you wouldn't do anything behind my back. Didn't mean to insult you. Cheer up, eh?'
She shook her head. 'Don't worry, I understand. It's not that. I have a feeling, things are going to take a downward turn at the house. Even worse than they already are.'
She felt disloyal saying the words, but had an inkling that Eliot already knew she was still struggling with her marriage, despite James's best efforts to make it up to her. He wasn't a stupid man, and he knew her. He would be aware that, although she'd been whisked away on a cruise, and taken to New York for the last two Christmases, as well as being showered with gifts and attention, the damage hadn't been repaired. The fact that she still wasn't pregnant wasn't helping, nor was James's refusal to discuss other options. Now she had more problems to contend with.
'It's Deborah and David,' she burst out. 'They're coming home.'
He looked blank for a moment, then his face cleared. 'James's parents?'
'Yes.' She pulled a face. 'They've decided they've had enough of living in London and they're coming back to Thwaite Park.'
'And you're not happy about it?'
'Neither of us are happy about it.'
'So, can't he refuse? Tell them to find somewhere else to stay?'
'If only.' She sank down into a chair and put her head in her hands. 'Truth is, they own Thwaite Park. We're the ones staying there by grace.'
'Bloody hell. I thought —' He shook his head. 'You're stuck with them, then? How long are they staying?'
She wrinkled her nose. 'Permanently. At least, that's the impression they've given us. It seems David's sick of the city. He claims he's seen enough shows and visited as many art galleries and museums as he can stand. He's ready to return to the life of a country gent. They'll be arriving in a few days and then, well, that's my life pretty much in the dustbin.'
&nb
sp; 'Are they that bad? Daft question. They're his parents.' He bit his lip. 'Sorry. I shouldn't have said that.'
She didn't rebuke him. 'David's awful. An obnoxious, rude, money-mad boor. And she's so disapproving, so brittle. She thinks I'm not good enough for her precious son. And, of course, I've failed to provide them with a grandchild. Let's face it, I'm sunk.'
'I'm sorry, Beth.'
She nodded at the clock on the wall behind him. 'You'd better get going. You've a long drive ahead of you.'
'Bloody hell, you're right.' He put down the cup, shrugged on his leather jacket, and carried his bag into the living room to bid farewell to the children. They all clung to him, telling him they loved him, begging him to give cuddles to their mum and making him promise to ring them as soon as he arrived. Beth watched, feeling the usual sadness that she would probably never know what it was to be so loved by a child.
It had stopped snowing at least, but it was still bitterly cold as she followed him out to where the Land Rover was parked in the yard. Shivering, she nodded patiently as he reminded her, for the second time, that his occasional farmhand, Adey, would be around later to give the sheep a second feed. She knew he was hyped up, not just about the wedding. The vet was coming in two days to scan the ewes and he would soon know how many lambs were due in the spring. As cruel as it seemed to her, she knew that lambs were money in the bank to the Harlands, and cash was in short supply at Fleetsthorpe. It mattered.
As Eliot climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine, she tapped on the window. 'Enjoy yourself,' she told him. 'And be polite. I can't wait to see the photos in All the Goss.'
He pulled a face as she laughed. She was aware that a celebrity wedding was the last place he wanted to be. In fact, it was his idea of hell. But he was doing it for Eden. As the car left the farmyard, she realised, rather wistfully, that she couldn't imagine James being so unselfish for her sake. Then again, she had to ask herself the question, would she be willing to make any sacrifices for him? The sad truth was, she was no longer sure she would.
