Downshire is a relatively small English county but like a pocket
battleship it packs a lot in, a short but beautiful coastline, a channel port,
the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock, the craggy ridges and
manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills National Park, the rolling hills of the
Downshire Downs, the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and farm land as far as the eye
can see from the Trotwood’s and the Grace’s in the south to the home of the Downshire
Light infantry, Nettlefield, and their affluent neighbour’s, Roespring and
Tipton in the north, but it’s in the Village of Great Trotwood where the
participants of the tale live their lives.
Colin Wild was the
Curate of St Timothy’s in Great Trotwood and he was conducting a rather
salacious affair with a wealthy married woman, Candice Robinson, whose husband
was a local bigwig.
“Hello darling” she
said when he picked up the phone
“Tongues have been
wagging about the length of time a tall leggy brunette spent in your house on
Friday afternoon”
“Really?” he said and
then after a brief pause she added
“Until it immerged
that you had been discussing the refurbishment of the church roof”
“People have nasty
minds” he responded
“Maybe people suspect you
might have a darker side” Candy suggested
“And she’s a very good
looking woman, if I were a man I certainly would”
“Candy?” he said in a shocked
tone and they both laughed.
“That’s an amazingly
sexy image you’ve put in my head by the way” he said
“Really” she responded
“and how is that sexy image affecting you?”
“Why don’t we meet in
the usual place in ten minutes and you can see for yourself” he said
“I was hoping you’d
say that” Candy said “So hold that thought, I’m on my way”
The “usual” place was
in a little carpark in a quiet wood on the outskirts of Little Trottwood and as
it happened Candice got there first and had already removed her underclothes by
the time the Curate got there.
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