Chapter 31
Thirty-One
By the time Kim had a black coffee in front of her, she was absolutely dying to know the source of the feud between the Stouts and the Hubbards. And here was the only person prepared to tell her. Despite himself, Bryant looked equally invested.
Donna Stout took a deep breath. ‘It’s a curse.’
Kim looked at Bryant before responding. It wasn’t even in the top hundred of what she’d expected to hear. ‘You are kidding?’ she asked.
Donna shook her head. ‘I can understand your scepticism, especially in these modern times, but you asked a question and I’m giving you the answer. Do you want to know?’
Kim could have understood if it had been a land dispute that had never been settled or that the animosity started when someone’s cat got run over…
but this? How was that even possible? Kim nodded.
Oh yes, she wanted to hear more, all right.
Right before she got everyone around a table and banged their heads together.
‘The Hubbard family cast the curse on the Stout family in 1910.’
‘For what?’ Kim asked, suspending disbelief for a minute. She didn’t believe in curses, but she did believe in hysteria being passed down through generations. She wanted to know why this particular nonsense had endured through the ages.
‘There had been a five-witch coven in the area since the late eighteen hundreds. Both Evelyn Stout and Thora Hubbard were members of the coven, as both of their mothers and grandmothers had been. Evelyn’s husband, Edgar Stout, raped Thora Hubbard’s daughter.
The police were called, but Edgar was well respected, he denied it and no charges were brought.
Evelyn Stout fiercely defended her husband and left the coven to stand by him.
Less than a month later, Thora’s daughter walked into the river and never walked back out.
In grief and rage, a spell was cast by the remaining witches on the Stout family. ’
‘They seriously believed they were witches?’ Bryant asked.
Donna rolled her eyes. ‘They were witches. Witchcraft has been present in human history from the beginning of time. Curses are spoken of in the Bible. Despite centuries of persecution, it has endured and evolved. A curse is any magic powered by the fuel of ill intent.’
‘But no one really believes in them,’ Kim stated.
Donna laughed. ‘You don’t, as is your right, but there’s a reason why witches were persecuted all over the world.’
‘Go on,’ Kim urged. She’d taken a sip. It was good coffee and her tolerance for this nonsense would last as long as it took her to drink it.
‘Hundreds of witches were tried by churches and executed, imprisoned or exiled as enemies of God and humanity. Why? If there was nothing in it, then why were they persecuted? Why were they not disregarded as crazy or senile? Why was the Church threatened by them?’
Donna paused and Kim took another sip of her drink.
‘Many say that successful magic hinges solely on the belief of those people practising it. In early history, magic was considered to be a power innate in some healers, shamans and religious leaders.’
‘Good magic?’ Bryant asked.
Donna nodded. ‘It changed in the medieval period with the advent of demonology. The fifteenth to eighteenth centuries were crammed with curses, blessings, angels, devils, ghosts, spirits, fairies, elves and ruling over it all was a benevolent god.
‘Miracle working was a special class of power reserved only for Christian saints. Therefore, all other supernatural powers were lesser and came to be seen as evil.’
‘Hence the persecution,’ Kim said, acknowledging historic record. There was no question the witch trials had happened.
Donna continued. ‘Most witches were thought to be female, as women’s minds were easily confused by demonic lies and their tongues talked men into sin. Satan would mark you with a blemish or growth showing you belonged to him, then lend you the power you’d wanted, and you’d become a witch.’
‘Hairy warts,’ Bryant said, and both Kim and Donna looked his way. ‘That’s how they’re always depicted, isn’t it? Hairy warts, pointy noses, that kind of thing?’
‘In The Wizard of Oz,’ Donna said with a look that was barely tolerant.
‘So, what exactly was the role of a good witch in the community?’ Kim asked.
‘Mixing potions for ailments.’
‘Who were the potions for?’ Kim asked.
‘Mainly peasants. People from lower social classes relied on folk healers to treat their illnesses as they had no access to medicine.’
‘A bit like the NHS?’ Bryant asked.
Donna tried to hide her irritation at Bryant’s flippancy. He was allowing his contempt to leak out of every pore. Kim didn’t disagree with him, but she didn’t have much coffee left, so he wouldn’t have to suffer for much longer.
‘You’ve done your homework,’ Kim observed.
‘Why wouldn’t I? The dark side of witchcraft has dominated the life of my ancestors and my family.’
‘And it’s a spell that caused all your bad luck?’ Kim asked, raising an eyebrow.
‘Spells are passed down through generations. There are spells to dominate nature, protect from evil or injury, or to prevent other spells. It’s not a spell which has destroyed my family.’
‘What’s the difference?’
‘A spell is a broad term for the use of magic. A curse is a specific type of spell intended to cause lasting and severe harm, misfortune, or a persistent negative effect on a place or person. Take the Hope Diamond. It was rumoured to be cursed, and countless people who came into contact with it either died or lost their mind.’
‘Which would probably have happened to them if they’d never set eyes on the stone,’ Kim argued, unable to stop herself presenting the logical side of the argument.
‘You’ve never read about the Kennedy curse? A family blighted by death and misfortune?’
‘It’s a huge family,’ Kim said. ‘There was bound to be a good deal of misfortune.’
‘Two sons assassinated, not to mention helicopter, car and plane crashes. Most people would agree that family has had—’
‘But it’s playing into it, isn’t it?’ Kim asked.
‘I mean every event that negatively affects the family is attributed to it. Someone dies on a plane, it’s the curse.
Someone overdoses on drugs, it’s the curse.
Someone takes their own life, it’s the curse.
These things happen to other large, wealthy families, but no one cries curse every time. ’
Donna shrugged as though she accepted the point but still didn’t believe it.
‘Have you heard about the curse of the chained oak?’
Kim shook her head.
‘There’s a seven-hundred-year-old oak tree tied in chains near the village of Alton.
In the 1800s, on an autumn night, the Earl of Shrewsbury was returning to his home at Alton Towers.
An old woman appeared in the road. She begged for a coin.
The earl cruelly dismissed her so the old woman cursed him, saying that for every branch of the old oak tree that fell, a member of his family would die.
‘Later that night, a single branch fell in a storm and a member of the earl’s family died. The earl ordered his servants to chain every branch together to prevent them from falling. It’s still chained now.’
Kim immediately considered whether there were other reasons to chain the tree but decided against debating it. Her coffee was almost gone.
What she did know was that being told you’d been cursed could work like a post-hypnotic suggestion. If you believed in it, it would happen.
‘So, what curse was placed on the Stout family?’ Kim asked before draining her mug.
‘That no Stout male would live beyond fifty years of age.’
‘And?’
‘No man ever has,’ Donna said simply.
‘None at all?’ she asked, sensing Bryant’s impatience grow. ‘Why that particular curse?’
‘Because Edgar Stout was forty-nine at the time he raped the girl.’
‘And the curse worked immediately?’ Kim said doubtfully.
‘Of course. Edgar Stout died in a freak accident when a length of timber fell on his head as he supped his ale in the pub.’
‘Anyone else injured?’ Bryant asked.
Donna shook her head as the front door opened. She looked to the door with concern.
Eric Hubbard appeared in the doorway, looking haggard.
‘Did your mum see you?’ Donna asked.
He hesitated before he shook his head. ‘Wouldn’t even answer the door,’ he said before looking their way.
‘Police officers,’ Donna explained. ‘Mum confessed.’
Eric took a seat beside Donna and reached for her hand. Pain was etched into both of their faces.
‘We’re sorry for your loss, Eric,’ Kim said.
‘Thank you.’
Kim felt a twinge of sadness for this couple, caught in the crossfire of a feud that had nothing to do with them but was drawing them into its backlash.
This was supposed to be an exciting time in their journey together.
Instead, they were estranged from everyone they loved.
Eric’s father had lost his life at the hands of Donna’s mother, who would now spend the rest of her life in prison.
Many things about the situation bothered her, but one particular question could be answered by the son of the man who had been gunned down.
‘Eric, may I ask you a question?’
‘Of course,’ he said, pushing the hair out of his eyes.
‘Why would your dad have gone past the oak tree?’
He looked surprised that she knew about the unspoken rule, but he quickly shook his head.
‘I don’t know. He’d never done it before.’
Satisfied that there were no more answers to gain, she thanked Donna for the coffee.
‘We’ll leave you in peace,’ she said, standing. ‘And we can see ourselves out.’
Donna nodded and put her arm around her boyfriend’s shoulders.
As she headed for the car, Kim had to wonder if the couple would even survive. Surely resentment would figure somewhere down the road?
‘No, I still haven’t forgiven you for this little stunt, in case you were wondering,’ Bryant said once they were in the car.
‘It was a coincidence. I felt unwell,’ she said, pulling on her seat belt.
‘Bullshit,’ he coughed into his hand. He tapped the steering wheel thoughtfully. ‘You know, I don’t get you. When folks say they didn’t do it, you don’t believe them. And when they tell you they did it, you don’t believe them either.’
‘There’s something in my gut, Bryant.’
‘We’ve worked together for years. Trust me when I tell you there’s nothing here.’
‘My gut’s been with me a lot longer than you, and it hasn’t steered me wrong yet.’
‘I give up,’ he said, starting the car.
Kim couldn’t help but wonder if there was some way to put this family back together. Maybe if she could somehow disprove the curse, something could be salvaged. She took out her phone and called the only person who could help.
‘Jesus, what are you doing now?’ Bryant moaned.
Kim shushed him as the detective constable answered the phone.
‘Hey, Stace, have you ever done a family tree?’