Cherringham--The Curse of Mabb's Farm (10 page)

“Bingo.”

Sarah paused. She loved this game of figuring out Jack’s plan without him telling her. As if he was running some kind of Hogwarts School of detection.

Which — in a way — it was.

“Hang on. Then … then the farm will be deserted save for Caitlin. If someone knows this is happening, it’ll be the perfect time for the dreaded Curse to strike again, right?”

“Hmm, do you live inside my head? Exactly. So, if angry Tom is our guy, he knows he can go there and do something with gun-toting Charlie away. Same with Phil Nailor. Even your Cecil. Though I must admit I have a hard time seeing him dancing across the rooftops with a can of white paint.”

“Me too. But you’ve always said, don’t eliminate any suspect until they are, in fact, eliminated. That must go for Tamara as well?”

“Yes. See, if nothing happens, it might indicate that the mystic was responsible. She created the Curse, and poof, she makes it go away. Business should be booming.”

Jack looked away, as if re-thinking something.

“And what do we do?” Sarah said.

“We walk with them. But at some point, I’ll slip away to watch the farm. You best stay with Tamara to keep Charlie calm when he comes running up to tell them to get off his property.”

“Jack — can I say how glad I am that you have absolutely no belief in any curse.”

“In my world, people make their own curses. And they fix them too. Either way, should be an interesting and informative evening. Hook baited, and we just wait …”

“Knew you’d bring fishing into this.”

That gave her another thought.

Sometimes you don’t know what you will catch.

Did they have all the possible suspects? And was something else worrying him?

“Any more ideas?”

He stopped and looked away. Then: “I’ll be honest. This disappearing Ray thing bothers me. Something wrong there, even though he wanted to leave the farm. Still—”

“We have a trap set.”

“Precisely.”

She took a breath. “Right then. I’ll make sure I’m all clear for the night, get the kids sorted. But I’d better dash now — I’ve left Grace with a monster project.”

“Go on. And I’ll see you at the next Gibbous moon!”

Sarah parked in the muddy layby just off the main road and turned the headlights off. It was late and the road was quiet. Silence settled around them.

“We ready?” she said, turning to Jack.

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” he replied.

In his winter puffa jacket and black woollen hat Sarah thought he looked like a professional burglar dressed for a profitable night out.

“So, let’s go,” she said, opening the passenger door.

She locked the car behind them and zipped up her waterproof. Then, checking she had her pencil torch in her pocket, she nodded at Jack and they set off down the long track that led to Mabb’s Farm.

They walked in silence at first, both concentrating on the pot-holed track in the darkness, trying to avoid the bigger puddles of black water. Sarah knew that the moon wouldn’t be up for at least another hour and for the moment the fields and sloping hill to the side of the track were hardly visible.

It was cold out and the wind was getting stronger. She could just see the dark grey shapes of clouds skidding past in the sky above.

“If anyone drives down here, we’ll just have to take our luck in the ditch,” said Jack. “Don’t want to get caught in the headlights.”

“With any luck, Caitlin’s left already,” she said.

“I hope so,” said Jack. “This isn’t without its dangers, you know.”

Sarah knew that. And she was glad she’d managed to get Ali from the Mother and Toddler group to invite Caitlin and Sammy over for the evening.

If Jack’s plan worked then there was going to be some kind of confrontation tonight. And it might be violent.

Not the kind of situation where you’d want a woman and a baby.

Jack put his hand on her arm and gestured ahead. She peered into the gloom and could see movement. Straining her eyes she could just make out figures by the side of the track.

“I guess it’s them,” she whispered.

Jack shrugged and they both moved on.

Within seconds they’d reached the group — though they didn’t exactly look like the witches’ coven Sarah had been expecting. Huddled by the fence, in waterproofs and walking gear — and looking thoroughly miserable — were Tamara’s Gifted Ones, with various colourful bags at their feet.

Costumes? Brooms?

Sarah nodded to Tamara who introduced her and Jack to the others. They nodded back, but none of them smiled. She didn’t recognise any faces.

I guess for a show like this the professionals have to be shipped in,
thought Sarah.

“You may walk with us to the circle,” said Tamara. “But then you must stay back. The ritual cannot be interrupted. You both understand?”

“Sure,” said Jack. “We feel so privileged just to be able to see you at your work.”

Sarah nodded in agreement, forcing her face to remain serious.

He’s killing me,
she thought.

Tamara consulted her watch.

“There is little time,” said Tamara. “The moon will rise. We must hasten to the stones!”

“Lead on, Macduff!” said Jack seriously.

Sarah tried hard not to catch his eye. This was not the time to burst out laughing — much as she wanted to.

One by one the Gifted Ones climbed through the barbed wire fence at the side of the track and followed the muddy path across the fields that led up to the woods — and the Ring of Stones.

The wood was pitch-black and Sarah seriously doubted they would be able to walk for more than a few yards before losing the track.

Tamara gave permission for torches to be used — but even so, they all huddled close as a group and Sarah noticed that Jack, next to her, seemed just as keen to keep up as she was.

At one point the group stopped and a muttered, whispered discussion took place. Sarah looked around. She could just make out the shape of one or two trees but that was all.

It seemed far colder up here in the woods than it should have been.

“Spooky, huh?” whispered Jack. She knew he wasn’t joking.

The wind rustled branches deeper in the dark wood. Instinctively she looked over her shoulder.

Was that a shape? A human — or some animal?

She shivered involuntarily.

“What’s happening?” she said to Jack.

“Some kind of rebellion, I think,” he whispered back. “Seems one or two of them say there are evil spirits in the wood too. The Gifted Ones are getting spooked.”

“No kidding,” she said. “I could have told them that for free.”

“They don’t want to go on.”

“Terrific,” whispered Sarah. “If they bail, there goes our plan, leaving us stuck up here.”

After a few minutes it seemed the argument was over and they all moved ahead again.

But this time Sarah sensed they were going faster — no doubt about it.

And, not a moment too soon, they emerged from the wood onto the open space at the crest of the hill. At a signal from Tamara, the group switched off their torches.

In total darkness now, the stones stood as black shadows — still and ominous. What little light there was played on them and Sarah had to blink to stop them becoming in her imagination frozen figures, stooped men, knights of stone.

The sooner this was over, the better.

But would Charlie see them? Would he come up here?

She watched as the group silently gathered at the edge of the ring and started to pull robes, hats, banners and all sorts of mysterious equipment from their bags.

Tamara came over to her and Jack.

“The moon will rise in thirty minutes,” she said.

“What happens now?” said Sarah.

“We will prepare the ring and then the ritual will begin.”

“Where do you want us?” said Jack.

“You will stay here,” she said. “And you must remain completely quiet. Preferably out of sight. There must be no distractions.”

“Will it be dangerous?” said Jack.

“Fear not,” said Tamara. “We bring an aura of protection and you are within it because you are with us.”

“Phew,” said Jack. “That’s a relief, Sarah, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Jack,” said Sarah. “It is.”

Too … much.

“Tell you what, Tamara,” continued Jack, pointing downhill. “We’ll just slip down there behind that big boulder and you’ll hardly notice we’re here.”

Tamara nodded.

“When the moon has risen and its beams strike the stones, then the cleansing shall begin.”

Then she turned and went back to join her fellow-exorcists.

Jack turned to Sarah.

“Wish I could stay up here and watch,” said Jack. “I’m sure this will have to be seen to be believed.”

“Hmm,” said Sarah. “I’ve literally got a ring-side seat.”

“I’ll text you if I see Charlie,” said Jack. “Of course, he could be up here already. The light from those torches might have been visible from the farm.”

“If he didn’t see the torches,” said Sarah, “he’ll see those for sure …”

And she pointed to Tamara and the others who were now planting a great ring of oil-flares around the stone circle.

“I’m heading off,” said Jack. “When they set fire to those things, the whole hillside’s going to light up like day.
That
he’s got to see.”

“Be careful,” said Sarah. Suddenly this all seemed very real.

And very dangerous.

“Piece of cake,” said Jack with a wink, turning and heading downhill at a crouch.

And then he was gone.

Jack edged his way along the side of the old milking shed, taking care to stay in the shadows. From inside the barn he could just hear the noise of cattle — restless, nudging their stalls.

A floodlight blazed across the courtyard between the barns — Charlie had clearly decided to invest in decent security since his troubles begun.

The other day when Jack had been up on the hill, he’d memorised the layout of the farm. He knew that the farmhouse itself was on the other side of the next barn. He had no choice — he was going to have to make a run for it across the muddy yard and just hope that Charlie wasn’t still out on the farm somewhere working.

Or that whoever they were trying to lure into the farm to do their worst tonight hadn’t already arrived — maybe under cover like he was.

Hiding somewhere in one of the barns, or in a hedgerow or a ditch. Waiting …

But Jack knew he had no choice. It was now, or never.

He ran fast and low — nearly slipped in all the cow mess — but reached the cover of the hay barn without hearing the bang of a shotgun.

Stage one, complete.

Now for the really tricky part — finding Charlie without Charlie finding him.

But as he rounded the barn in the darkness and at last got a good view of the farmhouse itself, he could see that his luck was holding.

The lights in the house were on — and the curtains were all open.

And in the sitting room at the front of the house, a familiar figure was moving back and forth. Jack crept across the last twenty yards of concrete yard until he was just to one side of the window. Slowly, he stood up and pressed himself against the Cotswold stone of the farmhouse, his back creaking.

Jeez, if I’m going to be doing more of this I need to get back in shape.

Used to hit the gym at One Police Plaza nearly every day.

Gotten a little lazy in the village …

He edged closer to the side of the window, then turned his head to look in properly.

The room was sparsely furnished. Sofa, armchairs — and a big log-burner ablaze. Charlie stood, his back to the window, a glass in one hand. Jack could see that the farmer was talking — but the room was empty.

Jack scanned the rest of the room: various children’s toys and a buggy were piled up in one corner; an old farmhouse table and chairs stood in front of the window.

A bottle of cheap whiskey sat on the table, half empty and the screw-top nowhere to be seen.

Jack pulled back as Charlie suddenly spun round and walked straight toward the table and the window. Even through the glass, Jack could hear him muttering, then the slam of the bottle on the table as he finished pouring himself a refill.

Charlie’s getting a bit wired …

Jack looked at his old service watch with the big hands and the luminous dial. The moon would be rising right now though with the heavy cloud it might be some minutes before its effect would be seen.

Then, as if on some kind of ethereal cue, he saw flames flicker into life up on top of the hill. One by one, the ritual flares girding the stone circle ignited — and just as he’d hoped, they were starkly visible from down here on the farm.

From inside the farm, there was the sound of smashing glass and a loud scraping of furniture.

He knew what the sound meant: Charlie had seen the flames through the window.

Jack crawled under the window to the corner of the building where a small hedge provided some cover, and then he squatted down in the darkness.

Sure enough, the front door burst open and Charlie emerged, his shotgun over his arm. Jack watched as the farmer marched over to one of the barns, cursing loudly to himself.

There was the sound of an engine starting and headlights pierced the darkness in front of the barn, then Charlie emerged on the back of a four-wheel ATV, the engine loud in the enclosed yard.

Jack pulled back deeper into the shadow of the hedge as the twin beams flashed across the front of the house.

And then Charlie was gone, along the track towards the field which led up the hill to the stones.

Silence.

Jack took out his phone and sent a text.

‘Charlie on his way. He’s had a few. Be careful. Anything bad looks like it will happen — let me know.’

Then he settled down to wait. For the real work of the night was still to come.

Sarah had been sitting on the grass with her back against a boulder, watching Tamara and the others prepare the ritual.