The Considine Curse (2 page)

‘She shouldn’t have been,’ states Gerald. ‘That’s how she died. She fell.’

‘Her neck was broken,’ says Elspeth.

‘It’s how she would have wanted to go,’ says Oberon.

‘You think she wanted to fall down the stairs and break her neck?’ I say, beginning to understand why Mum wanted to escape from her family. This lot are seriously odd.

‘What he means is that she died suddenly and without suffering,’ says Amelia. ‘She never wanted to suffer.’

The church bells chime and I look over my shoulder to see that Mum is gesturing that it is time to go in.

Chapter 2

The Funeral

‘Devoted wife, attentive mother, doting grandmother and good friend. These are some of the ways in which Flora Considine will be remembered . . .’

The vicar stands in the pulpit, leaning over the lectern. Father Gowlett is quite old with messy white hair and long sideburns that stick out like whiskers. He wears a pair of reading glasses and he keeps adjusting his dog collar as if it is too tight.

‘Flora was a rare and valued member of the community and, speaking as one who was privileged to count her as a personal friend, I can say it came as a deep shock to all of us when she was so very suddenly taken from us . . .’

There is no one in the church except my family, the vicar and an old lady sat at an organ. If Grandma was such a valued member of the community, I wonder, how come there are no other friends? Across the aisle I can see Amelia with her mum and dad. Her mother is elegantly dressed and very beautiful. Amelia’s face is wet with tears. I think I can still smell her perfume all the way across the church. In front of her are Freddie and his dad.

‘Her beloved husband, Frank, passed away over a decade ago but thankfully Flora was not left alone in the world. All who knew her understood the great consolation she took from her family. Her boys, Harkett, Kitson, Sewell, Robson and William are a constant reminder of her achievements as a mother.’

I glance up at Mum because he has forgotten her. She is wearing the same expression I last saw when we bumped into an old boyfriend of hers with his new wife. She is pretending not to care.

Father Gowlett catches her eye and smiles kindly. ‘And although she and her daughter didn’t always see eye to eye, I know that Lynda was always on her mind, particularly towards the end of her life.’

I feel something hit the back of my neck. I look behind me. Oberon is tearing off corners of his bible’s pages with his teeth and spitting them out. The rest of his family either haven’t noticed or are ignoring him.

‘But it was when she spoke of her grandchildren that she would truly come alive,’ continues Father Gowlett. ‘The bond between grandmother and grandchild is often a strong one, and nowhere was this more true than in the Considine family. I hope it will comfort you children, who loved your grandmother so dearly, to remember that her spirit lives on in your hearts and in your prayers.’

I notice he doesn’t mention heaven.

‘I’d now like to invite Elspeth Considine to give us her tribute to her grandmother.’ He smiles and removes his glasses. ‘Elspeth is going to read a short poem of her own composition.’

Elspeth walks up to the front and unfurls a piece of paper. She doesn’t look the slightest bit nervous or self-conscious.

‘Grandma,’ she reads. ‘Grandma led us with her every step. She breathed life into us with every breath. I wish she were still here to show us the way. She taught us much more than I can say.’

Across the aisle from me, Amelia lets out a sob and her mother puts an arm around her.

‘Thank you, Elspeth. That was beautiful,’ says Father Gowlett.

Elspeth refolds the poem and returns to her seat.

‘Elspeth’s lovely verse reminds us that Flora was much more than a grandmother to her grandchildren. She considered herself their spiritual guide. Now that she has passed away, I humbly offer my own services to you children in that capacity. Just as our Lord Jesus Christ is a shepherd to lost sheep, let me be your shepherd. Choosing the right path is difficult when you are young, but if you wish I am always available to help steer you the right way.’

I notice Freddie turn around and look at Amelia, but I can’t read his expression from where I am sitting. Mum looks at me and raises an eyebrow. I feel strangely detached from the whole thing.

We sing a couple of hymns, accompanied by the old lady at the organ, who has a small yappy dog that sits in her handbag beside her and barks along with the music. I don’t know any of the tunes so I mouth the words from the hymn sheet.

When the sermon is over, we all trudge out through the graveyard and watch as the coffin is lowered into the ground. It is the first coffin I have seen close up and it is smaller than I expected. Father Gowlett says another prayer, then everyone files past the grave to throw handfuls of soil over the top of the coffin. As the ground is frozen, the old lady with the dog holds out a plastic pot filled with earth for us to help ourselves. I grab a handful and throw it on to the coffin lid.

We walk away and Father Gowlett shakes everyone’s hands. I watch as he mutters something to each of my cousins. I wonder what he is saying. When it comes to me and Mum, he says, ‘Welcome back, Lynda. I’m sorry that we’re not meeting under better circumstances.’

Mum is too upset to reply and just nods, but I thank him and we go into the car park.

‘So, Lynda, we’re having the wake at Louvre House,’ says one of my uncles. ‘Can you remember the way?’

‘I think so. It’s been a while though,’ replies Mum.

‘Perhaps you could give me a lift and I’ll direct you,’ says Will.

‘Oh, thanks,’ says Mum, ‘that’d be great.’

‘Drive carefully,’ says Freddie’s dad. ‘Some of the roads are still pretty icy.’

‘Where are you parked?’ asks Uncle Will.

‘Just a short wade away,’ I reply.

‘It’s not far away,’ Mum says.

I lead the way, walking along a bank of snow, trying to avoid the slushy puddles that line the street.

Uncle Will smiles. ‘I bet you don’t have this kind of problem back home.’

‘The snow’s new, but Mum’s parking is no different,’ I reply.

‘Watch it, cheeky,’ says Mum.

Uncle Will laughs. ‘This whole thing must be pretty weird for you, Mariel.’

‘Weird’s a good word for it,’ I reply.

‘How were your cousins?’ he asks.

‘It wasn’t the warmest welcome I’ve ever had,’ I say.

‘Don’t worry. They can be a bit like that with new people. They’re very close.’

‘I can’t wait to meet Madeleine,’ says Mum. ‘You have to enjoy every moment, while they can’t answer you back.’

‘I can sit around in diapers and say
goo goo gah
if you want,’ I say.

‘That wouldn’t be quite the same,’ replies Mum.

‘I don’t know, it sounds a lot like Madeleine,’ quips Uncle Will.

By the time we get to the turning for Grandma’s house, we are laughing. We turn off the main road and drive through an archway towards a large old red-brick building, faded and weathered over the years, but still grand and impressive. It’s not the kind of place I imagined Mum growing up in but then I never pictured her with five brothers. We all fall silent as Mum drives slowly up the bumpy driveway, past the leafless trees towards the old house.

‘What did you say it was called?’ I ask.

‘Louvre House. It’s been in the family for years,’ Uncle Will replies.

The other cars are already parked outside and there are lights on inside the house. Chunky flakes of snow are falling as we step out of the car. The front door to the house is up a couple of stone steps. It has been left open.

‘I can’t believe you grew up here,’ I say, peering into the dark hallway.

‘It seems smaller somehow,’ says Mum.

‘And emptier now she’s gone,’ adds Uncle Will.

We go into a room full of my uncles and aunts. None of my cousins are there. The wallpaper is torn, the carpet is threadbare and the chandelier that hangs from the ceiling is covered in a thick layer of dust. Beneath it, three of my uncles are talking. Will joins his wife, Chrissie, who is pretty, with strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes. She is sitting on a sofa by the fire holding a sleeping baby. Amelia’s mother is getting everyone drinks. I can’t remember what she is called. There are so many names to remember.

‘Mariel. This is your Uncle Sewell and Aunt Dee.’ Mum introduces me to a man wearing black corduroy trousers and his wife, a short-haired woman wearing a red cardigan over a black woollen dress.

‘It must be confusing, suddenly having all these new family members out of the blue,’ says Uncle Sewell.

‘Sewell and Dee are both teachers,’ says Mum.

‘University lecturers, actually,’ corrects Aunt Dee. She has an American accent.

‘We live on the university campus. You must come and stay if you have time,’ says Uncle Sewell.

‘Mariel, have you met our daughters, Lily and Elsepth, yet?’ asks Aunt Dee.

‘Yes, at the church,’ I reply.

‘I’m sure they’d love to spend some time with you. I don’t know where they could have got to.’ She looks around for them.

I am in no hurry to encounter Elspeth again so I say I might get something to eat.

‘Good idea. Ruth has excelled herself as usual,’ says Aunt Dee.

‘Which one’s Ruth?’ I ask.

‘She’ll be in the kitchen going for housewife of the year award,’ says Aunt Dee.

I follow Amelia’s mum through the door that leads to the kitchen. Aunt Ruth is inside taking a tray of sausages out of the oven. She is a short plump lady with her hair cut into a neat bob. She tips the sausages into a bowl.

‘You really should stop cooking now,’ Amelia’s mum says. She has a soft French accent, which makes her seem even more glamorous. ‘There’s enough to feed an army out there.’

‘I’m only warming stuff up, Celeste! Besides, Oberon could happily munch his way through all these sausages himself.’

Aunt Celeste winks at me. ‘Why don’t you get yourself a drink, Mariel. Have a look in the fridge.’

I find a bottle of lemonade in the fridge and pour myself a glass.

‘I think your cousins are upstairs,’ says Aunt Ruth. ‘I did ask my two to wait for you before they went running off. But boys at that age can be terribly forgetful, can’t they?’

‘How old are they?’ I ask.

‘Gerald is seventeen. Oberon is fifteen. They’re both very upset. They were very close to Flora.’

‘What was she like?’ I ask, finding a straw for my lemonade.

Aunt Celeste thinks before replying. ‘The word I would use is controlling.’

‘Celeste!’ scolds Aunt Ruth. ‘You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, especially not at the wake.’

‘Is that why Mum fell out with her, because she was controlling?’

My two aunts look at one another. ‘None of us ever found out why your mother and Flora fell out or why Lynda left like that,’ says Aunt Celeste.

‘Did she ever mention us?’ I ask.

Neither of them answers, then Aunt Ruth says, ‘Would you like a sausage before they go through to the ravenous masses?’

‘Thank you, no. I don’t eat meat,’ I say.

‘No meat?’ says Aunt Ruth. ‘Oh well, there’s plenty you can eat out there. Would you mind taking these out with you, Mariel?’

I return to the room with the sausages and put them down on the table full of food.

Behind me, three of my uncles are arguing about the house.

‘What I’m saying is we should keep it in the family,’ says Will.

‘You wouldn’t really want to move here, would you?’ asks another uncle. ‘The amount of work needed to make this place inhabitable would be phenomenal.’

‘You’re seeing it from an architect’s point of view, Harkett,’ replies Will. ‘If Chrissie and I moved in, it wouldn’t need to be perfect.’

‘The best thing to do would be to convert it into flats, then sell it,’ says Uncle Robson.

‘This is our family home, not one of your development opportunities,’ says Will.

Freddie’s dad holds his hands up defensively. ‘I’m just saying there’s profit to be made here – for all of us.’

‘Some things are more important than profit, Rob,’ says Will.

‘For what it’s worth, I agree with Will,’ says Uncle Sewell, joining the discussion. ‘I think we should try to keep the house in the family.’

‘We’re all getting ahead of ourselves anyway,’ says Unce Harkett. ‘We don’t even know what Mum’s will says yet.’

Chapter 3

Oberon’s Swim

I leave the room to take a look around. Across the hallway is a study with a desk in one corner and piles of cardboard boxes in the other. There’s not much to see in the other downstairs rooms as their contents are in large metal trunks. The house is so old and empty it is difficult to imagine anyone ever living here. I picture Mum and her five brothers running around the house. I try to imagine Grandma all on her own here, but I don’t know what she looked like. I decide to go and look for a picture of her.