by Sharon Booth
'Not today, Georgie. We're going to see Mrs Thompson in a minute.' Eden thought fast. If she could tell Deborah the deal was off, leaving George in the car, she could then take him to the childminder's early. She was sure she wouldn't mind. And she would have to make sure that Deborah didn't follow her and find out where Mrs Thompson lived. That's if she turned up at all, of course. It was looking increasingly unlikely. Eden sighed and scanned the playground again. Still nothing. She glanced in her rear-view mirror, wondering if Deborah was approaching from the car park. Her heart almost leapt out of her mouth as she saw, instead, a furious-looking Eliot slam his Land Rover door shut and stride towards her.
'Oh, God.' There was no time to formulate an excuse, as he banged on the window. Trembling, she unlocked the door and he wrenched it open and glared at her.
'Go on then.'
She swallowed. 'Go on, what?'
'Don't give me that, Eden. Don't lie to me, for God's sake. Not you.'
'Can I go on the swings now?' George whined, kicking at his car seat in boredom.
'Not now, Georgie,' Eliot said, his eyes fixed on Eden. 'Wait there a minute, there's a good lad. Me and your mum need to talk.'
Realising there was no escape, Eden unclipped her seat belt and climbed out of the car. Eliot grasped her arm and pulled her to the Land Rover. 'You're hurting,' she protested.
He dropped her arm immediately. 'Sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm just that wound up, Eden. Please tell me this isn't what I think it is.'
His gaze pierced her soul as he silently pleaded with her to put his mind at rest. Eden couldn't bear it. 'What do you think it is?' she murmured.
'I'm thinking this is you, bringing my lad to meet Fuller,' he said. 'Please, please tell me I'm wrong.'
It was a fragile straw, but Eden grabbed it with both hands. 'Of course you're wrong,' she said, feeling guilty as relief lightened his face. 'I wouldn't do that. Not ever.'
He visibly slumped. 'Thank God. I'm sorry, my love. You've bin acting right weird this past few days, and I could see you weren't right, and then this morning, the way you rushed off ... I feel bad now, but it reminded me, you see, of that time you took the bairns to Thwaite Park, and I suppose I panicked — put two and two together and made a thousand.' He took her hands in his. 'Forgive me?'
Eden realised she couldn't see him properly, as tears of remorse were blurring her eyes. 'Eliot, you need to know. It's me who should be sorry, and I am, really, I am. It wasn't James Fuller I brought George to meet. It was his mother.'
For a moment, Eliot stared at her without saying a word. She saw the pain in his eyes and steeled herself for what was to come.
If he'd shouted, raged, she would have understood, could have borne it. Instead, he dropped her hands and pushed past her, heading for her car.
Eden watched, shaking, as he unbuckled George's car seat and carried it, George still fastened in, to the Land Rover. 'What are you doing?'
'Taking my son home.' He didn't look at her, intent on fixing the car seat in place.
'Eliot, I need to explain — it's not what you think. I wasn't going to go through with it. I'd changed my mind. I was sitting here, waiting for her, so I could tell her the deal was off.'
He straightened, slammed the back door of the Land Rover shut and headed to the driver's side.
'Eliot, are you listening?'
'Aye, I'm listening. You made a deal with Deborah Fuller, so she could see George behind my back. Says it all, dun't it?'
'I thought I had no choice,' Eden said, tears spilling down her cheeks. 'She said if I let her see George, she would speak to James about dropping the custody battle.'
He gave her a scornful look. 'And you believed her.'
It sounded so pathetic now, when she came to think of it. She'd been played by Deborah Fuller. Why should she do as she said she would? Eliot was right. It was probably a trick. For all she knew, James would have turned up, too. She'd been an idiot.
'I'm so sorry,' she murmured, but he didn't seem interested. He climbed into the front seat, clipped his seat belt and slammed the door shut. Without so much as a glance at her, he reversed out of the car park, and headed out on the road back to Fleetsthorpe, leaving her standing there, feeling sick to her stomach and so, so afraid. Where did this leave them now? Would Eliot ever be able to forgive her?
Chapter Thirty-One
'Well,' David said, pushing his empty plate across the table towards Deborah, as some sort of signal that she could take it away from him, 'that was a decent breakfast, at least. Better than bloody dinner last night, at any rate.' He drained his cup of tea and reached for his paper. 'No sign of her yet, I see.'
James bristled with indignation, knowing his father was referring to Beth. He couldn't blame her for not making an appearance, after David's disgusting verbal attack on her the previous evening.
'No. Funny that,' his mother said, sounding sarcastic. She hadn't been too impressed with his father's behaviour either. In fact, he had to admit with some shame, that she'd been more defensive of Beth than he had. But his father was a hard man to go against, and he had James over a barrel. And didn't he know it!
He watched, curious, as Deborah glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall and sighed. James followed her gaze. Half past nine. 'Somewhere you need to be, Mother?'
Deborah pushed away her empty cup. 'Not at all. That is, I was considering going somewhere this morning, but I changed my mind.'
'Oh?' James was glad of a conversation to break the uncomfortable silence that had hung over them all during breakfast. 'Where were you going?'
'Just for a drive,' she said vaguely. 'After last night's performance, I didn't feel like going, after all.'
'Huh!' came from behind the newspaper.
'Let's just say I had an epiphany,' she continued, smiling sweetly at him.
James eyed her suspiciously. What the hell was she talking about? Last night had been a nightmare, but he couldn't see what sort of epiphany it would give her. He wished it had given him one. He wished he could figure out a way to get his dratted father off his case. Things were going from bad to worse.
It was his father who'd started it, of course. He was being his usual obnoxious self, moaning about dinner and threatening to sack Mrs Ketley and hire a new cook.
'I thought dinner was delicious,' his mother had retorted.
'So did I. Mrs Ketley makes a wonderful quiche.'
James's eyes widened in surprise. Was that Beth, being brave enough to contradict David? Wonders would never cease. He considered Beth for a moment, noting the sparkling eyes, and soft glow to her skin. She looked well, he thought. Better than she'd looked in ages.
His father, on the other hand, looked furious. 'Rubbish,' he snapped. 'She can't cook to save her life.' He smirked. 'Maybe she bought it cheap from Fleetsthorpe. Damaged stock.'
James shifted uncomfortably as his mother frowned. 'What do you mean, damaged stock?'
'Didn't you hear?' David's eyes positively gleamed with malice. 'There was an incident at their so-called bunk barns the other day. One of the new fridge-freezers stopped working. Had to throw away a whole load of food that had defrosted.' He grinned at them, and James's lip curled in disgust. Why did his father always have to push it? 'The guests weren't happy, since it was their food. Lots of refunds and red faces all round, I should imagine.'
'How did you know about that?' Beth's voice was sharp, and James cringed.
'Word travels fast around Beckthwaite,' he said hastily. 'How did you know, for instance?'
'I — spoke to Eden on the phone.'
David shrugged. 'You know what villages are like.'
'But no one from the village knew,' Beth persisted.
'Oh, for goodness sake, Beth, one of the guests must have been complaining about it. What does it matter? So, there was a mishap at the farm. Who cares? It's not the end of the world, is it?' James tutted, anxious to change the subject.
'Actually, it was a pretty major deal for them,' Be
th snapped. 'When every penny counts it's a real blow.'
David settled back comfortably in his chair. 'What a shame.'
Beth glared at him. 'Yes, it was. They've worked bloody hard on those bunk barns, and they deserve for them to work.' She turned an appealing gaze on Deborah. 'They're good people — the best. They've been through so much, and they've earned some good luck. The last thing they need are any setbacks, of any kind.'
'Should be more careful with the electrics then,' James pointed out, stung by her defence of the Harlands.
'Exactly,' David agreed. 'If they can't even manage to run a bloody fridge-freezer, how are they going to look after my grandson properly?'
There was a shocked silence. Trust David to mention the unmentionable, James thought. He didn't care. He looked over to Beth, expecting to see her in tears. He was surprised — and rather uneasy — to see her eyeing David with pure loathing.
'No one could look after George better than those two,' she said, with a sudden and most unexpected courage. 'And no one should get the chance to try.'
To his amazement, he saw his mother's lips twitch with amusement as his father's face lost its smug look and he spluttered with indignant rage.
'That boy belongs here at Thwaite Park with his real family. He deserves the chance to grow up in a good home, with everything he could possibly need or want — never mind living in that dump, scratting around for a few pennies. And we deserve to have our own flesh and blood under our roof. You wouldn't understand that, obviously, and you never will, but you shouldn't try to deprive James of his son, because you have no child of your own.'
'David!' His mother sounded shocked.
'Steady on, Father,' James muttered.
David turned to his son, one bushy grey eyebrow raised. 'Oh, you think I'm being harsh?'
'No need for all that,' James said, beginning to perspire.
'I'm sorry. Do you think I was being mean to Beth? Goodness, we wouldn't want that, would we? After all, poor Beth has been through quite enough already, hasn't she? It must be terrible trying for a baby for all those years. All those disappointments. Month after month of —'
'David! That's quite enough!' His mother rose and hurried over to Beth, who clearly flinched as she put her arm around her, which wasn't surprising, he supposed. After all, she'd never made any attempt at affection towards her daughter-in-law before. 'I don't know what you think you're achieving by this.'
'Achieving?' His father put his hand to his heart, feigning hurt. 'I'm not hoping to achieve anything. I'm merely pointing out that it's a shame for Beth, not being able to conceive. It must be hard to realise you'll never have a baby. That's why I'm so glad that James managed to have a son with his mistress. I know it's difficult all round, but at least we have a grandchild, and James hasn't missed out on being a father.' He beamed at his son. 'You wouldn't have wanted that, now would you, James?'
'Father, can we please drop it?' James squirmed in his seat, and Deborah looked from father to son, clearly puzzled. He wished his father would just shut his big fat mouth.
'If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go to my room.'
Deborah had released her daughter-in-law, and Beth stood and headed to the door. He watched, rather awestruck, as she stalked out of the room, head held high. There were no tears, no trembling lip. Where the hell had this new courage come from?
James couldn't deny he was relieved she'd gone, and he felt even better when David picked up the evening paper with a contented sigh.
Now, as he saw his mother staring at his father's morning newspaper, he felt distinctly uneasy. What epiphany had she had? There was no disguising the look of disgust on her face and he squirmed as she turned to face him with the same expression. Realising he was watching her, she picked up her cup of tea and took a sip, lowering her eyes. It was a fleeting glimpse of her emotions, and then they were shut down as usual. But it was enough for James to realise that Deborah had no great opinion of either him or his father, and it unnerved him. He would have to watch it. He needed her onside or his father would bring everything out into the open, and then his life wouldn't be worth living.
****
'You're being ridiculous!' Eden stared wide-eyed in anguish as Eliot shrugged on his jacket and grabbed his car keys. 'Where are you going anyway?'
'Out. Funnily enough, I don't want to be here tonight. Not with you.'
Jed and Emerald exchanged incredulous glances. Emerald thought how often she'd longed to hear Eliot say something similar to Eden, but now that he had it sounded all wrong. They were meant to get along, not row like this. What the hell had Eden done?
'Look, guys, I don't know what's going on, but —'
'No, you don't.' Eliot interrupted Jed, his jaw pulsing with tension. 'And you don't need to know. All I ask is that you do as you promised. Make sure that George doesn't leave this house until I get back, and if she says different, ignore her.'
Eden's face was scarlet and tear-streaked. 'If you'd just listen!'
'To what?' Eliot turned to face her at last, and his voice was so quiet that Emerald had to strain to hear it. 'I don't see what you can say that would justify what you did today. Of all the people in the world, I trusted you. Believed in you. Even after the last time when you put the Fullers first.' He shook his head. 'It's always them bloody Fullers.'
'Eliot, please.'
He swallowed hard, as if noticing for the first time the distress in her face. For a moment, Emerald saw a fleeting softening of his expression, and his whole body seemed to lean towards Eden like plants reaching for the sunlight. 'I can't do this tonight,' he murmured. 'There's nowt you can say, and I can't listen. It's best I go, give us both some time.' Straightening, he turned and strode out of the kitchen. They heard the front door shut, and Eden visibly slumped.
Jed shot over to her and led her to a chair, then he glanced over at Emerald. 'I think, maybe, tea?'
Emerald nodded. 'With lots of sugar for shock.' Although, she wasn't quite sure who was in the deepest shock — herself or Eden. She had never imagined these two would behave like this. It was an uncomfortable revelation to her that she hadn't enjoyed the scene half as much as she thought she would have.
When Eden had arrived home that morning, she'd been frantic with worry, and desperate to know where Eliot and George were. Neither Emerald nor Jed had a clue, and Eden had struggled all day to hold it together, while continuing to work.
She'd gone to pick up Ophelia from the school in Ravensbridge, and Emerald could see that she'd hoped Eliot would be home by the time she got in, but there was still no sign of him. Libby, upon her return home, sensed immediately that something was wrong, and Emerald had to admire the way Eden kept a reassuring smile on her face, promising both girls that everything was fine, and George was with his father, having a nice afternoon out.
When he'd finally got home it was gone seven, and George was beaming from ear to ear. Apparently, Eden had been correct, and he and his father had been having a nice afternoon out. They'd been all the way to Whitby — a journey of more than two hours. They'd spent the day on the beach, paddling in the sea, eating fish and chips and ice creams, and had spent a small fortune in the amusement arcade, too. George was clutching a bucket and spade, a Paddington Bear, and a bag of sweets, and couldn't have sounded more excited if he'd tried.
Needless to say, Libby and Ophelia had been most put out that their dad had spent the day at the seaside without taking them, and the sticks of rock and sparkly t-shirts that Eliot had brought them back did not appease them. In fact, Ophelia wouldn't shut up moaning about it, cranking the tension in an already crackling atmosphere up to explosion point.
Eden could obviously see it building, as she got the children to bed early, much to their disgust, and only bribery persuaded them to shut up and stay in their rooms for once.
'Now we have to take the girls to Whitby as soon as school breaks up,' she announced, trying to sound normal as she re-entered the living room.
&nbs
p; Emerald hadn't missed the look of disgust that Eliot gave her, and when he'd got up from the sofa and headed into the kitchen, she couldn't resist following him.
'Is everything all right?' Stupid question, as quite plainly it was far from all right.
'Nope,' he'd grunted, opening the drawer then slamming it shut in frustration.
'What are you looking for?' Eden had crept in, followed by Jed who, evidently, had only come to entice Emerald back to the living room, judging by his frantic hand gestures and the way he kept nodding his head towards the door. Emerald studiously ignored her brother, as Eliot ignored Eden.
'Eliot,' Eden repeated, 'What are you looking for?'
Eliot turned to Emerald as if Eden didn't exist. 'Where did I put me car keys?'
Emerald's mouth opened and closed without speaking.
'They're on the dresser,' Eden managed. 'But what do you need the keys for? You're not going out?'
'I am,' he said, finally acknowledging her. 'But before I do — Jed, Emerald, George is to stay in this house, right?'
'Sorry?'
'You heard me. George isn't to leave this house, no matter what.'
'Eliot, will you listen to me!' Eden was openly crying now. 'I was trying to help, that's all! I'd changed my mind by the time you got to the park, I swear it. I was waiting for Deborah to arrive, so I could tell her the deal was off and she would have to go through her solicitor as planned. I would have already told her, except that she was late. Please!' She ran her hand through her hair. 'Where are you going?'
'I've got nowt to say to you,' Eliot announced. He'd rummaged around on the dresser, finally spotted his keys and that was that.
As Emerald handed her the tea, she hoped that Jed would be able to worm out of Eden exactly what she'd done to cause this cataclysmic scene in the life of the Harlands.
Sure enough, bit by bit, her brother's calm, soothing voice and genuine concern for Eden coaxed the whole story out of her. Emerald couldn't believe it.
'No wonder he's angry! What the hell possessed you?'