The Mills of God Read Online Free Page A

‘That amateur and her fairy folklore. She pays to have her books published. Makes out that is genuine publishing but I know different. My Alf’s brother was a printer so I do know what’s what in that line.’
    The vicar murmured something suitable like, ‘Quite so.’
    â€˜Anyway, that’s that box finished. What would you like me to do next, Father Nick?’
    â€˜How about making a cup of tea and telling me something of the history of the vicarage.’
    They sat down on the kitchen chairs while the kettle boiled and Mavis said, ‘Well, it’s a Tudor house, like a lot of the others in Lakehurst.’
    â€˜I knew it was very old.’
    â€˜And it has belonged to the village vicar since the fifteen hundreds.’
    â€˜Has it got a ghost?’ Nick asked.
    Mavis looked disapproving. ‘Surely you don’t believe in such things.’
    â€˜I like to keep an open mind.’
    â€˜Well, there are rumours about it but I put those down to all the tales that people like that Carruthers woman spin.’
    â€˜What are they?’
    â€˜There’s some old Elizabethan servant called William supposed to haunt the place. The story goes that he was so happy working here that he could never leave. Stuff and nonsense. I’ve never seen anything in the many times I’ve visited the vicarage.’
    She stopped for breath and suddenly a chill little breeze swept through the kitchen making the unpacked mugs rattle on their newly screwed-in hooks.
    â€˜William?’ said the vicar, only half joking.
    And from upstairs came the sound of a door banging shut.

THREE
    T he Great House had lit the first log fire of the autumn season. It roared redly up the huge chimney and threw a comforting glow on the many people who sat at tables close to it. Nick, who hadn’t realized quite how cold it had got, thought of warming the vicarage and wondered about ordering logs and finding out about the central heating. He looked round the room and saw that Jack Boggis was sitting in his usual seat, back turned, hiding behind the Daily Telegraph , but that there was nobody else there that he recognized.
    A very handsome man sat alone, puzzling over a crossword and totally ignoring the group of four young women – all uncannily alike, Nick thought – who sat near him, giggling and talking loudly. Other than for Jack Boggis there was nobody that the vicar had seen before. Despite that several rural types said, ‘Evening, Vicar,’ and one even asked him how he was getting on in the vicarage.
    â€˜Still unpacking,’ Nick answered cheerfully. ‘But it’s a wonderful house.’
    â€˜It is that. Provided old William leaves you in peace.’
    â€˜The ghost? What do you know about him?’
    The man looked surprised. ‘I didn’t even think he was real. I thought it was just a story.’
    â€˜It probably is,’ Nick answered enigmatically as he ordered himself a pint.
    Somebody came up behind him and said, ‘Reverend Lawrence?’
    He turned and gazed into a pair of eyes that were full of fun and could only belong to the owner of that lovely laugh.
    â€˜Miss Beauchamp?’ he responded.
    â€˜Call me Olivia,’ she said and held out her hand.
    Nick took it and could hardly speak as he felt its warmth.
    â€˜Call me Nick,’ he managed, then recovered himself. ‘Shall we sit over there?’ He motioned towards a table for two. ‘And what would you like to drink?’
    â€˜I’ll have a glass of rosé, please.’
    â€˜You go and sit down and I’ll bring it over.’
    â€˜Whatever you say, Vicar.’
    She was absolutely stunning, Nick thought, with her great tumbling mass of curling black hair, light green eyes and smiling mouth. In fact he was so knocked out by her presence that it took a great effort of self control to maintain his dignity and carry the glasses over to the table.
    â€˜Well