This Other Eden (Skimmerdale Book 1)

by Sharon Booth

  'Splendid,' said Mr Fuller. 'And how's that beautiful pony of yours getting on, eh?'

  'Oh, Flora's lovely,' said Ophelia eagerly.

  'Excellent. Grand little mare, that. Now, will you be coming to our open day, do you think?'

  'What open day?' Even Libby sat up straight and looked at him with interest.

  'It's a little something we're doing for local charities,' said Beth gently. 'Nothing grand. People can look round the house and gardens, and there are some stalls and fairground rides for the children. You'd be most welcome.'

  Libby shrugged, and Eden realised it was Beth she seemed to have a problem with. She wondered why. The woman seemed rather affable. She had a warm expression in her dark eyes, and a gentle voice. She looked rather hurt by the little girl's attitude, and it seemed to Eden she didn't understand what the problem was, either.

  'You must have a very big house,' Eden said. 'Whereabouts do you live?'

  'Thwaite Park, just outside Beckthwaite. Not too far for you to get to, at all. House has been in our family for about a hundred and fifty years.' Mr Fuller leaned forward and tapped the side of his nose. 'My ancestor won it in a game of cards, can you believe? Those were the days. Regency house. Rather lovely, if I say so myself. Come and have a look. See what you think.'

  'I'm sure that would be a lot of fun,' Eden said. 'Thank you for inviting us, Mr Fuller.'

  'Oh, please, call me James,' he said with a smile. 'Now, how about you girls go to the counter and treat yourselves to cake?'

  He rummaged in his coat pocket and handed them a ten-pound note. 'Honey, would you like some cake?'

  Eden nodded. 'Thank you. I'll have the red velvet cake, please, girls.'

  She stood up, allowing Libby to leave the table, and watched as she and her sister headed off to the front of the café.

  'Is Libby all right?' asked Beth, a little anxiously. 'She doesn't seem her usual self.'

  'I know. I'm not entirely sure what's wrong with her,' admitted Eden. 'She was fine earlier.'

  'Probably a shock, seeing us,' said James with a sigh. 'Let's be honest, darling, we've rarely been to the house since Jemima died, and we've lost touch with them. I expect seeing us brought it all back.' He looked at Eden. 'We've rather failed them, I'm afraid. It was a tremendous shock, you see, and Eliot was in such a state and was rather — er — unwelcoming for a time. He shunned everyone. Grief, I suppose. Anyway, he pushed us away, and we let him. I expect, if we're really honest, it was too much to deal with. We took the coward's way out. Easier to stay away, you see. No wonder Libby's cross with us.'

  It could have been that, but Eden had a feeling there was more to it.

  Beth pushed her empty cup away. 'We must go, James. Your dental appointment's in ten minutes.' There was a sudden curtness to her voice, but if her husband noticed he gave no sign.

  He glanced at his watch. 'Good heavens, so it is.'

  The two of them edged their way out and stood up. George reached over and smacked Beth's arm. She gave him a nervous look, but James laughed and squeezed the little boy's cheek. 'That's no way to treat a lady, young man. Be a good chap, now. No playing up your lovely young nanny!'

  Nanny! Bloody cheek. Although, to be fair, she supposed she was, though she couldn't imagine what the real Honey would have said to that. Actually, she could imagine all too well, and the thought made her smile.

  The Fullers called goodbye to the girls, who waved and turned back to the counter. Eden waved, too, as they left the café. As the girls returned to the table, she watched Libby. She seemed to be her usual self again, nudging and giggling with Ophelia, and arguing about which cake they'd chosen. Considering the Fullers were long-standing family friends, her behaviour had been odd. It seemed Beth had offended her in some way. Eden wondered what it was she could possibly have done.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Eliot closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The bright yellow Beetle was sitting outside the barn with not a mark on it, telling him they were home safe. He'd tried to put it out of his mind after Honey had telephoned at one to reassure him they'd arrived in Kirkby Skimmer. He didn't have time to hang around the house all day, worrying about it, when he had so much to be getting on with, and he knew he was being stupid. She was right — loads of people made that journey every day. There was no reason to expect catastrophe. She wouldn't be in the tearing hurry Jemima had been in, after all.

  He parked the Land Rover and locked it up safely behind him. The dogs followed him into the house, sniffing the air curiously as they entered the hall, and Eliot's stomach rumbled in appreciation. Something was baking, and it smelt fantastic. He hadn't felt hungry all day — in fact, he hadn't even been able to face his dinner, which had meant double portions for Mickey — but now he realised he was starving.

  The dogs fell upon their bowls, which had been filled in readiness. He must find out who was doing that. He'd meant to ask but kept forgetting. He shut the door of the boot room and went into the kitchen.

  Libby and Ophelia were sitting at the table, spoons in their hands, apparently eager to start the meal. George was in his highchair, happily banging a spoon on the tray. Honey was busy dishing out some sort of stew. Just the sight of it made his mouth water.

  'Dad!'

  'You had a good time in town? Looking very smart,' he acknowledged, noting they were wearing their best dresses and their hair was neatly tied back. He hadn't seen them look that smart for — well, a long time. Even George was clean and tidy, wearing a spotless pair of jeans and a shirt, of all things. Eliot didn't remember him even possessing a shirt. His hair was combed, and his face didn't have a single speck of dirt on it. He looked even more angelic than usual, and Eliot's heart swelled looking at him.

  'We had a brilliant time,' said Ophelia. 'Do you like my new book?' She passed him the Gangsta Granny paperback, her eyes shining.

  He nodded. 'Aye, right grand.'

  'Honey bought it for me. George got The Hungry Caterpillar, and Libby got War Horse.'

  'Can't believe they've never heard of The Hungry Caterpillar. I had to put that right,' said Honey, smiling.

  She looked a different person when she smiled. Funny, he hadn't imagined she'd be the type to read, even when she was a kid. He'd assumed the most she would ever manage was a quick flick through some glossy magazine. Jemima hadn't read. She'd said it was boring. He realised, with some shame, that his children didn't have many books at all, and he hadn't really read to them much over the years. Something else to feel guilty about. It was becoming a long list.

  'That's good of you. Thank you.'

  'Oh, it was no bother. I hope you like this,' she said, passing him a plate that was piled high with stew, mashed potatoes, and a mountain of vegetables. 'I defrosted the lamb last night, ready.'

  She passed the children their dishes then sat next to George, taking the occasional mouthful from her own plate in between coaxing him to eat and wiping his face.

  Eliot's eyes widened as his taste buds registered the sheer perfection of tender lamb cooked in a sauce that sent his senses into overdrive. 'This is delicious,' he said. 'How did you make this? Thought egg and chips was your signature dish?'

  Honey shrugged. 'I saw the recipe online, and really, it's not that difficult. Anyone can follow simple instructions, can't they?'

  'Aye, I suppose. If they bother to read them,' he added, thinking ruefully of the washing machine. She was full of surprises. How had she managed to pick it up so quickly? He still struggled with beans on toast. 'So, how was town?'

  'Surprisingly busy,' said Honey. 'There were an awful lot of tourists. The teashops and gift shops were packed. We had a lovely afternoon, didn't we, girls?'

  'Yes, and we got loads of new clothes,' said Ophelia, scooping mashed potato onto her spoon.

  'New clothes? What's this?' Eliot looked at Honey sharply. 'You've been buying them new clothes?'

  'Well, they did need some, and I thought —'

  'I don't expect you to bu
y my kids clothes. If they need any, I'll buy them myself. Let me know how much they cost, and I'll reimburse you.' He could provide for his own children, and no one was going to say he couldn't.

  'Don't be silly,' said Honey. 'I enjoyed myself, and it was only a few things. Do you like George's outfit? Doesn't he look smart?'

  'You bought him this?' Eliot looked at his son. He knew he hadn't recognised that shirt. 'Not much use out here, is it? What does he need smart clothes for?'

  'Well, I — I thought he'd look cute in them. And he does, doesn't he? You can't deny he's a beautiful child,' she added with a laugh.

  Eliot's hand tightened on the spoon. 'Waste of money,' he muttered, taking another mouthful of stew.

  There was an awkward silence, until Ophelia announced, 'We saw Mummy's friends today.'

  Libby dug her in the ribs, and Eliot's scalp prickled. 'What friends?'

  'You know, Mr and Mrs Fuller.'

  Eliot paused in his eating. He was quiet for a moment, then he turned to Honey. 'What did they want?'

  'Just being friendly, I think. They were in The Teapot Café and they recognised the children, so, of course, they wanted to know who I was, and why I was looking after them.'

  Eliot put down his spoon. 'None of their damned business.'

  Honey looked surprised. 'I thought it would be all right. They seemed perfectly pleasant. Mind you, I could be biased since they bought us all cake.'

  She smiled at him, and Eliot pushed his plate away. 'What did you tell them?'

  'Well, that I was Jemima's second cousin and was taking care of the children for the summer, as you were so busy.'

  'We've been invited to their open day,' said Ophelia, grinning widely at him. 'I'm not bothered about going round the boring old house, but they said there will be fairground rides. I want to go on the big wheel. There'll be a big wheel, won't there?'

  Eliot didn't look at her. 'No.'

  'You don't think there will be? Pooh! I like that best. Well, there's bound to be some dodgem cars. I can go on those. Ooh, and I'll bet there's a —'

  'I mean, no, you're not going to the open day.'

  Honey stared at him. 'Why on earth not?'

  'I don't need to give a reason.'

  'But it's just a bit of fun for the local children. I'm sure it will be perfectly safe.'

  'Oh, and you know that, do you? Got a crystal ball, too, eh?'

  'Well, no, but surely —'

  'I said no, and that's the end of it. No more talk of the damn open day, all right?'

  Libby eyes had gone wide. 'Are you mad at us, Dad?'

  He swallowed hard then shook his head. 'No, not at all.'

  'Ophelia said they were family friends,' said Honey, obviously puzzled. 'I'm sorry. Is everything all right?'

  'It's fine. Why the hell wouldn't it be?'

  She looked at him steadily for a moment, then he saw her whole demeanour change. 'Well, in that case, there's no need to be so rude, is there? It's hardly my fault, if you can't make up your mind who your friends are. Who needs friends like you, anyway? You can't even be bothered to attend a simple open day in aid of local charities, or let your children attend. God forbid they have any fun. Much better for them to be stuck out here in the wilderness, while their friends mingle and have a good time.'

  'They're not really Dad's friends,' said Libby defensively. 'Don't be nasty, Honey.'

  'Well, honestly, I like that,' said Honey. 'You were the ones who said they were friends, and all I did was try to defend you. I shan't bother in the future.'

  Eliot cleared his throat. 'All right, that's enough. They weren't really friends of mine. Jemima was keen on them. Her sort of people. You know.'

  She nodded. She'd obviously realised that already. Probably taken to them immediately. They were her sort of people, too, after all.

  He felt suddenly exhausted. 'Think I'll go up and get a shower,' he said, standing.

  Honey tutted. 'But you haven't finished your meal. And I've done gooseberry crumble for afters.'

  'Leave mine in the oven. I might have it later. I'm not that hungry, truth to tell.'

  Funny that. His appetite had completely vanished. He left the kitchen and headed upstairs as fast as he could. Throwing open his bedroom door, he stared round at the room that Jemima wouldn't have recognised. It was as plain and stark now as it had once been pretty and feminine. He'd got rid of everything she'd bought for the room, removed every trace of her and stripped it bare of its softness.

  He sank onto the bed that she'd never slept in and put his head in his hands, wondering if the nightmare would ever be over, and if the guilt would ever leave him. Somehow, he doubted it, and the realisation that this was as good as it would ever be made him sick to his stomach — not so much for himself, but for the three children downstairs who would grow up in the shadow of his despair.

  ****

  Eden covered the gooseberry crumble and put it in the fridge, wondering what on earth she'd said that merited such a change. He'd been fine until she mentioned buying the children clothes, and then it had gone completely pear-shaped when she'd mentioned the Fullers. She wondered why. They'd seemed perfectly pleasant. Beth was a little strained, but then, she'd been Jemima's friend. She was probably still missing her, and maybe wary of Eden and wondering what she was doing with her friend's children.

  As for the clothes — was it wrong of Eden to buy them? She'd enjoyed it. They weren't expensive, and she'd paid for them herself out of her wages, rather than using Honey's credit card. She'd wanted to cheer them up, and she wanted Libby to go back to school with her head held high, looking smart and wearing decent clothes that fitted her properly. She must drum it into Eliot's head that he had to separate coloured clothing from whites, otherwise the new things would end up as grey and dreary as their old stuff.

  She felt a sudden pang as she realised she wouldn't be around to see how they'd get on when in school again. She'd be back in the Cotswolds once the summer holidays were over. Whoever would have thought she'd be so reluctant to leave Skimmerdale? Honey would be baffled.

  She really would have hated it here, Eden thought, as she began washing the pile of dishes. She wasn't the type to go gooseberry picking, or trail three children around a supermarket, or cook meals for them all. She wouldn't have gone with the children to collect eggs or stood in a muddy field watching Libby and Ophelia taking it in turns to ride the pony. Although, to be fair, Eden wouldn't have thought she'd be the type to do those things, either.

  She'd never had much to do with animals before and was amazed how much she'd taken to life at Fleetsthorpe. She loved being around the children, too, taking care of them. And of their father. She tried not to dwell on that, though. She was in his bad books yet again. What she had to keep reminding herself was that she was supposed to be in his bad books. That had been the whole mission. She was letting her feelings get in the way of the plan.

  She stacked the last plate, emptied the bowl of water, and reached for a tea towel, deep in thought. She loved the children already. Libby, so earnest and serious, always trying to put the feelings of others before her own. She adored her father and tried so hard not to bring him any more pain, even though it meant she was suffering the loss of her mother in silence and keeping quiet about being bullied. Ophelia was far more outgoing and likely to say what she thought, but even she, at eight years old, had learned to be careful of what she said around her father if she thought it could hurt him. She protected her sister as best she could, keeping quiet about the bullying and the clothes, as she realised her father didn't need any more worries. They were good girls, and they deserved so much more. Eliot loved them, but his own grief was blinding him to their needs. Eden couldn't help worrying about them.

  Then there was George. Clearly, he was the apple of Eliot's eye, and having seen Jemima's photograph, she could understand why. He was so like his mother and having him around must have been like seeing his wife every day to Eliot. Having been left as sole parent
from the time George was just four weeks old, he must have bonded with his son in a way he probably didn't have time for with his girls. When they were babies, Jemima would have been around to take care of them, while Eliot was hard at work on the farm. No doubt he adored them, but it would be different with George, who needed him to be there for him at such a young age. It was a sad fact that the little boy would have no memory of his mother.

  As for Eliot himself? Eden felt a strange fizzing sensation in her stomach at the thought of him. From the first moment she saw him, she'd been attracted to him on a physical level, and she'd also felt compassion for him, knowing what he'd been through. Getting to know him, she realised there was more to it than finding him attractive or feeling sorry for him. He was a kind, caring man, hardworking and honest. After living in the shallow world of the Carmichaels for so long, there was something reassuringly simple and straightforward about him. She couldn't imagine, in a million years, Eliot talking to his daughters the way Cain spoke to Honey. His behaviour towards them was reflected back, too. They loved and respected him. It counted for a lot. There was something deeply sexy about a man who was a good father. Of course, it helped a lot that he had those amazing chocolate ganache eyes, dark curls and beautiful smile, plus a fabulous physique, created by hard work, rather than hours pounding a treadmill in a gym somewhere. Just the thought of him made Eden come over all peculiar.

  She shook her head, grinning to herself. She was supposed to be his babysitter, not drooling over his undeniable assets.

  'Honey?'

  She spun round, almost dropping the teatowel on the kitchen floor, and found him standing in the doorway, looking sheepish. 'What is it?'

  'I want to apologise. I've just had a right rollicking from the lasses. They reckon I were proper mean to you, and they're very annoyed with me. I'm sorry.'

  'Oh.' She wasn't sure what to say to that. Come here, kiss me as if your life depends on it, and I may forgive you, perhaps? No, she didn't think that was appropriate, somehow. 'It's okay.'