Cockshut Grange , livre ebook

Andrews UK - Siusaidh MacDonald

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134 pages

English

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Cockshut Grange is a tale of witchcraft, murder and revenge centred around an historical family feud. When Dr. Stuart Carney, together with his wife and their two children, decides to move away from the pressures of city life and into the green tranquillity of the Irish countryside, little does he suspect that the rumours of witchcraft circulating the small village of Lisnacally might actually be true. However,a series of terrifying and inexplicable events soon force him to confront the truth - that not only is there a witch in residence,but also that someone - or something - is trying to kill his entire family.His wife Jo,meanwhile,finds herself increasingly drawn into the bizarre world of Davey McFie,a young,enigmatic busker. Unable to extricate herself, she decides to take drastic action,a decision which proves to have shocking consequences.

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Publié par	Andrews UK
Date de parution	03 juillet 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781783338702
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Title Page
COCKSHUT GRANGE
by
Siusaidh MacDonald

Publisher Information
Published in 2014 by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
The right of Siusaidh MacDonald to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998
Copyright © 2014 Siusaidh MacDonald
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any person who does so may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Dedication
to Marian

One
‘Jesus! That’s a turn-up for the books!’
Dr. Stuart Carrney laid down the letter and ran his fingers through his thick, curly hair.
‘What do you mean? What’s happened?’ asked Jo, plonking down a plate of toast in the middle of the table.
‘Well, apparently old Dymphna’s snuffed it, and, according to this,’ he replied, stabbing the letter with his forefinger, ‘I’ve inherited the house.’
‘What house?’ Jo frowned. Then: ‘Oh my God! You don’t mean the house?’ she said, shocked.
He nodded sombrely.
‘I always assumed she’d sell up after you-know-what happened to you-know-who, but it seems the old bat hung on to it. I can’t for the life of me think why. I mean, aside from the obvious, I’d have thought she was a bit long in the tooth to still be farming,’ he said, staring down at the letter in disbelief.
‘Is this the place where granddad got killed?’ enquired Ben.
‘Sssh,’ whispered Jo, with a knowing look at his sister, Sophie.
‘I don’t see why we’re not allowed to talk about it,’ Ben said sullenly. ‘We all know it happened, so it’s not like it’s a big family secret or anything.’
‘It’s the way in which it happened, Ben, and I for one don’t want to keep going over it,’ Jo said firmly.
‘As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,’ Stuart continued, glaring at the both of them. ‘I can’t imagine why she’s left everything to me. It’s not as though we were close. In fact, I probably only met the woman once or twice in the whole of my life.’
‘Maybe there was no-one else to leave it to. After all, your parents and your sister all live in Spain,’ Jo pointed out.
‘So? Even assuming Dymphna didn’t know where they were - which I doubt, by the way - I wouldn’t have thought the lawyers would have had any difficulty in tracking them down: Marbella’s hardly the other side of the world, is it? Still, she made her decision, and it doesn’t do to look a gift horse in the mouth, eh folks?’ Stuart said cheerfully, spreading marmalade on his toast.
‘That man who came here said that what happened to granddad was a funny kind of an accident,’ Ben went on, just as though no-one had spoken. ‘He said he couldn’t imagine what kind of machinery could have done that to him.’
‘ Ben ,’ warned Jo.
‘God alone knows what I’m supposed to do with that great farmhouse, though, and then there’s and all that pasture; it’ll have to go to auction, I guess,’ Stuart mused.
‘I’ve never even heard of this Dymphna person, anyway. Who was she?’ asked Ben.
‘Dymphna was my great aunt. That’s to say she was my grandfather’s sister,’ Stuart explained. ‘She was a funny old stick by all accounts. I remember hearing all these stories about her when I was a kid, and Dad always reckoned she was the black sheep of the family. In fact, I seem to recall she was one of the reasons why they emigrated in the first place.’
‘Was Dimpa really a sheep?’ Sophie asked, wide-eyed.
‘No, sweetheart, sadly not - just a dotty old woman,’ Stuart assured her. ‘Actually, I suppose that’s quite fitting when you consider she was named after the patron saint of lunatics,’ he added.
‘What’s a lunatic, Daddy?’
‘It’s complicated, sweetheart,’ Jo answered quickly.
‘In what way was Dymphna the black sheep?’ asked Ben, curious.
Stuart laughed, clearly embarrassed.
‘Oh, the people in the village always said she was a witch or somesuch nonsense, but you know what these country folk are like: they work like the devil all day and then make up these stories at night in order to scare themselves to sleep.’
‘A witch ? What, one of these New Age hippy types, dancing around naked in the woods?’ giggled Jo.
‘No, not at all: she was the real deal, apparently. Positively wicked, in fact,’ Stuart replied with a cackle.
Then he leaned over Ben, wiggling his outstretched fingers.
‘If that’s your idea of scary, Dad, then you’d make a lousy witch,’ Ben said witheringly.
‘But it is scary - stop it, Daddy!’ Sophie pleaded, tugging at his t-shirt.
‘Pack it in, Stuart, she’s only five,’ Jo chided him.
‘Wimp!’ Ben told his sister scornfully.
Then he leaned over and whispered in her ear.
‘Look out for the witch, or she’ll cut you into little pieces like she did to granddad, and we’ll find bits of you all over the garden!’ he added for good measure.
‘I heard that, Ben! And just for that, you’re grounded for the rest of the week,’ Jo told him, picking up the letter.
She read it through carefully, and was about to return it to its envelope when something caught her eye.
‘That’s odd,’ she murmured. ‘Stuart, did you notice the date on this?’
‘No, I didn’t. And anyway, why would I be interested in when it was written? The important thing is that it got here,’ he told her.
‘I didn’t mean that,’ she said. ‘What I mean is that, according to the solicitor,
Dymphna died ten months ago. Which means she died before my father even had his accident. I wonder why they didn’t contact you sooner?’
‘Who knows the ins and outs of the Irish legal system?’ he shrugged. ‘There was probably some sort of hold up with the probate.’
‘Maybe. But it’s still odd, don’t you think?’ she said.
‘Listen, I have to go or I’ll miss the bus,’ Ben cut in, pushing back his chair. ‘But if you guys are in for a windfall, I could use a new skateboard,’ he added cheekily.
‘Have we still got that old map of Kilkenny somewhere?’ Stuart asked Jo as soon as Ben had left for school.
‘I expect so. Why?’
‘I thought we might go over there and take a look. I’d like to see what’s what,’ he replied mildly.
‘But we don’t need to go to Ireland for that, surely? It’ll all be on the Title Deeds and, anyway, the solicitor can explain everything,’ Jo said quickly.
She didn’t like the way this was going. She had a sneaking suspicion that her husband might have an idea forming at the back of his mind; another one of his crazy, crackot ideas.
‘Stuart, I sincerely hope you’re not thinking of moving into that place ?’ she said sharply. ‘There’s no way I could live there - even you must see that.’
‘Of course I’m not! I just thought we might go and take a look at the land,’ he reassured her.
‘And since when have you been a fully paid-up member of the green wellie brigade?’ she demanded.
‘Don’t be daft! What I mean is that there must be at least seventy acres of land comes with this house, and my guess is that it’s all of it ripe for development. There’s always a shortage of decent housing in rural areas, and we could make an absolute killing if we play our cards right,’ he replied, seemingly oblivious to his unfortunate choice of phrase. ‘And never you mind about what Ben just said,’ he went on, ruffling Sophie’s hair. ‘There’s no such thing as witches. And even if there was, they’d have better things to do with their time than to come looking for you.’
‘You know, a bit of respect wouldn’t go amiss,’ Jo said, narked with both him and his get rich quick scheme. ‘My father died on that farm and here you are, already looking to turn it into Pete Seeger’s little boxes.’
‘It’s only an idea, Jo. There’s no need to bite my head off,’ Stuart told her, looking hurt. ‘Anyway, I’d best be on my way or I’ll be late for surgery. I’ll talk to the solicitor sometime today and then I’ll phone you,’ he continued, kissing each of them on the cheek.
Jo sat staring into her coffee. She knew that if Stuart decided to go ahead with this development, he wouldn’t be content with sitting here in Brum, watching from the sidelines; he’d be wanting to be there, on site. Which would mean going home. Which, in turn, would mean uprooting the kids and she and Stuart having to change jobs, as well.
‘Mummy, we don’t really have to go and live with the witch, do we?’ Sophie suddenly asked.
‘No, of course we don’t, darling. But we might have to move to a new house one day, and that’ll be fun, won’t it?’ Jo replied, clearing the table and ferociously hurling crockery into the dishwasher. ‘Tell you what, why don’t you wear your new coat today, now you’re at proper school?’
While Sophie was upstairs, Jo had a quick look on the laptop. She was looking to query the date given for Dymphna’s death but to her surprise, the firm of solicitors wasn’t even listed.
‘Well, and don’t you look the proper princess!’ she told Sophie when she reappeared, then she switched off the computer and picked up her car keys.
She was at work when Stuart phoned.
‘Hi. I’ve spoken to the solicitor and he reckons they can do all the paperwork without us having to go over there,’ he told her.
‘But?’
‘But I still think we should go and have a look,’ he insisted. ‘Listen, we could make a family holiday out of it. Instead of flying, I thought we could take the ferry and stop off in Dublin. Do a bit