Page 37 of Saxonhurst Secrets
âHeâs the vicar,â Evie mumbled from under the duvet.
Adam straightened up, abandoning the keyhole when Trevelyanâs shambling body filled the view.
The door opened a crack and a bloodshot eye looked out.
Adam held up the camera.
âIt was on the slide,â he explained.
He heard Evieâs feet patter up behind Trevelyan.
âIt is you! What you doing here, vicar? Getting wasted?â
âI was just passing. And, while Iâm here, perhaps I should call you a taxi.â
Evie hooted with derision.
âTaxi? In Saxonhurst? Youâll be lucky. They have to come all the way out from Parham, and they donât like it.â
Trevelyan opened the door wider and took the camera.
âSaw you earlier, didnât I?â he said, squinting. âWith that one â wassername â you know her.â
âMs Shields. Yes.â
âShit,â he said, urgently, backing away from the door. âGonna puke. Bye.â
âDidnât realise I tasted that bad,â Evie called after him, then she took his place in the doorway, an unfriendly look on her face.
âYou been following me, Adam?â
; âAs I said, I was â¦â
âJust passing. Right.â
âWhy do you want to stay with him? Heâs incapably drunk.â
âWhen I could be at home doing embroidery?â
âEvie, you are worth so much more.â
âSave it, vicar. Gânight.â
She slammed the door in his face.
For a moment, he contemplated thumping the door even harder, refusing to leave until she accompanied him. But, on reflection, that was a good way to get himself arrested. So he took his big book of Saxonhurst secrets and went home, his loins tight and his heart heavy.
Back at the vicarage, he brewed himself some strong coffee and betook himself and his book to the most comfortable armchair.
âThe village of Saxonhurst,â he read on a page overloaded with illuminated script, ânestles in that idyllic corner of England known as the Vale of Parham. Abundantly fertile and green, this lush land grows much of the fruits and vegetables that fill the baskets of the nation. It is noted for its fine Norman church and an ancient hostelry that draws visitors interested in heritage. But there is another side to Saxonhurst, and it is this side I endeavour to explore in this volume.
âFor Saxonhurst has secrets.â
Adam took a sip of his coffee and muttered, âOh, you noticed that, did you?â
He looked again at the front cover. The author was one J. E. Lydford. He had heard that name before. Where?