I smiled in my sleep. Lovely, soft Eloise. How could I ever have thought her threatening?
‘And you’re on my side now, Cathy. You have lost your fear. And that gives me strength. When you meet Jack, everything will become clear. And after you have helped me, I can rest. And you can rest as well. Don’t worry about Chris. He loves you, truly loves you. You are so blessed. Everything will be fine, my dear, dear friend. We will both be happy. Believe me, Cath.’
I woke up, still in a dreamy frame of mind. I couldn’t face Chris just yet, so I decided to have breakfast at the beach café and wandered down the lane to the sea. Although it was early, there were already families on the sands. I sat at one of the wooden tables outside, and ordered tea and a bacon sandwich. I watched the little ones with amused affection, lost in hazy memories of early motherhood, wishing they were my babies splashing around in the tranquil surf, and that Chris and I had no more complicated a relationship than that of loving parents, trying to do our best for our gorgeous children.
A shadow came between the sun and me. I looked up; a tall, thin figure dressed in black was already seating himself at my table. Father Pete. I felt enormously embarrassed.
He smiled at me. ‘Hello, Cathy. How are you?’
I laughed bitterly. ‘Oh, you know, Father. Mad.’
Now he frowned. ‘Don’t say that. It’s not true. You shouldn’t keep putting yourself down.’
I sighed. ‘Well, if I’m not mad, what on earth explains my behaviour the night before last? Hysteria?’
‘You were obviously overwrought, but the mistake was mine for misjudging the situation.’
‘Meaning that you hadn’t realised quite how batty I was when you suggested the exorcism?’
‘No, I don’t mean that at all. What I think is that I was too quick to dismiss your initial concerns about Eloise. I’m a priest, Cathy, and sometimes we get things wrong. I’ve held services of Deliverance before, and they can be astonishingly effective. But that’s because the person I’m trying to help genuinely believes they are possessed by evil. And you don’t. Your motive in trying to help Eloise is totally Christian. You want to intervene in a situation which, however unlikely, you yourself, not just your friend, believe poses a genuine threat to her children. Now, because Eloise has passed on, nobody believes you. Especially given your recent medical history. But I see a deep sensitivity in you. A rare intuition. And I don’t think you’re mad at all. But because you feel things so much more deeply than most of us, sometimes it’s more than your mind can take.’
He took my hand and looked into my eyes. ‘I think you are someone very special. Someone with a unique degree of empathy, which sometimes makes you suffer. And you need support, not judgement; certainly not condemnation.’
‘Thanks, Pete. But, you know, welcome as your support is, and I mean no disrespect, the fact that my husband is so completely pissed off with me that he’s talking about getting a divorce means that my life, because of all this, is ruined. But that’s why I agreed to the exorcism. I thought it would get rid of the haunting and let me find happiness with Chris again.’
‘Would you like me to talk to him?’
Good heavens no, I thought. If the priest talked to Chris I knew there would be carnage.
‘Pete, you are very kind. But I’m afraid it’s gone beyond that. Chris thinks I’m potty, and a disgrace to him and our children. With the best will in the world, you aren’t going to persuade him I’m sane by telling him I have Christian values.’
He smiled ruefully. ‘No, of course I see that. Well, I won’t approach Chris. But I want you to know that I’m on your side. I made a mistake the other night, and you may need my help. Please call me if you need me.’
He got up and walked back up the hill to the church. I did feel grateful, although I was sceptical that anything Pete could do would help me in Eloise’s vast enterprise. Because I now had a glimpse of the scale of it. And it was daunting beyond belief.
Now I had to decide what to do next. I longed to see Chris, my old Chris, the Chris who would cuddle me, take me to bed, reassure me that I was great, that I was pretty and desirable. I hadn’t felt either for ages. When you’re depressed, the first thing you lose is self-esteem. Anyway, it was obvious I wasn’t going to get any comfort from Chris, so I decided to call a cab to take me out to Bodmin Moor.
As soon as I got back to the cottage, I realised how futile this was. Where would I go on the moor? Ask the driver to take me on a tourist excursion? Ridiculous. I opened the kitchen door, dreading seeing Chris. He was there, lounging on our little yellow sofa, reading the papers. I cringed, expecting the inevitable verbal assault. But to my amazement, he looked up from the Telegraph and smiled. For the first time in what felt like weeks, my husband smiled at me.
‘Hello,’ he said, almost shyly. ‘Would you like to go out to lunch?’
‘Why?’ I asked, stupidly.
‘Because it’s nearly lunchtime, and you must be hungry. You didn’t eat last night.’
‘I had a bacon sandwich at the beach earlier.’
‘Even so. Let’s go out. Just the two of us. We need to talk.’
‘That’s not what you said last night.’
‘I know, but I was tired and angry. I bitterly regret what I said.’
No apology, though, I thought bitterly. Then I caught myself. He was in a conciliatory mood. Don’t poison it, you stupid woman, I told myself. Take him at face value. For now.
We drove to our local pub, the Jubilee Inn in Pelynt. Thank God it was a short drive, not much more than five minutes from our cottage. Even so, it was an awkward journey, both of us anxious to avoid the subject of Eloise. Instead we talked disjointedly about the children, about Tom and how well he’d settled down at university, about the good results we expected from Evie’s GCSEs. But the tension in the car was palpable, stifling, and it was a miserable drive. We were both unhappy, unsure about where we stood. Our communication was brittle, of course it was. We hardly knew each other at the moment. He was worried about his career, the book he was so behind in writing, and, above all, his marriage, probably wondering if he was now no longer in love with his wife. I knew I was still in love with my husband, but I was likely to lose him because of my devouring interest in a ghost, and I was still angry with him for drugging me, for talking about divorce.
When we got to the pub, we sat outside in the garden. Chris ordered a crab sandwich, but I went for comfort food: scampi and chips. After we ordered, the waitress brought us some wine. When she’d gone, Chris raised his glass to me.
‘To us,’ he said, with yet another smile.
I was astonished. Where had all this bonhomie come from? I awkwardly toasted him back, then said, ‘Chris, I’m sorry, but I really don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me today. I mean, last night you were … ’ I trailed off.
‘Horrible?’ he suggested. I just nodded.
‘I know, Cathy. I’m sorry. Like I said, I was very angry, but I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. Sam really told me off over supper in Polperro. At first I was furious with him, too, but after we got back and you’d gone to sleep in the cabin, I began to think about what he said.’
I felt enormous relief sweep over me. Sam clearly hadn’t told Chris he was ashamed of me, then.
Chris continued. ‘When I was in bed, I started to think of everything you’ve been through. And how I, of all people, a practicing psychiatrist, should know about that. I deal with people like you all the time. And to them, I’m sympathetic and non-judgmental. How appalling that I should be so much less of a rock, for you, my wife, than I am for them.’ He paused. ‘Actually, it was Sam who said that to me. And I feel really ashamed. I’m sorry, Cath.’
I held my breath. I tried to think of something nice to say to him, but I felt nothing but confusion – and, yes, apprehension. I didn’t know what was coming next.
‘And now you’ve told me you no longer think Eloise is haunting you, and you realise how deluded
you’ve been all these months, then I think, I really do think there’s a good chance I can make you better. Of course it will take time, but once you’re away from here and back in London we can get really stuck into some excellent therapy. Just as long as you truly know there’s no such thing as ghosts. I can’t be doing with that again.’
My mind was racing. Of course I’d lied to him that I was free of Eloise, but something much more threatening was contained in his words.
‘Thank you for saying that, Chris. I know this has been hard for you. And you’re right.’ I forced myself to chuckle. ‘I won’t be seeing any more ghosts. But I hope you don’t mean we need to go back to London straightaway?’
‘Well, not immediately. Tom and Eve are coming down tomorrow, and I know they’re looking forward to a long weekend. But after that, I see no reason why we shouldn’t all go back together. We’ll shut the cottage up for the summer, and then I think we should put it on the market.’
Sell our little house? Take me away from Talland Bay for ever? No, I would never let that happen. Chris was looking at me.
‘Cathy, I know you don’t want to leave Cornwall. But honestly, there’s no other choice. This place is bad for you. I’ve always thought your fascination with mysticism made you vulnerable, and since we’ve been spending so much time down here, it’s become an obsession. I need to get you back to the land of the living, to the practical day-to-day stuff of running a home, taking care of the kids, and getting a job again. I can’t do that while you’re spending so much time down here, so I’m going to have to insist we put this place, beautiful as it is, behind us.’
Here it was. The ultimatum I had known was coming. It was absurd, though. I knew I would never leave Cornwall. But I had to be cunning. I needed to buy time to talk to Jack and keep Eloise’s children safe.
I pretended to be deep in thought. Then I said, ‘All right, Chris. I’m sure you’re right. We’ll go back to London sometime next week.’
I was crossing my fingers behind my back. Childish and wrong, I know, but there was no way in the world that I was abandoning Cornwall, no way in the world I would let down Eloise.
That night we shared a bedroom again. But nothing else. Although he did put his arms around me after we’d gone to bed, I couldn’t bear it. We were so far apart, it was like hugging a stranger. I murmured that I was too tired, the age-old excuse, and with an annoyed grunt he accepted it, turned over and went to sleep.
I tried to relax, but knew everything was coming to a head. I could feel it. I was glad my family was here, but I had less than a week to sort this out. In a few days, Eloise’s battle would be fought.
Chapter Twenty-Four
On Saturday, Juliana called. ‘Jack’s here,’ she said happily. ‘He’s anxious to meet Eloise’s friends. So what about lunch sometime soon?’
‘Here, tomorrow. Sunday lunch. You’ve cooked for us far too often lately.’
‘Darling,’ she laughed. ‘You know I can’t cook. It’s not me that does the kitchen slavery bit.’
‘I know, but please come here. I can’t promise you Heston Blumenthal, but I’ll do my best to produce a decent roast.’
‘Is it OK if I bring Arthur as well as Jack? He’s awfully keen to see Evie.’
‘Juliana, if you didn’t bring Arthur, Evie would hyperventilate. Suffice it to say there would be no joy at our table tomorrow.’
‘Great. We’ll see you at around one tomorrow.’
Chris was not best pleased about my planned Sunday lunch. He was fond enough of Juliana, but thought the presence of Arthur and Jack would be an uncomfortable reminder of Eloise. I told him that it was only polite to invite them, and besides, he knew Eve had a crush on Arthur. That didn’t go down well, to say the least. Like any other father, Chris was deeply suspicious of boys who liked his sixteen-year-old daughter, and the fact that Arthur was Eloise’s grandchild made him even more uncomfortable. He harrumphed a bit and I laughed at him, and for a while, everything seemed back to normal. Me teasing him, him pretending to be grumpy, the kids happy to see us happy. We had a lovely day that Saturday, actually, and I began to allow myself to hope that Chris wouldn’t sell the cottage after all. We went shopping for the next day’s lunch and later I watched him kicking a ball around with Tom and Sam on the front lawn, and couldn’t believe he would part with this place and its wonderful memories of the children when they were babies. We’d always said we’d never sell; we wanted to watch our grandchildren grow up here, and to leave the house to our three kids when we finally passed on ourselves.
Evie and I were sitting right at the top of the garden. From here you could see the sea and the church. It was perfect, such a beautiful spot. Eve seemed to pick up on my thoughts. ‘Oh, Mum. I love it here. We’ll never leave it, will we?’
‘Not if I’ve got anything to do with it,’ I muttered.
She looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean? Dad loves it too, doesn’t he?’
I cursed myself for making her anxious. Maybe it would have been more responsible if I’d told Evie at least part of the truth. But what could I say? She knew nothing about Eloise’s roaming ghost, and I wouldn’t dream of involving her. It was bad enough that Sam knew about his mother’s mental problems, without my baby being upset about them too.
‘Yes, of course he does, darling. I just don’t think he loves it quite as much as I do, that’s all.’
She looked knowing.
‘Men!’ she said, in an attempt to sound sophisticated. ‘They really don’t get it most of the time, do they?’
I wanted to laugh.
‘No, dear. They don’t, I’m afraid. Still, they have their uses.’
She cradled her head in her hands.
‘Mum?’ she said softly. ‘Do you think Arthur likes me?’
‘I know he does, baby. Juliana says he’s pretty keen.’
She blushed and giggled. ‘What shall I wear tomorrow?’
‘Something casual. You don’t want him to think you’ve made too much of an effort. Just jeans, I think, and a pretty top.’
She nodded thoughtfully. ‘How long do you think he’ll stay in Cornwall?’
I thought carefully about what to tell her. I didn’t want to raise her hopes too high. On the other hand, Evie might be a useful weapon in my campaign to convince Chris to keep the cottage. So I told her the truth.
‘Actually, love, he’s planning to stay for quite a while. Juliana told me he wants to go to sixth form college in Truro next term. And, if he does, he’ll live with her.’
Evie hugged herself. ‘That’s amazing. So I can see him more or less whenever I want? Maybe even every weekend?’
Whoa, I thought. This could get out of hand quickly unless I put a brake on it.
‘I don’t know about that, sweetheart. There is the small matter of sixth form in London for you.’ She looked crestfallen, and I relented. ‘Look, I’m sure you’ll be able to keep in touch. I mean, you’re mad about texting, and there’s always Facebook.’
‘I know, but it’s not the same as hanging out with him. You’ll come down with me sometimes at weekends, won’t you, Mum?’
‘Course I will,’ I said heartily. ‘Now, what shall we do about supper? Fish and chips from Looe okay?’
Evie couldn’t have cared less.
‘Whatever,’ she said dreamily, and we walked down to join the boys.
That night, after a peaceful evening watching a DVD, Chris and I went to bed. Unlike the previous night, there was no awkwardness. We chatted happily enough about the children, amused by Evie’s crush on Arthur, and read companionably, side-by-side. Eventually, we put the light out.
I couldn’t help but feel tense. I tried very hard to yawn and generally indicate that I wanted to go straight to sleep. But Chris was insistent. He put the light back on and said, very softly, ‘Cathy, we need to get back to normal. Let me hold you.’
‘But you think I’m mad. Why would you want to make love to a woman you have so little respect for?’
‘I have every respect for you, Cathy. You are extraordinarily clever and perceptive. It’s just we’ve been through a hard time, and I’m well aware that some of it has been my fault. I love you, and I want us to get back to how we were.’
Somehow, we did.
I went to sleep feeling soothed and happy. And I managed to persuade myself everything was going to be fine. Just one night with my family, my children harmonious, and my husband loving me, had restored my faith in our future. Us. Just the five of us, as deeply entwined as we had always been.
Eloise’s voice nudged into my sleep.
‘Cathy, tomorrow you will meet Jack. This is it, Cath. He will show you what needs to be done. And he is so wonderful. He was always everything to me.’
Everything? What about her babies, Rose and Violet? Isabella and Arthur? What about Ted, for God’s sake? But these were minor quibbles. Tonight, I felt soft, safe, loved. In Chris’s arms, I was no longer threatened by my friend’s insistent demands.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The next morning was chaos. I had to cook lunch for eight, and I was a lousy cook now. But I’d been really good in the old days and I was determined that the meal I produced today would at least be memorable. I suppose I had a lot to prove.
I’d been careful to get all the ingredients from Fowey, and the beef from Kittow’s Butchers was always superb. But I was on edge, which made me grumpy. The boys teased me about it, which simply made me cross, but Chris, after our tender night, was helpful and attentive, and Evie was a treasure. She peeled the potatoes and parboiled them. Meanwhile I mixed the batter for the Yorkshire pudding and put it to chill in the fridge. I asked Tom and Sam to lay the table, which they did with much bickering. I felt obliged to try and copy Juliana’s fabulous hospitality, so there had to be vases of beautiful flowers on every surface, three perfect courses for lunch, and port or liqueurs afterwards. But it’s a bit difficult serving up a faultless, aspirational meal in an open-plan kitchen, where all the pots, pans and general detritus of cooking are on general view. Evie told me to stop fussing.
Eloise Page 18
