‘What kind of things?’ Eloise asked shakily.
‘Oh, just sounds. Like voices, but very far away. I couldn’t hear what they were saying.’
Eloise shivered. ‘No, Jack. I want to go home, right now.’
And Jack laughed softly, touched her cheek, and led the way back to their ponies.
Later that night, writing her diary in bed, Eloise could think of nothing but Jack, his charm, his knowledge, his confidence. She remembered his ghost stories, wrapped her arms round herself, enjoying the frightening thrill they gave her. And she realised that the thrill she felt wasn’t just to do with his whispers about strange happenings on the moor. She knew it was also about his touch on her cheek, his casual assumption that he was in charge, that he would take her where he wished but where she also wanted to go.
She slept that night, and dreamed that he was next to her; that his arms were round her, his breath hot against her neck. She dreamt his body rocked against hers. And something happened; something so exquisite she could not understand what it was. Only that the tumult she felt left her breathless. And for ever Jack’s.
He was a boy.
Her boy.
Next morning, Juliana was curious about her ride with Jack.
‘Where did you go, dear? It was nearly dark when you got home.’
‘Oh, we rode up to Jamaica Inn. A bit boring really but Jack knows loads of ghost stories about the moor, so that was interesting.’
‘Yes, he’s a nice boy. Very clever I think. It’s a pity he goes to the village school.’
‘Why? I’d love to go to the village school.’
Juliana sighed. ‘Look, darling. We’ve been through this before. Truro School will give you an excellent academic education. You’re very bright, and you’re doing so well. Daddy and I want you to go to university.’
‘Why? You didn’t.’
‘Yes, but things are changing. It may be important for you to make your own money, to have a career.’
‘Is that what all the arguments are about, Mummy? Is that why Dad gets drunk every night? Is the money running out? Will we have to leave Roseland?’
‘Hush, darling. We’ll never leave here. All I’m saying is that in a modern world girls will need to be independent. And you’ve got the brains to do well.’
Eloise couldn’t imagine leaving Roseland. It had drawn a magic circle round her and within its grounds she felt protected. But was her mother telling the truth? Perhaps they would have to go. Would she have to leave this warm and happy place, these beautiful gardens, her darling gazebo where she read and dreamed about Jane Eyre and Catherine Earnshaw?
And would she have to leave Jack? Never see him again? Her adolescent heart almost stopped in her breast.
‘No,’ she thought. ‘Never. I will never leave Jack. I will always be his and he will be mine.’
Three days after her birthday, Eloise had not seen Jack again. She wondered why he hadn’t sought her out. She was desperate to catch even a glimpse of his lithe brown body, to see his light blue eyes, to listen to his stories about the ghosts of Bodmin Moor. But more than anything, she knew what she wanted was his touch. His hand on her cheek, his arm round her shoulder. And more.
She felt confused. She could not have put a name to what she wanted from Jack. She was just sure she was in love with him, and that she would do anything to make him love her back.
Came the day, a week after Eloise’s birthday, that Jack found her in the gazebo, reading as usual. He crept up behind her and put an arm around her neck. She jumped and he laughed. ‘Look, Ellie, I’ve brought you a present.’
It was silly, a tourist shop piskie sitting on a rock, but her heart melted and her body throbbed. To think he had thought about her, had cared enough about her to give her something, a small tribute which showed he liked her.
She smiled and thanked him. There was an awkward pause, and he asked, in a rush, if she would go for a picnic with him that night, after dark.
‘On Bodmin Moor?’ Eloise asked nervously.
‘No,’ he replied.
Just somewhere here, at Roseland, in the grounds. He would bring sandwiches and something to drink. And he had loads of spooky stories to tell her about the moor, but they would be quite safe down here. There were no ghosts, he told her gravely, at Roseland Hall. All the old spooks here were so posh they wouldn’t be seen dead outside their swanky tombs.
He made her laugh. He always made her laugh.
They met later that night, after Eloise had endured supper with her silent parents. Her mother had at first tried to make conversation, but her father was sunk deep in his customary wordless angry stupor. He went to his study as soon as he could get away. Juliana tried to talk to her daughter in the drawing room, but she was obviously upset. After a while she kissed Eloise and said she hoped she wouldn’t mind if she went to bed. She felt very tired, she said. Perhaps Ellie would like to watch television in the small TV room? And then Annie would bring her a hot drink at bedtime.
Eloise eagerly aquiesced. Once settled in the tiny, cosy room with the television on, Annie having fussed over her and brought her homemade lemonade, she waited impatiently. At nine-thirty, the house was silent. Of course the servants would still be up, waiting for a late summons from their masters, but Ellie was convinced her mother was asleep, and her father in a drunken stupor. She got up and went in search of Annie.
At the top of the stairs leading down to the servants’ hall she called out: ‘Annie. I’m going to bed now. Night night.’
There was an immediate flurry from downstairs.
‘Don’t you “night night” me, young lady. I’ll be seeing you to bed. Now go upstairs and I’ll be up in a minute.’
She smiled to herself. Annie was so comfortingly predictable. Ellie went up the stairs.
Her room was pleasantly cool, the windows open and the scent of roses from the garden below making her feel slightly intoxicated. Tonight she was going to meet Jack. Her head whirled. She lay on her bed, humming as she wrote her journal, until Annie bustled in with a tray of hot chocolate.
‘Aren’t you going to get undressed, young lady?’ she asked as Eloise lay fully-clothed across the counterpane.
‘Yes, of course, Annie. In a minute. I’m just not sleepy right now.’
‘Well, drink this and don’t stay up reading too late. You’re not doing your eyesight any favours, all the books you read.’
She left, muttering. Eloise lay quietly on her bed until her watch told her it was ten-thirty. Jack had said they should meet at the gazebo then. She got up, opened the door, listened to the complete quiet and edged down the stairs.
The back door was locked, but she knew the key was kept in a small cupboard in the corridor. She unlocked the door, walked out into the summer night, then locked it behind her and tucked the key inside her pocket.
It was a beautiful night, soft and warm. The smell of stocks, roses and lavender bathed her as she walked towards the gazebo. She felt light, dreamy. She did not quite understand what she was about to do, but she knew, without a doubt, that it was meant to be.
There were faint lights in the gazebo windows. She followed them and found the way easily. The wide doors were open, and she walked inside; the scene that greeted her made her feel she had come home. Her Jack sat on a sleeping bag in front of the stove. He had lit it even though the night was warm, and he’d put cushions on the floor. There were candles all around the little octagonal whitewashed room, and he had laid out a picnic supper on a rug before the gentle flames.
He grinned at her.
‘Hey, Ellie. Do you like it?’
She thought it was the most wonderful thing she had ever seen. She sank down on the rug next to him. She felt shy, tongue-tied.
He showed her his picnic. Somehow he had managed to scrounge cold ham and beef from home, cheese and bread. And cider. A huge plastic container of it, plus glasses filched from his mother’s kitchen cupboard.
Eloise was enchanted. She h
ad never done anything as naughty, as secret as this in her life. And here she was with this beautiful boy, this extraordinary angel whom she loved, and knew absolutely she would always love, whatever happened to them in the long future ahead. He was hers; she existed only in this moment, their young limbs reflected in the firelight, the golden glow on their yearning faces as true and perfect as a painting in an Italian church.
They ate the ham, some cheese and bread. But most of all they drank the cider, because they needed the courage to build a bridge across the childish history which bound them together but divided them in this new territory, this strange and sensual world of adolescence. They talked softly. Jack told her how his parents were desperate for another child, and how it had introduced tension into their family life. Eloise told Jack about her father’s despair at not having a son to carry on the Trelawney name, and how unhappy her mother was.
They both agreed that, when they had families, they would never let these material concerns destroy their love. And then they looked at each other shyly, having mentioned the word that now swirled giddily around the room.
And Eloise felt herself melt. She was tipsy, for sure. But she was also in the grip of a sensation she had never known before. As they lay next to each other on Jack’s sleeping bag, sipping cider, their tongues thickening as they drank and talked about their most secret dreams, she became impatient. She wanted something from him. Her head was muddled, but her body knew exactly what she was doing.
She told her mother later that Jack didn’t take advantage of her. Although they were both more than a little drunk, she wanted him as much as he did her. They were cocooned in an urgent dream, unable to stop, blind to the consequences. In that little summerhouse, lit by flickering fire and candles, they lay together. Wrapped around each other. And it was the most perfect experience of Eloise’s life.
In fact, it was the moment which laid the foundation for her future.
And for her untimely death.
Chapter Fourteen
Chris watched me as I finished off my tale.
‘Did Juliana tell you any more?’
‘Oh yes.’ I said. ‘But Chris, it’s such a sad story.’
‘Tell me,’ he said.
I frowned. ‘Why? I mean do you seriously want to know or is this yet another psychological assessment? If you don’t believe me, I suggest you talk to Juliana. I know you think she’s half deranged with grief, but, you know, I think even you would find it difficult to deny the existence of Arthur. You’ve seen him, for God’s sake. You know who he is.’
‘Well, I guess I know who he’s claiming to be. Which is convenient, considering there’s a fortune to be inherited.’
‘But Juliana accepts him absolutely as her great-grandchild.’
‘Well, of course she does. She’s just lost her only daughter, her son-in-law hates her guts and won’t let her play a significant part in her grandchildrens’ lives. So, in her grief, isn’t she bound to embrace the grandchild who does turn to her? Arthur seeks her out at this very vulnerable time. If his story is convincing enough, of course, she’s going to see it as a lifeline to Eloise, and a complete answer to Ted who is making her life even more difficult than it’s bound to be. Cathy, you do see, from an outsider’s point of view, that this is all very dodgy?’
‘OK, I understand I’m not going to be able to convince you about Arthur. But Eloise did have a baby when she was thirteen. Juliana showed me the birth certificate. And for crying out loud, Arthur is only sixteen. How do you think he would find out about his birthright?’
‘Well,’ said Chris. ‘How about from his grandfather?’
His grandfather? That meant Jack, Eloise’s childhood sweetheart.
‘Do you want me to tell you the rest or would you rather argue?’
Chris softened. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I do want to hear.’
*
The rest of the summer, Eloise wrote, passed in a dream. She felt she was floating above the fields and beaches around her home. She was desperately in love, looking for Jack’s face in every tree, every blade of grass, every person she spied in the distance, sure it must be him. When it wasn’t, she was wracked with despair. One day, she sat in the stable with her beloved pony. ‘Daisy. I’m in real trouble. I love him and I am going to be so unhappy when I have to go back to school.’
Daisy swished her tail. She was comfortingly unmoved.
Jack did seek her out after a few days. He came round to the back door and asked for her. She rushed to see him, terrified that she would see indifference in his face, but his eyes told her his own torment was as great as hers.
They walked over to the gazebo, but this time sat down on the grass outside.
They tried to make small talk about the piglets in the new pen, their ponies and, inevitably, their parents.
‘When I leave school, I’d like to be an actress, I think.’
Jack talked about his love of the land, how he longed for his own farm or smallholding.
And then he said: ‘Ellie, my parents are talking about moving to Australia.’
She was stunned. ‘When?’
‘Early next year. They want their own farm, and they’ll only be able to afford a smallholding here – but they can get something really worthwhile in Australia.’
‘And you’ll go with them?’
‘I’ll have to.’
‘But, Jack … ’
He looked at her very gravely. ‘Ellie, I think you’re beautiful and I would love to be with you for ever. But let’s face it, your folks won’t approve of me being your boyfriend – my parents are your mum and dad’s tenants.’
‘I think you want to go,’ said Eloise. ‘You’re just telling me that you won’t stay here with me, even if I ask you to.’
Jack looked away, then turned fiercely toward her.
‘Eloise Trelawney, you have no idea what it’s like to be someone like me. To gradually become aware that my home is not really mine at all, but dependent on someone else’s whim. There’s no security, Ellie, none at all. Your father could turf us out whenever he wants. My dad’s a skilled land agent, but he has no land. When we go to Australia, we’ll get our own farm. And then I won’t be a tenant’s son any more. I’ll have my own birthright, my own farm if I want it.’ He paused. ‘And maybe then I’d have something to offer you.’
Eloise went back to her bedroom. She felt ill and sad. Jack was going to move across to the other side of the world, and here was nothing she could do to stop him. She had nothing to give, nothing to offer except her love. And he was only fifteen, and his parents had opened up a new existence for him. And she, too, would have gone to Australia, given half the chance. A whole new world. Who wouldn’t give anything for that?
Ellie had been feeling bad for a few days now. She was deeply upset about Jack and his decision, not just to leave her to emigrate with his parents, but, although he did not put this into words, his obvious desire to distance himself from her, and from the night they had shared.
The hurt she felt was beyond expression. And, as the summer wore on, Eloise began to fade; she lost her bloom, her loveliness. She would not leave her room; she felt faint if required to join company in the drawing room. She was often nauseous, and spent much time in her prettily tiled bathroom refusing to talk to her mother or Annie when they begged her to tell them what the matter was.
The matter was simple. Eloise was pregnant. But neither she nor her mother realised it for months. Only Annie suspected what was going on. And only Annie had the beginnings of a solution when everything came to a head.
It was early September when Juliana came to Eloise’s room in a flurry of impatience.
‘Ellie, come on, darling. You go back to school tomorrow. You haven’t even tried on your new uniform. And you haven’t read the books on your reading list.’
‘Mum, I feel so ill. Please leave me alone. I don’t want to go back to school anyway. I hate it there. I’m not well. Can’t I just stay here until I get be
tter?’ She felt so sick, so tired and heavy.
Juliana sat on her daughter’s bed.
‘Ellie, darling, I know you’ve been unhappy this summer. I’m sorry that your father’s worries have affected you. But, you know, I’m sure everything’s going to be all right, and I do believe you would be much happier back at school, with all your friends.’
Eloise sat up.
‘Mum,’ she shouted. ‘How many times do I have to tell you I have no friends there? I don’t want to go back. I want to stay here with—’
She stopped, burst into a storm of tears, turned her head into her pillow and told her mother to leave her alone.
Chris said, ‘So, what happened? What did they do when they realised she was pregnant?’
‘Juliana confided in Annie, who’d had time to think about what could be done. She had friends in Plymouth, who could look after a young girl in trouble. But actually, Charles knew nothing. Not then.’
‘How did they keep it from him?’
‘It was easy. He was totally obsessed with the future of the estate. As long as Eloise was out of the house, he assumed she was at school.’
‘Whereas?’
‘Juliana had taken her out of her boarding school in Truro, and sent her to live with Annie’s friends in Plymouth. Juliana drove up to visit her at least twice a week.’
‘And what about Juliana? Was she furious that Ellie had got herself pregnant by the land agent’s son?’
‘Oddly, no. Juliana was a bit of a free spirit, always slightly bohemian. As long as she could keep it secret from her husband she thought she could handle it and protect Eloise from any consequences.’
‘Jesus!’ said Chris. ‘But what about the baby?’
‘Well, yes. That was the fly in the ointment. Young though she was, Eloise absolutely refused to have an abortion. And Juliana, anxious to keep her daughter happy, tried to persuade her to give the child up for adoption.
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