Rumour has it that the bells of St Christopher’s refused to be tolled since the Reverend de Montfort left to visit his oldest and most far-flung parishioner, Jacob Reader on the afternoon of 25th July last year
The Reverend, an energetic and forthright man was robust, sensible and didn’t suffer fools gladly. As the warden often said, the vicar was definitely not a pushover.
A single man, the Reverend had fended himself all his life, only allowing the Church to fund an office manager so that his diary remained organised and his days well-planned.
So his disappearance was definitely out of character, and his parishioners mourned his loss with vigour.
As the anniversary of the Reverend’s disappearance approached, the men and women of the parish wondered when the Bishop would admit that the beloved clergyman was gone for good.
They were all rudely awoken by celebratory pealing of the church bells as the sun rose on Sunday, 25th July. Reverend d Montfort strode down the village high street, wonder in his eyes, a smile on his lips. On his arm was a beautiful young man, a true Adonis.
“Chris, welcome to my church, my village, my parish. Isn’t it lovely?”
“Oh yes, Robert, it is. Uncle Jake is a lucky, lucky man.”
The parishioners were stunned at the turn of events, but were pleased to have Reverend back and truly happy after all these years. Especially the warden, who said that young Chris was a delight, to anyone that would listen.
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Freya Writes... 