‘So why do you stay?’
Kate gave a little shrug. ‘I care about the patients…and Nick, of course…’
Eloise let the little silence continue, knowing from years of observing police at work that confessions usually followed.
Kate looked up from the papers she was pretending to be rearranging on the desk. ‘I’ve loved him for years. He’s the only man I’ve ever loved in the true sense of the word.’
‘What about your late husband?’ Eloise asked.
Kate sighed. ‘I loved James in the way you would love a close friend or brother. I knew I couldn’t have Nick. He fell in love with Annabel on the first day of university. They had to get married when she became pregnant with their twins. I settled for James and loved him in my way. He was a good man. I missed him terribly when he died but he wasn’t the love of my life. My soul mate, if you like.’
‘Does such a thing exist?’ Eloise didn’t realise she had asked out loud what she had been thinking until Kate answered.
‘I believe so. Although having said that, I still think you can find someone with similar goals and morals and have a pretty decent life together, but love that lasts a lifetime is rare and it’s worth waiting for.’
Eloise felt inclined to agree with her but didn’t say so. She was still trying to make sense of her totally uncharacteristic reaction to Lachlan. He affected her like no other man had ever done. She could barely think when she was near him; her body seemed to be on high alert, cutting off the circuit to her brain and every gram of rationality she possessed. She didn’t feel like a career-focused professional woman around him, more like a love-struck young girl.
Kate gave her a smile of embarrassment. ‘Listen to me,’ she said self-deprecatingly. ‘It must be peri-menopausal hormones or something.’
‘Please, don’t apologise,’ Eloise said sincerely. ‘I feel honoured you felt safe enough to share your feelings with me.’
‘I’m not usually the share-my-heart type. I guess it’s because you’re such a good listener. I sense that you are a deeply sensitive person, Dr Hayden.’
‘Please, call me Eloise.’
‘Eloise. It’s such a pretty name. Does anyone ever shorten it to Ellie?’
‘No,’ Eloise said. ‘Only my mother called me that and since she died I can’t quite cope with anyone else doing so. It seems silly really, seeing as was so long ago.’
‘The loss of your mother is a huge hurdle to overcome, especially in a woman’s life,’ Kate said. ‘Is your father still alive?’
‘I have no idea,’ Eloise said. ‘I’ve never met him. I’m not even sure my mother knew who he was.’
Kate suddenly tensed and shifted her gaze slightly. ‘How have you dealt with that over the years?’
‘I’ve just accepted it,’ Eloise said with an indifferent shrug. ‘My mother was pretty loose with her morals. I’m not even sure I would want to know who my father was, to tell you the truth.’
Kate turned to face her. ‘Do you think every father—no matter who he is—deserves the right to know he has fathered a child, even if he had no idea at the time it had happened?’
‘I guess I do in principle, but what if telling the father was going to be destructive to the child or even to the mother?’ she asked. ‘I think it’s one of those case-by-case scenarios where individuals have to decide what is the best course of action, given the circumstances.’
‘What would you do if you found you were pregnant?’ Kate asked.
‘That would entirely depend on who I was pregnant by,’ Eloise answered. ‘If I felt the man was to be trusted as a worthy father to my child, I would tell him.’
‘What if by telling him you would be threatening his relationships with everyone he held dear?’ Kate asked.
Eloise thought about it for a moment, thought too about why Kate was asking such pointed questions. Perhaps she knew someone who was facing exactly that dilemma. Penhally Bay was a small community, the medical practice was busy and Kate had at one time been the practice manager. She would have intimate knowledge of everyone’s ailments and circumstances.
‘I think I would try and do the right thing by the child and the father,’ Eloise answered. ‘If my child would benefit from knowing who his or her father was, I would definitely tell him. After, all it’s his child, wanted or not.’
Kate let out a sigh. ‘You’re right, of course. I’ve thought the same for years but still…’
‘Are these questions hypothetical or personal?’ Eloise asked after a tiny pause.
Kate met her gaze. ‘Personal.’
‘I see.’
Another little silence passed.
Kate got to her feet and looked out of the window, her arms crossed in front her chest. ‘I want to tell him but I don’t know how to go about doing so. You know…bringing up the subject.’
‘Do you mean with your son or his father?’
‘Both.’
Eloise let another small silence slip by before she asked, ‘So what you’re saying is your husband wasn’t Jem’s father?’
Kate slowly turned around to face her. ‘James was subfertile. We didn’t tell anyone about it in the village. We went to London to see a specialist when I failed to fall pregnant. We were both checked out but when the results came back James was devastated, as any man would be. He would have loved a child, a son in particular, but it wasn’t to be.’
‘But being sub-fertile doesn’t mean totally unfertile,’ Eloise pointed out. ‘The chances of a pregnancy are much lower, of course, but it could have still happened.’
Kate shook her head. ‘I know Jem is not James’s son. I’ve known it from the beginning.’
‘And you have no doubt who the actual father is?’
‘I have no doubt at all.’
‘It’s Nick Tremayne, isn’t it?’ Eloise asked.
Kate nodded, anguish clearly written on her features. ‘We had one brief…time together…the night of the storm. It should never have happened. We were both in a highly charged emotional state and I let my heart rule my head. Nick did, too, if it comes to that. We’ve had trouble speaking of that night since…I mean the intimate part of it. We both felt so guilty and ashamed of what we did that ever since we’ve both tried to pretend it didn’t happen. We’ve been carrying on as we always have—as friends. But a few weeks ago that all changed. Nick finally brought the subject up, only I was so shocked I didn’t take the opportunity to talk to him about it like I should have done.’
‘What has stopped you telling him Jem is his?’ Eloise asked.
‘You’ve met Nick,’ Kate said with a rueful set to her features. ‘He’s not exactly the easiest person to talk to at times. I’ve wanted to tell him for years but I’m frightened it will destroy the friendship we have. We’ve known each other since we were teenagers. I’m the one he turns to when he has issues with his kids or the practice. I don’t want to jeopardise that.’
‘You’re going to have to discuss it some time or other,’ Eloise advised. ‘Your son is nine now but as he grows older he may begin to look more and more like his father. What if Nick somehow guesses it for himself?’
All of a sudden Kate’s expression became stricken as the shadow of two large feet appeared at her closed door. Her face paled as she put a trembling hand up to her throat and whispered, ‘Oh, no…’
There was a brisk knock and Nick’s curt tone clipped out, ‘Kate? Have you got Dr Hayden with you?’
Kate’s throat moved up and down, making her reply come out slightly strangled. ‘Y-yes I have.’
The door opened and Eloise saw the livid expression on Nick Tremayne’s face, which meant he must have overhead part if not all of their conversation. The blistering glare he sent in Kate’s direction more or less confirmed it.
He turned to Eloise. ‘I’m free to see you now, but briefly,’ he said crisply. ‘I have another rather urgent issue to deal with, as I am sure you’ll understand.’
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Eloi
se replied, with a quick glance in Kate’s direction.
Kate returned her look with an apprehensive grimace, sat back down at the desk and shuffled some papers with hands that weren’t quite steady.
Nick was already striding away, barking at Eloise to follow him downstairs.
He closed the door of his room a few moments later and frowned at her from behind his desk. ‘Chief Inspector D’Ancey has already informed me of your findings. I hope you’re not going to accuse me of incompetence because I failed to correctly identify the cause of death.’
‘No, of course not,’ she said. ‘Anyway, it wasn’t your responsibility in this case to declare the cause of death. You did nothing wrong. Under the circumstances it would be easy to assume he died as a result of drowning.’
He scraped a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. ‘What I just overheard downstairs…’ he said, as he levelled his gaze at her. ‘I must insist you refrain from discussing it with anyone in Penhally Bay.’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘How much did you hear of my conversation with Kate?’
His eyes were still blazing with anger and Eloise didn’t envy Kate’s next meeting with him. ‘I am not prepared to discuss or have my private life discussed with virtual strangers,’ he bit out.
‘If Jem is your son, he needs to know it, and soon,’ she said. ‘He deserves to know the truth.’
Nick looked at her and gave her a twisted smile, but there was no trace of humour in it. ‘You know Lachlan D’Ancey was right about you,’ he said. ‘You’re not just a pretty face.’
Eloise could feel her face growing warm. ‘I’m only here for the duration of the investigation,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t want anyone to get any wrong ideas about Chief Inspector D’Ancey and myself.’
‘He’s a good man, Dr Hayden. He needs some support right now, especially with this situation with his d—’
Eloise tilted her head quizzically at his abrupt cutting off of his sentence. ‘What situation, Dr Tremayne?’
Nick looked at her for a second or two beat before continuing, ‘His divorce. It hit him hard. It came right out of the blue.’
‘I understood from Chief Inspector D’Ancey that his divorce was a mutual decision they had been considering for years. He told me that himself.’
Nick Tremayne glanced at his watch and got to his feet. ‘Is that all, Dr Hayden?’ he asked. ‘I need to speak to Kate and I have several patients to see before I go home for the day.’
Eloise rose from her chair. ‘That will be all, Dr Tremayne.’ She paused then added, ‘For now.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘YOUR luggage has arrived!’ Beatrice announced excitedly as soon as Eloise got back to the guest-house. ‘Davey’s just this minute taken it upstairs to your room.’
‘That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,’ Eloise said with a relieved sigh.
Beatrice bustled over to the hall table and picked up a sheaf of papers tied with string. ‘Oh, and Mr Price left this for you.’ She handed it to her. ‘It’s his manuscript. It’s ever so kind of you to offer to read it for him.’
I didn’t exactly offer, Eloise thought as she took the thick wad of paper with a strained smile. ‘Thanks. I’ll read it tonight.’
‘Not going out this evening, then?’
‘I might go for a walk later,’ Eloise said, holding the papers to her chest. ‘I have some paperwork to see to first.’
Beatrice checked that no one was about before leaning closer. ‘I heard a rumour that you found out that young man didn’t drown after all. Is it true?’
Eloise was momentarily taken aback. As far as she knew, the parents of the victim hadn’t been formally informed so how anyone else had found out was completely beyond her. ‘Where did you hear that?’ she asked.
‘At the hairdresser’s,’ Beatrice said. ‘Vicki Clements told me there were suspicious findings to do with the case. She heard one of the other clients talking about it. I think someone the client knows works in the police station at Wadebridge.’
‘I’m not at liberty to discuss my findings with anyone other than the police investigating the case.’
‘I suppose you mean Chief Inspector D’Ancey,’ Beatrice said. ‘Davey said he saw you and the chief inspector down at the Penhally Arms the other night.’
Eloise felt like sinking through the ancient floorboards. It seemed that Davey Trevallyn saw a great deal and yet she still hadn’t met him. ‘We were discussing official business,’ she said. ‘We have to work together on this case.’
There was a footfall on the stairs and a bulky man in his middle to late forties appeared, his round cheeks and innocent, childlike look immediately identifying him as Beatrice’s son, Davey.
‘Ah, Davey, my love, finally you get to meet our important guest,’ Beatrice said. ‘This is Dr Hayden. You remember I told you about her coming all this way from Australia to find out the truth about that surfer’s death?’
Davey blinked once or twice and mumbled something in reply, but Eloise couldn’t understand a word of it.
‘Don’t be shy,’ Beatrice scolded him fondly. ‘I know you don’t like meeting strangers but Dr Hayden’s a nice lady. She’s going to help Mr Price get published. She’s reading his book for him. Isn’t that nice of her when she’s already so busy?’
Davey smiled a nervous smile and backed away, turning the nearest corner and disappearing from sight.
Beatrice tut-tutted and turned back to Eloise. ‘I don’t know what’s got into him. He’s always been a bit on the shy side but lately he seems to be even worse. Perhaps it’s because Molly upset him by leaving so suddenly. He was quite fond of her, even though she was a bit cruel to him at times.’ She let out a little sigh and added as she bustled off, ‘It takes all types, though, doesn’t it?’
Eloise agreed politely and was halfway up the stairs when she met Mr Price coming down.
‘Ah, Dr Hayden, just the person I was hoping to see,’ he said with a broad smile. ‘I have some suggestions for you for the case you’re currently working on.’
She blinked at him once or twice. ‘You do?’
‘Oh, yes,’ he said eagerly. ‘I was thinking about it all evening. It’s a classic case of a cover-up. He was murdered somewhere else and his body dumped to appear like a drowning. Brilliant, don’t you think?’
‘Er…yes…’
‘I think you need to narrow down your suspects,’ he went on. ‘You know, the people Mr Jenson was seen associating with in the last hours of his life.’
‘That’s the job of the local police, Mr Price,’ Eloise informed him. ‘I’m a forensic specialist called on to give evidence to the coroner. I am not responsible for interviewing witnesses or suspects.’
‘Oh…’ He looked momentarily deflated but rallied quickly. ‘Well, then, you could always do your own investigations, you know, on the sly, or get someone to do them for you.’ He puffed out his chest. ‘Like me, for instance.’
Eloise had to fight not to roll her eyes in front of him. ‘Thank you for your very generous offer but I think it’s best if we leave it to the local authorities to deal with,’ she said. ‘We might end up getting in the way.’
‘I can be very discreet.’
She smiled stiffly. ‘I’m sure you can, but in this case I think it’s best to stay out of it.’
Mr Price began sniffing the air. ‘Can you smell that?’ he asked.
Eloise suddenly became aware of a faint smell of gas. ‘Yes, I can. Has someone left an outlet on or something?’ she asked.
‘I’ll speak to Davey about it,’ Mr Price said. ‘It happens now and again. There must be a leak somewhere.’
A gas leak?
Eloise began to do the sums in her head.
Ethan Jenson died of a combination of carbon monoxide poisoning and smothering…
Mr Price was already moving past her on the stairs when she swung back around and grasped his arm. ‘Mr Price?’
He turned and looked at her. ‘Yes
, Dr Hayden?’
‘Do you know if Ethan Jenson ever came to Trevallyn House? To stay, I mean.’
‘I’m not sure but surely Mrs Trevallyn is the one to ask,’ he said. ‘She knows each and every one of her guests. She makes a point of it. After all, it’s her and Davey’s home they are renting rooms from. She likes to know exactly who is here and when.’
Eloise quickly excused herself and went in search of Beatrice, who she eventually located sitting in the front room, watching television and eating from a very large box of chocolates.
She closed the lid somewhat guiltily and stuffed them under a cushion when she saw Eloise.
‘You won’t tell Dr Tremayne, will you?’ she asked in a beseeching tone. ‘It’s my cholesterol. I’m supposed to be cutting down. I allow myself two a day but I just ate five.’
Eloise smiled. ‘No, I won’t tell. Anyway, I’ve heard dark chocolate is good for you.’
Beatrice brightened and pulled out the box from beneath the cushions. ‘Would you like one? I have peanut brittle or chewy caramel. I’m afraid I’ve eaten all the soft ones. They’re my favourites.’
Eloise took a peanut brittle from the almost empty box. ‘I’m a bit of a cupboard chocolate eater, too,’ she confessed. Thinking of her mother, she added, ‘My thinking is there are worse things to be addicted to, right?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Beatrice said. ‘My sister was married to a compulsive gambler. He sold everything from under her to feed his addiction—even the toaster and the clock radio went.’
‘Oh, dear,’ Eloise said. ‘That must have been some addiction.’
‘It was, but she moved on. She’s married to a lovely man now. He’s a bit boring but that’s neither here nor there.’
‘Mrs Trevallyn, I was wondering if you had ever had Ethan Jenson as a guest at Trevallyn House,’ Eloise asked once she’d chomped through her chocolate.
Beatrice straightened indignantly on her softly cushioned sofa. ‘As if I would allow such a man to sleep in one of my beds!’ she said. ‘I have very high standards here, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, Mr Price and yourself being a case in point. I have nothing against surfers, but that young man was a roving tomcat if ever I saw one.’
Brides of Penhally Bay - Vol 2 Page 43