Eloise (21 page)

It was seven o’clock. Sam and I were in the sitting room at the cottage, trying to pretend nothing strange was going to happen. He had lit the fire and I’d put the lamps on, even though it was still light outside. Warmth and brightness seemed essential. We were about to do something alien, something which we associated with cold, dark terror. Somehow I was determined that what was to happen in my house would follow my rules. It would not be frightening; it would be a celebration of Eloise’s freedom, and my release from fear.

Father Pete arrived at the kitchen door. Gaily, in a suburban haze of good manners, I offered him a drink. To my relief he accepted a whisky. Actually, looking at him, he seemed glad of a shot of alcohol. He was pale, awkward, and ill at ease, just what you want when you have in your home a priest in charge of an obscure religious ceremony involving a ghost and Satan. If
he
didn’t feel confident it would work, then God help Sam and me.

Actually, it was Sam I was most worried about that night. He was acting like the young host of a parental party, anxious to be helpful, heartbreakingly jolly.

After twenty minutes of small talk, I’d had enough.

‘I really think we should get this underway. Can you talk me through what’s going to happen, and what I need to do?’

‘We should wait for Juliana, Cathy. She wanted to be here. And I think it would be better if we switched the lights off.’

Why? I wondered. Because the occult was necessarily dark? But why was I allowing the occult to invade my gorgeous, homely little Cornish nest?

All the calmness I’d felt down at the beach today, and the peace that had shimmered through me at Ellie’s graveside, began to recede. I couldn’t wait any longer for Juliana. This was about Eloise and me. Not about her mother.

At my signal, Sam switched the lamps off, although the log fire still continued to burn, incongruously cheerful in the sudden gloom.

Father Pete had brought along a black holdall. From it, he took a purple stole, candles and a flask of oil. I felt suddenly sick. What in God’s name had I let myself in for?

I took a gulp of wine. The priest was talking to himself, mumbling over his holy accoutrements. He started lighting the candles, placing them around the room, paying particular attention to the mantelpiece and hearth. Nervously, I asked him why.

‘The hearth is the home of family life, Cathy. If we cleanse that, we cleanse you and you and your loved ones of evil.’

Hysteria bubbled up in my chest. This was ridiculous. There was no way I could take part in this absurd ritual. I glanced at Sam. He was obviously trying to suppress laughter.

OK, that’s it, I thought. I moved towards Father Pete, about to tell him that the whole thing had been a stupid mistake, and to apologise for taking up his time.

And then there was a stupendous crash. The kitchen door flew open and immediately slammed shut. Terrified I clung on to Sam. There, in my kitchen, in front of the hob, stood Juliana.

And next to her, malevolent and thunder-browed, stood Ted.

His eyes glittering with hatred, he stared at me. ‘What the hell is going on here?’ he said. I looked at Juliana.

‘Why is
he
here, Juliana?’ I asked.

‘I thought he had a right to know that you were planning something obscene, to desecrate the memory of his dead wife. That you were suggesting she’s possessing you, that she’s evil, that you need to be purged of her presence. That’s pretty horrific, you know, Cathy. And Ted agrees with me.’

I laughed, remembering how Ted had insulted his ‘dead wife’ when I met him on the cliff path. I was angry now.

‘Juliana, he
hated
Eloise, hated her for not leaving him all her money. He told me so. And he threatened me.’

Juliana was implacable. ‘I think what you’re doing is disgusting, Cathy. And I knew you wouldn’t listen to me. So I asked Ted to come with me.’

‘Oh, I get it. You think he’ll scare me off, intimidate me. Well, you’re wrong there. This is between Eloise and me. Nothing to do with him.’

A light breeze had been ruffling the branches of the weeping willow outside. As I said those words the wind rose, and the tree’s cascading branches began to thrash, as if in agitation. My mood had completely changed from indecision and unease. Ted’s presence had focused my anger. I
was determined now to go ahead with Father Pete’s procedure. I was sick of threats, fear and broken nights. I turned to the priest.

‘Go on, Pete. Let’s get on with it.’

Ted stepped towards me, his face ugly with fury. In a second, Sam stood between us. He was taller than Ted, which gave him an advantage, but he was also much slighter. Ted was stocky, his muscles honed from all that surfing.

‘I don’t think you should threaten my mother,’ Sam said quietly.

Ted stared at him for a moment. ‘And I don’t think she should be desecrating the memory of my wife,’ he replied.

‘Whatever you think my mother is doing, she is perfectly entitled to ask a priest to help her in the privacy of her own home. You don’t belong here. Now go, or I’ll call the police.’

‘Let him stay,’ said Father Pete unexpectedly. ‘He will see that we mean no harm.’ He turned to Ted. ‘I understand your concern, Ted. But all I am doing is offering a prayer for the repose of Eloise’s soul. Surely you can’t object to that? And you, Juliana. Of course I know how deep your grief is. But stay and join us in our prayers, in this house which your daughter knew and loved, and with the dear friend who loved her, and wishes her nothing but peace.’

There was silence. Juliana had tears in her eyes. She walked across the room and hugged me. Now I was in tears
myself. Ted stayed where he was. He looked sullen, but the ferocious anger had subsided.

The light outside was waning. Father Pete began to pray. We bowed our heads.

He prayed for God to deliver Eloise to eternal rest. Then he lit the candles around the hearth and mantelpiece. He wrapped his purple stole around his neck and beckoned me to join him by the fire. Obediently, I stood next to him, and he folded the other end of the stole around my shoulders.

The others, grouped in shadow behind us, were tense and mute.

I felt momentarily horribly self-conscious, and then, more and more I was drawn into the priest’s insistent will.

‘God, please bless Your servant, Catherine. Please deliver her from torment, and let her mind be at rest. By Your grace, bring her peace.’

He opened the flask of holy oil, and murmured a blessing over it. Then he dipped his fingers into the liquid, and turned to me.

‘Catherine, I bless you in the name of the Lord.’ And he traced a cross on my forehead.

He held a small ceremonial crucifix before the candle in the centre of the mantelpiece, bowed his head and again began to pray. I listened to his words with reverence and dread.

‘Lord, please let Your servant Eloise rest in peace. Take
her to Your side, and release her from the unholy world she inhabits now.’

I heard a murmur of protest behind me. Juliana didn’t like that, but the priest’s voice grew stronger as he continued his prayer.

‘We beg Thee, Lord, in Your infinite wisdom, to allow Your servant Eloise to leave her beloved friend Catherine to go about her business unmolested by evil spirits. We beg Thee to banish those demons which seek to destroy Catherine’s peace of mind, and that of her family. Above all, to banish the demon masquerading as her friend Eloise, which is causing her so much heartache. For by Your Grace, we know such visitations are a manifestation of Satan, and must be vanquished.’

His voice grew louder, powerfully confident.

‘In Thy name, Lord, I demand this evil spirit, this entity which calls itself Eloise, be banished from this house, and from Talland Bay, and cease to trouble Thy servant Catherine. For this creature is not Eloise at all, but a toy of Satan. In the name of the Father, the Spirit, and the Holy Ghost, let it be gone, to join its devilish master. Thanks be to God. Amen.’

There was total silence. I was aware of nothing but the light of the candles flickering in the surrounding gloom. I felt a little sick. I swayed and thought I might faint. I turned
to look at the others. Sam, awestruck by the unexpected power of Father Pete’s words. Ted, stunned and disbelieving. And Juliana, white-faced and terrified.

And suddenly all hell broke loose. The wind that thrashed the weeping willow in the garden began to roar. Branches crashed and fell from trees on the roof and all round the house. The noise was deafening.

Even the sea joined in. Our gentle cove became a raging monster. With disbelief I saw waves hurl themselves against the windows of our cottage, which was tucked away in a little hollow half a mile from the beach. It was as if the ocean itself had risen to avenge Eloise’s ghost, and marched up the lane to drown us in its protest.

I thought I heard Juliana scream. I did too. But worse was to come.

As the sea crashed and roared against the house, I heard a voice shriek over the stupendous noise. It pierced my ears and my heart. It was Eloise.

‘Cathy, no! How can you do this? How can you banish me like this? It’s not what you think. I’m not evil.
He
is. I thought you knew, I thought you understood. If you leave me now, my children will die. Please, Cathy, please. I beg you to help me.’

Finally, I fainted.

*

When I came round, a trio of worried faces hovered over me; Sam, Juliana and Father Pete. I struggled to sit up, and they helped me to the sofa, onto which I collapsed. My legs were shaking and my mind was jittery with shock.

Sam brought me water, but Father Pete thought I needed something stronger and gave me a glass of whisky. I gulped it down, and my queasy stomach settled a little. I looked at Juliana.

‘Did you hear her?’ I asked. She looked mystified.

‘No, dear. Hear who?’

I was angry now. All three of them looked concerned, but they clearly hadn’t a clue what I was talking about. Hear who? Who did they think I meant? Why were we all here?

‘Eloise, of course. You didn’t hear her voice?’

They shook their heads, then looked at each other. I knew that look. It meant they thought I had lost it again.

‘She spoke to me. Screamed at me in fact. She said I’d got it all wrong. She said she wasn’t evil. She said
he
was.’ I looked frantically around the room. ‘Where is he?’ I shouted.

‘Ted?’ said Father Pete.

‘Yes. Ted. He’s the problem. Always has been.’

Juliana looked anxious. ‘He just left. He was … well, he was angry. He just said he’d had enough of this … ’ Ever
genteel, Juliana looked anxiously at Sam and Father Pete, but then she decided to go for it. ‘He said he’d had enough of this “fucking bollocks”, and was off.’

‘But how could he leave? What about the sea?’

‘The sea, Mum? What do you mean?’ Sam’s handsome face was puzzled and worried.

‘It’s all around the house. Right up to the roof. Can’t you see it?’ And even I knew I sounded hysterical. Because, when I looked at the windows, there was nothing to see but the black Cornish night.

‘But didn’t you hear it? The waves. They were crashing against the windows. It was terrible. I thought we were all going to drown.’

There was an uncomfortable silence. Then Father Pete spoke quietly.

‘I blame myself for this. It was a wretched idea to put you through such a difficult experience, when you were so upset and fragile.’

Here we go again, I thought. The old mental illness stuff. But I wasn’t having any of it. I blazed at them.

‘Look, I know what I saw. And what I heard.’ I glared at Eloise’s mother. ‘And you above everyone should listen to me, Juliana. Your daughter has just told me Ted is evil. And she said that unless I help her, your grandchildren are in terrible danger.’

She flinched. ‘Cathy, please, this has to end. You’re scaring me.’ She turned to Sam. ‘I think you had better telephone your father. She needs help. I also think Chris needs to get her out of Cornwall. She should be in a caring environment near your home in London. And then maybe she’ll leave me alone to mourn my daughter in peace.’

‘Juliana, I beg you. You know yourself something was wrong about Ellie’s death. You told me you didn’t believe she could die so suddenly when earlier she had seemed perfectly well. I’m on your side; I’m on
Ellie’s
side. She’s scared for her children. You must believe me.’

Juliana’s face was a mask. She looked as if she was struggling to stay calm.

‘Yes, you’re right about what I thought about her death. But that was months ago, and I’ve thought about it since. I believe Eloise would have wanted me to help take care of her daughters, and to do that I have to co-operate with Ted. Making a monster out of him isn’t going to help anyone, least of all Rose and Violet. And Cathy, you’ve changed. You seem to be almost unhinged. I just can’t stand to see you like this. You’re obsessed with Eloise – with this, this – ghost you say you keep seeing. She’s not a ghost. She was my beloved daughter. My wonderful memories of her are all I have left. And you’re poisoning them, Cathy. You’re poisoning my thoughts. I won’t have any more of this nonsense.’

She swept out. Father Pete looked apologetic, gave me an encouraging pat on the shoulder, and went to the door with Sam. I could hear their worried voices murmuring on the patio.

So there I was. Alone again.