The Considine Curse (3 page)

The only picture hanging on the wall is a framed copy of the Mona Lisa, high above the stairs. People always say she is smiling, but to me her eyes look sad.

At the top of the stairs I stop and listen for any indication of my cousins but all I can hear is chatter from downstairs. I open a door into a room with more trunks inside. There is no carpet in the room and there are wooden shutters instead of curtains. The paint has flaked off the walls and there are wide scratch marks across them. I open one of the trunks up. It is full of ornaments, clothes, plates and things. There are no photos. I try the next room and find the same thing. The next is the bathroom. It’s grubby and so cold I can see my breath. Droplets of water drip from a tap on to the discoloured enamel of the bathtub. I twist it and the dripping stops but as I turn my back it starts again.

Stepping into the bedroom at the front of the house I feel carpet beneath my feet. I find a light switch. There is a double bed in the middle of the room and two bedside tables, a wardrobe in the corner and a dressing table by the window. I pick up a framed black-and-white photograph of a young couple on their wedding day. For a moment I think it is Mum and I am confused because she and Dad never got married. Then I realise these are my grandparents. I can see a few similarities between my grandfather and some of my uncles. Freddie has inherited his good looks too. Grandma, though, looks spookily like Mum.

In the photo Grandad is gazing at his new bride while she stares at the camera with a sweet smile on her lips.

I put the photo back and look for another. The top drawer of the dresser is full of jewellery. The drawer below is the same. It seems like an extraordinary amount of jewellery for one person to own. All of it is silver.

In the next drawer I find a pile of loose photos. I take out a handful and leaf through. They are all pictures of my cousins at different ages. There is one of a younger Lily cuddling her baby sister, Elspeth. Another is of Amelia with her hair up and wearing a yellow sash as though she has just won a beauty contest. The only times my uncles and aunts appear in the pictures are when they have been accidentally caught in the background.

I keep flicking through until I come across a picture of my grandmother as she would have looked when she died. It was taken downstairs in the living room. She is sitting on the sofa by the fire, surrounded by her grandchildren. Elspeth sits on one side, Freddie on the other. Amelia is perched prettily on an armchair. Gerald, Lily and Oberon are standing behind the sofa. On Grandma’s knee is baby Madeleine. Elspeth is holding a balloon on a string and I wonder whether the picture was taken at Grandma’s last birthday. My grandmother’s hair is bright white but her eyes are deep brown, just like my cousins’. Her smile reveals unmistakable pride.

Looking at the photo, I feel for the first time since I arrived in this cold country that I have missed out on something. I should have been in the picture. I should have felt the warmth of my grandmother’s love. Instead I have lived my whole life without knowing her. I put the photos back.

Turning to leave, I notice a heap of clothes tucked under the bed. It seems odd because the rest of the room has clearly been tidied up after Grandma’s death. I lean down to get a better look. A floorboard creaks. I look up and Freddie appears in the doorway.

‘Hello there,’ he says, grinning. ‘Playing hide and seek with yourself?’

‘I thought it was traditional at family funerals,’ I reply.

Freddie laughs. He walks into the room and spots the pile of clothes. ‘Ah, there they are.’

‘Are they yours?’

He bends down and gathers them up. ‘No, they’re Obe’s. Look, his shirts are like tents.’ He holds one out to demonstrate this.

‘Oberon’s the large one, the brother of the tall, nervy one, right?’

‘Gerald, yes, that’s right.’

‘And he’s taken his clothes off?’

‘Yes, he’s gone swimming.’

‘There’s a swimming pool here?’

‘Not a pool. It’s a lake.’

‘But it’s snowing.’

‘I know. I blame myself. It was me that dared him.’

‘He must be freezing.’

‘Yeah, I suppose he’s got a couple of extra protective layers that the rest of us don’t have.’ Freddie blows out his cheeks and sticks out his belly. ‘Now he’s got out and he’s freezing cold so I’ve come to get his clothes.’

‘So, you’re saying he stripped off here rather than by the lake?’

‘It was part of the dare. Silly, I know. Anyway, I’d better get going. We’ll all be back in a minute. Oh, and best not mention it to our parents. Thanks.’

He turns and runs down the stairs. He doesn’t ask me to join him and I don’t feel like inviting myself. Instead I go to the window and look down at the grounds and watch him run full pelt along the path into the trees. If there is a lake outside, it is too dark to see. I wait until all six of them emerge from the woods, dressed in black, looking like six walking shadows as the snow falls around them.

I don’t want to look like I have no one to talk to when my cousins come in so I go back to the living room and position myself by baby Madeleine. Babies are useful for this kind of thing because they have no choice about who talks to them. Madeleine’s mum, Chrissie, is sweet and I decide that of all my new relatives she and Will are my favourites. She hands me Madeleine. She is as warm as a hot water bottle.

‘Hello, Madeleine, I’m your cousin Mariel,’ I whisper in her ear.

She gurgles happily in response.

Aunt Chrissie is talking to Aunt Dee about the funeral.

‘I still can’t believe she wanted it to be held in a church,’ Chrissie is saying. ‘When did that woman ever go to church?’

‘I think she promised Ben,’ says Aunt Dee.

‘Who’s Ben?’ I ask.

‘Father Gowlett,’ she replies. ‘They’ve known each other for years. Father Gowlett used to visit her every week.’

Madeleine stares unblinkingly into my face. ‘She has blue eyes like me.’

‘All babies are born with blue eyes,’ says Amelia, appearing by my side. She strokes Madeleine’s face and makes her smile, causing her eyes to disappear behind her chubby cheeks. ‘It can take up to six months so hers will change soon.’

‘What makes you think they’ll change?’ I ask. ‘Aunt Chrissie has blue eyes.’

‘Madeleine is a Considine. We all have brown eyes,’ she replies.

‘Except me,’ I say.

She smiles in response to this and says, ‘I’m sorry we weren’t very welcoming at the church.’

‘That’s OK,’ I reply.

The other cousins have gathered around the table of food. Oberon emerges with a plate piled high. His hair is wet and clings to his forehead.

‘Did Oberon really just go swimming?’ I ask.

Amelia motions me to be quiet and says, ‘Yes but Auntie Ruth mustn’t find out. She’ll only worry.’

Oberon and his mountain of food join us. ‘Hello, likkle baby Madsie,’ he says, so loudly in her face that she starts to cry. I quickly hand her back to Aunt Chrissie who says she needs a nappy change anyway and takes her out of the room. Oberon doesn’t seem to care that he’s made his cousin cry. In fact, he looks pleased there is now a spare seat on the sofa for him to sit and eat. He rests the plate on his knees and picks a chicken drumstick off the top.

‘Have you tried the chicken, Mariel? It’s good,’ he says, gnawing into the flesh.

‘I’m a vegetarian,’ I reply.

Oberon finds this funny.

‘Good for you,’ says Amelia. ‘There are lots of benefits for your skin in not eating meat. I wish I could be so strong.’

‘It’s not about being strong. I don’t like the idea of killing things,’ I say.

Oberon snorts. ‘We’re higher in the food chain. It’s our right to eat animals.’

Looking at him shovelling food into his mouth, I think that some of us are higher than others. I decide against saying this.

‘It’s a shame you’re not here for longer,’ says Amelia. ‘It would be so nice to have a girl my age around.’

I look out of the window at the snow and notice a dark figure staggering through the blizzard towards the house. He holds one hand up to shelter his eyes. In the other he holds something I can’t make out but which hangs limply. Whatever it is, he throws it away before he enters the house. I hear the footsteps in the hallway, then Father Gowlett enters.

His hair is even wilder now and decorated with flakes of thick snow.

‘Ah, Father, so kind of you to come,’ says Aunt Celeste, who is standing by the door. ‘Would you care for a drink?’

‘No, I can’t stay long. None of you can,’ he replies. ‘The snow is falling heavily. There are warnings on the radio. They are saying it will continue all night. I’m sorry to break up the party but I think you’ll be stranded here if you don’t leave.’

Uncle Will says, ‘It is blowing a bit of a blizzard out there.’

‘We should probably get back to the hotel,’ says Mum.

‘I don’t know why you’re not just staying with us,’ says Aunt Ruth.

‘Kitson and I would be happy to have you too,’ adds Aunt Celeste.

‘That’s very kind of you but we didn’t want to put anyone out,’ says Mum.

‘Nonsense, it’s not putting anyone out,’ says Aunt Ruth. ‘The children are all on half-term this week so Mariel will have some youngsters her own age to play with.’

Mum looks at me and says, ‘It would be nicer than staying in a soulless hotel room, wouldn’t it?’

I want to signal to her that this is a bad idea but I can’t think of a way that won’t offend all my aunts and uncles. I glance at Oberon who tears off a chewy bit of chicken skin. His pink tongue darts out and he licks his lips.

‘You’ve already paid for the hotel, haven’t you?’ I say.

‘Only the deposit. It wasn’t much,’ Mum replies.

‘Just call and cancel the hotel room,’ Uncle Robson says.

‘How long did you say you were staying?’ asks Uncle Will.

‘Ten nights,’ says Mum.

‘There we are then, two nights with each family.’

‘That’s a great idea,’ says Uncle Sewell. ‘That way we all get to properly catch up with you.’

‘You can come to ours first as we’re nearest,’ says Uncle Harkett.

‘Well, that would be nice, wouldn’t it, Mare?’ says Mum.

I don’t reply.

‘Then it’s settled.’ Aunt Ruth claps her hands together. Uncle Robson and Mum go into the hall to call the hotel.

Amelia squeals and says, ‘It will be such fun!’ but my other cousins don’t say anything.

‘Now all of you must make haste and return home,’ says Father Gowlett.

‘I think he’s right,’ agrees Uncle Robson. ‘We don’t want to get stuck in this old place.’

As everyone is getting ready to leave and saying their goodbyes, I turn around to find Father Gowlett standing behind me.

‘This area is not as safe as it seems, Mariel,’ he says. ‘You must not venture out into the darkness. You understand? You must stay indoors at night.’

I don’t know what to say, but he just turns away to leave.

Outside, the night sky is thick with snow. As we drive away from the house, following Uncle Harkett’s car, the headlights sweep across the driveway and I see what it was that Father Gowlett threw away before he entered the house. Lying in the snow is a dead rabbit, falling white snow rapidly covering its limp and bloody body.

Chapter 4

The Beast of Wilderdale

We follow Uncle Harkett’s car on to the main road. The car skids a little as Mum accelerates away and she grips the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles go white. It is the first time we have been alone together since before the funeral.

‘I don’t want to stay at their house,’ I say.

‘Whyever not?’ she replies.

‘My cousins are weird,’ I say.

‘What does that mean? They all seem fine to me. I mean, everyone’s feeling a bit funny today but apart from that . . .’

She doesn’t finish her sentence because she is concentrating on the road. She squints to see through the blizzard. She must be having a completely different experience from me if she hasn’t noticed how odd my cousins are. My aunts and uncles seem normal enough and I suppose Mum hasn’t spent as much time with their children as I have. I decide against telling her about Oberon’s clothes and Freddie’s story that he went for a swim but I do tell her about Father Gowlett’s warning.

‘Oh, you don’t want to listen to him. He’s always been a few hymns short of a sermon. He’s probably talking about that silly beast of Wilderdale story.’

‘The what?’

‘That’s what this area is called: Wilderdale. And there’s this local myth about a wild animal that roams at night. It’s all nonsense of course.’

‘What’s nonsense is to have flown across the world to bury a woman you haven’t spoken to in years and meet a family you’ve been avoiding since I was a baby,’ I say.

‘Mare, we’ve talked about this. We came here to pay our respects.’

‘To a woman you cut out of your life?’ I say. ‘Have we really flown all this way for that?’

‘And I wanted to check,’ says Mum.