Accused!

By Russell Taylor

Josh White, a widower, is the minister of a church in a large town in the south of England. On one of his days off he goes for a drive in the country and stops to take some photographs at a village in the Cotswolds. He sees a café and art studio and stops for some lunch. The owner is a young woman about his own age and, as he is the only person in the café, he starts chatting to her about her art and the surrounding countryside. He leaves her and strolls along at the nearby canal and woods before returning to the café at tea time.
He takes a liking to this woman and invites her to join him in the local pub for a meal that evening before leaving to go home, but not before arranging to go and see her the following week on his day off.
This second visit is the beginning of events which take him out of his comfort zone and results in him becoming involved in a police murder investigation, but also leads significant changes in his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Russell Taylor
• Release date: Mar 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463435199

Russell Taylor

Russell Taylor was employed for many years in the engineering department of a large steelworks in North East Wales. Following the closure of a large part of the works in 1980 he worked in Local Government in Management Services and Housing Maintenance. After taking early retirement in 1996 he joined the staff of Emmaus Bible School UK where he was involved in their prison ministry. he has also been involved in a broadcasting ministry with GBS Radio but is now enjoying writing.He is married with one daughter and two grandchildren and is active as an Elder in an independent chapel in North Wales.

Book preview

Chapter One

The Reverend Joshua White had just closed the evening service at the church where he had been the minister for almost nine years. The congregation had been a bit thin on the ground, as most worshippers preferred attending in the morning, leaving the rest of the day free for their families.

Following the evening service, he would normally be invited back to the home of a couple of members for supper, but this night they had not been at the service, so, after shaking hands at the door with the congregation, he left the church and began walking the few hundred yards back to the manse where he lived alone. His wife had been killed in a hit and run accident on the road outside his home three years earlier, and his walk home was always a reminder of this. The driver had never been caught. He also dreaded having to go in to an empty house which brought back memories of how happy they had been when he first moved to the town to be the minister.

He made himself a cup of coffee and sat down in front of the fire to watch a television programme he had previously recorded. As he was watching, he began to think about what he had said in his sermon. An elderly member had asked if he would speak sometime about loneliness as there were several widows in the church who were experiencing it. He had put this off for a while but decided he had better tackle the subject before being asked again. He preached from the first few verses of Hebrews chapter 13, using as his text the words found in verse 5: I will never leave you nor forsake you. The more he thought about this promise of God's, the more he began to wonder if he was applying it to his life as he had preached to his congregation that evening, and he realised he wasn't.

Life hadn't been easy for him having a daily reminder of what had happened to his wife. He wondered if any of the congregation had noticed that, for once, he didn’t feel at ease in the pulpit. After a while he put his thoughts to one side and started concentrating on his television programme before retiring for the night.

*

He had been brought up in a suburb of Sheffield where his father was the local vicar, and after spending three years at university studying sociology, went to work for the local authority. While at university he had attended the Christian Union, and met Mary, the young lady who was to become his wife. As he got to know her, he found that her parents were divorced, but then her father had died of a heart attack just three years after. Her mother had remarried and emigrated to Australia with her new husband. Josh began to realise that Mary was experiencing more in life than he was and that there was something missing in his life. He started attending the local Baptist church with her, and it was there he realised that he wasn’t a true Christian in the biblical sense, and through talking to the minister at that church, he came to know Jesus as his personal Saviour.

To begin with he enjoyed working for the Council, but after a few years, he became dissatisfied with what he was doing and that his life was going nowhere. He began to feel he should be more involved in some avenue of Christian work. By this time, he and Mary had got married and were living in a small rented flat in Sheffield and had become members of a local Baptist church. He discussed the possibility of Christian service with Mary and then met with their minister for guidance on how to proceed with what he understood to be a calling. It was suggested he and Mary prayed about it. When they were both sure that was what the Lord wanted for him, he enrolled in a course at a Bible College. This meant moving to a college in the south, where Mary found part time work with a firm of accountants to help support them both.

After three years of study and getting experience as Assistant Minister for a couple of years, he was called to the pastorate at Winterbury, and they settled well into their new life. They worked well together in the church and Mary was a great support to Josh, mainly in the pastoral side of his ministry for five years until that awful day when a motorist took her from him, and his life changed. He had tried to come to terms with what had happened but had found it difficult.

The sermon he had preached that Sunday evening brought it all back, and he realised that he was, like others in his congregation, quite lonely. In fact, he found he began to question his faith, or at least, how strong it was.

He found he couldn’t concentrate on what he was watching so decided to turn the television off. He didn't like the way his thoughts were leading and so decided he needed to get some strength and inspiration from the Bible. He normally used a systematic daily Bible reading plan, and realised he hadn't read the daily passage, but had been more concerned with what he was preaching on that day.

He opened his Bible and turned to the appointed passage for the day, but found his heart wasn’t in it, so he decided to have an early night. He found sleep didn't come easily and he started to think about what he had read, which was the short letter of Jude. The words that came to mind were that God would keep him from falling away. He got a certain amount of comfort from that and eventually went to sleep.

Chapter Two

Monday was his day off, and although he didn’t normally do anything out of the ordinary, he decided to get up early and go for a drive in the country, do some walking and take some photographs. He wanted to try and take his mind off things. Although he didn't consider himself to be a particularly good photographer, he did enjoy the countryside, and always liked to have a record of what he saw for future enjoyment.

It was a beautiful, sunny morning in the middle of October, so he hoped to capture some lovely autumn colours in his pictures. He stopped a few times and took some photographs from the side of the road. At lunch time, he turned off the main road and drove over a narrow humped backed bridge over a canal into a small village which, at first glance had just a few terraced cottages and little else, other than a church with a tower which he could see over the rooftops, a public house and a small art gallery with a café attached. It was like a typical Cotswolds village, although not quite as picturesque as some he had seen. He decided there must be more to the village because there appeared to be a sharp bend in the road about fifty yards ahead. The sign on the approach to the village told him it was called Lower Castleford and asked him to drive carefully through it. The village was very quiet, probably because it wasn't the holiday season, so he parked his car at the side of the road after making sure there were no restrictions and decided it would be an appropriate time to have some lunch before exploring the area.

On entering the café, he found he was the only person in the place. It was an old-world type establishment with oak beams and lots of antique looking ornaments dotted around the room. There was an arch leading to the art gallery and studio next door. In the café, there were several paintings hanging on the walls, presumably those of the proprietor or other local artists. He sat at a table in the window, and he began to wonder if he had done the right thing in trying to get away from things and trying to put his thoughts to one side. He still felt very bitter about what had happened despite it being just three years since tragedy had struck. He thought about leaving the café and moving on, when the proprietor entered through the doorway connecting the café with the shop.

She was quite an attractive woman, although, having her hair covering part of her face, and the loose-fitting smock over jeans with designer ripped knees she wore, did little to help in that way. She looked around the same age as him; but perhaps two or three years younger. She approached the table where Josh was seated and asked him what she could get for him. She must have been quite glad of some company because she was in no hurry to take his order but seemed to want to chat. He asked her if she did soup and a roll, but she told him that as it wasn’t busy, she hadn’t any prepared, so he just asked for a ham sandwich and a pot of tea. At first, he was wishing he hadn't gone in because all he wanted to do was spend time alone enjoying the peace and quiet of the countryside.

'I've not seen you here before,' she said. ‘Usually, I just see locals at this time of the year, and not that many.'

He wasn't really in a talkative mood, but he thought he ought to be polite.

'No, I just decided on the spur of the moment to take a drive out and explore the countryside with my camera, and I came upon this lovely village and thought it might be worth looking around. Are there any interesting places to walk that you know of, and which would be interesting to photograph?'

She went to the back and brought back an Ordinance Survey map of the area and pointed out some of the local beauty spots.

'If you go back down the road, you will come to the canal, and if you follow it, walking away from the bridge along the towpath, you will leave the village behind. You will see the woods over to your left which are always worth photographing in the autumn. There is a public footpath over a stile which will take you there. There is also a small lake, which is not much more than a large pond, with some small cottages by it which you will find picturesque. If you follow the path to the right of the lake you will see the waterfall which is always worth photographing. I often go up there with my easel and painting kit. There is the church which has some interesting architectural features. I understand parts of it go back to Saxon times. Anyway, I'll go and fetch your order.'

While he was waiting, he studied the map she had left.

When she returned with his sandwiches and a pot of tea, he asked her if the village was always as quiet as this. In fact, it seemed quite dead to him as he had seen very few people pass since he had been sitting there. He saw it as a village which had let time pass it by.

'It's quiet now, but during the holiday season, the village comes alive with tourists, especially walkers and canal boat families.'

She left him to eat his lunch.

When he had finished, he went to pay. The proprietor, who introduced herself as Jenny, was in the next room at her easel hard at work and unaware of his entrance, so he had a quick look at her pictures which were mostly watercolours. He would have like to have spent more time there but wanted to get on with seeing the countryside before the light went. When he had paid, he asked her what time she closed as he might call in later for tea.

'I'm usually here until about five o'clock, but if it continues to be as quiet as this, I might close earlier, but I am usually in the studio until about six working.'

'Thank you, but it depends on how far I get and if I get engrossed in what I am doing. I get carried away sometimes when I'm enjoying myself, so I might see you later. Bye for now.'

As he left, he picked up one of her business cards and noticed the name on it was Jenny Bird Arts. He put the card in his pocket and left. He soon found the place wasn't quite as deserted as he thought. Before going down to the canal, he decided to have a quick look around the village. Around the corner there was a small general store which also had a Post Office and there was also a hairdresser, both of which appeared to be busy.

As he walked, he noticed there were a couple of other shops which were closed, and wondered what they had been, considering the village was quite small. He decided to leave looking at the church for a future visit, should there be one.

He retraced his steps and walked down to the canal where there were a few benches. He sat and looked at the bridge over which he had entered the village and took a couple of photographs as it looked very old. He wondered if there was a small river or stream nearby which had once been crossed by a ford, resulting in the village being called Lower Castleford. He also wondered if there was or had been a castle. He stopped to take in the view.

The sky was a wonderful shade of blue, but from the point of view of his photography, he would have liked to have seen a few white fluffy clouds.

The water was flowing quite gently, and he noticed an abundance of wildlife, so he set up his camera on the tripod and took a few pictures. He was glad he had taken a telephoto lens with him as it would have been impossible to get close enough to his subjects without one.

After a while he packed up his equipment and continued his walk by the canal, following the towpath.

Chapter Three

On his walk, he met a man out walking his dog. He was quite an elderly man and looked quite well-to-do by the Barbour jacket and expensive looking tweed trousers he was wearing. The dog was a beautiful Irish Setter which was longing to be let off its lead.

'Good afternoon. Beautiful day isn't it for the time of the year?'

'Yes, the sun has made it quite mild.'

'I haven’t seen you in these parts before,' said the man. 'Looks like a good camera you have. Are you a professional photographer?'

'No, I just enjoy the lovely countryside and like to take something home with me to remind me of the day. Photography is just a hobby, although I haven't done much for several years. It's changed a lot since I first took it up. In those days, you needed a darkroom to process your photographs, but it was much more interesting, especially when you could watch the picture forming on the paper in the developer. The good thing now is you haven't got to worry about the expense of films and processing. You can take as many as you want and then just transfer them to your computer, play around with them if necessary and then just print those you want. It's also a change from my everyday life and gives me some exercise.'

The man didn't volunteer to say anything about himself, so Josh felt he shouldn’t ask.

He left the man and carried on walking but stopped a few times to take photographs. He met one or two more people, but only nodded to them. He came to the stile with a public footpath sign pointing towards the woods that Jenny had mentioned and took it?

At first the woodlands looked like private land because there was a five-barred gate at its entrance. At the side of the gate, however, there was a stile which meant that although it was private land, he decided there must be a public right of way through it.

Josh stopped before climbing over the stile to take in the Autumn scenery. He was reminded of something he had read once in an old book in which Autumn had been described as the sunset of the year, because the glowing colours of the leaves reminded the writer of the glowing colours of a beautiful sunset.

He was pleased that the wood was made up of traditional trees and not pine trees which don't have the changing colours in the autumn. He climbed over the stile and made his way through the woods. The track was covered with leaves that had fallen from the trees, and he could see that in the next few days there would be many more.

He didn’t meet anyone else, so he concentrated on taking more photographs. Eventually he reached the lake, which was nothing bigger than a large pond, and photographed the Mute Swans, Mallards and Moorhens that appeared to have claimed the lake as their own. He also saw some squirrels, although he wished they could have been red ones. The other side of the lake were the two cottages he had been told about. They appeared to be empty, so were probably second homes for their owners. They had shutters covering the windows, so were probably closed for the winter months.

He walked around the lake towards them and noticed there was a lane the other side of them, although it was little more than a track which hadn't been resurfaced for years.

As he approached them, he saw a black car speeding away, so maybe someone did live in at least one of them after all.

He decided to retrace his steps because he didn't want to be accused of trespassing, as the only access to the lane seemed to be through the gardens of the cottages.

He then retraced his steps and followed the footpath to the waterfall as the café owner had told him to, and suddenly came upon it. It wasn’t quite as dramatic as he was expecting, but a gentle flow of water from the top of the hill. However, it was still lovely to see and worth photographing. The water only dropped about fifteen feet and landed in a small pool at the foot of the cliff. A small stream flowed from the pool and he wondered if it fed the canal somewhere downstream.

After taking a few photographs, he made his way back towards the village. On the way, he met a couple taking their two Spaniels for a walk. They looked like locals, so he asked them what they knew about the cottages. Were they lived in? Were they available to let, because if they were it might be good to spend a week there exploring the countryside?

The lady spoke:

'We don't know who owns them, but I wouldn't want to spend even one night in either of them. There are rumours of weird things going on in them. The police were notified but couldn't find any evidence worth following up. Rest assured, however, there is something going on there which makes the locals feel somewhat uneasy.'

'What sort of weird things are people talking about?'

'I don't know, but it has been suggested that a coven of witches meets there. Another rumour is that seances are held there, but they are only rumours.'

'Thanks. I don't think I'll investigate the matter.'

Her husband didn't have much to say, probably because his wife didn't give him the opportunity. She seemed the domineering type, whereas he was probably well and truly under the thumb.

He carried on and eventually arrived back in the village.

It was about half past four, and the light was just beginning to fade, but he was hoping the café would still be open. It looked closed, but he could see Jenny was still working at her easel in the gallery next door. The doors to both shops were locked, so he knocked the door of the art gallery. She looked up, and when she saw who it was, she came and let him in.

'I thought you might be back, but if you had been a little later, I would probably have finished as much of the painting as I could for one day and turned the lights off.'

'Am I too late for something to eat, because if I am, I can always find a pub to have a meal in.'

'Don't be silly, I have cleaned the kitchen, but I can always rustle up a sandwich or something.'

'OK, but before you do, can I have a look at some of your work. Although I love going out and taking photographs, I have always longed to learn to draw and paint, but don’t seem to have the time. I used to be quite good at art in school, but never carried on with it. Nowadays I just appreciate art, especially watercolours.'

She showed him what she was currently working on and then some of her other work. They talked for some time and he found he enjoyed her company.

'Look,' she said, 'it’s time I got these sandwiches ready. Time goes fast when you are having enjoyable conversation. I don’t often get to talk to people like this as I am usually alone in my studio or just making polite talk when waiting on in the café.'

'Does the pub down the road serve meals?'

'Yes, but it doesn’t have much of a varied menu, just typical pub grub.'

'Sounds good to me, perhaps you will join me? Living on my own, I don't usually have anything special; just convenience food.'

'Do you always go asking people you have only just met out for a meal?'

He didn't, as since his wife's death he had become somewhat of a loner, not mixing with others except when it was necessary in his work. He answered her without saying much about himself.

'No, but I am enjoying chatting to you, and I find what you do interesting, so will you join me, or don't you usually accept invitations from strangers?'

'Yes, alright, but I'll have to change first. I only live upstairs so I won't be long.'

'Shall I wait here, or would you like to join me at the pub?'

'Perhaps I had better join you there.'

Chapter Four

On entering the pub, which was called 'The Dog and Duck', he found it was almost deserted, because it was still quite early in the evening. He went to the bar and ordered a glass of orange, because he was driving and had quite a distance to go later, plus the fact that he didn’t normally drink, except on special occasions. When he had looked at the map in the café, he hadn't realised how far he was from home. He chatted with the barman for some time. In fact, he began to think he had been stood up, when in she walked. He hardly recognised her as she looked completely different than when he had left her. After she had taken her coat off he realised why he had had to wait for her. The transformation in her appearance was amazing. She had clearly tried to look good and had succeeded. In contrast to the jeans and loose-fitting smock she had been wearing earlier in her studio, she was now wearing a skirt and smart top. Her dark hair, which earlier had been hanging loose over her shoulders, was now tied back in a ponytail, making her look much younger than she had earlier.

He bought her a drink and then asked the barman for a menu, but was told he didn't do a menu, just what was on the chalk board on the wall.

After deciding what they wanted, they found a table in the corner of the bar and sat down.

'You look absolutely gorgeous. You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble considering I am only in walking clothes. You make me look and feel rather scruffy.'

'I wanted to. It is rare for me to be taken out like this nowadays and you don’t look scruffy, you’re just dressed appropriately for the country.'

'Why is it rare? I would have thought there would be many wanting to spend an evening with you.'

'Although I live in the village, I haven't been here long enough to be accepted by many of the residents. They are somewhat of a tight knit community and are reluctant to accept newcomers. They tend to judge people without really finding out anything about them. I have tried to be part of the community, although probably not hard enough as I do tend to keep my private life just that as far as the villagers are concerned. Also, it has, in recent years, become a commuter village