The Considine Curse (6 page)

I try it too. Then mum has a go. Soon we are all trying to find different ways to say it and laughing. Each time someone says it the sentence becomes funnier. By the time Uncle Kitson comes home we are falling about laughing.

‘Hello, Daddy.’ Amelia kisses him on the cheek.

Aunt Celeste pours him a coffee. ‘How was your morning?’ she asks.

‘There’s been another one of those attacks. Old Mr Clyde’s dog this time.’

‘What attacks?’ ask Mum.

‘Some of the local pets have been attacked at night. Mr Clyde’s Alsatian, Molly, is no softy either. She can look after herself normally, but she’s scared of her own shadow now. Whatever it was, it shook her up all right.’

‘Will she be OK?’ asks Amelia.

‘Her leg will heal, but her spirit will take longer to return.’

‘You think there’s something out there attacking pets?’ I ask him.

‘Molly didn’t do it to herself. Some people say there’s an animal out there in the woods,’ says Uncle Kitson.

‘The beast of Wilderdale,’ says Aunt Celeste, putting on a spooky voice.

‘They’ve been saying that for years. I remember Dad telling me never to go into the woods. It’s just local folklore,’ Mum says.

‘Well, the beast of Wilderdale may be a myth, but something attacked Molly.’

Amelia and I go to her room. She has a lot of clothes so I sit on her bed and watch as she pulls out various outfits. She disappears behind a screen to change each time but keeps talking to me about the audition and how she should say the line and how pleased she is that I am here.

‘Would you mind getting my necklace with the green leaf from the dressing table? I think it will go well with this dress,’ she says.

I can’t see anything on top of the dresser for all the bottles of perfume.

‘Where is it?’

‘It’s there somewhere,’ she replies.

I open a drawer. It is full of silver jewellery, just like the one in Grandma’s bedroom.

‘It might be hanging from the mirror,’ she says.

I look up and see the necklace. I shut the drawer and hand the necklace to her. Amelia emerges wearing a bright pink puffy dress. ‘It’s too much, isn’t it? You don’t have to be kind. I’d rather you were honest. What do you think?’

‘Maybe something a bit more casual would be better,’ I say.

Amelia nods and vanishes behind the screen again.

In the end when we leave for town she is wearing a pair of jeans and a red top.

‘I’m surprised trains are still running with all this snow,’ says Mum.

‘Me too,’ says Aunt Celeste, ‘but I checked this morning and by some miracle there are still trains today. Everyone moans about the snow in this country but to me it is very beautiful.’

‘You and Kitson were still living in France when I emigrated,’ says Mum. ‘Weren’t you tempted to stay there?’

‘Oh yes, I would have happily stayed in France but there was no question of it. Flora made that clear when we came over for your father’s funeral. How you managed to get away, Lynda, I don’t know. Your mother used Frank’s death to make all her sons come home. She made them feel guilty until they all gave in and came back.’

‘Grandma just wanted her family around her,’ says Amelia defensively.

Todminton station is little more than an empty platform and a closed ticket office. Aunt Celeste and Mum sit inside a shelter to wait for the train. Amelia and I walk along the platform together.

‘Why did Grandma want everyone close by?’ I ask.

‘She always taught us to look after each other,’ replies Amelia.

‘Like how you all looked out for Oberon when he went swimming in the lake the other day?’

‘Like that, yes,’ replies Amelia.

‘I don’t think he likes me,’ I say.

‘Oh, take no notice of him. You know what boys are like,’ says Amelia dismissively.

I’m tempted to tell her about the open window in his room last night, but instead I ask, ‘What will you all do with Louvre House?’

‘It’s yours too,’ says Amelia. ‘She left it to all of us.’

‘Try telling Oberon that,’ I say.

‘You really shouldn’t worry about him. He’s just very upset about Grandma dying.’

‘So everyone keeps saying.’

Chapter 7

Amelia’s Aroma

The houses on the outskirts of Chilton are big and spaced out with well-kept gardens but the ones closer to the town centre stand shoulder to shoulder and have small concrete yards at the back. The train crosses an icy canal and enters the station. Aunt Celeste and Amelia point us in the direction of their favourite shops and we arrange to meet up in a cafe after Amelia’s audition.

‘Good luck with the audition,’ I say.

‘You’re supposed to say “Break a leg” when it’s acting,’ Amelia replies.

I feel like saying that putting on a jumper and saying three words is barely acting but Amelia has been nothing but nice to me so I reply, ‘Break a leg.’

Mum lets me buy what I want and doesn’t seem to mind how much it all costs.

‘What are credit cards for?’ she says breezily.

For Mum, shopping solves lots of problems. She takes me shopping if we’ve had an argument and she wants to make up. Or if she has split up with a boyfriend and wants to make herself feel better. Or if she’s just feeling down and in need of some ‘retail therapy’. Today she is feeling guilty. As we step outside the shopping centre she says, ‘I really am sorry I didn’t tell you about my family all this time.’

‘Sorry?’ I snap. ‘You keep my entire family secret from me all my life and you think one shopping trip will make it all better. You’ve lied to me my whole life.’

‘I’ve always acted with your best interests at heart.’

‘What? Being kept away from my family? Never knowing my cousins?’

‘You don’t know what that woman was like,’ she says.

‘You mean my grandma?’ I say. ‘What was wrong with her? She seemed to get on well enough with everyone else.’

‘There are things you don’t understand,’ replies Mum quietly. ‘We’ve had a nice morning. Don’t let’s spoil it with an argument. Look, there’s Father Gowlett.’

The wild-haired vicar is coming out of a shop. She waves and gets his attention and he comes over to join us. He has a long cardboard box tucked under his arm.

‘How are you coping, Lynda?’ he asks. ‘The death of a parent is always hard, no matter how well you got on in life . . . and Flora’s death was such a terrible shock to us all. It took me back to . . . well . . .’

He drifts off and Mum says, ‘We all have to go one way or another,’ which I think sounds a bit heartless.

‘You should come to my service on Sunday. I’ll be saying a prayer for Flora again.’

‘Maybe we will,’ says Mum, although I can tell by the way she says it she has no intention of going. She has never been interested in religion.

Father Gowlett turns to me. ‘And Mariel, how are you getting on with your cousins?’

‘OK,’ I say.

I am intrigued by what he has tucked under his arm. ‘What is that?’ I ask.

Father Gowlett smiles and says, ‘This? It’s my rifle. One of my little vices, I’m afraid.’

‘You shoot animals?’ I ask.

‘Oh no, I can’t shoot any of God’s creations. The pigeons in my sights are all very much of the clay variety. And there’s something about looking up to the heavens and really concentrating that almost feels like praying sometimes. It’s most relaxing.’

He and Mum talk about Grandma leaving the house to the grandchildren, to which he replies, ‘She did love those children.’

The cafe is called
Le Parisien
. It
has a mural of Paris on the walls and French music playing. Mum and I arrive first and a hassled waitress with a ribbon in her hair shows us to a table and takes our order.

At the table next to us a sweet old couple sit drinking tea. It makes me think of my grandparents. I had no choice about meeting Grandad but I could have known my grandmother if Mum hadn’t decided to keep us apart. I wonder once again how she could have kept everything secret from me.

Amelia and Aunt Celeste arrive. Mum waves at them and they join us at the table. As they approach I notice Amelia looks upset and her make-up is smudged around the eyes where she has been crying.

Mum obviously hasn’t noticed these details because she cheerfully asks, ‘So, how did it go?’

‘They said I stank,’ Amelia replies miserably.

‘They did not say that,’ says Aunt Celeste.

‘That’s what they meant.’

‘It wasn’t about you. It’s your condition.’ Aunt Celeste strokes her hair. ‘And they can’t make a decision based on that. It’s discrimination.’

‘What condition?’ I ask.

‘It’s a genetic fault that affects her liver enzyme,’ says Aunt Celeste.

Mum asks, ‘What does that mean?’

‘It means I smell.’ Amelia bursts into tears.

I realise that a stench that appeared when they entered isn’t coming from outside. It is coming from her. The smell of perfume that normally surrounds her has gone. In its place is something terrible. I’m not the only one to notice it either. People on other tables are turning up their noses in disgust and whispering about us.

‘My poor girl,’ says Aunt Celeste, putting a comforting arm around her shoulder.

‘It’s not fair,’ sobs Amelia. ‘How could they even consider me for an advert for fabric conditioner when I smell like something that lives in a sewer.’

‘You do not. Now, why don’t you go and use the bathroom to freshen up?’ whispers Aunt Celeste in her ear. She pulls out a bottle of perfume from her handbag and hands it to Amelia. Amelia takes it and crosses the cafe to the toilet as quickly as she can manage.

‘It’s a genetic condition,’ says Aunt Celeste quietly.

‘So it’s hereditary?’ says Mum.

‘Apparently so,’ says Aunt Celeste. ‘The specialist called it a recessive gene but neither Kitson nor I have ever come across it before. It’s so unfortunate for her.’

‘And there’s nothing you can do?’ says Mum.

‘Mostly it’s possible to keep it under control with scented oils and perfumes but when she gets agitated it gets worse and they kept us waiting for so long today. Amelia didn’t want to keep going to freshen up in case she missed her call.’

Amelia comes out of the toilet and Aunt Celeste changes the subject. ‘Well, I can see you two had a good shopping trip.’

‘What did you get?’ asks Amelia. ‘I wish I could have come with you.’ She has reapplied her make-up and doused herself in perfume and speaks brightly like nothing has happened.

‘I got some boots a bit like yours,’ I show them to her.

‘You should put them on now. You must be so tired of wearing those awful wellies.’

The waitress comes over with mine and Mum’s order. Aunt Celeste orders cake. Amelia seems back to normal and no one mentions the audition again.

It’s fun spending time with Amelia. She seems so confident and sure of herself apart from the outburst in the cafe. Being with her is a million times more enjoyable than spending time with Oberon and Gerald. I like Aunt Celeste too, even when she tries to give me chicken for dinner, on the basis that chickens are really only vegetables with wings.

It gets late and Amelia shows me the room I’ll be sleeping in. It’s full of flowers. I realise now the flowers and potpourri are there to help mask the smell.

My third night in England passes without incident. I fall straight to sleep and do not wake in the night. As usual my sleep is free from dreams and I awake refreshed for the first time since I landed in this cold country.

Chapter 8

The Slaughtered Cow

I spend the following day with Amelia, chatting and watching TV. Aunt Celeste apologises because she thinks she should be showing us the sights but Mum and I are happy to relax. In the afternoon Amelia shows me an album of photos of her, including some modelling ones in which she is wearing heavy make-up and pouting at the camera.

‘This is my favourite,’ she says of one of them. ‘Uncle Will took it. He’s an excellent portrait photographer but he prefers to do arty photographs, only there’s no money in those. That’s what Dad says. What I love about photography is that it can really capture a moment. I’m definitely going to concentrate on modelling not acting from now on. One agent told me I have professional cheekbones.’

‘Better than amateur ones,’ I reply.

She laughs. It’s the first time she has come close to referring to the audition yesterday. I turn the page and see a photograph taken at a wedding.

‘This was taken when Uncle Will and Aunt Chrissie got married,’ she says.

‘How long ago was it?’ I ask. ‘You all look really young.’

‘About four years ago.
I was ten I think. So Elspeth must have been four and Lily must have been the same age Elspeth is now. We were all bridesmaids.’

In the photo Amelia, Lily and Elspeth are wearing identical pink dresses, holding tiny bunches of flowers.