The Cursed Old House
Were here! Last stop! Everybody off! The lorry driver pulled up by the weather-beaten wooden fence and killed the engine.
Clare gently nudged Alice, who was curled up against her shoulder, snoozing away in the back seat.
Darling, weve arrived. Wakey-wakey, open your eyes.
Sleepy little Alice rubbed her eyes with a small fist and glanced around, peering out at the house before them.
Mum, is this it? Is this where well live now?
Yes, sweetheart. Come on then, lets get our bits and bobs out, have a nose around.
Clare jumped down from the lorry step and lifted her daughter in her arms. Around the corner came Mark, whod been following in his own car.
All okay?
Fine. Where are the keys?
Mark handed her a jangling bunch. Here you go. The paperworks on the table inside, youll find it. Ill come for Alice on Saturday, like we discussed.
Alright.
Ill help with the boxes and then Ive got to run. Busy day.
Clare nodded, her insides still twisted in knots, but she knew there was no changing what had happened onwards and upwards! With as little sniffing and snivelling as possible, if she could help it.
She and Mark had managed five years of calm, ordinary togetherness. Then, just a month ago, Clare found out Mark had moved on. Seriously moved on. Not just a bit of fun on the side he was all in, house, family plans and everything.
At first, it was as though Clare had slipped into an alternate universe, the world suddenly dimmer. What now? What next? She could barely think, never mind plan. Yesterday, she had a rock-solid partner and life was ticking along nicely; today poof! Gone without a trace. And if someone so close could just flake out like that, what hope was there with anyone else? It was a blow, and one that didnt just knock the wind out of her, but left her wondering whether it was worth trusting anyone at all. Certainly, she hadnt seen a thing coming. She and Mark hardly even argued, they got on just fine! Perhaps that was the trouble.
His news didnt just upset her it absolutely flattened her.
She went about the daily routine as if on autopilot: caring for Alice, cooking, tidying, working, but couldnt muster the energy to put herself together or form anything resembling a plan for the future.
The flat theyd lived in Marks parents place, technically.
All Clare had was her elderly Aunt May, living in the next town over her only real family. Clare couldnt visit more than once in a blue moon, so shed arranged for a kindly neighbour to pop in for groceries and keep Aunt May company. Clare rented out her parents old flat and split the rent: half went to her, half into Aunt Mays little account. Many times, Clare had offered to swap Aunt Mays rickety house for a nearby flat, but Aunt May always flatly refused.
Mark, for his part, knew Clare wasnt the hysterics-and-scene type. She tended to retreat inwards. So when forced by well-meaning folk ratting him out, Mark finally came clean one night after Alice was asleep.
I know you know. Im not going to make excuses. It just happened. We have a child, and need to make sure Alice isnt caught in the middle. So what will you do now?
I dont know Clare sat, palms wrapped round her mug, gaze fixed on the kitchen table.
Inside, it was chaos. Why? How? What now? darted through her brain like deranged rabbits. But on the outside nothing. She didnt want Mark to see the bruises in her heart. The hurt left her struggling to breathe. But, in a way, Mark was right: she needed to think of Alice.
I suppose well have to break the tenancy with my renters.
No, no need. Its my mess, and Alices. Ive spoken to my parents. Clare, what would you say to moving house?
And where, exactly? Clare looked up at her not-quite-ex-husband.
You know my mums folks left a house in the next town. Old, a bit rough round the edges, but its solid, warm and Aunt Mays nearby, isnt she? Mum wants to put it in your name, for you and Alice. How about it?
Bit of a golden handshake, is it? Clare smirked, but mulled it over.
It was honestly the best solution. Wincing at the idea of bumping into Mark and his new flame on every shopping trip, or being surrounded by memories in every park and playground, Clare decided it was the right move for her, and for Alice.
What would she be losing? The town was smaller, true, but there was a good school, a decent surgery, everything close by and Aunt May, her last lifeline, around the corner. Alice was little and needed watching. Mark was sure to slack off his Dad duties, so Clare would have to find work
Clare nodded decisively. Alright. Lets do it.
Sorted! Mark got up. Talk to Mum tomorrow about the paperwork. Shell ring you. Got to dash.
As he left, he paused on the threshold, not looking back. Sorry. I never wanted it to turn out like this.
Clare said nothing, just nodded and quietly shut the door behind him. Then she collapsed against the wall and, muffling her sleeve so as not to wake Alice, howled.
This wasnt crying. Not really. She remembered from a documentary about wolves how a wounded she-wolf sounded, and Clare could only imagine she just about matched the description.
She sobbed for a very long time. Afterwards, it was as if every bit of anger and pain towards Mark had gone, leaving behind an empty wasteland in her soul. Only one flickering thought remained, fluttering like a singed butterfly: she must find something bright, something to fill that emptiness otherwise, shed be lost to the bottomless pit of despair forever.
The following weeks were too busy to think about anything but the move itself.
And so, here she was, standing outside her new, lopsided picket fence, staring into an overgrown tangle of a garden, the house nearly lost inside it. She could just spot a patch of roof and a corner of the porch between the branches.
Alice tugged her hand. Mum, why are you just standing there? Lets go!
They walked along the cracked path, around an ancient apple tree, and at last caught sight of the house.
Not just a house a HOME. Yes, it looked a little shabby, but it was sturdy and cheerful, with a small attic room and a roomy porch glazing dappled with coloured glass. In the autumn garden, honestly, it might have leapt from the pages of a storybook. Clare whipped out her camera for a few shots. As she studied the place, she realised she already liked it, and the sheer amount of work to be done was probably just what she needed most. Alice stood by, mouth agape and finger in her mouth. Clare tugged the bobble on Alices hat.
Finger out, madam! Impressed, are you?
Muuuum, its beautiful!
I agree. Lets look inside. We need to pick your new bedroom.
Yes! Hurry!
They climbed the steps, went through the porch, and found themselves in a wide hallway, doors leading off to the kitchen and sitting rooms. Clare wandered room to room, mentally arranging furniture.
The house wasnt huge. There was a kitchen, two little rooms downstairs, an attic above, and a sunlit lounge-diner with a big round table under a vintage lampshade smothered in somebodys old shawl. It was damp, clearly not used in ages. But even so, the place felt warm, full of potential.
Clare! All unloaded, and Ive settled up with the removals guys, Mark popped his head through the doorway. Come on, let me show you the heating and the boiler.
After a quick lesson on house basics, Mark said his goodbyes and left.
Clare headed to the kitchen.
She put the kettle on and dug out plastic tubs of food to sort Alices lunch. As she reheated a beef stew, she opened a box of cleaning sprays. Might as well scrub everything while she was at it.
The kitchen was tiny but, honestly, adorable. Two big windows looked out over the jungle of a back garden. Next to one window, Clare found an old table and started cleaning it. Alice swung her legs from a chair, eyeing the cabinets and the garish lampshade above.
Suddenly, something thumped against the window. Alice shrieked, Clare jumped and stared. On the outside sill sat a gigantic ginger tomcat.
Well, hello there! Were you planning on scaring us half to death? Clare recovered. Alice, look at this magnificent beast!
The cat stared right back, unblinking.
What are you staring at? Come in, if youve come all this way! Ill find you a treat.
The cat hopped off the sill and vanished.
Suit yourself, Clare grinned. Alice, wash your hands. Lunch time!
Clare turnedand gasped. The cat was now calmly sitting in the kitchen doorway.
How did you get in? I shut the door behind me!
Silent and thoroughly unbothered, the cat simply gazed up, blinking his amber eyes. Clare couldnt help but smile.
She took out a bit of cold chicken, shredded it, and placed it on a saucer.
Here you are then, feast away!
The cat sauntered over, tail proudly stuck up, and tucked in as if expecting Michelin stars.
Clare double-checked the doors. Still locked as before, but then she noticed a little cat-flap, long forgotten, at the base of the old door. That explained that, then. Someone knew his way around!
When she came back to the kitchen, Alice was sat cross-legged beside the ginger tom, whispering stories in his ear. The cat seemed genuinely interested. Clare, for the first time in ages, burst out laughing.
Communicator, are we?
Daughter and cat turned at once, and Clare could have sworn the cat shrugged, just like Alice, which was frankly hilarious.
A knock at the door. Clare held up a warning finger at Alice.
Stay put! She went to answer.
Good afternoon! Im your neighbour, Phyllis Goodman. Just call me Aunt Phyl. Here! Fresh from my own Daisy the goat, not the neighbour! She thrust a litre glass bottle of milk into Clares hands.
Thank you! Im Clare. Lovely to meet you! Clare marvelled at the still-warm milk and beckoned Phyllis in. Come in, make yourself at home.
Phyllis didnt need telling twice, and followed into the kitchen.
Clare placed the milk on the stove-side table as Alice piped up.
Hullo! Im Alice.
Hello, love! Aunt Phyls the name.
Nice to meet you! Do you know whose cat this is?
Of course! Thats my rascal, Thomas. Give him too much and hell never bother catching mice here again he eats like a king at mine! So if he starts freeloading, tell him to sling his hook.
Do we have mice, Mum? Alice asked, eyes wide.
Every house around here has mice, especially in autumn. They love these old places.
Mum, we really, really need Thomas! I mean we need a cat!
Clare smiled. Lets see, Alice. Aunt Phyl, do you know anyone nearby looking for odd jobs? I need help clearing the garden and fixing the place up. Its a bit much for one person.
No trouble at all go and see old Mike Cooper. Green gates, three houses down. Cracking chap, jack of all trades, and he wont fleece you.
Thank you! Oh would you like a cup of tea? Weve only just moved in so its mostly biscuits and sweets, but its something
Id never turn down a cuppa, Aunt Phyl beamed.
They settled down to tea, Aunt Phyl chatting about the little town, her family, and life in the sticks before suddenly asking:
So, Clare, how did you end up here?
Inherited, sort of, Clare said as lightly as possible, not eager to air her laundry. Got handed down, you know how it is.
You know, its stood empty for twenty-odd years. The young ones dont remember, but us oldies know its a bit of an unlucky house.
Youre scaring me now why?
Oh, nothing like that! Just, no one ever lasted long here. A couple of years, then off they went. Bad luck, illness, never seemed happy here. Way back, a merchant built it for his fiancée, but she passed away before their first anniversary, some fever took her. He sold up and left seems the gloom stuck. The place has been rebuilt a couple of times, but never brought luck to anyone.
Clare fiddled thoughtfully with her teaspoon.
Well, what we see is what we get might as well make the best of it! Were made of stern stuff, arent we, Alice? Not scared of a bit of mystery! Well see what comes of living here.
A few months later.
Clare was well settled now. Alice was off to nursery, Clare had picked up work at the local photography studio and was making a tidy sum snapping birthdays and weddings. Once just a hobby, she now realised it was what shed wanted all along. Shed done a course while pregnant with Alice, and had started snatching the odd job here and there. It all came in handy now.
Gradually, she whipped house and garden into shape, with a little help from
Aunt Phyl delivered as promised, bringing round tall, burly Mike Cooper, who simply said, Call me Mike, never mind the Mr Cooper. He took her list, rolled up his sleeves, and set to.
They hacked back the wilderness, revealing apples, plums, and berry bushes galore. Clare twigged that with a little care, Alice would be eating fruit all year without setting foot in the Co-op. Next, she and Mike sorted the leaky roof, restored the porch, the lot. It took ages, but it was worth it.
The house felt alive, welcoming. Clare would step out in the morning with her tea, hand resting on the fresh porch rail, and feelfor the first timethat this was truly home.
She also took charge of Aunt Mays needs, popping round each day with Alice after nursery. She could see, now, how wise a move this all had been. Her heart was healing, and she found herself almost able to forgive Mark.
He visited frequently, still spent time with Alice, which made things a touch easier. After all, it wasnt total abandonment. Life had its hiccups shed given her all to raising Alice and perhaps neglected Mark in the process. She decided it was pointless picking over old bones. She just wanted Alice to feel loved, by both parents, regardless of where they lived.
Aunt May had wise words, as ever:
Thats right, Clare dont let it eat at you. Even a little sadness grows enormous if you nurse it too long. Hang onto the good times look at your lovely Alice! Thats what matters. Let the bad things go, or theyll steal all the warmth from your soul. Alice is watching you, you know. Children see everythingwe just think they dont notice, but they remember it all. Wholl Alice remember, years from now?
Clare just nodded, agreeing in her bones.
Soon, Clare got to know the whole neighbourhood. Gradually, neighbours started dropping round new mums with toddlers for Alice to play with, retirees with cake in hand. Even the local silver brigade made regular pilgrimages.
Thats how Clare met Mrs Parker, further down the lane, who taught her to bake proper bread. Alice was in heaven with her thick slices and soon stopped fussing over milk a hunk of crisp crust, and she downed her glass in no time, milky moustache and all.
Another friend was old Mr Wilkins next door, who popped round holding a bowl of strawberries so huge they looked like a GCSE science experiment gone wrong.
British breed! Mr Wilkins boasted. Settle in, and Ill show you how to grow giants like these.
After Mike had finished restoring the porch, Clare set up a big table and scrubbed the coloured glass and old boards until they shone. There was a rocking chair in the corner Alices favourite perch where, almost every evening, she and the brazen ginger Thomas curled up together. Clare started tiptoeing onto the porch each morning, not wanting another incident like the time she barked her toe on one of several dead mice Thomas had proudly lined up as tribute. Thomas more than earned his keep, though Clare would have let him in anywayAlice adored him.
Of all the neighbours, Clare struggled most with Edna. A bit older, and absolutely relentless: a hard-core gossip. Clare didnt get it at first, but then she started ducking out of conversations at any hint of a rumour.
Aunt Phyl, how do I get Edna to back off? Shes a walking tabloid!
You cant, dear. Stop letting her in and shell start spreading far worsethats what she does. I managed it.
How?
Easy I have cats. Shes allergic.
Maybe I need to get a cat or a dog
Edna had soon figured out Clares were friendly, listening ears, and, to Ednas mind, that meant she deserved unlimited access. And Clare, too polite to shoo her, suffered through endless teas, humming old Beatles songs in her head and barely listening.
Bit by bit, however, Clare noticed a peculiar patternevery time Edna showed up, something bizarre happened.
First, Edna tore her skirt on a mysterious nail poking from the railexcept there couldnt have been a nail, Mike had spent ages sanding and painting. Off went Edna, without her usual peals of scandal.
Next, she missed the chair when she tried to sit down. Unfathomable, really, as it sat right by the wall.
Whatever it was, Edna dropped by less and less often.
One morning, pruning the bushes at the gate, Clare heard Edna grumbling with Aunt Phyl:
Youve no idea, Phyl. Living alone with a little one and no man? Pull the other one! The place looks lovely, gardens perfectshes got help, she must have.
Everyone knows Mike helps. She pays him. What are you getting at?
And the house? The whole town knowscursed, it is! She should be packing her bags, but no, she stays and everyone likes her! No one visits me, but at hers its always busy. Hows that?
Because its not the house; its the person. Clares a good sort, thats why folk flock to her. Didnt you have something on the stove, Edna? Run along!
Clare backed quietly away, shaking her head. People!
Muuum! Where are you? Alice called from the porch.
Out here! Are you up and washed?
Not yet! Wait, look!
Clare turned to where Alice pointed. Through the garden ambled Thomas, hauling a tiny ginger kitten by the scruff. Reaching Clare, Thomas eyed her accusingly. She scooped up the fluff bundle, which began to protest, outraged.
Thank you, Thomas! Is this absolutely necessary?
Thomas blinked at her, turned tail, and slinked back toward Aunt Phyls. Apparently, mission accomplished.
Well, Alice, it seems fates decided. What will we call him?
Tommy Junior!
Clare raised the kitten to eye level.
Welcome, Lord Thomas of Sussex. Right, inside, all of you breakfast calls!
Alice giggled, flung open the porch door, and warmth spilled from their new home.
