Chapter 25
Matthew is getting more and more pissed off with this.
The advocate depute is treating the bullshit that’s spilling out of the girl’s mouth as if it’s gospel truth when it’s clearly a load of nonsense.
He shouldn’t give any more attention to this guff about spells or curses.
The idea that a group of schoolgirls could induce breast cancer in a grown woman is laughable.
He’s going to have to put up with it, though. There must be a point to all this shit. But he hopes she’s torn apart in cross-examination.
‘I told you before about the Ouija board. How it had said DIE, and we weren’t sure if it was trying to say Christ or if it meant Christian.
Well, shortly after I rejoined, the next thing happened.
We were doing tarot cards. Isobel said the situation was too big for us to ignore, that we had to keep asking questions now that we had direct communication with the other side. ’
Matthew tries not to roll his eyes. Fails.
‘We’d read up all about it, but Eliza was the best at it. She’d memorised the card meanings so she did the quickest readings. She was our reader.’
‘Where were you at this time?’
‘We were back in the shed. They’d persuaded me that they weren’t going to do anything like the poppet again, that they’d learnt their lesson about cursing people for the wrong reasons.’
As if there’s ever a right reason. Matthew holds in a snort of derision. Mind you, he wouldn’t mind some of these powers himself. He can think of a few people he’d like to hex.
‘So Eliza was doing the readings. I went first, drew three cards. The first two were all right, nothing special. But I was really shaken when I turned over the Hanged Man, especially when Eliza said it showed I’d been a traitor in the past, betraying friendships.
She paused there for a moment, then she said the other cards showed that everything was all right now.
’ Sasha stops, swallows, as if the words have hurt her throat on the way out.
‘Then it was Isobel – I don’t remember anything much about hers.
But after that, it was Christian’s turn.
’ Sasha’s voice changes as she says this. It’s quieter, more strained.
‘What happened with her cards?’ the advocate depute says, coaxing her along.
‘The first one she drew was the Knight of Swords. That means something sudden and shocking is going to happen. Then she drew the Death card. After that she drew the Four of Swords. That means mourning.’
‘Together did all of that convey a meaning to Christian?’
‘Yes,’ the girl says, her voice still hushed. ‘Yet again, it was telling her that she was going to die.’
Matthew had been about to laugh, but the sound dies in his throat. Hokum it might be, but this witness’s belief is rock solid. Beyond any sneering of his.
Besides, Christian is dead. Hokum or not, the fact of it is true.
‘How did Christian react to this?’
‘She was shaken. You could tell. She went very white, kept her head down. But she didn’t start crying. I think I would have, but she kept it in. She shrugged, said, “It is what it is.”’
‘What did you think about that?’
‘She was a lot calmer than I would have been.’
The words drop into the quiet of the courtroom. Everyone is hanging on her evidence, listening almost without movement, as if they don’t want to break the spell.
A pause. Mr Alexander is clearly thinking of how to phrase his next question. At last he works it out. ‘I understand that you think that these experiences were real.’
‘Yes.’
‘But do you accept there is any possibility that they could have been set up by one of the other participants? By one or other of the accused, or both of them?’
‘You mean, was it faked by Isobel or Eliza? I really don’t think so. But I suppose it’s possible. One of them could have pushed the planchette round. The cards could have been set up. But I saw Eliza shuffle them properly. I saw it with my own eyes.’
They’ve stopped for a coffee break. Matthew is relieved for the chance to stretch his legs. He’s not in his suit today – chinos and a sweater, pale blue shirt. It’s a relief not to be hung-over. When he woke he loved the clarity of his vision, the lack of any ache and pain.
The smart-casual wardrobe came courtesy of Marks & Spencer.
He stopped in on his way home, down the hill towards the flat in Comely Bank, filling a bag with what was necessary for presenting himself respectably at court for the next week or so, a pile of microwave meals in a second bag.
Health purists wouldn’t approve, but a week of highly processed ingredients won’t hurt.
Besides, they’re not just normal microwave meals. They’re M & S . . .
He knows what he’s doing. He’s descending into the banality of advertising slogans because he’s so cross about the way the advocate depute is letting this girl talk about magic as if it’s real. It’s an insult to his intelligence – to everyone’s intelligence. Alexander should be getting a grip.
‘What do you think of all this?’ he says to Jasmine. They’re standing outside round the corner from the door into the court building while Jasmine puffs on her vape.
‘It’s a bit weird,’ she says. Blueberry-scented smoke weaves round her head. ‘I can’t believe he isn’t being firmer with her that it’s all bullshit.’
‘Is it though?’ That’s Neil. He’s wearing his green fleece again, looks very sensible. At odds with what he’s saying. ‘I got my tarot cards done once. It was freakishly accurate.’
‘No, it wasn’t,’ Jasmine says. ‘You were played.’
He looks surprisingly cross to be challenged, puffing his chest up. ‘She saw stuff that I hadn’t told anyone else.’
‘They’re brilliant at cold reading,’ Jasmine says. ‘It’s all a scam. I bet they fixed those cards for Christian to find.’
‘There’s more to it than that, I know it,’ Neil says. He walks away to finish his cigarette, his shoulders hunched against them.
‘Do you believe in it? You can’t do. No man in chinos thinks that ghosts are real.’ She laughs, smoke billowing out from her again.
Matthew shakes his head. ‘Of course not.’ But Neil’s certainty has cracked his scepticism, just a little. And under the fake blueberry scent that surrounds him, there’s the faintest tang of shit and rotten meat.
The Devil’s breath.