Trinity Fair

By Jane Goodhew

The sun shone from early dawn in a clear blue sky.                 

The birds sang. Families rushed to be there early.                                         

While a parking space could be found

As the streets were cordoned off

So, the festivities could begin.

 

Stalls lined the street.

Music blared from either end.

Colours bright and gory

Old ladies sat on benches telling stories.

 

Time passed and the sun beat down.

The children, whose faces had started with a wide, wide grin.

Began to fade and look grim.

Red faced and hot they wanted to go home.

But the parents had other ideas.

For the men drank beer and looked at vintage cars

The women at dresses and bags and thought of what they could have.

 

 

Whilst the children continued to whinge and whine

A death-defying scream was heard.

And a young girl with ashen face ran down the street.

Her flowing summer dress covered in crimson blood.

 

The fair was brought to a sudden end as the crowd ran in all directions,

in fear that they would be next, even though they did not know what had happened.

Sirens could be heard in the distance and then the police were rounding them up like cattle and telling them not to move until they had been questioned.

It was like a scene from a bad movie, only it was for real, and no-one knew what to do.

The young girl was not a suspect, as she, through loud sobs, told the story of how she had entered the main entrance of Trinity Church and walked towards the nave, to light a candle in remembrance of her fiancé Sebastian, who had died under tragic circumstances. It was as she bent forward to light the candle that she noticed the streak of red flowing over the wooden floor. Her first thought was that someone had knocked over a tin of paint but then she saw the body of Reverend Brooker, his eyes staring directly at hers.  She had held his hand to reassure him she would get help, but she realised it was too late, for he was already dead.

The local paper ran the story as did the nationals, Trinity Fair had made the headlines but not for the fun and laughter or the usual mediocre occurrences but murder. The locals had tried to delude themselves by hoping it would turn out to have been a tragic accident, that he had tripped and hit his head on the solid gold lectern but that was not the case.  As although a postmortem had shown blunt force injury to the brain, a large amount of air injected into his neck which had caused an air embolism had hastened his death.

 

Looking into the life of the Reverend did not seem to give any clues as to why anyone would have wanted him dead.  He had appeared to be a pillar of the community or at least whilst he had lived in the village. His wife was so distraught and unable to understand what had happened that she had been admitted to the psychiatric unit as they were worried, she would take her own life.

Weeks passed and life continued, eventually no one even mentioned the event and then it all came out. The young girl had handed herself in as she could no longer cope with the guilt and hoped that it might make life easier for the Reverend's wife who was still detained in the hospital if she knew the truth and realised that he was not who she thought he was but a cruel and heartless paedophile. The Reverend had worked for several years at a private boys’ school teaching Latin whilst also mentoring to the young boy’s spiritual needs but had left mid-term due to rumours of inappropriate behaviour. 

Unfortunately for him, the young couple had chosen his Church to marry in, and it was when they met for the dress rehearsal that Sebastian recognised him. That meeting would result in the death of two and the incarceration of a third, there are those that might say four, as Mrs Brooker remained trapped within her own mind as she could not accept the man she loved and spent most of her life with had been a sham.

 Trinity Fair and the Church are forever remembered but for all the wrong reasons.

THE END  

 

 

                                 

Copyright Jane Goodhew