And Eloise really did care about Jake. Helen, who was expert at reading and understanding deeper human emotions, could tell. Up until recently, it had all been ‘Jake says this’ and ‘Jake was telling me that’, or ‘wait till I tell Jake, he’ll laugh himself into a coma at this’. Helen would listen to her, smiling quietly to herself, wondering if Eloise even admitted to herself the extent to which she liked him.
Really
liked him that is, as opposed to the way she used to just battle her way through life, emotionally unavailable to everyone around her. And he sounded so perfect for her too, she who didn’t need a boyfriend so much as a champion. But then, as Helen knew only too well, since childhood her sister had always been a maestro at concealing her own feelings, so it was like second nature to her. Concealing them even from herself.
Then, she had a brainwave. If neither of the two principals involved was prepared to make the first move, then why the hell shouldn’t she?
Taking advantage of the quiet in the house now that Lily was playing out in the garden, Helen whipped out her mobile, rang directory inquiries and asked to be put through to the language school where Jake worked on Camden St. To hell with this anyway, she thought, I for one have had enough and want to at least try to do something about it.
Checking her watch, she saw it was only half three in the afternoon. Surely someone there would at the very least know when he was due to teach his next class?
‘English Language School, how can I help you?’ came a bored, indifferently-sounding voice.
‘Emm … Yes, hi. I’m looking for one of your teachers, a Jake Keane, if he’s there?’
‘Jake Keane? Yeah, rings a bell alright. I think he might work here part-time.’
I know, Helen thought rattily, teeth gritted. That’s why I’m phoning, you eejit.
‘Could you check and see if he’s in for me? I just needed to have a quick word with him, if that’s OK?’ she managed to force out, politely enough. Then to speed things up, threw in, ‘I know he’s probably in a class, but this is actually a bit of an emergency.’
‘Hmm, gimme a minute and I’ll check for you,’ said Bored Girl, in absolutely no rush whatsoever. Next thing Helen heard the tapping of nails on a computer keyboard.
Please be here, please, please, please be there, be there already
…
‘Nope, sorry, he’s not in yet. But he’s due in at four. Suppose you could leave a message if you like?’
‘No, no, that’s OK thanks,’ Helen said, her mind racing.
Four this afternoon. If nothing else would work then at least she knew exactly where he’d be in just half an hour’s time.
Twenty minutes later and she was having a nightmare even trying to get Lily out the door, but then NO! was most definitely turning into her newest and most favourite word these days. Particularly on a hot summer’s afternoon like this, when she was having such fun playing doll’s tea party out the back garden, with water in the teapot and a fresh batch of cupcakes they’d baked earlier.
Only the bribe/indirect threat of a trip to Smyths toy store so she could pick out her birthday present did the trick, but then Lily was looking forward to her birthday party as pretty much the highlight of her entire little life so far. And this year Eloise was throwing her not just a regular party, but the P.T. Barnum’s of all birthday parties, with even the promise of a chocolate fountain thrown in for good measure.
Of course the magic words, ‘birthday present’ used in the same sentence as ‘Smyths toy store’, did the trick and Lily obediently pulled on her little pink fleece cardigan and clambered up into her stroller, all set for the bus journey into town. As far as Lily was concerned, her birthday was going to be even better than Santa Claus arriving, not only because of all the new little friends who’d all been invited, but because now she was actually getting to pick out her own birthday present in Smyths toy store? At that exact moment in time, Lily would happily have followed Helen through six-foot high flames if she’d thought there was the chance of a glittery new pink toy waiting for her at the end of it all.
Which was why Helen got no resistance whatsoever when she gingerly suggested to Lily that they just needed to take a veeery slight detour via Camden St., where the language school was that Jake worked in.
‘But soon we’ll be at the toy store, won’t we, Auntie Helen?’ was all the worried little voice from the stroller in front of her called back. ‘To buy my pwesent?’
‘Very soon honey, and you can pick out whatever you like from me, now won’t that be fun?’
A huge squeal of delight and Helen figured she might,
might
just be able to chance her arm with this. Because if she was certain of one thing it was this; she needed to see Jake. Face to face if at all possible; over the phone it would be too easy for him to rush off, saying he was in work and had to go. She wasn’t saying a word to Lily about who they were meeting or why, and instinctively felt that Jake wouldn’t let the cat of the bag in front of the child either. But she absolutely needed to sort this out once and for all. To bang his head off a brick wall if necessary and urge him to at least try and sort things out with Eloise, no matter what she’d done. One thing was for certain, Eloise most definitely couldn’t continue living her life like this. No one could, and that was final.
She’d managed to manoeuvre the stroller out the front door and was just facing into her daily battle of trying to gently ease the weight of it down the half-dozen uneven stone steps outside the house without the usual chorus of ‘Aunwtie Helen, you’re BUMPING me!’ from Lily, when out of nowhere, a short, chunky guy with a camera slung round his neck strode authoritatively up the garden path.
With a definite purpose to him, like he was here on business.
‘Here, let me give you a hand,’ he said, immediately grabbing the end of the stroller and helping her guide it gently down onto the gravelled driveway.
‘Thanks,’ she instinctively replied, then added, ‘emm, can I help you?’
‘Looking for Eloise Elliot, if she’s home. I just wanted a quick photo.’
An alarm bell immediately sounded off in Helen’s head. Why would anyone need Eloise’s photo? And wouldn’t they just call the
Post
if they did? Why bother coming all the way out to her house?
And that’s when her mobile rang.
‘Excuse me,’ Helen stammered, fishing round in the bottom of her overstuffed, oversized bag to find it.
Eloise. Sounding, well, weird. Not like herself at all.
‘Helen, are you at home?’ she asked urgently.
‘Actually, no, Lily and I are just on our way out …’
‘Go back into the house and stay there,’ she said, calmly enough, but Helen knew her well enough to pick up on the underscored panic in her voice.
‘Eloise, is everything OK? You sound like something’s seriously wrong.’
‘Just listen to me. Under no circumstances open the door or let Lily out in into the front garden. Go back inside, close the door and stay there till I get home.
Please
Helen. Just do as I ask. I’ll explain later, trust me.’
‘Well actually, there already
is
someone here now, looking for your picture …’
‘Oh Jesus …’ came Eloise’s voice, weak as a kitten from down the phone. So this was it, then. The nightmare had started.
Just so, so much sooner than she’d ever have thought.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll go back inside and stay there,’ Helen told her as soothingly as she could.
‘Now, Helen, fast as you can. And whatever you do, ignore the phone and the front door till I sort all this out.’
‘Hon, what is going on? Are you okay?’ Helen asked her, momentarily distracted, but that millisecond that she’d taken her eye off the ball was all it took. First she felt the flash of a digital camera going off in her own face, then in Lily’s.
‘Can you stop it, please?’ she half yelled at the photographer, struggling to shield Lily’s face as best she could.
‘I really don’t want my picture taken …’
‘Helen?’ Eloise urgently demanded down the phone. ‘Is someone snapping you? And Lily?’
‘Just a quick one love,’ said the photographer, correctly sensing that the hounds of hell would be unleashed on him any minute. ‘That Eloise Elliot’s daughter then, is it?’
‘Please! I said NO!’
Two minutes later, struggling for all she was worth, somehow Helen had managed to haul the stroller back inside the front door, glaring as furiously as she could bring herself to at the photographer and taking care to lock and bolt the hall door as loudly as she could behind her. So the bastard would hear.
‘Eloise, are you still there?’ she panted into the phone. ‘You have to tell me what’s going on. That guy just went ahead and photographed me and Lily, even though I told him no … Why would anyone want our photo? What in the name of God is going on?’
‘Okay, I need you to stay nice and calm,’ said Eloise, wishing she could heed her own advice. Because if she was certain of one thing, it was this; if one photographer had already doorstepped her, others would surely follow at the shagging speed of light. And if any one of them as much as dared to drag Lily into this …
Thinking on her feet, she went back to the phone.
‘Helen, listen to me. That little pal that Lily’s always talking about? Rose? The one who she’s having over for a playdate tomorrow?’
‘Yeah … what about her?’
‘You’re really pally with her mum aren’t you?’
‘Ellen, yes, but why do you ask? Can you just please tell me what’s the matter! You’re really freaking me out here!’
‘Can you call her and ask if Lily could come to her house for a sleepover tonight? Don’t tell her any more, just trust me. I have to get Lily safely out of the house tonight. Please, just do as I ask. And don’t worry, I’ll explain everything as soon as I get home.’
Totally shocked, Helen agreed and put the phone down. Unheard of for Eloise to ever allow Lily to go on a sleepover, no matter how much the child begged her. Not, knowing her sister, without at least doing a full floor plan check of the house she’d be staying in first, and more than likely spending the whole night in her own car parked at the front gate, with binoculars trained on at the house. At all times.
Helen hadn’t the first inkling what was going on; some huge scandal the paper were about to run with? Maybe some pissed-off politician was suing her for libel or defamation … who knew? She’d find out soon enough, that was for sure, but for now she’d an even more urgent matter on her hands to deal with.
To the soundtrack of Lily wailing at her in the background, she fished her phone out again and pressed the redial button for the English Language School.
‘Auntie Helen,’ whinged Lily, still in her stroller, ‘why did we come back home? PLEASE can we go out again? This is weally, weally, borwing! I wanna GO!’
Helen tousled her little head of curls, shhh’d her down a bit and even managed to fish round in the bottom of her handbag for a packet of Cadbury Buttons to appease her.
‘Shh Lily, there’s a good girl. You know, I might have an even nicer surprise for you tonight, if you just stay quiet as a little mouse and let me make a phone call?’
‘What supwise?’ said Lily eyeing her suspiciously, her wails temporarily dying down while she weighed this up.
‘In a minute pet,’ said Helen as the phone was answered.
‘English Language School?’ said the same bored-sounding voice as before.
‘Hi, I was onto you a few minutes ago, looking for Jake Keane? Can you tell me if he’s arrived in yet? I really need to speak to him urgently.’
‘Nope, sorry, not yet. And he’s late for his class now. I couldn’t tell you where he is, but I suppose you could leave a message if you like?’
‘Come on, Auntie Helen … I wanna know what my supwise is NOW!’ screeched Lily from her stroller and Helen knew this was utterly pointless. Politely as she could, she left her name and number and hung up the phone so she could tend to Lily, not having the first clue what was going on.
And if Jake wasn’t in work, where he was supposed to be, then where the hell was he?
As it happened, at that exact moment, Jake was slumped in front of a computer screen, head in his hands, looking and feeling utterly defeated. Because the worst, the absolute worst had happened. What he’d dreaded more than anything. Courtney was coming to trial and somehow his name had been dragged into it.
Ben Casey, Jake’s parole officer, who’d been good enough to take him in when he’d left Helen’s flat, was absolutely right to have alerted him. Just over an hour ago, Ben had been in his study enjoying a rare day off and idly scanning the day’s papers online, when he’d first seen the name Jake Keane appearing alongside his photo in one of the morning papers. But then, Ben didn’t know the half of it. Poor old Ben’s concern had been Jake’s reputation at the Language School and the very probable chance he might end up losing his job over this. And initially, so had been Jake’s too.
But as of a few moments ago, that was now the least of his worries. He’d been following the story like a hawk as it developed and now it seemed Eloise had been dragged into it as well. And now there it was, clear as you like, on the breaking news section of the
Evening Echo
online edition. A photo of the two of them, taken the night of the dinner and a full page article too, though with hardly a single fact in it.
‘Eloise Elliot, well-known editor at the
Post,
was today linked with the trial of Michael Courtney, due to be heard at the High Court next week. It seems Ms. Elliot’s long term partner, Jake Keane, works as a driver for Courtney and had recently been released from Wheatfield prison where he served a two year sentence …’
Jake could hardly bring himself to read another line. With more than a guilty conscience, he tried to call Eloise’s mobile, but it rang out. No answer. Tried her again, still no answer. Tried her work number, nothing. Left a message, but she didn’t get back.
Which meant this must be bad for her, far worse than he ever would have thought.
Shit, he thought frantically, his mind racing ahead. Why hadn’t he even tried to see her since that miserable weekend? Because he’d been bloody well wallowing, that was why; lying low, licking his wounds after the shock of what had happened. Selfishly, he realised now, he hadn’t wanted to see or hear from anyone till he got his head straightened out, unable to feel anything other than deep gratitude to Ben for taking him in when his back was up against a wall.