by Sharon Booth
He resumed stroking her hair. 'Go on, my love. Say it.'
'When I went into the kitchen to meet the staff, there was someone there. Someone I used to know. Turns out he's now head chef at Chessingborough House. Done very well for himself.'
She sounded quite bitter, and not like Eden at all.
'Right.'
'His name's Ryan and — I used to work with him.'
Eliot realised he was holding his breath and exhaled slowly. 'O-kay.' What was she going to say? That she'd felt some sort of spark upon seeing him again? He couldn't believe it. Wouldn't believe it.
'Eliot, didn't you ever wonder why I ended up working in a place as grotty as The Red Lion?'
Embarrassed, he admitted he hadn't given it much thought. 'I didn't pay much attention to it, that night I came to get you. I was too focused on bringing you home. Nowt else mattered.'
He squeezed her and was relieved when she grasped his hand and laughed. 'I remember. I thought you were never going to tell me what you wanted.'
'I'm no good at stuff like that, I've told you.'
'No, well. I kind of know how you feel now,' she admitted. 'The thing is, Eliot ...' She hesitated, then shook her head and pulled away from him. As she turned to face him, he saw the bleak expression in her eyes and wanted nothing more than to take it away, make it all right. Whatever she'd done he'd forgive her. It didn't matter. Only they mattered. 'The thing is, I was involved with Ryan. We — we had an affair. He was the sous chef at a restaurant in Bath and I was the pastry chef there. We clicked from the start. He was so kind to me. He was fifteen years older than me and I — well ...'
Eliot didn't want to know. He swallowed. 'Aye, I get the picture.'
'We were involved for over a year,' she admitted. 'We had to be careful, keep it quiet. There's a lot of jealousy and friction in a restaurant kitchen and personal relationships between staff were frowned upon. Ryan didn't want to jeopardise his job, or mine come to that, so we were careful. Very careful.' She closed her eyes for a moment as if remembering it all. Eliot didn't want her to remember.
'Eden, are you — are you saying ...?' He couldn't finish the sentence. If she'd fallen for this bloody cook again, well, he didn't know what the hell he could say. A voice in his head was screaming at him that, of course she hadn't. She was his. She loved him, he knew it. No one could come between them, not now. Yet what else could it be? Having a boyfriend years ago was no crime. He'd have been amazed if there hadn't been other men. Eliot himself had had a wife, for God's sake. So, what else ...?
Light began to dawn. 'Eden, are you saying he was married?'
Her eyes flew open. 'I didn't know,' she garbled. 'I swear I didn't. Not at first, anyway. No one ever talked about their personal lives — there wasn't time, to be honest. And, like I said, we were so careful because he'd told me it could make things difficult at work. I had no reason to suspect him, well, not really. And by the time I did ...' She stared at him with wide eyes. 'Please don't hate me.'
He shook his head, relief flooding through him. So that was her guilty secret? 'Why the hell would I hate you?'
'Because of Jemima. Because you've been through it all and I don't want you to think I'm like her, or James Fuller. When I found out, I wanted to end it. I tried to end it. He told me they were married in name only, that they hadn't got around to a divorce but that they lived separate lives. I believed him.' She hung her head. 'I suppose, I wanted to believe him.'
'Right.' He didn't know what else to say, waiting for her to continue.
'Then I saw them together in town, arms around each other, looking like any other couple in love. Thing is, deep down I knew. All the out-of-the-way places we visited, the cancelled dates ... I was lying to myself because I didn't want it to end. When I saw them that day, it woke me up somehow. I ended it that evening, and I left the restaurant immediately. I couldn't get work in Bath, so I moved home to my parents' house, and that's when I got the job at The Red Lion. It was a dive, really, but it was an income, and it felt like the sort of place I deserved. I hated myself so much. I mean, me, the other woman! It makes me sick to my stomach to think about it, and I've tortured myself for years about it.'
'But you didn't know!' Eliot took hold of her hands. 'It weren't your fault. You're not bloody James Fuller, or Jemima. You were innocent in all that. It were him — that man. He were to blame, not you.'
'But his poor wife.'
'Aye, well. I reckon it's him as should be carrying the guilt about her, not you. You've got enough on your plate.'
'I don't know if she ever found out. It torments me, sometimes.'
'Don't let it,' he advised. 'It's past and done.'
'You won't tell anyone, will you? I'd die of shame.'
He cupped her face with his hands. 'I swear to you, what's between you and me stays that way. No-one'll find out from me.' He paused. 'Did he say anything to you? At the hotel, I mean.'
She tutted. 'He couldn't even look at me. I saw his face when I walked through the door. He was horrified. We didn't speak to each other. Honestly, I have nothing to say to him and, quite clearly, he'd rather forget all about me.'
Eliot frowned. 'Then why were you so afraid to tell me?'
'Because I'm not the woman you thought I was,' she admitted tearfully. 'I didn't want you to think less of me, after everything you've been through.'
'You're exactly the woman I thought you were,' he told her, kissing away her tears. 'Kind, honest, decent. Sort of woman who hates the thought of hurting anyone and would never knowingly do so. My woman.'
'Still?' she murmured, gazing up at him. 'After everything I've told you?'
Eliot lowered her gently onto the bed and smiled down at her, his own eyes feeling suspiciously damp. 'Always,' he promised.
Chapter Eight
Beth and James hovered by the front door, watching for the first sight of a car.
'He's bloody late, as usual,' tutted James, checking his watch. 'Bet you anything you like he gave us the wrong time on purpose. Him and his power games.'
Beth didn't answer. She felt queasy, waiting for the arrival of her in-laws. As if things weren't tricky enough, now she was going to have to put up with David's lewd jokes and bad temper. No doubt he'd be barking orders at them within hours. Then there was Deborah. Oh, God.
She swallowed, imagining being on the receiving end of one of her mother-in-law's looks — looks that left her in no doubt that she was a failure and a huge disappointment to the Fullers. Well, she thought, trying to muster her courage, if they only knew what their precious son had done in their absence they might see things differently.
She glanced at James as he stood in the doorway, peering down the drive. She'd thought him attractive once, she remembered. In fact, when she'd first met him, she'd been bowled over by his good looks. He had fair hair, blue eyes, and a charming smile, and he was always immaculately dressed. She'd believed she was the luckiest woman alive when he'd asked her to marry him. Funny how things changed.
Since she'd discovered his affair with Jemima, she'd done her absolute best to forgive and forget. Maybe it would have been easier if he hadn't fathered a baby with Jemima. Maybe if they'd been able to have their own children, the pain would have eased a little. It wasn't as if he hadn't tried to make it up to her. He was always buying her little presents and taking her on holidays.
The one thing he didn't seem willing to do was the only thing that mattered to her. Why wouldn't he discuss other options regarding their desire to become parents? Sometimes, she couldn't help but wonder if he was as keen on the idea of having children as she was. He didn't seem to have any yearning to be part of George's life, after all, and how could he help himself?
She'd asked him once, almost afraid of the answer, terrified that he would confess that he longed to have his son living with him and had only turned him away for her sake. But he'd been quite firm that he didn't regard the boy as his own.
'He's Jemima's,' he'd said with a shrug. 'I know it sounds harsh, bu
t the whole thing was a ghastly mistake, and George reminds me of that fact. He's better off with Harland. I don't feel like his father, and I never will.'
She'd been stunned at his assurance but had to admit she'd also been relieved. She couldn't have borne it, really, if he'd wanted George back, and she knew it would break Eliot, which was the last thing she wanted. He'd been a good friend to her. He'd coped with a lot and helped her deal with the fallout of their spouses' affair. She didn't want to make things difficult for him, after everything they'd been through together.
Standing there in the hallway of Thwaite Park, she realised that no matter how many gifts or holidays James showered her with, she didn't feel the same about him anymore, and nothing she tried made any difference to that fact.
He'd broken her trust, and she couldn't seem to get past that, no matter how much effort they both made. There was something about him, something that nagged away at her. She didn't know what she could do about it. Maybe time would heal, eventually. Other women got over their husband's affairs. It wasn't as if she was the only one, was it? So, what was she complaining about?
'They're here.' James took a deep breath as the Mercedes swept up the drive of Thwaite Park. He reached for her hand. 'You okay? You look a bit pale.'
'I'm fine,' she assured him. 'Just a bit nervous.'
'Don't let them intimidate you,' he said. 'They're only my parents, after all. Not royalty.'
'Hmm.' She forced a smile, and followed him as he stepped outside, waving to the occupants of the car as it drew to a halt in front of the grand Regency house.
'Luggage!' David sounded like a sergeant-major issuing orders as he called across to his son, who dutifully obeyed and ran down the stone steps to the boot of the car to collect their bags.
Beth hated David's voice. It always sounded angry. James had told her, many times, that it was just the way he spoke, and didn't mean anything.
'He's a toothless tiger,' he'd assured her. 'Ignore the tone. He doesn't intend to sound so angry, it's just his way.' Funny, but he didn't even sound convinced himself.
Beth felt her stomach flip over as Deborah climbed out of the car, looking as immaculate as always. Her brown hair was beautifully styled, her face exquisitely made up, and her petite figure swathed in an expensive, well-cut navy-blue wool coat. She wore red shoes that must have had heels of at least four or five inches, and a red bag that, no doubt, had cost more than Beth's entire monthly shopping bill. She gave James a faint smile, then turned an icy stare on Beth.
'Deborah,' Beth managed, 'how lovely to see you again.'
'And you.' Deborah turned away, apparently losing interest in her daughter-in-law immediately. 'I hope the heating's on, James. It's freezing here.'
James and David exchanged glances and laughed. 'Nothing changes, I see,' James said. 'You're always cold, Mother. Don't worry, we turned it up for you.'
Deborah sighed and headed up the steps, brushing past Beth as if she were invisible. Beth clenched her fists, forced her mouth into a smile, and followed her into the sitting room. She'd been quite wrong. It wasn't going to be tricky, at all. It was going to be hell.
****
Jed gazed down at the stunning vista before him and whistled. 'Wow, it's amazing! I'd forgotten how beautiful England can be.' He glanced across at his sister, who was bent double, taking deep breaths by the side of the road. 'You feeling any better, Emerald?'
She straightened, pushing the hood of her Parka coat back to reveal a pale face. 'A bit. I can't believe I got travel sick. That never happens.'
'It's been a bit of a winding road, and maybe you're not used to being in the back seat?' He smoothed the fake fur around her hood. 'You can go in the front and I'll climb in the back the rest of the way? Okay?'
She nodded and went to stand beside him. 'It's very peaceful here, isn't it? You know,' she added, nodding at the valley before them, 'in a few months these meadows will be bright with wildflowers. Buttercups, eyebright, red clover, bistort, pignut ...'
He was impressed. 'How the hell do you know that?' he asked.
She gave him a smug look. 'I'm a child of nature, Jed. I told you. Honey may know every shoe designer from here to Paris, but I'll bet you anything she couldn't tell a poppy from a petunia.'
'You're probably right.' He put his arm around her. 'Thought we weren't going to sweat over Honey, anymore? We had a deal, remember?'
She nodded. 'Sorry. Force of habit.'
'I know, I know. Guess it's gonna take you some time to accept things. Have you thought about therapy?'
She stared at him, a wary expression in her eyes. 'What sort of therapy?'
'You know, a psychologist or a psychotherapist. Anyone's who's anyone has their own therapist back home. There's no shame in it.'
She shuddered. 'No thanks. Anyway, I've had therapy, if you must know. Proper therapy. I'm a work in progress so don't worry about it. Can't say this is helping, though.'
'What, coming to the Yorkshire Dales?' he shook his head, astounded. 'I would have thought it would help a hell of a lot. How can you not feel contented here? It's — God, it's paradise.'
'I mean all this chasing around after Eden,' she said, scowling. 'All this fuss over someone who isn't even related to him. I can't think why she matters so much that he'd leave his home to come all the way up here. Don't they know how to Skype, for heaven's sake?'
Jed said nothing, feeling it best not to admit to Emerald what their father had confessed. Cain found Emerald's presence deeply uncomfortable and was struggling with the fact that she'd decided to stay on at his Cotswolds home indefinitely.
'She's proper annoying,' he'd confided. 'And she keeps banging on about this business proposition. Like I'm gunna give in to that! Bin there and done that with Honey, and I ain't falling for it again. Got a cheek, if you ask me. I owe her nothing. It's not like she's starved for years, is it? Cost me a bleeding fortune in maintenance, that one. Yet she reckons I owe her big time! Can you believe it?'
Jed could believe it all too well, having listened to Emerald's rant at their father which had started within an hour of them arriving at his house in Upper Bourbury.
'You set Honey up in her own shop,' she'd pointed out, pouting her lips. 'And she's lived here with you for years, getting anything she wanted at the click of her fingers. Why should she get everything? And it's not as if I'm asking for a handout to spend on a new car or a flashy holiday, is it? It's a business proposition, after all. I'll be self-supporting before you know it. I could even save you money in the long term.'
'I'll believe that when I see it,' Cain snorted. 'Look, Emerald, forget it. Honey tried to pull this one on me and look what happened there. She never made a penny profit in all the years she had that shop, and it was a drain on me cash. Contrary to what you kids believe, I ain't a bottomless pit, you know.'
'If that's true, how come you're paying for the wedding of a former employee?' Emerald folded her arms and glared at him.
Jed had winced as Cain had blundered about, falling straight into the trap. 'Eden ain't just a former employee. She's bin like family, and I want to help her. She deserves a nice wedding.'
'Right, so Eden's like family and therefore you're happy to waste a fortune on her, making her happy, but my happiness counts for nothing, even though I'm your actual daughter. Says it all, doesn't it!'
Cain had admitted to Jed that he could see her point, but he still felt her so-called business idea was a joke. 'A retreat? She's one sandwich short of a picnic if she thinks I'm forking out for New Age weirdos to lie in the lap of luxury, burning candles and listening to that crappy hippy music. Finding themselves! For God's sake, they ought to get a grip, get a shower, and get a bleeding job.'
Sick of hearing Emerald's persistent whining, he'd come up with the plan to escape to Skimmerdale, away from her relentless ear-bashing, using the wedding plans as an excuse. He'd been horrified when Emerald announced she was coming with him.
'Why would you want to go all the
way to Skimmerdale?' he'd demanded. 'You don't even like Eden!'
'Well, I'm quite sure I can be of some help,' she said. 'What do you know about weddings? You may have been married three times, but I'll lay a pound to a penny that you had nothing to do with organising any of them.'
'And you've organised a wedding before, have you?'
'No,' she admitted. 'But I'm a woman. Weddings are in our DNA. Anyway,' she'd added, 'you're not exactly a style icon, are you?'
Cain had been too stunned to argue. Bleeding cheek of her! She seemed to live in jeans or maxi dresses and ankle boots. She was hardly likely to feature in Vogue any time soon.
'Besides,' she'd continued, 'if you think you're buggering off and leaving me you can think again. You've hardly spent any time with me these last twenty odd years. You owe me your company, at least, even if you are too tight to invest in my business idea.'
'What do I do?' Cain had demanded of Jed. 'I can't stand a week alone with her up in the wilderness.'
'Why don't you give her what she wants then?' Jed reasoned. 'Would it kill you to listen to her plan? Look, I get that right now it's an ill-formed, half-baked idea, but if you helped her, maybe between you you'd be able to develop it into something workable. And if you do that, she'll be so busy with setting it up that she'll leave you alone. Plus, she could never say you don't care enough about her again. Anyway, don't you think you owe her?'
'For what?' Cain demanded. 'I paid my way with her. I gave Cassandra a flaming fortune, and Emerald never went without. Gets a monthly allowance from me, even now. I mean, look at her, Jed. She's in her late twenties and she's never had a job! What does that tell you? Tells me she's bone idle, like her mother. You know what I reckon? She don't know the first thing about running a retreat. Bet she can barely run a bath. This isn't about her wanting her own business. This is all about revenge on Honey, and I ain't having it. Emerald needs to get over this jealousy stuff and get a grip. If I give in to her, I won't be doing her no favours. She'll just end up screwing it up and feeling even worse. Meanwhile, I'll be a few hundred grand poorer. Nah. She's had all she's getting off me. She's bleeding lucky she still gets her allowance, like some daft kid. '
