Eloise (18 page)

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know, but it’s something to do with her children. She says she wants me to protect them.’

‘From what?’

‘I don’t know that either. She wants me to do something. She haunts me almost every night.’

Father Pete watched me quietly. ‘Have you told Chris about this?’

I nodded miserably. My tears returned.

‘He doesn’t believe me. He thinks I’m having another breakdown.’

Pete knew about my problems because we’d kept in occasional touch. At once I regretted talking to him. Of course he would agree with Chris. He may have been a priest, used to talking about souls, mysteries, good and evil, but he was
also an intelligent, educated man, and he surely knew a woman with mental health problems when he saw one.

Father Pete was quiet for a moment. Then he said, ‘Would it help you to know I believe you?’

I looked up sharply, alert to any attempt to humour me. But his face remained calm.

‘You believe me? But why? I mean it all sounds so … completely mad.’

He shook his head. ‘Cathy, I’m not at all surprised you’re here today. I’ve been worrying ever since I got here because something isn’t right. I worked in this church for many years, and the atmosphere has changed. I felt it as soon as I came back. That graveyard has always been so peaceful. It isn’t now.’

‘Have you … have you seen anything?’

‘You mean have I seen Eloise?’

I nodded.

‘No, no I haven’t. But I’ve felt something.’

‘What?’

‘A restlessness; a disturbance in the air. And in the church, too. A sort of insistent murmur, a nudging, as if someone is trying to tell me something.’

I was flooded with relief. At last, somebody believed me. Not just Juliana, and poor old Winnie, but someone completely outside the situation.

‘So, do you believe a person can die, but die knowing something terrible is about to happen? Something only she can put right, can prevent? And even though they’re dead, communicate to another living person that they need help?’

‘I believe that certain individuals are receptive to disturbed souls. But I also wonder if your friend’s spirit has hijacked you. I wonder if, through no fault of your own, Eloise has possessed you?’

I was astonished. What mumbo jumbo was this?

‘Father Pete, forgive me, but that sounds like nonsense. I don’t believe in possession. That sounds so medieval. Eloise needs me to help her. That’s all I know. I don’t want to, God knows, but she’s made it clear I have no choice.’

‘I think you do,’ the priest replied.

‘What are you saying?’

‘Look, Cathy, I think I can help you.’

‘How?’

‘I can perform a service which will release you from Eloise’s demands. Let you be free of her.’

I managed a shaky laugh.

‘You sound like you’re talking about exorcism. How ridiculous is that?’

‘We don’t call it that in the Church of England. But we do have a Deliverance Ministry. There is a cleric in every diocese who can cast out evil spirits.’

I was stunned.

‘Are you telling me that here in Cornwall it’s you?’

He gave me a small smile. ‘Well, at least in the Bishopric of Truro. I’ve done it before, you know. It’s more common than you’d think. And it’s very effective. It will give you peace of mind, Cathy. And it will help Eloise to find her rightful place, to rest.’

My whole body trembled. I’d been through so much with Eloise’s visitations, Juliana’s grief, Ted’s anger, and Chris’s blank hostility. Was it possible that this priest’s offer could allow me to escape? That he could banish Eloise and her impossible demands on me? That I could resume my life again, with my family, that I would at last seem to Chris, to everyone, sane again? Normal and happy?

Then reality returned.

‘Look, Father Pete, forgive me, but this is madness. I am not possessed by Eloise. Even if there is such a thing, all the horror movies say it’s the Devil that possesses people. Eloise is not the Devil. And anyway, although I go to church and I believe in God, I think all the stuff about evil and demons and going to hell is rubbish, frankly. It defies belief. I’m just an ordinary woman, an ordinary mother who is going through a difficult time because … ’ I gulped. I couldn’t finish the sentence. What was I trying to say? I’m an ordinary mother who is being haunted by an avenging ghost?

Father Pete looked at me levelly.

‘How do you know that, Cathy? Don’t you think it could be Satan who is allowing her to torment you in this way? Evil has many forms. Eloise may not be the friend you know and love. As she manifests herself to you, she could be something else entirely. An entity which is using your anxiety and grief over Eloise’s death to make you – well … ’

Mad. That’s what he didn’t say but meant.

‘But Ellie and I were friends. We were so close. Why would she do this to me?’

‘Because it isn’t her, Cathy. It’s an imposter. Taking advantage of you. Satan is an opportunist, my dear. He takes what he can get. And he senses vulnerability. He knows he can claim you.’

Claim me for what, I thought. Insanity?

And I was going mad, wasn’t I? Chris knew that. And it was Eloise who was sending me out of my mind. Perhaps she was possessing me. And it was evil of her to torture me like this, to destroy my marriage, my beloved family.

Maybe the priest could deliver me from evil. And from Eloise.

‘Are you out of your mind?’ shouted Chris when I got home and told him. ‘What on earth do you think you’re playing at, inviting that bloody idiot to perform an exorcism here at our home?’

I tried to stay calm. ‘He’s not an idiot, Chris. He’s Father Pete, the man who renewed our wedding vows and you really like and respect him.’

‘Yes, well – that was before I knew he believed in Devil worship and all the rest of that crap. It’s utterly ridiculous, Cathy. I won’t allow him into the house.’

There was a slight, shuffling noise around the side of the cottage, near the wood store.

I looked up, alarmed. I had thought the kids were down at the beach, but suddenly Sam opened the kitchen door and walked into the room.

I felt embarrassed. How much had he heard?

Quite a lot, as it happened. He stood awkwardly in front of us, then squared his shoulders and looked steadily at Chris.

‘Dad. I don’t think you should be talking to Mum like this.’

I could tell Chris was furious. I moved in quickly.

‘It’s OK, Sam. Dad and I were just having a … disagreement. We’ll work it out. It’s just a marriage thing.’

I smiled at Sam, but he wasn’t buying it.

‘No, Mum. I heard Dad say he wouldn’t allow Father Pete into our house. But Father Pete baptised us all in Talland Church years ago. He’s great. Tom, Eve and me really like him. I thought you did too, Dad,’ he said. And stared accusingly at his father.

Chris was brusque. ‘Sam, you don’t know what you’re talking about. This has nothing to do with you. It’s entirely between me and your mother.’

Sam turned to me. ‘Is that true, Mum? Is it nothing to do with me? Or do you need some help?’

Chris snorted with anger. ‘Sam, will you get out of here,
please? You have no idea what you’re interfering in. Your mother is very unstable. Don’t humour her. Leave us alone to deal with this latest crisis in her deluded mind.’

And, furiously, he added, ‘Do you know she thinks she’s being haunted by Eloise’s ghost? And that now she wants the priest to perform an exorcism here, in this house? Your mother increasingly belongs in the asylum. We’ll leave tomorrow, and get her some treatment to restore her sanity. If it’s not too late.’

I didn’t know what to say. I felt vanquished; utterly humiliated that Chris would talk to my son about me like that. As if I were truly mad, some kind of reject who ought to be put away.

Then Sam came in like an avenging tiger. He stood up to his dad, and rearing up to his six foot four inches, he easily matched Chris.

‘Do not talk to Mum like this. We know she’s not well, we’ve known it for ages. But she’s been brilliant, the way she’s been so determined to get better. And she has. This Eloise thing, I’m not saying I understand it, but Mum’s not a fool. And you shouldn’t treat her as one. Whatever’s going on here, you should treat Mum with respect.’

Wow! I had a champion. I was deeply grateful, but full of a mother’s guilt.

‘Sam, darling. This is just to do with your dad and me. I
don’t want you to get involved. Seriously, I think you have to leave us alone. Perhaps take my car out to meet Tom and Evie?’

‘I will, but only if Dad tells me he won’t bully you again.’

Sam moved towards me, took me in his arms.

‘Mum. I’ve seen you so sad, so unhappy, and I’ve always wanted to hold you and make you better. This Eloise business. I think I can help. And if Dad says he won’t stay here when Father Pete comes to the house, then I will, Mum. I promise I’ll be here.’

Chris, furious, stormed out onto the patio. Sam, his back rigid, followed him.

I could hear their voices clearly, see the way they faced each other off.

‘Why are you humouring your mother like this?’ Chris demanded angrily. ‘You must know she’s ill?’

‘Dad, you’ve been treating her as if she’s mad for years. She’s not, you
know
that. She’s hugely sensitive, and feels things most of us don’t, but that doesn’t mean she’s lost her marbles.’

‘Oh, really? So what school of psychiatry do you belong to, then? A sort of New Age discipline, which allows women who believe they’re being haunted to think they are behaving completely normally?’

‘Dad, I just think you’re being too hard on Mum. She may
have a different view on life than you, but that doesn’t mean she’s lost her mind.’

I could practically hear Chris grinding his teeth. ‘OK, Sam. You think your mother’s just being “sensitive.” Fine.
You
handle it from now. I’m going back to London, to treat patients who respect what I say.’

Sam sneered. ‘Is that what it’s all about, Dad? Your own self-esteem? How your patients adore you? Is that what makes you believe in yourself?’

Chris elbowed Sam aside, and rushed back inside the cottage. He ignored me and ran upstairs. Minutes later he was back down with his bag packed. He stood in the kitchen and glared at me.

‘I’m going, Cathy. I simply can’t put up with this any more. I’ll be at home in London. You really need to think what you’re doing here. Our marriage is hanging by a thread. If you want to save it, you’ll have to change. I’m serious. You need to think. I can’t live like this any more.’

And with that, the love of my life walked out of the door. All of my future happiness went with him.

I couldn’t bear it. I swallowed my pride and fled after him. He was already in the car.

‘Don’t leave, Chris. I need you,’ I begged, pathetically.

‘No,’ he said wearily. ‘It’s too much. You’ve gone too far. This exorcism is the height of insanity. My Catherine, my
old Catherine, would know that. I really can’t say anything more to you.’

He drove off. Because I couldn’t say any more to him either, not now. Eloise was poisoning my life, and I had to get rid of her.

That night I slept badly. But although there was no Chris with me in my bed, at least there was no Eloise to torment me in my dreams.

Why? Where had she gone?

I woke in the early hours, furious that she had destroyed my marriage. But my rage against Chris was just as great. What kind of husband was this, to abandon his wife when she so desperately needed help?

I allowed myself to get more and more angry. How dare he bugger off to London, leaving me with the children? Where was his sense of responsibility?

Tom and Evie had come back from the beach after their father left. In a phone call, Chris told them he had an emergency with a patient and they accepted it. They were used to their father disappearing at short notice. They assumed he’d soon be back.

When I woke up, the younger children were still in bed, but Sam was up. In the kitchen he put his arms around me.

‘Mum? It’s OK. I’ll help with this stuff about you and Eloise.’ He couldn’t bring himself to say the word ‘exorcism’.

‘Sam, you shouldn’t have to do this. I’m so sorry. I’d like you, Tom and Evie to go back home today, and leave me here to deal with all this … mess. Get it sorted once and for all.’

‘Mum, I think you need me. Since Dad feels he can’t be here, I will be. But I do agree with you about Tom and Evie. They need to go home.’

I felt ill with sorrow. Why was I, a mature woman, a mother, relying on my son to help me through the worst crisis of my life?

It was clearly wrong. I had to get them all away, back home to London.

And should I go home too? Leave all this haunting in Cornwall? Because it was true that she had never troubled me in London. Her spirit, her story, our link was here. I didn’t know why, or how, but it clearly was.

So, I could go back to London with the children. Try and work things out with Chris. And maybe, maybe, Eloise’s ghost would leave me alone. Maybe her angst would stay buried in Cornwall. And maybe I would never have to hear from her again.