44

Tuesday 18 December

Jason stood, stock still, staring at the name. Shaking.

It wasn’t possible, there had to be two Roland Fortinbrasses, there had to be.

Dammit, he’d seen the man yesterday, he’d come to their home! Emily had seen him too, and so had Louise.

He walked straight back over to the gardener, who was back on his knees again, working out the roots of a dead plant with his trowel. ‘I’m sorry to bother you again. Are there by any chance two Reverend Fortinbrasses?’

‘No, sir,’ he said, without looking up. ‘Not that I’ve ever heard. Bit of an unusual name for there to be two of them.’

‘But I met – my wife and I met – the vicar of this parish yesterday. He came to our house – we’ve just moved into Cold Hill Park.’

The man shook his head and stood up, taking his time. ‘There’s no vicar in this parish any more, hasn’t been since the Reverend Fortinbrass passed away, back in 2015. Now we have a rector, Reverend Whitely – he covers four local parishes and he’s a useless bugger. Not a good situation, if you ask me – he only does two services a month in this church. Mind you, most times he doesn’t get more than four people, I’m afraid. It’s his teeth, they say, he scares them all. Old Mrs Blackthorne, in the village, told me it’s like being preached at by a blooming skeleton with rattling teeth!’

Jason grinned, fleetingly. ‘It just doesn’t make any sense.’

The gardener squinted at him. ‘Sir, I may be old, but I’ve still got me marbles. That over there is – or was – the only Reverend Fortinbrass.’

‘Who lives in the vicarage now?’

‘No one, that’s been empty these last years. I’ve heard rumours the Church are planning on selling it.’

Jason thanked him for his time, turned and walked back to the grave of the former vicar, and took a photograph of the headstone.

There had to be an explanation. Was the man who came to see them yesterday a conman? Identity theft? Was that it? Going around posing as a vicar, preying on the vulnerable, the elderly, the bereaved, and the troubled?

But if he was clever enough to carry that off, why on earth do it in the one parish where most people would know the real Reverend Fortinbrass was long dead?

He walked, very puzzled, back to his car, and drove the short distance home.