This Other Eden (Skimmerdale Book 1)

by Sharon Booth

  'No, it's not.' He sighed, sinking down into a chair and running strong, capable hands through that shock of dark hair.

  Eden turned away hastily. She could use a cold shower.

  'Thing is, Ophelia's just told me what's been going on. At school, I mean. I had no idea.'

  'Oh.' She'd already said that once. It seemed her grasp of the English language had deserted her. She sat down in the chair next to his, fighting the temptation to take hold of one of his hands. Or both. Or launch herself at him and fix her lips on his. That mouth of his was sheer perfection. It was crying out to be kissed. 'Are you ready for your gooseberry crumble?'

  Are you ready for your gooseberry crumble! Had she really said that? She felt her face start to burn with embarrassment. For God's sake, Eden.

  He looked a bit puzzled, not surprisingly. 'No, thanks. Maybe later. I gather the girls told you about what that little madam in Libby's class has been saying.'

  'Yes.' She gulped. At least it was a step up from "oh". 'You know what some kids are like. She's probably horrible to plenty of other children, not just Libby. Not that that makes it better, of course.'

  She didn't think he was even really listening. His hands were entwined, and he rested his chin on them, obviously deep in thought. 'I hadn't realised how badly I've been doing,' he said eventually. 'I thought I were managing. It didn't really occur to me, about clothes and hair and all that stuff. To be honest, just getting them bathed every night was a job in itself. I were so knackered every time I got in, and half the time I had tea to cook, and then I had to clear up afterwards. By the time I got them all to bed, I didn't have the energy to get the clothes ready for the next morning, then it would be a mad rush to get them ready for school the next day. I left them to brush their own hair and do their teeth and that. I never noticed the clothes — how drab they were getting, or how small. Poor Libby. Why didn't she say something?'

  Hesitantly, Eden laid a hand on his arm. 'Because she thinks the world of you, and she didn't want to add to your problems. You've done a brilliant job with them. They really love you.'

  He made a funny sort of noise, and she peered at him closely. Were those tears in his eyes? She had the oddest reaction to the sight. Her throat seemed to swell, and she had to fight to keep her arms from going around him and drawing him into a hug.

  'Thanks for buying their clothes today,' he said eventually, his voice gruff.

  'It's okay,' she said, with some difficulty. 'Eliot, how have you been managing? I mean, you can't have done all this for two years on your own?'

  He shook his head. 'Everyone rallied round. It's like that, round here. As soon as—as soon as everyone knew, they were up here, doing all they could. Daisy was amazing. I couldn't have managed without her.'

  'Is Daisy ...?' Her voice trailed off. She didn't think she wanted to know who Daisy was to him.

  'Her brother were my best pal. Known each other most of our lives. She's eight years younger than us, and used to trail round after us, getting on our nerves.' He gave a short laugh and shook his head. 'Poor Daisy. Tom cleared off years back. Found work in Leeds and left Daisy to it. She lives at Crowscar Farm, a few miles from here. Her mam died four years ago, and she's been looking after her dad ever since. He's a cantankerous old bugger, and she doesn't have it easy with him. She works at The King's Head, an' all, in Beckthwaite. Think she took the job on to get out of the house every day. When — when it happened, she took loads of time off to be here for me. They were very understanding — Dave and Jill, I mean. They own the pub, and they let her come here to help and kept her job open. Everyone chipped in. Even Granny Allen cooked us a few meals, not that we'd risk eating them, of course. Bugger that.'

  'Who is Granny Allen?' Eden asked, curiously. 'I met her in the village, and she seems terribly protective of you. Is she your grandmother?'

  'God forbid.' He laughed. 'Bless her, she's an old lady who lives on the outskirts of the village. Never married or had any kids of her own, but she kind of adopted all the local children. Used to get us all doing odd jobs for her when we were little. Cornered us whenever we went to the shop, or if she saw us out and about in the lane near her cottage. She's harmless enough, but let's just say, she doesn't rate hygiene very highly.'

  'Ugh.' Having stood downwind of her, Eden could well believe it.

  'Aye, but she tried to help me, in her way. Everyone did. But it were a tough time. People round here live very busy lives. There was a lot to do on the farms, and it was all hands on deck. The local women did their best to pop up here every day and do what they could, while getting on with their own jobs. And Mickey and Adey — well, I wouldn't be here now, if it hadn't been for them. They took on extra work. Did almost everything, while I looked after the kids, for the first few months.'

  'You stayed with the children?'

  'Aye.' He quieted for a moment. 'They'd lost their mother. They needed me. George needed me, too. He was a tiny baby. I had to prove I could do it — take care of them, I mean. I didn't want social services on my doorstep, accusing me of failing them.'

  'Why on earth would they do that?'

  He shrugged and began picking at the table. 'You know. Dad on his own. No mum around. Tiny baby. Two impressionable young girls. No family to call on. I was scared they'd think I couldn't cope.'

  'Oh, Eliot.' Eden almost sighed his name and jumped up in embarrassment. 'Well, that's all behind you now. You've proved you can cope beautifully and no one can accuse you of failing them. I'll put the kettle on. Are they all asleep?'

  'George and Libby are out for the count. Ophelia's looking at her book for a bit. I said she can read for half an hour. Thanks again for buying them the books. I forget things like that, an' all. God, I'm really not cutting it, am I?'

  'Don't say that! Look, you've had a tough time. You've had to deal with all the pressures of the farm, take care of three young children, and all the while you've been grieving for Jemima. It must be so hard. I know how much you loved her.'

  He rubbed his forehead then stood up. 'Think I'll watch the television for a bit. That okay with you?'

  'Of course,' Eden said, startled by his sudden change of subject. Obviously, mentioning Jemima was still out of bounds. How was he ever going to work through his grief, if he didn't start talking about it? Still, she didn't think then was the time. He'd opened up to her more than she'd ever imagined he would. Best to take it slowly. 'You go on in, and I'll bring you a cup of tea. And,' she added, grinning, 'I'll bring you that gooseberry crumble. You will taste it, Mister, and you will give me a verdict.'

  He smiled, and Eden's heart turned to crumble, too. 'Right you are. But I warn you, you'll have a long way to go to match my mother's gooseberry crumble. Still, we'll give it a try, eh?'

  He headed into the living room, and she stood there for a moment, trying to calm down. He was just being nice, which was pretty amazing of him, given the way she'd acted for the last couple of weeks. Evidently, he was a forgiving man. But that was all it was, she reminded herself. He was kind and decent and was willing to give the second cousin of his late wife a chance. It was nothing more than that, and Eden had to remember she was there under false pretences and would be leaving soon, anyway.

  As if she needed reminding. The summer was flying by. Soon it would be September, and she couldn't imagine anything more depressing than leaving the farm and its inhabitants behind to head back to a life of endless drama with the Carmichaels.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Honey couldn't believe it. She watched, open-mouthed, as Crispin headed through the living room carrying his overnight bag. 'You're actually going? After everything I said last night?'

  He stopped, giving a big sigh, and turned to face her. 'Whatever you said, you obviously didn't listen to my replies. I have to go. I explained this.'

  'But you already went back once to do that stupid surgery. You said that would be it.'

  'I'd forgotten about the village fete. What am I supposed to do? Pretend they di
dn't invite me to open it?'

  'Why not? It's hardly switching on the Oxford Street Christmas lights, is it? Just some poxy village fete. Who cares if you miss it?'

  'I'd care, and so would my constituents. And so,' he added with a shudder, 'would Lavinia.'

  'Oh, Lavinia!' Honey threw herself on the armchair and pouted. 'That's what this is really about. Your bloody wife, and how you're too scared of her to do anything she wouldn't approve of. Why don't you grow a pair and man up?'

  'Honey, I'm getting rather tired of this attitude.' Crispin put down his bag and folded his arms. 'When you behave like this, you remind me how young you really are, and how little you understand about my career.'

  'How dare you! I've sacrificed my entire summer for this relationship. I've risked being branded a marriage-wrecker, and I've lied to my own parents.' Honey tried to sound genuinely upset, but she was too angry. 'You, on the other hand, have done nothing but lounge about here in this Godforsaken dump, heading out into the town whenever you fancied, and going back to Windleby-on-the-Weir at the drop of a hat. Not to mention phoning your dragon of a wife every bloody five minutes. I'm a prisoner here. I feel like sodding Rapunzel, stuck in a tower with no means of escape.'

  'Except a handsome prince,' said Crispin, beaming at her with what he probably imagined was a killer smile.

  It had no effect on Honey any longer. She glared at him. 'Yes, well, who knows. While you're away, pretending to be someone who matters, I may head out and find a handsome prince to take me away from this crap.'

  She'd barely finished the sentence before his arms were around her and his tongue was shoved so far in her mouth, it was practically down her throat. Honey wondered how she'd ever thought his kisses a turn-on. She summoned all her strength and pushed him away from her.

  'Honey, darling, please. What's wrong?'

  'I've told you what's wrong. Are you deaf or stupid? I've had enough. I'm bored here, and it's not going to get better while you're away, is it? I might as well have booked myself a holiday in Alcatraz.'

  'I'll make it up to you, as soon as I get back, I promise. And, look, it's just one night. That's all. I swear, tomorrow, we'll do something. Go somewhere. Have some fun.'

  She peered at him, unconvinced. 'You mean it?'

  'Hope to die.'

  'Be careful what you wish for,' she told him darkly. 'You'd better not let me down. This is your last chance. If you don't change your ways, I'm leaving, and I don't care who sees — or hears — me go. Understand?'

  She saw by the look of fear in his eyes that he indeed understood and felt some satisfaction. As she waved him off, she stood by the door for a moment, wondering what she could do while he was away. Watch yet another DVD? Read yet another trashy magazine? Paddle in the sea yet again?

  She closed the door and leaned against it, sighing heavily. Closing her eyes, she tried to push away the thought that she really couldn't stand another day all on her own. She had no choice, so there was no point worrying about it. Or did she?

  She opened her eyes, feeling a sudden rebellious urge to disobey Crispin's commands and brave the outside world. Why shouldn't she? Who would notice her, or care? He was paranoid, and she'd been a fool, playing into his hands by going along with it. Well, that stopped right now. She was a grown woman and she could do as she liked. After all, when all was said and done, what did she have to lose? Crispin was the married one, not her. And he was the one with the precarious public image that could be damaged beyond repair, not her. She had no political career to protect, no husband to anger, no image to sully. If anything, discovery would boost her career.

  Sod Crispin. She was going out.

  ****

  The town centre, such as it was, was busy, and Honey had high hopes of an exciting day out at first. It didn't take long for her to discover, however, that most of the shops sold nothing more interesting than sticks of rock and tacky little ornaments made of shells. A Present from Worthingby seemed to be painted, stamped, or etched on every item, and she couldn't believe the amount of tat that was for sale. It made her cross, thinking of her own little shop, which had stocked beautiful and elegant things that had barely shifted. Why would people rather spend money on stupid little trinkets, and boxes of confectionary with seaside postcards stuck on the front and the message Thanks for Looking After Our Dog written below, than on classy and expensive items that would enhance any home? People were idiots with no taste. Sad but true.

  She mooched around the streets for a while, thinking she would never go anywhere with Crispin again. He had been a huge disappointment, and that was a fact. She finally found a café that offered a wider choice than egg and chips, fish and chips, or sausage and chips, and sat down at a table, having had to queue for ten minutes at the counter, just to order a toasted panini and a latte. She was annoyed and thoroughly fed up.

  Maybe, she thought, it wouldn't have mattered so much if she was still besotted with Crispin, but it pained her to admit to herself that her feelings had distinctly cooled towards him. It was odd, but she'd never thought that the actual nuts and bolts of a relationship would affect things between a man and a woman in bed. She'd never understood it before. People could argue and bicker, but if you fancied someone, well, that didn't change, did it? And making love after an argument would surely be the best way to resolve your differences? Having put up with Crispin's dull and obstinate behaviour for the last couple of weeks, however, she had finally come to realise that feelings couldn't be switched on and off as easily as that. Her annoyance with Crispin could no longer be wiped away by a gentle caress, the pressure of his lips on hers, or the exquisite touch of his fingers on her skin.

  Not so long ago, she'd forgive him anything, put up with any inconvenience, for the sheer pleasure of seeing him naked. He was a wonderful lover and could almost bring her to climax simply by getting in bed beside her. Lately, though, he'd been having to work a lot harder to get her to forget her grievances. Last night, she'd only managed one orgasm, for goodness sake, and that had taken huge effort and a massive amount of concentration on her part. Since his prowess in the bedroom had been the one and only reason for her interest in him, she couldn't help but conclude that his days were numbered. It was all very tedious, and incredibly disappointing. She'd been so enjoying driving her parents to distraction, and the thought she was getting one over on that bossy bitch Lavinia had never ceased to make her smile. She couldn't dismiss the thought that, really, she ought to have more sympathy for Lavinia. The poor cow was stuck with her dreary husband for life. She deserved a medal.

  The waitress, a dowdy young woman who could barely crack a smile, handed her a paper cup containing her latte, which only made Honey even more cross. They couldn't even serve her drink in a glass with a handle? Or even a ceramic cup? She supposed it was because they couldn't be arsed to do the washing up. She tutted as the waitress returned with her panini. It was supposed to be served with a side salad, but she hardly considered two lettuce leaves, a couple of cherry tomatoes, and two slices of rather withered cucumber a salad. So much for her lovely day out.

  She sipped her latte and eyed the panini with suspicion. It stated on the menu that it contained bacon and brie, but she wasn't feeling confident that they even knew what brie was. Just her luck to take a bite and get a mouthful of melted cheddar, or even a plastic cheese triangle. She sighed and leaned back in her chair, gazing at the other customers. They looked as fed up as she did. So much for the bustling, seaside resort of Worthingby that Crispin had assured her repeatedly was a gem on the Dorset coast, and would enchant her as much as it had his family. They must be easily pleased, that was all she could think.

  'Do you mind if I sit here?'

  Honey sat up straight, looking around her in confusion. There were plenty of spare seats. Why did anyone need to share her table?

  He didn't wait for an answer but pulled out a chair and sat opposite her. What a cheek! 'It's a bit sad, isn't it? Sitting in a café on your own, I mean.' He gave
her a sympathetic smile.

  'Excuse me! I'm not sad, at all, and if you think that's some sort of chat up line, I can tell you it's the worst one ever.' She flicked back her hair and gave the stranger one of her best icy stares. She was exceptionally good at them. She'd practiced loads on her father and Eden, after all.

  He grinned at her, which wasn't the effect she'd been expecting. He was quite young — possibly around her own age — and had thick, brown hair and greenish-brown eyes with flecks of gold in them. He was attractive, in a youthful, gauche sort of way.

  'Teddy,' he said, holding out his hand.

  Honey stared at it before taking it tentatively. 'Er, Eden.'

  'Eden?' He looked at her, seeming surprised for a moment. Then he gave a half laugh and nodded. 'Eden. Lovely name.'

  'Isn't it. Better than Teddy, at any rate.' She dropped her hand and took a sip of her coffee, watching him suspiciously over the rim of her paper cup. He looked tanned and fit. She'd bet a pound to a penny he hadn't got that healthy glow from lying on the beach at Worthingby.

  The waitress arrived, carrying a cappuccino. He took it, flashing her a smile. To Honey's disgust, the waitress blushed a deep red and giggled, before turning back to the counter. How pathetic. Who did he think he was, anyway? He was hardly Brad Pitt. Come to think of it, he reminded Honey of someone.

  She watched him thoughtfully. There was definitely something familiar about him. Where had she seen him before?

  'So, er, Eden. Do you live here in Worthingby, or are you on holiday?'

  She shrugged, shuffling uncomfortably on the cheap, plastic chair. 'On holiday. What about you?'

  'On holiday.' He looked around, then leaned towards her, lowering his voice. 'It's a bit of a dump, isn't it?'

  Honey's eyes widened. He may be odd, but at least he had taste. She smiled. 'You're not wrong there. I would never have come here, if I'd known what a wretched dive the place was.'

  'Are you here with family?'