Read Online Cherringham--The Curse of Mabb's Farm by Matthew Costello - Free Book Online Page A

wanted. There were rumours of a woman somewhere, Australia I think. And the note said that Charlie could keep an eye on the place until … or ‘if’ he came back.”
    “Strange,” Jack said.
    “Why’s that?” Pete said.
    “Ray must have known Charlie would screw it all up. And yet—”
    Jack paused. The men had nothing to say about that.
    And that’s because, Jack thought, it is strange. Foul play or no foul play, there’s something odd there.
    “And the Curse?” Jack asked.
    “If stupidity is a curse,” Phil said.
    But Tom nodded. “Tell you what though, there’s something not right about that place, that’s for sure. Always got a bad feeling, especially when I was on the hill, away from the farmhouse. You could feel it.”
    Score another believer for Team Curse, Jack thought.
    “All bollocks to me,” Pete said. “Man simply shouldn’t be running a farm.”
    Jack noticed that with more questions, more chatter about Charlie, that Phil Nailor had grown quiet.
    Could be something.
    Or not.
    Jack was about to order another beer, maybe a round for very helpful table.
    When his phone buzzed.
    Sarah.
    “ Hi, glad you called, I was thinking—”
    But Sarah’s voice on the other end stopped him cold.
    “Jack — something’s happened.”
    “The kids, you … all right?”
    “Yes.” The shrill tone hadn’t faded. “But can you come to mine quickly? You’ve got to see this …”
    “Be right there.”
    Jack looked at the men.
    “Gotta run. Thanks for the company.”
    And the men nodded as Jack raced out of The Ploughman’s.

11. A Dire Warning
    Sarah was at the door waiting for Jack.
    She looked scared, her voice hushed.
    “Thanks for coming so soon. Kids haven’t seen it. Has me spooked, I tell you—”
    “Hang on — what does?”
    Sarah looked left and right, as if checking whether Chloe or Daniel were within earshot.
    “Come and see …”
    She led Jack to the back door that opened onto the small garden.
    “It’s weird, Jack,” Sarah said before pushing open the door.
    At first, all Jack could tell was that the rain seemed to be going sideways. It had turned that nasty. Worse, a steady breeze made the bushes and trees bend one way, then the other before — in a sudden lull — snapping back into place.
    Like hurricane weather, Jack thought.
    And yet we’re not exactly on the tip of Cape Cod.
    Both he and Sarah now getting splattered by the rain.
    “Want me to get you a waterproof?”
    Jack shook his head.
    “What am I looking at?”
    Again Sarah looked away, checking on the children. Whatever it was, it was something she didn’t want them seeing.
    Then she just pointed. “That!”
    And Jack looked out to the garden, only scant light from the kitchen windows, then … he spotted something standing in the middle of the grass.
    At first it was hard to say what it could be. But then—
    “It’s—”
    He turned to Sarah.
    She finished his sentence.
    “It’s part of the Wicker Man. Right. A charred arm, looks like, with that claw-like hand. Stuck in the ground.”
    “God. Someone put it there.”
    “ The Curse …” Sarah said, a half-hearted attempt at humour.
    Jack quickly turned to her to make sure she didn’t mean to be taken seriously. An uneasy smile confirmed that fact.
    Still …
    “Why would someone stick that in my garden?” she asked.
    Jack shook his head. He had grown fond of Sarah, really fond of her, her kids.
    And he didn’t like this at all.
    “I don’t know,” he said.
    He didn’t want to make her any more concerned, but right now he was most definitely alarmed.
    “Jack, there’s something else. I haven’t gone out there. But it’s holding something in its hand. I can’t make it out. But there’s definitely something.”
    Impossible to see from here. A lump, something dark clutched in the burned-black wicker hand.
    “Only one way to find out,” he said. “Got a couple of brollies?”
    Sarah nodded, and walked back into the house, while Jack shut