The Considine Curse
Read The Considine Curse Online
Authors: Gareth P. Jones
For my seven cousins –
Debbie, Richard, Emma, Mark
Kate, Catrin and Marc
Contents
Chapter 1
The snow seemed so clean and white from the aeroplane window but underfoot it is grey and slushy. It soaks through the thin material of my trainers and seeps into my socks. When I grumble about my feet, Mum claims she told me to wear sensible shoes but I only remember her saying to wrap up warmly.
I spot the church steeple above a row of houses and step into an icy puddle. I feel miserable. My nose and hands are cold but my body is hot under my heavy winter coat. We turn a corner and see the church. There are cars outside.
‘I told you we could have parked nearer,’ I say.
‘I needed a walk to clear my head before we arrived,’ Mum replies.
‘Yeah, and I really needed to wash my feet,’ I mutter.
Mum looks at my soaked shoes. ‘I’m sorry, love. It’s just that I’ve been so nervous about seeing them again after all this time.’
‘At least you’ve met them before. I’ve got to meet a whole bunch of people I’m supposed to be related to that I never even knew existed until last week.’
Five days ago, I came in from school to find Mum sitting by the phone in tears. When I put my arm round her and asked her what was wrong, I was expecting her to tell me that she had split up with her latest boyfriend, which is what it normally is.
Instead she replied, ‘That was my little brother, Will. My mother died yesterday.’
‘You’ve got a brother?’ was the only thing I could think of to say.
‘I’ve got five brothers,’ she admitted, avoiding my gaze.
‘I’ve got
five
uncles?’ I squawked.
‘I don’t think you heard me, Mariel. My mother has died.’
‘I did hear you.
My
grandmother is dead and somehow her death has magically produced five uncles.’
‘This is not a good time for your flippancy, Mariel. I told Will we’d fly over for the funeral. I’ll look into flights and call your school tomorrow.’
‘So all my life you’ve lied to me,’ I said, unwilling to let this one go.
‘I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you the whole truth,’ she said, which in itself was a lie because she told me she was an only child.
‘Five uncles,’ I repeated, still taking it in. ‘And how many other relatives have you kept hidden from me?’
‘No more. That’s it,’ she said. ‘Well, they all have wives and children,’ she added.
‘I’ve got cousins?’ I said.
‘Seven, I think. Harkett’s got two boys, Sewell has two girls, Kitson’s got Amelia, Robson’s got Freddie, and Will and Chrissie have just had a baby called Madeleine.’
I couldn’t believe how casually she said it like it wasn’t a massive deal. I still can’t believe it.
‘How could you keep all this secret from me?’ I demanded.
She looked at me the way she does when she thinks I am going on and said, ‘Can we talk about this later, Mariel? I need to not cry for a bit.’
That was five days ago. She has cried every day since then and I am no closer to understanding why she kept my family secret from me all this time.
She pushes open the wooden gate and we enter the churchyard where I find another reason to be annoyed with her.
‘I said everyone would be wearing black,’ I say.
‘Don’t be so conventional,’ she replies.
It’s easy for her to say that. While she is wearing a black pullover and skirt, she told me that my navy blue dress would be fine. Now, as I approach the relatives I have never met, who are
all
dressed in black, I feel even more out of place than before. Mum points out my uncles and aunts standing by the church door but I have noticed what must be my cousins in a corner of the churchyard. There are six of them: three boys and three girls of varying age and size. One of my uncles spots us and comes over.
‘Will,’ says Mum, hugging him.
‘I’m glad you came. It’s been too long,’ he says. He turns to me. ‘And this must be Mariel. Hi, I’m your Uncle Will.’ He offers me his hand.
I say hello. He seems nice. He is younger than Mum and has dimples that show when he smiles.
‘Where’s Chrissie? I’m dying to meet her,’ says Mum.
‘She’s taken Madeleine straight to Mum’s place,’ he replies. ‘They’ll be at the wake but we were worried Madeleine would cry during the service. She’s normally good as gold but you know what babies are like as soon as you need them to be quiet.’
‘Mariel bawled her eyes out all through Dad’s funeral.’
‘I remember,’ says Will. He turns to me. ‘That’s the last time I saw you. You’ve grown a bit since then,’ he says, and he winks at me in a friendly way. ‘How long are you here for?’
‘Ten days,’ Mum replies. ‘We’ve booked a room in a hotel in Chilton.’
‘I told you on the phone we’d all be happy to put you up,’ says Will.
Mum reacts to this with a loud sob that draws the attention of my other uncles and aunts, although my cousins remain deep in conversation, undisturbed by the noise.
‘Sorry, Will,’ says Mum. ‘It’s just been so long . . .’
I feel embarassed by Mum’s outburst. Will puts his arm around Mum’s shoulder to comfort her. ‘Mariel, why don’t you go and say hello to your cousins?’ he says.
I look over at them.
‘They’re not as intimidating as they look,’ he adds. ‘Amelia and Freddie are your age and Oberon’s only a year older.’
Although I’m not exactly wild about the idea of introducing myself to a bunch of complete strangers, I am more than happy to let someone else deal with Mum for a change, so I approach my cousins cautiously. They are huddled together and talking so quietly that, even as I near, I can’t catch a word they are saying. They are so engrossed in their conversation they fail to notice me until I am standing right behind them.
The oldest and tallest boy sees me and coughs to alert the others to my presence. He is awkward-looking, with glasses and a long face. The others stop talking and all turn to look at me. As their six faces stare silently at me I see that they all have the same intense dark brown, almost black, eyes. Mine are blue like Mum’s.
‘This is a family funeral,’ says a fat boy with reddish brown hair.
‘For our grandmother,’ adds an extremely pretty girl who is about my age but wearing more make-up than I’m allowed to wear.
‘I’m your cousin, Mariel,’ I say.
‘You’re not a Considine,’ says the fat boy incredulously.
‘She’s Aunt Lynda’s daughter,’ says a girl, younger than me, with thick black hair that falls like a curtain across half of her face.
‘Ah, the long lost cousin from Austray-lia,’ says one of the boys, in what I guess is supposed to be an Australian accent. He is good-looking, with an athletic build and a head of messy hair.
‘So she’s one of us?’ says the pretty girl.
‘She’s no Considine,’ repeats the fat one.
‘Hello? I am here you know,’ I say angrily.
‘She talks funny. She’s only a half-cousin,’ says the youngest of them, a girl with pigtails who looks around eight or nine but whose eyes seem much older.
‘Are all English people this rude or is it just my blood relatives?’ I ask. ‘And there’s no such thing as a half-cousin. Flora was my grandma too.’
‘The Considine blood runs through our veins, but everybody’s blood is not the same,’ the young girl hisses. ‘The children of the sons, we are the ones. Not the child of the daughter, with blood like water.’
I have no idea what to say to this and am glad when the good-looking boy laughs and offers his hand. ‘Sorry about her. Elspeth loves her poetry. I’m Freddie,’ he says brightly. ‘Please forgive us. We’re all so upset about Grandma’s death we forgot our manners.’
He doesn’t sound upset to me. I smile. ‘I’m Mariel,’ I say, even though I have already introduced myself.
‘This is Gerald and Oberon.’ Freddie points at the tall, awkward-looking boy and the fat one.
‘Hello,’ says Gerald. It’s the first thing he has said.
Oberon leans forward and his nose twitches as though he is sniffing me.
‘And this is Lily,’ continues Freddie, gesturing towards the shy-looking girl with the curtain of black hair standing next to the youngest girl, who I can see now is her sister.
Lily smiles from behind her hair.
Elspeth says, ‘Her eyes are blue and dead like a fish.’
‘Pay no attention to her,’ says the pretty girl. ‘I’m Amelia. I’m very pleased to meet you again.’ She leans in to air-kiss me on both cheeks and I am almost knocked backwards by the smell of her perfume.
‘What do you mean “again”?’ I ask.
‘We met when we were little. My mum told me. We’re the same age.’
‘Grandma didn’t want you here and neither do we,’ says Elspeth, who I am beginning to suspect doesn’t like me.
‘Of course we do,’ says Freddie.
‘What was she like?’ I ask, ignoring what Elspeth said.
My cousins exchange glances and, for a moment, I feel like they have some secret way of communicating without speaking.
‘She was strong,’ says Elspeth at last.
‘Strong?’ I say, thinking this an odd answer.
‘She was sixty-nine,’ adds her older sister, Lily. ‘But she was still running up and down the stairs in her house every single day.’