Widow and The Vicar

Muriel Kingsley

Description

Like a flash of lightning, the vicar appeared in the pulpit and immediately their eyes met. Elizabeth's heart skipped a beat; her body went weak. She gulped suddenly and nearly choked. A warm stream of fire raced through her body - something she had never felt before in all her life. She was love-struck. "Oh my gosh!" she mumbled. She had been praying secretly for a long time, asking God to send her a nice man to fill the gap in her life, but she never expected to fall in love with anyone.

Sujets

• Romance

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 17 juillet 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9780722345726
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Title Page
THE WIDOW AND THE VICAR
by
Muriel Kingsley



Publisher Information
First published in Great Britain in 2014 by
Arthur H. Stockwell Ltd
Torrs Park, Ilfracombe
Devon, EX34 8BA
www.ahstockwell.co.uk
Digital edition converted and distributed by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
© 2014, 2015 Muriel Kingsley
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright holder.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is purely coincidental.



Dedication
This book is dedicated to my children: Clayton, Barrina, Louisa, David, Fitzroy and Mark.
My children, I thank you for your love and kindness. Thank you for not giving up on me. May God bless and keep you. May you be kind to one another and remember that God is the Creator of all things. Be faithful and give thanks to Him for everything.



Acknowledgements
To my brothers, Franklyn and Norman, thank you for your love. To my sister, Joyce, who died too young, you were always a joy to be with. To my mother, Jane, and my father, Jacob, who also died too young, thank you both for giving me the chance to develop strength and determination, which, though I did not realise it at the time, was a survival kit to pilot me through life.
To my first English teacher Laura Thompson, at Allfarthing School, Wandsworth, London, thanks to you - and all the others who helped me with my reading and writing.
To Gilly Abrahams, Hilary and Sandra, my English teachers, thank you for your reassurance, which helped me with my writing.
To David Cowley, ceramics tutor and lecturer, a particularly big thank you for your encouragement, which helped me to develop the confidence I needed to take me through the next steps. To all the others at South Thames College, Roehampton Centre, London, thank you for your support.
To Rosemary, Jean Kennedy, Juliana and Maureen Brooks, thank you for your help. Special thanks to Aileen, who always found the time to help me with my grammar to finish this book. It’s been a pleasure working with you. Thanks to the others at Croydon Adult Learning and Training, Thornton Heath Centre, for cheering me on.
To all my friends and relatives, thank you for your love.
Thank you, dear God, for giving me wisdom and knowledge and for opening my mind, putting words together that I may give inspiration to others. Thank you, God, for everything.



About the Author
Dear readers, just a few words about myself. My name is Muriel Kingsley. I am a mother of six agreeable children, and the last time I counted there were thirteen loveable grandchildren. They keep popping up everywhere, bless them.
Born in Jamaica in 1943, I went to school at the age of seven and when I left at the age of twelve I could just about write my name. The five years I spent at school were not well-attended years. Sometimes I had to stay at home because my parents could not give me lunch money. Other times it rained so much that the road was flooded, or I had such terrible migraine I had to stay in bed.
At the age of twelve, I was sent to live with a relative of my father. I was hoping to continue school until I reached the age of fifteen, but I went to school for only a few more weeks before I was put to work in their home doing most of the house duties.
One year later my parents took me back. My mother was ill and needed me to help look after her and my father and my two little brothers. I had to work on a tobacco plantation to help support myself, but I was happy to be home with my family. I saved up and bought a Bible, and that Bible was the only book in our home. My mother taught me to read a few chapters, which was an achievement for me.
By the time I was fifteen my mother and both my grandparents had died.
My father died when I was twenty-four, leaving two daughters and two sons. I am the second of the four children.
I came to England when I was twenty-six, still unable to write more than a shopping list and having read no more than a few chapters of the Bible.
My lack of education caused me immense sadness and frustration. While raising my six children I pursued, with enormous determination, the art of mastering reading and writing. I took advantage of all the tremendous opportunities England offered me and embraced them with great passion.
When I was about forty I attended adult educational classes at Allfarthing School in Wandsworth, London, to continue to improve my English.
After just eighteen months I was able to join a cookery course and, with the help of the teachers and my children, I gained a City & Guilds qualification which helped me to find employment in a private nursing home, cooking for the residents. I was very happy to be able to read recipes.
At the age of fifty-two I gave up work, owing to ill health. I re-enrolled in adult learning, trying out almost every course that was available: maths, English, dressmaking, tailoring, jewellery making, pottery, watercolour painting...
I gained a diploma in fine-art ceramics in 2004, at South Thames College, Wandsworth, London. My reading and writing improved so much that I was able to move on to creative writing - writing short stories and poems.
I moved to Croydon in 2002. I was still travelling back to Putney to finish the ceramics course I was doing. In 2004 I joined Croydon Adult Learning and Training in Thornton Heath.
Rosemary was my first tutor, and after writing a short story with her my imagination started to run riot. My first little book The Two Little Mice and Mary-Ann emerged and was published in 2007, followed by Grandma’s Ghost Story in 2010 and Emily’s Great Adventure in 2013.
I always wanted to learn to read and to write well, but I never dreamt that one day I would be writing books. It’s like a miracle, I tell you. Thank God for adult education, good teachers and my children! God has blessed me in a mighty way.
To date I have achieved City & Guilds in cookery, City & Guilds in basic English, a diploma in fine-art ceramics, and an E in fine art AS level.
If you choose to study something you love and are passionate about, no matter how hard it is or how long it takes, don’t give up. Keep going. One day your hard work will pay off and your dreams will come true in a way you could never imagine. God never hurries.
There is no end to learning. It is never too late to start and there is no age limit. You’re never too old to learn something new if you put your mind to it.
The mind is the measure of a person. If you use it well, you can reach the heights where the impossible becomes possible, achieving things which no human could ever have predicted. But, beware, the mind can also take you to ruin; therefore, let us bring our thoughts into harmony with the Creator and try to keep our minds filled with good thoughts to nourish the whole body.
Keep on learning. Never give up.
I began writing short stories for children based on my grandma’s made-up bedtime stories. Those extraordinary tales were extremely wonderful to look forward to at the end of the day.
Muriel A. Kingsley



Chapter One
It was a glorious crisp morning in February 2003, when the new vicar finally arrived at our church to take over from Mr Tranquil, the previous vicar. Mr Tranquil had been our shepherd for the last ten years; however, he was now sleeping the everlasting sleep. He had died three months before he was due to retire, leaving the church without a leader. He went to his peaceful bed one night, fell asleep and never woke up.
Everyone was gossiping about the vicar’s death, making up their own stories of how he died. Some said, “Maybe he prayed for death because the church was his whole life, and what else was there for him to live for?”
“You know, there is a saying, whatever you ask God for He will give it to you, so you’d better be careful what you pray for,” remarked one.
Others speculated that the vicar had died from heart failure. Everyone knew how much he loved his white rum.
“Strong drink can shorten your life, you know,” announced another.
“He visited Jamaica every year for de over-proof white rum and de curry goat. I’ve never known an Irishman who loved Jamaican food so. De man love de West Indian food - de ackee and salt fish, de rice and peas, de jerk chicken and de curry goat and de booze,” Joan recited. “Come to think about it, he was a bit overweight as well,” Joan added.
“Come on, now - stop talking ill of the dead. None of us are perfect,” rebuked Ruby, peering over her specs. “He was the kindest person I have ever had the privilege to meet. I hope his soul finds a resting place.”
“Let’s say he died of old age,” announced Annie, sipping her hot chocolate.
She was holding a book, but she had wrapped it with brown paper so that no one could see the title. When I asked her what she was reading, her answer was “Never you mind.”
“Is that another one of your dirty books, Annie?” Joan asked with a cheeky grin.
The old vicar, Mr Harry Tranquil, was a very caring, healthy and cheerful man. As far as I understood, he had never been sick, not even with the common cold. He’d never missed a day at church and had never been late, so on that cold morning in November when he didn’t turn up to take the service we all knew something was wrong. An elderly retired vicar who lived nearby and was very active in the church went immediately to invest