Eloise (19 page)

I needed to think. But I was totally dumbfounded. I had no idea what to do without Chris. How wrong was it to rely
on Sam? Because I was clear that if I went ahead with the exorcism, without Chris, then the man, the prop I would be relying on was my eldest son. Was this right? No, obviously not.

And yet, what was the alternative? I had to get rid of Eloise. I had no choice. And Chris clearly thought I was mad to try.

I decided to send Tom and Evie back to London on the train next day. Selfishly, I would keep Sam with me, while Father Pete banished Eloise’s ghost.

But of course, I had reckoned without Juliana.

She rang first thing, asking us all round to lunch with her and Arthur.

Evie was ecstatic. As she gathered what was on offer from listening to my side of the telephone conversation, she began a little jig.

‘Oh please, Mum, please, Mum, please say yes,’ she mouthed.

And of course I did.

Sam drove the Beetle and we arrived at Roseland soon after midday.

Juliana and Arthur awaited us in the hall. She rushed forward to sweep her arms around me, then charmingly greeted the children. Arthur stood shyly behind her, grinning awkwardly as his great-grandmother introduced him to my three progeny.

‘Arthur, you’ve met Cathy, and these are her three children, Sam, Tom and Evie. I thought it might be nice for you to have some people of your own age to talk to while you’re here. Arthur is a relation of mine from Australia. He’s come over for a while to find out about his roots.’

Juliana was being tactful, sparing my three children from a long-winded explanation of the past. We would tell them soon enough, I thought, and although it was so complicated, I knew my kids. They were intelligent and kind. Eloise’s traumatic early motherhood would intrigue them, but they wouldn’t judge her.

I looked carefully at Arthur. Yes, I could see Eloise in his eyes. But she had been beautiful, and so was he. It was easy to gauge genetic gorgeousness when both she and he were so heartbreakingly lovely.

Lunch went well. Arthur talked about Byron Bay, where he lived in Australia. The kids were fascinated. Evie was shy, of course, but the boys all seemed to get on well enough. As always the dining room looked exquisite, the table and the mantelpiece festooned with vases of roses.

And the food was delicious. Asparagus with hollandaise sauce, followed by Dover Sole with spinach and new potatoes. And afterwards, strawberries and cream. All beautifully prepared by Juliana’s loyal Fowey girls in the kitchen, and elegantly, if slightly shufflingly, served by Annie and Eric.

After coffee, Juliana and I went out into the garden. The children were already immersed in a game of football on the lawn.

Juliana asked me how I was, and where Chris had so suddenly disappeared to. I really didn’t want to tell her; the way he left, what he’d said, seemed so final there was no way back. Instead, I talked about meeting Father Pete in Talland Church.

‘How is he?’ she asked. ‘Is he still the same lovely man he always was? He was so understanding, so caring and intelligent. I’d love to see him again. Should I ask him round to dinner?’

I gulped. I had to tell her about Father Pete’s proposal to exorcise Eloise.

With huge trepidation, I did. And as I tried to explain why the priest and I felt we had to try this extraordinary experiment, she stared at me in horror.

‘What are you saying, Cathy? You want to get rid of my daughter?’

‘No, of course not. I loved her, you know that. And I miss her terribly.’

‘Then why do you want to use this total nonsense to … what? I don’t even know how to say it. To banish her, as if she is evil?’

I wanted to weep. ‘No, I
know
she’s not evil. But she’s haunting me, Juliana. She’s devastating my life. It’s because of her that Chris has left me.’

‘Left you? You didn’t tell me. He’s left you? Why? And how is it because of Eloise? My daughter is dead, for God’s sake. Surely you can’t blame your marriage problems on her?’

‘He’s left me because he thinks I’m losing my mind. And the reason for that is … Eloise is haunting me. Juliana, I’m in torment. I don’t know what’s going on. I only know that since she died, Ellie has been trying to get me to do something. I’ve no idea what, but she has taken over my life. She’s left no room for Chris or anything else. And now he thinks I’m mad, with reason, given my clinical history. So that’s it. I have to find a way to restore my own sanity. And if Father Pete says he can help, then that’s good enough for me.’

Juliana stood up, agitated but magisterially cool.

‘You must do what you need to. I’m very upset, of course I am. I know I’m being stupid, but I really thought you had a link to Eloise. I mean a
real
one, not like the fanciful rubbish inside my head. But as you say, it’s your life, and I am very fond of Chris. I hate to think that my daughter is causing your marriage such problems. Although,’ and she looked
at me, ‘I’m not sure that it’s really Ellie who’s standing between you. You have had so many mental problems, Cathy. Maybe everything has become too much for you. Have you thought that maybe Chris is right, that you need more treatment?’

I looked at her, disbelief and despair coursing through my mind.

‘I can’t believe you’re saying this, Juliana. I thought you were my friend, my ally. And anyway, you’ve felt Eloise too, haven’t you? What about
Wuthering Heights
? You told me she left it by your bed, and then I read it and heard her too. You said you felt she was trying to reach you, to tell you something.’

‘Yes, I did feel that. I trusted you to understand my emotions, to see that I was grieving for my daughter.’

‘But I did understand you, Juliana. I shared your disquiet about her death. And now you’re trying to tell me that I’m mad, because I can see Eloise and she needs me? Jesus, what kind of mother are you?’

She gulped, but then regained a steely composure.

‘I’ll tell you what kind of mother I am. One who has been through a grief you cannot begin to imagine. Oh yes, it’s terrific that you can see my daughter. It made me so happy when you told me that, but what’s the point if you’re just imagining it all? If you are seriously mentally unstable, which
is obviously what Chris believes? And I’ve always had the utmost respect for him. He’s a very eminent psychiatrist, and he knows what he’s talking about.’

Juliana stood up and swept inside her house. I was shocked. I felt my precarious grasp on reality had loosened yet again. Juliana was a touchstone for me, someone to hold onto in the middle of the night when Eloise was beckoning me towards God knows what. Juliana believed in me, didn’t she? Clearly, no longer.

Did I have any friends left?

Sam ran up to me. ‘You OK, Mum?’ he asked. When he saw I was anything but, he took me to our little car, and ushered me inside.

‘I’ll get Evie and Tom, and say goodbye to Juliana.’ He pecked me on the cheek and went off to round up his siblings.

What an astonishingly kind child he was. I was blessed to have him.

When we got back to Talland there was an austere message on the answerphone from Chris. He told me that he expected ‘the children’ to be home tomorrow. There was no way he would countenance their presence at the ‘outrageous ritual’ I was planning.

I was completely isolated. I had no one on my side. I saw my future as a divorced woman, mentally fragile, abandoned
by my family, and also by Eloise’s. Ted was a vengeful, hateful man. Juliana was furious with me because I had held out hope of an explanation of her daughter’s unexpectedly sudden and premature death, a hopeless expectation which I could not possibly deliver.

I was truly alone. And yet? I had my children. And maybe that was the only way forward. Not just my children, but also Eloise’s. Wasn’t that what this was all about?

I felt a tiny inkling of optimism. I knelt in front of our log fire, lit because the evening had turned unseasonally cool, closed my eyes and begged her. ‘Ellie. Just tell me what I need to do.’

And as I looked into the dancing, happy flames, a deep black chasm, full of emptiness and despair, opened up between the logs. And I heard a voice, so faraway, so sad, so full of tears.

‘Cathy, oh Cathy. Not much time now. So much you need to know, and I have no strength to tell you. I must save my babies.’

I leaned forward, struck with an idea.

‘Tomorrow then, Ellie. We’ll meet tomorrow, you, me and Father Pete.’

A long sigh, and she was gone.

Fortunately, the kids hadn’t heard their father’s icy message about an ‘outrageous ritual’. As soon as we got home they
went off with their friends next door, two lovely boys totally immersed in Cornwall and its diversions, to go on a fishing boat from Looe. There were mackerel to catch, and who knew what else? Sam went too, and I was glad. He had borne too much responsibility. Whatever I was going through, however it affected Chris and our marriage, I had an absolute duty to keep the children apart from all this. Was I in the grip of some mad hysteria? No! I had to hang on to the thought that Eloise really needed me. This wasn’t some romantic Cornish myth; this was real, a challenge she had set me to save her children. I could taste the danger now. It was close and pressing. Of course, if I had truly lost my sanity for the rest of my life I was doomed. Jesus, what kind of future beckoned? I would have to go into some kind of nursing home, plied with drugs, unable to talk to my babies or my husband. Because, no matter how I hated him for trying to drug me, and for leaving me when I needed his support more than at any other time in my life, I still loved him. That would always be the truth.

Later, when they got back from their fishing trip, I told Tom and Evie that their father wanted them back in London the next day. Tom didn’t mind – he had friends to see there – but Eve was mutinous.

‘Why?’ she demanded.

I was diplomatic. ‘I think Dad wants to make sure that I
have as little as possible to do – he feels I need more rest and recovery time.’

‘But why can’t I stay and help you do that?’ There was a silence. Then Tom cheerfully piped up, ‘You know why, little sister. It’s because Dad doesn’t trust Mum to be tough enough not to do things for us.’ He beamed at me. I smiled back. Better he should think that than the truth – that mum was about to mount a ghost-busting ritual; either that, or lose her mind.

After a supper of the mackerel they’d caught that day, gutted and grilled by Sam, they watched a film, and I stole away to the phone.

Father Pete picked up immediately. I explained that the children were going back home next day, and that if possible it would be best if we performed the – er – service tomorrow night.

I had assumed we would do it by Eloise’s grave, or inside the church, but he said no. It would be too public, he explained. His Bishop would never allow that. The Church of England was on sticky ground when it came to exorcism. They did offer ‘Deliverance’ services but they didn’t like to advertise the fact, in case people thought the church was – Father Pete paused.

‘A bit bonkers?’ I offered.

He laughed uncomfortably. ‘Well, you know, we have to be careful that the general public don’t see us as being too superstitious.’

I could see his point, but I also thought it ridiculous. I mean, it was Father Pete who had suggested the exorcism to me. Why be embarrassed if he and his church thought it was the right thing to do?

But I was in no position to argue. I was desperate to get the thing done.

Pete cleared his throat. ‘Also, Cathy, I think it’s safer if we do it in your own home.’

‘Safer?’ I asked. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, only that these rituals can sometimes be a little unpredictable.’

‘How do you mean, unpredictable?’

‘It’s just that some people can react … not badly, exactly, but some individuals find the experience quite extreme. I’m not saying that will happen to you, but it’s best if you feel safe in your own home, surrounded by familiar things.’

I was quiet. A warning voice sounded in my head. ‘He thinks this could be dangerous, Cathy. He thinks you may freak out.’

It was Eloise. I was sure of it.

I pushed the thought away. I had committed myself to this. There was no other way out of the impossible grip Eloise had on my mind.

Father Pete said he would come to the cottage tomorrow evening, and that I was not to worry. It was all pretty straightforward. I thought that was an odd thing to say, given the circumstances.

Then I told him about Juliana, and how upset she had been when I told her what I was planning.

‘I’ll call her straight away,’ said Pete. ‘I’m sure I can reassure her that what we’re doing will not harm Eloise. It will help her to find peace.’ And with that, the priest rang off.

Ten minutes later, Juliana called. Her voice was cold.

‘I can’t believe you’re going ahead with this tomfoolery. I’ve told Father Pete exactly what I think of it – and of him. But anyway, if you are going to do something so … so horrible, which may affect my darling daughter, then I insist on being there. Pete says he understands, and is happy for me to attend what he says will be a service which will “liberate Eloise’s soul”.’ Her tone was acid. ‘I can’t believe I ever took that man seriously. Nor that I ever believed you were Ellie’s friend. But I’ll be there.’ And she was gone.