people think Meredith’s death – and Coral’s – are to do with the curse?’
‘You’re forgetting poor Liz. In my lifetime alone there have been three deaths attributed to the MacNab curse – two accidents and one suicide. All women, all incomers. The curse doesn’t affect the MacNabs, you see, just the unfortunate women we marry. So if you were to ask me why hasn’t Alec married again or why a damned good-looking boy like Fergus has never even been engaged, I’d have to say, I’ve no idea. Their private lives are no concern of mine. But if you asked me, do my sons believe in the curse, my answer would be, I fear they might . And who can blame them? They lost a mother and a stepmother. Alec also lost a wife.’
Birds began to chatter noisily above our heads and I looked up to see blue tits racketing around in the branches of a huge fan-trained apple tree, like tiny feathered dodgems. The sight should have lifted my spirits, but it didn’t. I took a deep breath and, keeping my voice level, said, ‘So the curse says any woman marrying into the MacNabs of Cauldstane will be infertile or die.’
‘ Or both.’
‘How dreadful! Even if you don’t believe in it, it’s a n awful thing to have to live with.’
‘Indeed . My father and grandfather took the precaution of marrying first cousins, thereby avoiding the curse.’
‘Because t heir wives had MacNab blood in their veins?’
‘Precisely. Earlier generations had married “out” and their wives had come to grief – though dying of TB or in childbirth was not uncommon. Infertility was less common and in previous centuries a few childless MacNab wives died suddenly in their late thirties. The bereft MacNab then married some girl half his age not long after, leading one to suspect the unfortunate MacNab wives might have met their maker prematurely because they’d failed to produce an heir. Either way, the curse was fulfilled. But it could have been used as a smokescreen for murder.’
‘This is all horribly fascinating, Sholto, but are you all right discussing it? You don’t find it upsetting?’
‘No , because I don’t believe in it! I’d find it easier to believe in Santa Claus than the Cauldstane Curse.’
Unconvinced, I regarded his face for a moment but saw nothing more than his usual affable expression. ‘Well, if you’re sure… Tell me then, what was the origin of the curse? Who did the cursing and when?’
He leaned back on the bench and crossed his legs. ‘It’s quite a tale. There’s no documentary evidence, I’m afraid, just generations of hearsay and a peculiar stone.’
‘ What sort of stone?’
‘A boulder. Round. Flattish. The result of glacial deposition, probably.’
‘ Where is it?’
Sholto gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. ‘In the river. Near the bridge.’
‘Oh no …’ The words were out before I knew I’d spoken. Sholto watched me for a moment. It was his turn to decide whether to continue.
‘Y ou’ve heard about Coral, then?’
‘ Mrs Guthrie told me. And I saw Alec on the bridge, the day I came up for my interview. I didn’t speak to him there, I just saw him from my window, throwing a rose into the river. I wondered what it meant. It was the anniversary, I gather.’
‘Yes. You wo uldn’t have seen Alec at his best that day.’ Sholto swivelled round on the bench to face me and said, ‘Are you sure you want to hear all this twaddle? You’re looking a bit peaky. We could always leave it for another day. It’s a gruesome tale and my forebears don’t emerge with any credit.’
‘ No, I want to hear all about it. It will probably give me nightmares, but I can’t resist a good yarn.’
‘That’s my girl, ’ Sholto said, chuckling. He paused, then said, ‘An ancient MacNab married an outsider and she turned out to be a faithless hussy. In some versions of the story she slept with his brother. In a racier version she slept with his son. It was said she’d bewitched her lover
‘You’re forgetting poor Liz. In my lifetime alone there have been three deaths attributed to the MacNab curse – two accidents and one suicide. All women, all incomers. The curse doesn’t affect the MacNabs, you see, just the unfortunate women we marry. So if you were to ask me why hasn’t Alec married again or why a damned good-looking boy like Fergus has never even been engaged, I’d have to say, I’ve no idea. Their private lives are no concern of mine. But if you asked me, do my sons believe in the curse, my answer would be, I fear they might . And who can blame them? They lost a mother and a stepmother. Alec also lost a wife.’
Birds began to chatter noisily above our heads and I looked up to see blue tits racketing around in the branches of a huge fan-trained apple tree, like tiny feathered dodgems. The sight should have lifted my spirits, but it didn’t. I took a deep breath and, keeping my voice level, said, ‘So the curse says any woman marrying into the MacNabs of Cauldstane will be infertile or die.’
‘ Or both.’
‘How dreadful! Even if you don’t believe in it, it’s a n awful thing to have to live with.’
‘Indeed . My father and grandfather took the precaution of marrying first cousins, thereby avoiding the curse.’
‘Because t heir wives had MacNab blood in their veins?’
‘Precisely. Earlier generations had married “out” and their wives had come to grief – though dying of TB or in childbirth was not uncommon. Infertility was less common and in previous centuries a few childless MacNab wives died suddenly in their late thirties. The bereft MacNab then married some girl half his age not long after, leading one to suspect the unfortunate MacNab wives might have met their maker prematurely because they’d failed to produce an heir. Either way, the curse was fulfilled. But it could have been used as a smokescreen for murder.’
‘This is all horribly fascinating, Sholto, but are you all right discussing it? You don’t find it upsetting?’
‘No , because I don’t believe in it! I’d find it easier to believe in Santa Claus than the Cauldstane Curse.’
Unconvinced, I regarded his face for a moment but saw nothing more than his usual affable expression. ‘Well, if you’re sure… Tell me then, what was the origin of the curse? Who did the cursing and when?’
He leaned back on the bench and crossed his legs. ‘It’s quite a tale. There’s no documentary evidence, I’m afraid, just generations of hearsay and a peculiar stone.’
‘ What sort of stone?’
‘A boulder. Round. Flattish. The result of glacial deposition, probably.’
‘ Where is it?’
Sholto gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. ‘In the river. Near the bridge.’
‘Oh no …’ The words were out before I knew I’d spoken. Sholto watched me for a moment. It was his turn to decide whether to continue.
‘Y ou’ve heard about Coral, then?’
‘ Mrs Guthrie told me. And I saw Alec on the bridge, the day I came up for my interview. I didn’t speak to him there, I just saw him from my window, throwing a rose into the river. I wondered what it meant. It was the anniversary, I gather.’
‘Yes. You wo uldn’t have seen Alec at his best that day.’ Sholto swivelled round on the bench to face me and said, ‘Are you sure you want to hear all this twaddle? You’re looking a bit peaky. We could always leave it for another day. It’s a gruesome tale and my forebears don’t emerge with any credit.’
‘ No, I want to hear all about it. It will probably give me nightmares, but I can’t resist a good yarn.’
‘That’s my girl, ’ Sholto said, chuckling. He paused, then said, ‘An ancient MacNab married an outsider and she turned out to be a faithless hussy. In some versions of the story she slept with his brother. In a racier version she slept with his son. It was said she’d bewitched her lover
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