Eloise (27 page)

The ghastly tableaux remained frozen. It seemed that we might all be standing there, motionless, until the end of time. But after what felt like an eternity, the shotgun began to tremble, very slightly. Then, all at once, Ted collapsed into a sitting position, gun across his knees, and in one fluid motion Chris was at Ted’s side and lifting the weapon clear.

Jack slumped against the cabin doorway and buried his face in his hands. Juliana and I burst into tears. These had been the most terrifying minutes of our lives.

Chris opened the gun and ejected the two cartridges, throwing them as far down the lawn as he could. Then he gripped Ted by his arm and pulled him to his feet.

‘Get the cabin key, would you, Jack?’ he asked calmly.

Jack disappeared for a moment and returned with the key. Chris pushed Ted gently into the shed and turned him round just inside.

‘Stay in there and sleep it off. See you tomorrow.’

He closed the door and locked it, before walking across the lawn to Juliana and me. Jack followed.

I took Chris in my arms.

‘You saved Jack’s life. If you hadn’t been here … ’

‘That man’s out of control,’ Chris said grimly. ‘I’ll get rid of the gun, but he’s clearly gone over the edge. We’ll have to do something radical.’

Sam appeared at the kitchen door.

‘Mum,’ he said urgently. ‘Arthur heard some of what Ted said about Jack and Eloise. He’s put two and two together and he’s figured out that Jack must be his grandfather.’

I froze. ‘Is he all right?’ I asked.

‘Very shocked. He keeps on asking if it’s true. We don’t know what to tell him. We had no idea.’

Juliana rushed inside the house, Jack immediately behind her. Chris put his arm round me and we followed them in.

Inside the living room, Arthur sat motionless on the sofa. Evie was next to him, her arms around his shoulders. She looked at me, her face anxious and stricken.

‘It’s all right, Evie. Come on up to our bedroom for a few minutes. Sam and Tom, you too. Leave Arthur with Jack and Juliana for a while.’

My three children rose obediently and came upstairs with Chris and me. There, apologizing for not telling them sooner, we explained the whole situation to them, about Jack
and Eloise’s baby, who had gone to Australia with Jack’s parents because Eloise was too young to keep her, and how Isabella had only found out about her true parentage after Ellie died. I told them that nobody told Arthur that Jack was not his uncle but his grandfather because they thought he might be upset. The three of them listened gravely.

‘I’m sure he’ll be OK,’ said Sam when I finished speaking. ‘Arthur really loves Jack. He told me yesterday that he’s the best uncle in the world.’

Chris smiled approvingly at his eldest son.

‘You’re absolutely right, Sam. That’s a very mature observation, and I totally agree with you.’

Evie looked relieved. She worshipped her dad, and was full of pride that he was such a distinguished doctor. If Chris thought Arthur would be OK, that was good enough for her.

It was half-past four in the morning. All the children had gone to bed, including Arthur. He had had a long conversation with Jack and Juliana, as they told me the next day. Jack said it was difficult to explain the reasons why he had kept his true relationship to Arthur and Isabella secret, but eventually, at least, managed to persuade him it was for the best, and done with the most loving intentions. The sixteen-year-old boy and the man in his late forties finally shared a loving embrace.

Meanwhile, we had managed, with difficulty, to placate the neighbours, explaining that Ted was not only drunk but also suffering from post-traumatic stress after the death of his wife. They had known and liked Eloise, and were sympathetic to Ted, but understandably concerned for their own family’s safety. Luckily Chris was a soothing and persuasive man. He reassured them that he’d locked Ted’s shotgun away, and that Ted was safely in the cabin. Chris had gone back to my little shed after it was all over and made Ted take a sedative. As a psychiatrist, he told the neighbours he took personal responsibility for Ted’s state of mind and would make sure he got treatment in the morning.

‘Can you do that, Chris?’ I asked as we sat around the table with Jack and Juliana, sipping hot tea. The children had gone back to bed, and mercifully Rose and Violet had slept through the whole thing.

‘Can I do what?’ he asked.

‘Get treatment for Ted later today?’

‘I’m not sure. The trouble is I don’t know what to treat him for. I could give him anti-depressants and recommend a course of bereavement counselling, but I don’t think he’d co-operate.’

‘Then what can we do?’ asked Juliana. ‘I can’t possibly let him look after the girls. He’s dangerous. If he’d got them into the car last night he might have killed them.’

‘Could you get him sectioned?’ I asked.

He gave a short laugh. ‘Not for being drunk and disorderly, no.’

Jack spoke for the first time.

‘What about a legal care order? If we can prove that he’s a danger to the children then can we have them removed from him?’

‘I will not have my granddaughters taken into care,’ said Juliana indignantly.

Jack looked at her. ‘I wasn’t thinking that. I thought we could put them into
your
care; they could live with you.’

‘Could we do that?’ I asked doubtfully.

‘We could try,’ said Chris. ‘I’ve got good friends in the family courts. It’s worth a shot.’

But as we tried to snatch a few hours sleep, with Jack bedded down on the sofa, I felt our prospects were very gloomy. Ted would fight us all the way. The girls were not only his daughters – they were his bread and butter. He wouldn’t give up either without a fierce struggle. And, besides, surely any court would accept that he was temporarily mad with grief, and that taking his children away from him would wound him even further, possibly fatally.

I tried to sleep, but a faint, distant voice crept into my head.

‘I told you, Cathy. I told you not to trust him. My children
are in great danger. You’ve got to get them away from him. Soon.’

I knew I had to try.

Next morning we were all a bit groggy. Evie, bless her, had responded to the twins’ demands for breakfast, which let us grown-ups sleep a little later. When we finally gathered in the sitting room, the big question was ‘What are we going to do about Ted?’

I voiced it just as Jack came in through the kitchen door.

‘Not a lot,’ he said. ‘He’s gone.’

‘What?’ said Chris.

‘He kicked the cabin door down. Easy enough, it’s only flimsy wood – one good kick would have done it, which is why none of us heard anything. We were stupid to think a shed could act as a secure detention cell. Anyway, the door’s hanging off its frame, and his car’s gone.’

There was a moment of consternation, tinged with relief. None of us had been looking forward to this morning’s meeting with Ted. On the other hand, where had he gone? And why hadn’t he waited for his daughters to wake up?

We had to watch what we said in front of the little girls, but Violet had already gathered something was amiss.

‘Where’s Daddy?’ she asked, looking keenly at Juliana.

‘I should imagine he’s gone back home, darling,’ she replied.

‘Without waiting for me and Rose?’ she demanded.

‘Well, he didn’t want to wake you up. He will have gone home to see someone about his paintings, but it was too early to wake you. He’ll be back to get you soon.’

Violet considered this. Then Rose said, devastatingly, ‘Is Daddy cross again?’

‘No, of course not, Rose. Daddy’s just very busy at the moment.’ That was me.

Rose thought about this carefully.

‘I think he
is
cross again. Mummy said he was always cross these days.’

‘I don’t like Daddy when he’s cross,’ said Violet. ‘He frightens me.’

‘How does he frighten you, darling?’ asked Chris.

‘He shouts in a big loud voice. Like he used to shout at Mummy. She was frightened of him too. She used to say she wanted to take us away from him … ’

‘But,’ Rose joined in, ‘she couldn’t because she was so poorly.’

‘And then she died,’ said Violet, matter-of-factly.

There was total silence in the room. None of us knew what to say. Then Rose piped up again.

‘Grandma, can’t we live with you? We’d rather live with
you than Daddy. And Mummy always said she wanted us to live with you.’

‘Did she, darling?’ There were tears in Juliana’s eyes. ‘Well, of course you can live with me. I’d love that. But I’ll have to ask Daddy. Don’t you think he’ll be a bit upset if you don’t live with him?’

They shook their heads in unison.

‘Oh no,’ said Violet. ‘Every time he’s cross he tells us he doesn’t want us any more. He says we’re a … ’

‘Burden,’ they chorused together.

Evie stepped in.

‘Hey, girls, would you like to watch cartoons?’

‘Yes!’ they shouted and ran out of the room.

‘OK,’ Chris said. ‘What on earth do we do now?’

‘Well,’ said Juliana. ‘We certainly have to do something. I’m not prepared to let those girls stay with him a day longer. I’ll take them back to Roseland with me, and keep them there.’

‘I’m not sure he’ll let you do that, Juliana. Knowing him, he’ll call the police and tell them you’ve kidnapped them. We’ve got to do this through the proper channels,’ said Chris, ‘so I need to talk to some of my legal friends. I’ll get onto it straight away.’ He left the room.

I’d noticed Jack had stayed strangely quiet during our worried conversation. I looked at him.

‘What do you think, Jack?’ I asked.

He replied, in his Aussie twang, ‘I’m a stranger here. I’m not part of Eloise’s family, much as I’d like to be. I am sort of a relation, but many times removed. I’m not sure I’m the right person to judge what’s going on here, but it’s obvious that Ted is unhinged. And that has to be bad for the children.’ He looked at me. ‘I don’t want to tread on any toes here, Cathy, but I would like to talk to you sometime.’

‘Why not now?’

He shook his head. ‘No, not now.’ He nodded towards Juliana, who was washing up breakfast things in the kitchen.

Everyone parted to do his or her own thing. I had a bath and washed my hair. Juliana got the little girls washed and dressed. Chris was glued to his laptop. The older kids played footie on the lawn. Only Jack seemed distant and preoccupied. I watched him from the bathroom as he wandered up the path and into the lane. He looked deep in thought as he turned left down towards the beach.

We all re-assembled around midday. Lunch was proposed, and we decided to go to the beach café. Yet again, it was a lovely day, and with so many children of all ages, it seemed the obvious thing to do.

Jack had not returned from his early walk, but we soon saw him, distant but distinct as he stepped over the rocks. We
waved and shouted, and he saw us and bounded enthusiastically up the beach. Chris and Sam had been right about Arthur. Juliana said Jack had been wonderfully gentle with him last night and assured him again and again how much he loved him, and how proud he was to be his grandad. When Arthur got up that morning he cheekily called Jack Gramps, but then asked more seriously if he could still call him Jack. His ‘uncle’ seemed too young to be a grandfather, he said. Jack laughed and said he was glad to hear it, and after that there was no tension in the air at all.

It was crab sandwiches all round for the grown-ups, sausage rolls and cornish pasties for the kids. And lots of tea for us, and Coke for them. We obviously didn’t talk about Ted, and the little ones giggled happily over their ice creams. I watched the sea, hypnotised into a calm trance by the soft noise of the small waves, as I always was. I felt totally relaxed. The searing visions of my dead best friend had left me. Now, the responsibility for her children’s safety was no longer mine alone. Others shared the worry, and that was such a relief.

After a long, happy lunch, Chris said that he had to get back home. He had emails and phone calls to make. Jack and Juliana also said they needed to get back, although they would wait for the girls before they returned to Roseland. The little ones, however, didn’t want to leave the beach, and neither did Eve and Arthur. Sam and Tom had an appointment with a
fisherman in Looe, along with some local friends. So we all separated, and went our different ways.

Back at the cottage, I walked over to the cabin to inspect the damage Ted had done. As Jack had said, the door had been comprehensively kicked in, but it would be easily repaired. I went inside. Here, everything was a mess. The linen had been stripped from the bed, and heaped on the floor. The bookcase I had so lovingly stacked with du Maurier, Philip Pullman, Stephen King and Ann Tyler had been overturned. My ancient copies of
Jane Eyre
and
Wuthering Heights
had been ripped to shreds, as had my paperbacks of Donna Leon and J.K. Rowling. Candles had been thrown around the room; beloved ornaments, like my china rabbit bookends, had been smashed. I was incredibly upset. This wasn’t the work of an opportunistic thief. The man who had done this was a friend, someone I’d known for many years, a man whom I had not believed could so suddenly become such an enemy.

As I left the cabin, too shocked yet to begin the dreary task of cleaning up, I glanced at my desk. I always kept wads of paper there, and pens. I was a bit of a Luddite, preferring to write first in longhand rather than my MacBook. The desk was strewn with sheets of paper, some screwed up and thrown on the floor, others torn angrily into pieces. There was one sheet of A4, though, that had been positioned,
carefully, in the centre of the desk. Ted had clearly meant me to read it.

I did. It was horrible, explicit, deranged.