Chapter 12
GRAHAM
Graham says goodbye to Mr Mallow, smiling as he sets his phone down on the table. He knew Mr Mallow wouldn’t be able to resist an intriguing case such as this. He hasn’t even told him everything yet to do with the supposed curse that John’s death started.
It isn't a life or death mystery, not yet anyway, but it’s enough of a challenge, a mental workout, to lure Stephen here.
Not that Graham’s luring him here for anything sinister.
Goodness, no. Graham’s lonely, and he has a sneaking suspicion that Mr Mallow may be lonely too.
Or bored. Mr Mallow always did like the strange and morbid, and a cursed tree is exactly his cup of tea.
Checking the fridge, Graham quickly realises he has nothing substantial to feed the man when he arrives, so he grabs his keys and drives to the local store, turning off the radio when a Christmas song comes on.
It’s not even the end of October, for goodness sake.
No Christmas before Halloween. That should be the law.
Why do the media and stores have to push the festive time of the year earlier and earlier?
By the time Christmas eventually does come to town, everyone (meaning Graham) is so sick of the twinkling lights and the festive atmosphere that they want it to be over and done with already.
It’s a strange time of year for Graham. Since working so much all his life, he’s never made time for proper friends, and he has no family.
His parents died over two decades ago within several months of each other.
He has no wife. No kids. The only person he’d call a friend lately is Olivia, but her being locked up for life puts a dampener on them spending quality time together.
He once pictured them entering into their old age as friends and going for long walks or learning new hobbies, like gardening.
He and Olivia had been the best of friends as children and into their teenage years, along with Mary, Frank and Jack, all of whom are now dead.
But something happened in 1980, and it drove them apart.
Graham lost all his friends in one day, but now he and Olivia are back on speaking terms and closer than ever.
It’s a shame it took such a catastrophic event for it to happen and for them to have lost the rest of their group along the way.
Christmas is traditionally a time for friends and family to gather and celebrate.
But Graham rarely celebrates the holiday, not like normal people do anyway.
Once, many years ago, he accepted the kind invitation of old Mrs Price who’d lived her whole life in Cherry Hollow and spent Christmas Day with her and her husband.
It had been pleasant enough, but thinking back on it, he was lucky to have survived the day, considering that same old woman had eventually admitted to poisoning her husband over the space of several years until he finally succumbed and dropped dead of a massive heart attack.
Nowadays, Graham books himself a table for one at the local pub and orders a full Christmas dinner, washing it down with a nice smoky whisky or perhaps a festive beer (if there is such a thing).
This year, however, he’s promised to see Olivia since it’s her first year in lock-up, but he’s also aware her family will be visiting, so he doesn't want to overstep the mark and encroach on their precious family time. He’s so happy her two daughters, Brooke and Dorothy, continue to visit.
Olivia deserves that. Graham would have done anything to keep her out of prison, but it was the way it had to be. She made her choice.
Graham enters the local supermarket and begins browsing the shelves for food he can easily prepare and cook.
He’s not sure what to buy, having never been particularly good at cooking for himself from scratch.
He makes a mean curry, but Graham likes his spice to be on the high side.
He’s not sure if Mr Mallow likes to have his taste buds burnt off, so he opts for a milder sauce.
As he’s perusing the alcohol aisle (an aisle he never misses), he overhears a couple of people talking on the other side of the shelves. It’s a small shop, so it’s hard not to overhear.
‘What do we think about Mr Williams attending the village meeting last night, then?’ asks a deep, male voice.
‘It was a bit of a surprise to see him, considering he’s been here almost a year and has never attended a single one. Apparently, Karen invited him,’ says a female voice.
‘I didn’t like the way he was looking at Frank. Did you hear that he brought the scarecrow down from the tree?’
‘Maybe someone should have told him to leave it alone. Now, we’ll have a year of bad luck because of him.’
‘You don’t really believe that, do you?’
Graham can’t quite hear what’s said next, so he decides to push on.
As he reaches the end of the shelves, he steps into view, but the two people who had been talking have moved further away.
He only sees the back of them, disappearing round the corner, but he doesn’t recognise them.
The woman is wearing a dark purple jacket, though.
Once he reaches the checkout line, the cashier begins scanning his items.
‘Oh, Mr Williams. Prynhawn da,’ says a voice behind him.
He turns and looks at the older woman who is wearing the dark purple jacket. He’s never been a fan of gossip, but finds it amusing that people are talking about him as if he’s done something wrong.
‘Hello,’ he says, still having no idea who she is, but now that he’s seen her face, he knows she was at the village meeting.
She’d been one of the friendly faces who’d shaken his hand and welcomed him.
It seems it had only been for show, though, as her less-than-friendly chat with the man he’d overheard earlier made it quite clear Graham hadn’t been welcome there.
‘Have you … were you …’ She glances towards the back of the shop where she’d had the conversation. A blush creeps up her neck. ‘Lovely to see you again,’ she says.
‘And you,’ he replies. ‘And don’t worry, I believe we make our own luck in this world.’
The woman’s mouth drops open.
‘Prynhawn da,’ he says, turning back to the checkout. He’s not sure what the woman does when he bids her a good afternoon, but when he turns around to leave the shop, she’s nowhere to be seen.
He drives home on autopilot, thinking about the scarecrow still hanging in the tree and what he’d overheard.
Okay, so the scarecrow wasn’t supposed to be removed, but so what?
He meant what he said, about making our own luck.
Besides, surely if he’d been the one to remove the thing, it would be him who would have the bad luck, not the rest of the village?
But that’s beside the point because he doesn’t believe in any of it.
Also, they didn’t make it sound like it was a bunch of kids playing a joke the way they had at the village meeting.
He’s hoping Mr Mallow will arrive during the daylight hours, so they can visit the tree and take a closer look at the scarecrow.
Perhaps there’s something else hidden in its pockets now that it’s back in the tree.
He is curious as to how someone broke into his garage and retrieved it in the first place.
It looks like it’s time to put his former investigative skills to the test once again.
Mr Mallow messages Graham an hour later with his estimated time of arrival. It appears he won’t make the darkness cut off, so Graham decides to prepare dinner and light a fire to ward off the impending cold.
It takes several attempts for the wood to catch, thanks to the damp and lack of appropriate kindling, but once the flames get going, the small lounge fills with an ambient glow and a comforting warmth.
He begins by sautéing onions in a pan, sweating them till they’re translucent, then adds some cubed chicken breast and a selection of vegetables from his garden, including courgettes.
He places the jar of curry sauce (he chose a tikka masala in the end) on the side, ready to add later.
Some people may say using a jar of ready-made curry sauce is cheating, but Graham isn’t one of those people.
While everything simmers, he grabs the village magazine that’s delivered to the households for free each month.
It arrived two days ago and he’d chucked it on the side, not giving it a second thought.
If he had thought about it sooner, he could have read it, possibly finding some snippets of valuable information.
He was even briefly mentioned in the magazine shortly after his arrival in the village. Apparently, a retired detective was an exciting enough announcement to be included. He was awarded a short extract, right next to the news about a local prize-winning sheep who’d given birth to triplets.
The magazine is mostly a who’s who of local businesses, reminding everyone to support farmers and to ensure no large, commercial companies or shops make their way to the village and destroy it.
Fair enough, but even Graham knows that without footfall and a constant revenue stream, it’s only a matter of time before small villages fade away to nothing. It’s sad, but it’s the truth.
He scans the pages, searching for anything about the tree. Something catches his eye on page fifteen. As he reads the headline, his eyes widen in alarm.