**Diary Entry**
Ive been sitting in the queue for nearly two hours now, waiting to see Old Nelly. That wise woman might be my last hope. For years, Ive tried to carry a child, but fates been cruel. I dont know what to tell you, the doctor admitted, shrugging. Your tests are perfectno medical issues.
But there must be a reason, I pressed. If Im healthy, why cant I conceive?
I dont know. Medicine cant explain it. Maybe try the church? she murmured.
Emily and I have been married five years. Weve a fine home, love, comforteverything but a childs laughter. Id long suspected a curse, and the doctors words only deepened my dread.
The church is well and good, my friend advised, but you need a cunning woman. She scribbled an address. Go now. Dont dawdle.
At last, my turn came. I stepped hesitantly into the dim cottage. Before me sat a gentle-faced old woman in a lace shawl, not the toothless hag Id imagined.
Hello, dear. Sit by the cross, she said kindly.
Tears spilled before I could speak. You know my trouble.
Aye, child. Ill do what I can.
For twenty minutes, she circled me with prayers and candlelight. Then, taking my hands, she sighed. Youll bear no child till the curse is lifted.
Curse? Whod curse me? Ive done no harm!
Not youyour mother. Her sin stains you.
Thats not fair! Shes gone. Must I pay for her wrongs?
Such is the way of things.
Can you help? I begged.
She shook her head. If only it were the evil eye. This is deeper. Learn your mothers sin, make amends. And praynot just for yourself, but your enemies too.
I left numb, dialling Tom. Im visiting Aunt Margaret. Dont wait up.
Margaret gaped when I arrived unannounced. Emily! Had I known
I need the truth. What did my mother do?
Her face paled as I recounted the wise womans words.
Your mother, Beatrice the village beauty. She stole a married manEdward. His wife, Mary, begged on her knees for him back, but Beatrice mocked her. Mary cursed her unborn children before losing her mind. Soon after, your parents died young. And now
Marys sonmy brotherwhere is he?
William? A drunkard. Lost his legs after a winters folly. Lives in ruins now.
I found him in a crumbling cottage, reeking of gin and despair. A white cat was his only comfort.
Im your sister, I said.
He smirked. Come to beg forgiveness?
I pressed £50 into his hand.
Forgiven! he cackled. Come again if you like.
A week later, I confessed to the vicar. He scoffed at the cunning womans notions. Children dont bear parents sins. But prayerthat she got right.
Next morning, I returned to William. Pack up. Youre coming home.
He sneered. Why?
Because youre my brother.
To my shock, he agreedon one condition: the cat came too.
Three months on, Williams a changed man, even studying coding. Prosthetics arrived last week.
And now, as Tom and he peer through the hospital window at our newborn twins, I finally understandsome curses break when we choose kindness over guilt. Blood binds, but mercy heals.
