by Sharon Booth
'You told her!' she whispered.
'What? No, no of course I never,' he protested. As if he'd ever do that! He'd promised Eden her secret was safe with him and he'd never break that promise. But then, how would Emerald know? There was only him and Eden in on it. He reeled, remembering the previous night, when he and Emerald had sat together in The Green Dragon. He remembered the seemingly endless glasses of beer and whisky he'd consumed before she'd even got to the pub. He remembered that they'd sat together — and talked. What exactly had they talked about?
'I'm sorry, Eliot,' Emerald said, her eyes fixed on the tarmac. 'I never meant to — I'm so sorry.'
'I can't believe this,' Eden said. She backed away from them both, holding up her hands to halt Eliot in his tracks as he moved towards her. 'Leave me alone! Just leave me alone!'
She ran to her car and jumped in, refusing to stop despite his shouts to her to please listen to him. He watched as the car pulled out of the farmyard, feeling sick to his stomach.
'I'm so sorry,' Emerald pleaded.
'It weren't your fault,' Eliot said. 'This is down to me. This whole bloody mess is down to me.'
Chapter Thirty-Three
Cain whistled cheerfully as he squirted himself with a liberal dose of Savage—the aftershave for manly men. He surveyed himself in the bathroom mirror, pleased with the result of his efforts during the last half hour to look clean, fresh and devastatingly handsome for Connie. Deborah, he reminded himself. She's Deborah, not Connie. Yet she'd signed her texts C not D. Evidently, she was trying to tell him something, and he hoped it was that she was still up for it.
He'd Googled Lady Chatterley's Lover on his return to Upper Bourbury and had been a bit miffed to discover that Constance's lover was a lowly gamekeeper. After all, Cain was a toff these days, mixing with the cream of society. He was the one shooting and fishing with the posh gits in their tweeds, and he had the photos to prove it. He weren't no bleeding servant!
Then, as he'd thought about it and read a few steamy passages from the novel, he'd changed his mind. This Mellors bloke had really worked his magic on the lady of the manor, and he knew his stuff all right. If Cain was being compared to a geezer who made a posh woman melt into a puddle of desire, then bring it on. He was happy with that.
He'd been over the moon when he'd received her text last night:
YOU WERE RIGHT, AND I WAS WRONG. I UNDERSTAND NOW. I WANT A FAIR OUTCOME TO THIS — NOT JUST FOR ME BUT FOR THE HARLANDS. CAN WE PLEASE MEET UP AND TALK NEXT TIME YOU'RE IN SKIMMERDALE? I MISS YOU. C.
He supposed he should have played hard to get, but sod it, he wasn't getting any younger. He'd pinged off a reply the second he finished reading:
I'LL SET OFF FIRST THING IN MORNING. SEE YOU AROUND LUNCH TIME AT THE PARADISE. MISSED YOU TOO. J XX
After arriving at the hotel, he'd texted Connie as soon as he knew his room number, and she'd replied with a smiley face and a kiss. That had to be a good thing, right? If she wanted to talk, they could have met in the hotel restaurant. It wasn't like they would be doing anything improper, and they had the perfect excuse if, by some miracle, they were spotted. They were discussing the George problem.
The George problem. Cain slumped suddenly, feeling fed up. That was a fly in the ointment all right. He prayed Connie had thought twice about court action, because he couldn't go against Eden and Eliot on this. He understood Connie's desperation for a grandson, but this wasn't the answer. It was the only reason he hadn't contacted her before now. He couldn't see a way to be with her if she persisted in hurting the people he loved. When he'd received her text message, hope had flared that maybe there was a solution to this mess, and he and Connie could pick up where they left off. He hoped so 'cos, frankly, he was gagging for it.
Cain refused to acknowledge, even to himself, that there was any other reason for his longing to see her again. It was just sex, he reminded himself. Nothing else to it. His exes had destroyed his libido between them, and this classy bird had rebuilt it — reawakened a desire that he'd thought had long since left him. It was as simple as that.
Even so, he felt a peculiar fluttering in his stomach as he heard a knock on the door, and it was the thought of Connie's smile, her warmth and her kind heart that made his heart leap.
He opened the door and there she was, looking as nervous and unsure as he felt. As they stared at each other, Cain felt as if all the stuff that had gone on between them recently didn't matter in the slightest. He smiled at her and held out his arms, and suddenly she was within them and he held her close, forgetting all about the sexual side of their relationship, and revelling in the scent of her and the feel of her so close to him.
'I'm so sorry, Je — Cain.' She pulled away from him, staring up at him with those dark, doe eyes that he simply couldn't resist. 'I know I've behaved terribly, and I have tried to put it right, really I have. There's something you should know.'
'Never mind all that, Connie,' he soothed. 'It can wait. Come in. Let me make you a nice cup of tea and we'll have a chat, eh?'
She nodded, and he ushered her inside, closing the door behind her.
'Could I ask one favour?' she said. 'Could you please not call me Connie. I feel that, if we're to continue seeing each other from this point on, there should be no more games. Would you mind?'
'Course not, Debs. I only called you Connie because you signed yourself C on your texts.'
She looked embarrassed. 'I know. I wanted you to associate the text with the person you knew and — cared about. Not the cold, heartless woman you met at Thwaite Park that day. But now that we're together again, here in this room, I want us to be completely honest with each other. Do you understand?'
'Yeah. Yeah, I do, and that's fine by me.'
He made her a cup of tea as she hung her jacket in the tiny wardrobe and settled herself on the small and not particularly comfortable sofa. Cain studiously avoided looking at the bed as he handed her a drink, even though it was the dominant feature in the room, and practically screamed at them to remember what their relationship had started as.
'Now then,' Cain said, settling himself next to her. 'What's this something that I should know?'
Between sips of tea and apologetic glances, Deborah revealed her visit to Eden, her attempt to force a meeting with George, and her moment of revelation the other night as she'd sat with her vile husband and son. Cain listened, not speaking, nodding now and then.
'It came to me, as clear as day, that I was behaving as badly as they do, and I couldn't bear it. I'm not like them, really I'm not. They disgust me. I didn't go to meet George. I hope Eden will realise that I've changed my mind about this.'
'I'd tell her, Debs, but she don't know about us so it could be a bit awkward.'
'I know. I understand that. But you do see, don't you, that I have tried to put it right? I really, really hope you can forgive me.'
''Course I forgive you, Debs.' There was no question of it. She'd been courageous and unselfish in his book, trying to make amends for the things she'd done. He'd known she was a good 'un deep down. 'What's your son got to say about all this though?'
She put her cup on the bedside table. 'I haven't told him,' she confessed, folding her arms defensively. 'The truth is, I didn't even tell him about visiting Eden, or about our little arrangement. It had nothing to do with James. It was about me, and my selfish desire to see my grandson.'
As Cain considered this, a thought occurred to him, and he wondered if he dared put it into words, or if it would frighten her off.
'Debs,' he said at last, 'do you believe James? I mean, do you believe he wants his kid, after all this time?'
To his relief, she didn't rear away from him, protesting in defence of her son. Instead, she remained quiet, clearly phrasing her response in her mind.
'There's something odd about it all,' she said at last. 'I can't quite put my finger on it. I suppose, firstly, it's surprising that James put Beth's feelings ahead of his own all these years — most unlike h
im. But even more peculiar is David's silence on the subject. I'd have thought he'd have been throwing his weight around, making all sorts of threats and taking over, but he's sat back, seeming quite content to let James and I do all the pushing. That's not David. He never trusts anyone else to do something that matters to him, and even if he didn't particularly care about George, he'd pursue this on principle. He can't bear the thought of someone else having something he perceives is his.'
It must've dawned on her what she'd said, as she gave Cain a rueful smile. 'Don't worry. I won't let him hit you.'
'He can bleeding try,' Cain said, hoping he sounded convincing. He wondered if he should get his private dentist on standby, in case.
'I'm not his,' Deborah said, sounding defiant. 'He doesn't own me, and he can't stop me from doing what I want.'
'I'm sure he'll have a damn good go at it, though, Debs,' Cain muttered. 'Still,' he added, his finger tracing the outline of her lips, 'you're worth it.'
His libido was taking over his common sense again. He knew it but was powerless to resist. As Deborah kissed him, all thoughts of David flew out of the window, and before he knew it he was half-naked on the hotel bed, with a lusty-gazed Deborah straddling him. Now how, he wondered, had that happened? It was a complete mystery. Then again, he thought, as she leaned over him, her neat little breasts brushing his chest, what did it matter? What did anything matter? Jesus, she was good!
As they lay together afterwards, Cain thought he maybe ought to get a medical, just in case. His old ticker was going like the clappers, and he should make sure he was okay to be doing this sort of thing at his age. He'd never expected it, and although he thought vaguely that he'd read somewhere that sex in later life kept you young, maybe it was best to check. After all, he didn't want to keel over and die, did he? Not now when he finally had something to look forward to.
He couldn't wait to tell Debs about the project he had in mind. It had taken seed after their day at Skimmerdale Abbey, when they'd talked about their childhoods and reminisced about life in a two-up-two-down with not a blade of grass in sight. It had quite got his creative juices flowing in a way that even music hadn't for a long time. He hoped Debs would be as enthusiastic as he was about it. He was sure she would be.
Before he could speak, however, Deborah turned to him, her fingers playing gently with his grey chest hair. 'I've got something to tell you. I've quite made my mind up on this. I'm leaving David.'
Cain's mouth fell open. 'Leaving him? But ...' His mind raced. He could see it now: Deborah arriving with her luggage in tow on his doorstep in Upper Bourbury; newspaper headlines screaming the news that Cain Carmichael was up to his old tricks again; the years he'd spent building a reputation as a respectable, reformed character wasted, ruined; and worse, being landed with yet another woman who would, no doubt, bleed him dry with her financial demands.
He was no fool. Deborah Fuller had married a very wealthy man. She'd got used to posh homes like Thwaite Park. No doubt she'd always had a healthy allowance, and she would expect to be kept in much the same manner by him. Cain had plenty of money, but frankly, he was sick of doling it out to wives, girlfriends, kids and exes. What if things didn't work out between him and Debs. Would she take him to the cleaners, too?
He remembered the bitter battles he'd fought with Lowri, Cassandra, Sandy and Freya. There'd been various pay-offs to his old paramour Lucinda Farquhar, to his most recent live-in bird Roxy, and her sister Suki, not to mention the substantial financial gifts he'd bunged various casual flings over the years.
He'd been a mug, he held his hands up. Couldn't keep it in his trousers, that was his problem. Nothing illegal or dodgy, but he'd kidded himself it was love far too many times. He'd sworn off women altogether after Roxy and Suki and had made a promise to himself that he'd never be caught out like that again, but now look what had happened. How could he trust Deborah?
But if she was leaving David for him, what could he do?
'Are you sure that's what you want, Debs?' he asked, trying not to sound appalled.
'Quite sure,' she said. 'I've had enough. Of course, it's going to get terribly messy, and the solicitors will have a field day sorting out a financial settlement, but it will be worth it in the end.'
Cain sighed inwardly. As he'd suspected. Debs was already thinking about how much money she could get out of her old man, and even though he despised David Fuller and was quite glad for her sake that she was finally planning to leave, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread and disappointment.
Deborah glanced at her watch. 'I have to go, I'm afraid. They'll be wondering where I am and with things the way they are at home it's probably best I don't draw any attention to myself—at least, until I've seen a solicitor.'
Cain gulped. 'Yeah, yeah. Fair enough, Debs. I'll come down with you to the lobby.'
'You don't have to,' she said, smiling. 'If you want to stay here and get your breath back it's fine.'
Cain felt quite indignant. 'Get me breath back? I could do that all over again, don't you worry.'
She laughed. 'I'm sure you could, but right now isn't the time to prove it.' She climbed out of bed and proceeded to get dressed, and Cain — after taking a few deep breaths — followed suit.
Peering through the glass door, Deborah ascertained that the lobby seemed quiet and, after glancing around to make sure there was no one there she knew, she pushed open the door and strolled in, Cain by her side.
It was Cain who spotted Jed and Beth first, and he almost threw Deborah against the wall, urging her to stay back as his son and his companion lingered by the entrance door.
'What on earth?'
'Sshh, Debs. Look who's over there!'
Deborah followed his gaze and her eyes widened in shock as Jed put his arms around Beth and kissed her.
Cain glared at his son. What the bleeding hell did he think he was doing, kissing Debs' daughter-in-law, of all people! Christ, this would go down well with her — not. All hell was about to break loose at Thwaite Park, what with Beth's behaviour and Debs about to leave David. The Carmichael name would be mud.
He saw Jed stroke Beth's hair, and watched as they stood murmuring to each other. He wondered what they were talking about, deceitful, treacherous little gits.
'I'm ever so sorry, Debs,' he muttered. 'I'll kill Jed. I had no idea this was going on, honest I didn't.'
He looked down at her, expecting to see a thunderous expression on her face, and was amazed to see her smiling.
'Look at the way he's looking at her,' she whispered. 'Look at their faces, Cain. Look at them!'
Cain looked and, as he did so, his anger slowly ebbed away. There was no mistaking the feeling between Beth and Jed. It made him feel quite humble to see it — all that love radiating from them. Beth might be a married woman, and Jed might be a sneaky git, but there was something weirdly beautiful about the two of them — a purity that quite took his breath away.
'How lovely,' Deborah breathed, and Cain wondered if she'd forgotten that Beth was married to her own son.
They waited until Beth left the hotel and Jed headed into the bar, no doubt to have a quick drink before heading for the farm, after giving his lover a head start. Cain wondered how long it had been going on, and what the hell was going to happen now.
'Well,' Deborah said eventually, 'that's quite made my day. Now, I'd better get back to Thwaite Park and organise dinner.' She giggled. 'I suspect both Beth and I will have quite an appetite this evening.'
'But ain't you bothered? Ain't you mad at them?'
'Mad at them?' Deborah shook her head. 'Cain, if you lived at Thwaite Park, you'd feel the same way I do about this. Absolutely thrilled to pieces for them. She did it. She finally did it.'
She kissed him lightly on the cheek, then headed towards the door. Cain watched her, blinking in confusion. He would never understand women. Best to lie back and enjoy it while they quietly ran the world.
****
James was in the gar
den, going over financial papers from the estate agency with his father. Documents were spread all over the patio table, and David picked them up in turn, droning instructions to James about how he should be running his own business. His father never believed that anyone could do anything better than he could. He had no faith in James at all. It was a relief when his mother joined them. Anything to shut his father up.
'Ah, Mother.' James shuffled the papers around and put them inside his briefcase. 'We were just finishing up. Would you care to join us for a glass of whisky or wine?'
'No thank you.' Maybe Deborah was as aware of her husband's angry expression as he was. No doubt his father resented having the little woman interrupt their business chat. He wasn't the most enlightened of men.
'I want to talk to you, James.' She sat down beside him and he steadied himself. Lord, what now? 'It's about George.'
He felt, rather than saw, David's bristling, and gave him a nervous glance, praying he'd keep his trap shut for once.
'I've been giving the matter a lot of thought and I've concluded that we've — I've — been going about this all wrong.'
'Oh?' James shuffled in his seat, as David got up and headed into the sitting room, where the clink of glass through the open French doors revealed he'd made straight for the drinks cabinet.
'I charged in without thinking through all the consequences,' Deborah admitted. 'I should have taken stock, assessed the situation before I called in my solicitor. The fact is, George is very happily settled with the Harlands. He's one of the family.' She glanced up as David approached, carrying two glasses. Ignoring him, she continued her appeal to James. 'To send Eliot Harland a letter demanding a DNA test and threatening to fight for custody was crass and, I hate to admit it, rather cruel.'
James accepted a glass of whisky from his father and gulped it down in one go.
'I do understand that you want your child back, James, but have you really thought about the effect it would have on him? Being wrenched away from his family would break his heart and have a traumatic effect on him. That's even supposing we won the case, and I'm not entirely sure we would. After all, you can't deny that George sees Eliot as his father and —'
