Curses Read Free Page B

Phillip grabbed the pitcher of water they kept by the bed and emptied the contents on to the flames, which subsequently died out. ‘How the hell did that happen?’
    ‘That’s what I’d like to know.’ Rhea flung open the windows to clear the smoke and the cold night air rushed over her already freezing form. ‘Sh … oot!’
    ‘Surely I couldn’t have flung the covers that far in my sleep,’ Phillip reasoned, before hunting down a jumper to put on.
    Rhea wrapped her dressing gown tightly around her. ‘Well, if you couldn’t manage it, I certainly couldn’t.’
    Phillip didn’t like the agitated and accusing tone in his wife’s voice. ‘So, it’s my fault?’
    ‘No,’ Rhea replied, realising this heated conversation was about to become a full-blown confrontation. ‘Don’t twist my words, Phillip. That’s not what I said.’
    ‘Well, if you didn’t do it and I didn’t do it, who did? A ghost?’ Phillip suggested with a good serve of sarcasm.
    A sharp ping of fear beset Rhea’s body and the look on her face was enough of a response.
    ‘Hon, that was a joke.’ Phillip, seeing her fright, approached and hugged her. ‘There is no such thing as ghosts.’
    ‘Sure about that, are you?’ Rhea could tell by his tone that he wanted a better explanation and could not think of one.
    ‘Look,’ he took a deep breath and exhaled to give himself time to consider what he was about to suggest, ‘I’m sure Berrensborough has a local priest. Why don’t we get him over to bless the place?’
    Rhea pulled away, unable to believe her own ears. ‘Phillip,’ she frowned, surprised at him.
    ‘Well,’ he blushed, feeling silly, ‘if it will make you feel better …’
    ‘We are both indifferent to religion, and none of that hocus-pocus will work unless you believe in it. We are more likely to believe a television monitor than a priest.’
    ‘Brilliant.’ Phillip smiled, thankful that his wife preferred science to superstition, just as he did.
    Rhea placed her arms around her husband’s neck, pleased by their amicable mood. ‘Tomorrow night we’ll do a little film-making.’
    4. Divine Intervention
     
    In her studio, Rhea was taking advantage of the cool morning hours to get some work done. The electrician had yet to show his face and Phillip was threatening to rewire the house himself.
    An hour into her routine, there was a distinct drop in temperature. Rhea could only conclude that there must have been a change in the weather; it would normally be getting warmer.
    He’s mine now, He’s mine now, He’s mine now.
    ‘Ooooh!’ Rhea felt frustrated when her CD started acting up again. But, as she approached the player, it occurred to her that it had been the drop in temperature which preceded the previous problems with her CD player.
    A sudden wave of fear beset Rhea’s body and she froze. She stared at the player, suddenly apprehensive of it, whereupon it switched off and startled the life out of her.
    Another sound became apparent, a faint moaning. As the sound increased in volume it became obvious that this was the moan of a woman in the depths of pleasure. Someone is getting laid. Rhea’s fear left her as she crept closer to the wall behind which the encounter was taking place. I was under the impression we were paying those guys to work, thought Rhea, suspecting one of the workmen of inviting his girlfriend on to the job.
    ‘Oh, Phillip,’ the woman was heard to moan as her pleasure overwhelmed her.
    Rhea gasped, her eyes filling with tears as she ran through the house, out the front door and around the side to see with her own eyes what was happening.
    Nothing was going on there. Rhea heard Phillip off in the distance, where his large prototype was under construction, yelling instructions at workmen. ‘Oh, thank God!’ She turned back toward the house and was startled by a priest.
    ‘Apologies, Mrs Garrett, I didn’t mean to give you a fright.’ The young, fresh-faced man in black backed