his car window.
Kate stood at the top of the steps, her back straight and her head high. She was shaking all over, but she wasnât going to let him see that.
The Campbell curse. Yes, sheâd heard of it before; sheâd heard people talk. As a teenager she had once asked her grandmother about it, and although Gran had laughed it off as something conjured up by superstitious minds, Kate had often found herself wondering whether there really was something evil lurking around her family . . . was being the operative word. Henry Campbell was dead. If there had been anything evil, it would surely have gone with him.
Rotating her head from side to side, Kate eased out the tension in her shoulders and headed back into the house. Having Matthew Unterheinner as an enemy was not going to make her life here any easier. With a tired sigh, she sat down at the kitchen table and began to make up a list. It was time to start making some serious attempts at figuring out her future.
Kate drove the kids to school on Monday morning so she could spend some time in town. She was eager to find some answers to her grandfatherâs past.
With no clue where to start, she pulled up in front of the pub and went inside in search of the only person she knew who would be able to point her in the right direction.
âMorning, Kate. Bit early for you to be hitting the drink, isnât it?â Clive was using his deep voice today and for a moment it threw her.
âHello, Clive. Maybe Iâm here for some of your famous cheesecake,â she grinned. âNo, Iâm looking for Madge. I gather she helps out over here in the mornings.â
âMadge! You got a visitor,â Clive boomed through the empty bar.
Madge came bustling through the kitchen door and her old face lit up in a bright smile of delight. âKate! Hello, love, what brings you into town today?â
âActually, I was looking for you, Madge. I have some questions I thought you might be able to help me with,â Kate said awkwardly, conscious of the two sets of eyes watching her curiously from the other side of the bar.
âSure I can. Come and sit down and weâll have a nice cuppa and see what I can do.â Madge waved her arm at the empty dining tables. âIâll be back in a jiffy.â
Kate suddenly wondered whether this was a good idea. Madge was a genuinely lovely woman and Kate knew she had a heart of pure gold, but she was also ready to pounce on the slightest whiff of gossip. By the time Madge came back, Kate had all but decided to make an excuse and leave.
âNow pet, how can I help you?â said Madge, handing Kate a mug of tea.
âWell, actually, itâs really not that important. I found lots of documents and photos in storage at North Star and I was wondering how I could go about tracing some of the prop- ertyâs history. Is there a historical group in town? Or old records I could take a look at?â
âHmm.â Madge considered her thoughtfully. âThereâs no official historical society as such, but Bert Harris is the Presbyterian minister, heâs only been here about ten or twelve years, I guess, but his family came from here originally and he considers himself a bit of a local history buff. The church was one of the original buildings in Widgerry, and Iâm pretty sure theyâve kept the old records.â
Kateâs spirits lifted: that sounded like exactly what she needed.
âBut maybe I can help you with some of it. I donât know if youâve heard, but around here Iâm considered a bit of an authority on local history myself,â she said, smoothing the skirt of her floral print dress over her wide lap.
Kate bit back a smile; that was certainly an interesting way of describing local gossip. âWell, actually,â Kate started . . . Oh, what the hell, the whole town probably knew more about her family than she did. âI was
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