‘Don’t be so bloody melodramatic, Cath. Of course he didn’t. He may not be the nice guy I thought he was, but he’s not a would-be murderer!’
‘How would you know? You weren’t there.’ I sounded childish and hated myself for getting worked up.
Chris opened his mouth, then thought better of it, and stormed out of the bedroom and down the stairs. I remembered that the children were here, and I desperately hoped they hadn’t heard us arguing. I took a deep breath, pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and went downstairs to greet my eldest, Sam.
Chapter Sixteen
I hadn’t seen Sam since Christmas. He’d spent the Easter holidays in the US with a fellow student whose parents lived in New York and I’d missed him a lot.
Tall and handsome, he was the spitting image of Chris, and, like his dad, he wanted to be a psychiatrist. He was at medical school in Edinburgh, doing well and enjoying student life. But his resemblance to Chris was superficial. In character, he was more like me. Of all of them, he had inherited my vulnerability and I worried about him; I dreaded that he might have inherited my tendency to depression. But I’d never seen any definite sign of it; it was more an instinct that made me watch him like a hawk. And right now he was smiling, his face suffused with the pleasure of being with his family again. He flung his arms around me.
‘Mum. It’s great to see you again. You look terrific.’
I returned his hug. ‘So do you, darling. How’s Uni?’
‘It’s good. I’m really enjoying it. Hard work, though.’
‘Oh, well,’ said Chris heartily. ‘No pain no gain, eh?’
Sam had his back to his dad. He rolled his eyes at me. Chris and Sam were at that stage of a father and son’s relationship where they constantly locked horns. They loved each other, but each found the other unbearably irritating at times.
I had no such problems with Sam. He was always wonderfully affectionate towards me, and I must admit that the way he sometimes sided with me in family arguments gave me secret pleasure, just as I knew it annoyed Chris.
We went next door to the Talland Bay Hotel for dinner. A big family celebration, the first time we had all been together since Christmas. I was stupidly happy. Everyone I loved, all together, my complete circle of devotion. For the first time since Eloise’s death had haunted me in Cornwall, since I’d started dreaming about her, I felt confident that I had some back-up. That my family was whole and healthy.
But, like Eloise, my priorities were my children. That was just a fact of life.
Eve was talking about the gorgeous boy she’d seen on the beach. Like any sixteen-year-old, she could prattle on for ever about fripperies which meant nothing to anyone older. It felt strange that I could now put a name to him. She was talking about Arthur, my friend Eloise’s grandson, although of course she had no idea who he was. Tom was sniggering and sniping, but Sam listened to her with complete attention.
‘So, Evie, you think this guy is the love of your life?’
‘No, Sam. Don’t be such an idiot. I was just trying to tell you about this gorgeous-looking guy who’s washed up here in Talland. He looks really cool.’
‘OK, Sis. I believe you. Can I meet him?’
‘No. I have no idea where he’s staying.’
Chris and I looked at each other and I decided to be frank.
‘Evie, your dad and I know where he is. He was here at the hotel for a while but now he’s staying at Juliana’s.’
‘What? Why? What’s he got to do with her?’
‘Well, it turns out they’re related.’
‘How?’ asked Evie, full of annoyance and frustration.
I bottled out. I couldn’t tell her about Eloise, her baby, and that Arthur was her grandchild. ‘Oh, it’s just some distant relation from Australia. We’ll meet him soon. Juliana’s invited us round for lunch.’
Evie was thrilled. ‘When, Mum? I need to think about what I’m going to wear.’
‘I’m not sure yet, sweetie. I’ll fix it with Juliana tomorrow.’
Chris gave me a withering glance. There was not going to be much harmony between us tonight.
Much later, Chris and I went to bed in icy silence. The kids were snug, happy and tucked up, but he and I were miles apart. I hated it. I wanted and needed him so much. I wrapped my arms around him but there was no response. This man was going to sleep next to me, but separately, without any love or warmth: in fact the opposite. Complete hostility.
Was this because of Eloise? Or was it because I was such a mess, a basket case with whom he could no longer cope?
The next day I went for a walk. Not over the cliff but up the lane and round to the church. I had got up early and felt dreadfully upset. Chris hated me. He couldn’t wait to be rid of me. I loved him so much, but we had been driven so far apart. And this was all about Eloise. I knew I was risking my happiness, my husband and family because of my obsession with a ghost. I needed to lay her to rest.
So I went to look at Ellie’s grave again. To see if it could give me any clues, any insight into her death, and figure out why she was haunting me, driving me mad. I stood and looked at the beautiful blossoming mound, the lovely floral site of her burial, and thought about her death, her complete removal from our lives, from her children’s lives, and burst into tears. I couldn’t make any sense of it.
‘What do you want from me, Ellie? I know about Arthur now, I know about your will. What else is there for me to do?’
I walked into the empty church, sat down and tried to pray.
I prayed for my friend’s soul. I asked for her to be granted peace and rest. I asked for help to heal my mind, and for the happiness of my family. I asked for Chris’s love.
But mostly I just cried.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and I jumped. A tall man in a black cassock stood beside me.
Father Pete, the vicar who had presided over the renewal of our wedding vows all those years ago. He’d moved away to another parish since then and I hadn’t seen him in ages, but I was glad to see him now.
‘Cathy? What’s wrong, my dear? There’s no trouble at home, I hope?’
If only he knew. I shook my head, wiped my eyes, and asked him why he was here.
‘Sarah went into hospital yesterday to have a delicate female operation. Well, I can tell you, she’s having a hysterectomy and will be away for three months. I’m taking over till she gets back. But listen, Cathy. There’s obviously something very wrong to make you so distressed. Do you want to talk about it?’
To my surprise, I found I did. He was always such a kind man, Father Pete. Wise, too. And maybe, because souls were his business, he could help me with Eloise.
Five minutes later we were in the Rectory. He sat me down and made some tea. Then he sat opposite me and waited.
‘You know … you know Eloise has died?’ I blurted.
He nodded sadly. ‘Yes, I heard. That’s her grave in the churchyard, isn’t it? The one with no headstone?’
‘Yes. That’s why I’m here.’
‘You were always very close, you two. I’m not surprised you’re so upset.’
‘It’s not that. Well, it is; of course I’m upset. But … it’s four months since she died, and you know that we all knew there was no hope for her. She’s in no pain now – at least no physical pain.’
Father Pete raised his eyebrows.
I was quiet for a minute. I looked up at him, saw only the wise countenance of a gentle man.
‘Father. Do you believe in unquiet spirits?’
He looked at me carefully.
‘Will you tell me all about it?’ he asked.
‘I will, but first I want you to answer my question.’
He sighed. ‘Yes, I do. It’s part of my vocation to bury the dead, and commend their souls to God. But there are times when I’ve wondered.’ He paused. ‘You’re talking about Eloise’s spirit?’
‘Yes.’
‘And that’s why you are so upset?’
I
nodded. ‘ She … she … ‘ I didn’t know how to say this without seeming incredibly foolish or deluded. ‘She comes to me, sometimes in dreams, sometimes in broad daylight. She is desperately unhappy and afraid.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know, but it’s something to do with her children. She says she wants me to protect them.’
‘From what?’
‘I don’t know that either. She wants me to do something. She haunts me almost every night.’
Father Pete watched me quietly. ‘Have you told Chris about this?’
I nodded miserably. My tears returned.
‘He doesn’t believe me. He thinks I’m having another breakdown.’
Pete knew about my problems because we’d kept in occasional touch. At once I regretted talking to him. Of course he would agree with Chris. He may have been a priest, used to talking about souls, mysteries, good and evil, but he was also an intelligent, educated man, and he surely knew a woman with mental health problems when he saw one.
Father Pete was quiet for a moment. Then he said, ‘Would it help you to know I believe you?’
I looked up sharply, alert to any attempt to humour me. But his face remained calm.
‘You believe me? But why? I mean it all sounds so … completely mad.’
He shook his head. ‘Cathy, I’m not at all surprised you’re here today. I’ve been worrying ever since I got here because something isn’t right. I worked in this church for many years, and the atmosphere has changed. I felt it as soon as I came back. That graveyard has always been so peaceful. It isn’t now.’
‘Have you … have you seen anything?’
‘You mean have I seen Eloise?’
I nodded.
‘No, no I haven’t. But I’ve felt something.’
‘What?’
‘A restlessness; a disturbance in the air. And in the church, too. A sort of insistent murmur, a nudging, as if someone is trying to tell me something.’
I was flooded with relief. At last, somebody believed me. Not just Juliana, and poor old Winnie, but someone completely outside the situation.
‘So, do you believe a person can die, but die knowing something terrible is about to happen? Something only she can put right, can prevent? And even though they’re dead, communicate to another living person that they need help?’
‘I believe that certain individuals are receptive to disturbed souls. But I also wonder if your friend’s spirit has hijacked you. I wonder if, through no fault of your own, Eloise has possessed you?’
I was astonished. What mumbo jumbo was this?
‘Father Pete, forgive me, but that sounds like nonsense. I don’t believe in possession. That sounds so medieval. Eloise needs me to help her. That’s all I know. I don’t want to, God knows, but she’s made it clear I have no choice.’
‘I think you do,’ the priest replied.
‘What are you saying?’
‘Look, Cathy, I think I can help you.’
‘How?’
‘I can perform a service which will release you from Eloise’s demands. Let you be free of her.’
I managed a shaky laugh.
‘You sound like you’re talking about exorcism. How ridiculous is that?’
‘We don’t call it that in the Church of England. But we do have a Deliverance Ministry. There is a cleric in every diocese who can cast out evil spirits.’
I was stunned.
‘Are you telling me that here in Cornwall it’s you?’
He gave me a small smile. ‘Well, at least in the Bishopric of Truro. I’ve done it before, you know. It’s more common than you’d think. And it’s very effective. It will give you peace of mind, Cathy. And it will help Eloise to find her rightful place, to rest.’
My whole body trembled. I’d been through so much with Eloise’s visitations, Juliana’s grief, Ted’s anger, and Chris’s blank hostility. Was it possible that this priest’s offer could allow me to escape? That he could banish Eloise and her impossible demands on me? That I could resume my life again, with my family, that I would at last seem to Chris, to everyone, sane again? Normal and happy?
Then reality returned.
‘Look, Father Pete, forgive me, but this is madness. I am not possessed by Eloise. Even if there is such a thing, all the horror movies say it’s the Devil that possesses people. Eloise is not the Devil. And anyway, although I go to church and I believe in God, I think all the stuff about evil and demons and going to hell is rubbish, frankly. It defies belief. I’m just an ordinary woman, an ordinary mother who is going through a difficult time because … ’ I gulped. I couldn’t finish the sentence. What was I trying to say? I’m an ordinary mother who is being haunted by an avenging ghost?
Father Pete looked at me levelly.
‘How do you know that, Cathy? Don’t you think it could be Satan who is allowing her to torment you in this way? Evil has many forms. Eloise may not be the friend you know and love. As she manifests herself to you, she could be something else entirely. An entity which is using your anxiety and grief over Eloise’s death to make you – well … ’
Mad. That’s what he didn’t say but meant.
‘But Ellie and I were friends. We were so close. Why would she do this to me?’
‘Because it isn’t her, Cathy. It’s an imposter. Taking advantage of you. Satan is an opportunist, my dear. He takes what he can get. And he senses vulnerability. He knows he can claim you.’
Claim me for what, I thought. Insanity?
And I was going mad, wasn’t I? Chris knew that. And it was Eloise who was sending me out of my mind. Perhaps she was possessing me. And it was evil of her to torture me like this, to destroy my marriage, my beloved family.
Maybe the priest could deliver me from evil. And from Eloise.
Chapter Seventeen
‘Are you out of your mind?’ shouted Chris when I got home and told him. ‘What on earth do you think you’re playing at, inviting that bloody idiot to perform an exorcism here at our home?’
I tried to stay calm. ‘He’s not an idiot, Chris. He’s Father Pete, the man who renewed our wedding vows and you really like and respect him.’
‘Yes, well – that was before I knew he believed in Devil worship and all the rest of that crap. It’s utterly ridiculous, Cathy. I won’t allow him into the house.’
There was a slight, shuffling noise around the side of the cottage, near the wood store.
I looked up, alarmed. I had thought the kids were down at the beach, but suddenly Sam opened the kitchen door and walked into the room.
I felt embarrassed. How much had he heard?
Quite a lot, as it happened. He stood awkwardly in front of us, then squared his shoulders and looked steadily at Chris.
‘Dad. I don’t think you should be talking to Mum like this.’
I could tell Chris was furious. I moved in quickly.
‘It’s OK, Sam. Dad and I were just having a … disagreement. We’ll work it out. It’s just a marriage thing.’
I smiled at Sam, but he wasn’t buying it.
‘No, Mum. I heard Dad say he wouldn’t allow Father Pete into our house. But Father Pete baptised us all in Talland Church years ago. He’s great. Tom, Eve and me really like him. I thought you did too, Dad,’ he said. And stared accusingly at his father.
Chris was brusque. ‘Sam, you don’t know what you’re talking about. This has nothing to do with you. It’s entirely between me and your mother.’
Sam turned to me. ‘Is that true, Mum? Is it nothing to do with me? Or do you need some help?’
Chris snorted with anger. ‘Sam, will you get out of here, please? You have no idea what you’re interfering in. Your mother is very unstable. Don’t humour her. Leave us alone to deal with this latest crisis in her deluded mind.’
And, furiously, he added, ‘Do you know she thinks she’s being haunted by Eloise’s ghost? And that now she wants the priest to perform an exorcism here, in this house? Your mother increasingly belongs i
n the asylum. We’ll leave tomorrow, and get her some treatment to restore her sanity. If it’s not too late.’
I didn’t know what to say. I felt vanquished; utterly humiliated that Chris would talk to my son about me like that. As if I were truly mad, some kind of reject who ought to be put away.
Then Sam came in like an avenging tiger. He stood up to his dad, and rearing up to his six foot four inches, he easily matched Chris.
‘Do not talk to Mum like this. We know she’s not well, we’ve known it for ages. But she’s been brilliant, the way she’s been so determined to get better. And she has. This Eloise thing, I’m not saying I understand it, but Mum’s not a fool. And you shouldn’t treat her as one. Whatever’s going on here, you should treat Mum with respect.’
Wow! I had a champion. I was deeply grateful, but full of a mother’s guilt.
‘Sam, darling. This is just to do with your dad and me. I don’t want you to get involved. Seriously, I think you have to leave us alone. Perhaps take my car out to meet Tom and Evie?’
‘I will, but only if Dad tells me he won’t bully you again.’
Sam moved towards me, took me in his arms.
‘Mum. I’ve seen you so sad, so unhappy, and I’ve always wanted to hold you and make you better. This Eloise business. I think I can help. And if Dad says he won’t stay here when Father Pete comes to the house, then I will, Mum. I promise I’ll be here.’
Chris, furious, stormed out onto the patio. Sam, his back rigid, followed him.
I could hear their voices clearly, see the way they faced each other off.
‘Why are you humouring your mother like this?’ Chris demanded angrily. ‘You must know she’s ill?’
Eloise Page 13
