7:Two Months Earlier . . .Jim was just putting the weed puller back in his tool shed when he saw the snow-white hair of Father Powers moving between the gravestones. Jim wiped the sweat from his brow as the elderly vicar stepped into view. He was a short man with a ruddy complexion and wild grey eyebrows that sat atop bright brown eyes. He was thickset, with powerful broad shoulders and big rough hands that suited a builder or a boxer better than a man of God.“Now then, Jim,” he said with a smile. “Why such gloomy features on a beautiful day like this?”“Was I gloomy, Father Powers? I didn’t realise.”“‘Was I gloomy?’ he says, with a face like thunder. And I’ve told you before, lad, it’s Kit. I’m not with my parishioners now, there’s no need to stand on ceremony.”“Sorry, Father Pow . . . I mean Kit, I’ve never been on first name terms with a vicar before. I keep forgetting.”“I’ll wager you’ve not been on any kind of terms with a vicar before, eh, lad?”“No,” said Jim, and
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