If you’ve followed this blog, you’ll be aware that I mix personal interest with purely food and culinary content. One of my hobbies is writing and my eighth book called ‘The Vicar’s Lot’ has been released. Here, I mix characters from ‘The Island Connection’ series with a setting the Dordogne region of France (an area I know well). Here’s a bit about it.

The Vicar’s Lot -‘The Island Connection #6’

Sarah gets a new police partner called Penny, and her initial reaction is not good since the new girl has the same name as her former partner and friend who was killed by jihadists six years previously. However, Penny proves to be a good match for Sarah as they are sent on a hunt for the truth into The Dordogne region of France. Meanwhile, Hjalmar’s past has caught up with him again in the form of The Vicar. But now, Hjalmar’s using his computer skills to track a group of influential paedophiles, and deals are made so that the past can be forgotten. When he sees Penny, he loses more than just a few fingers – he loses his heart. Will it end in happiness, or will it end in tears?

THE VICAR’S LOT

The Vicar peered around the curtain. His gaze swept the auditorium, shifting like a search light until it had touched everyone in the room. He wanted to remember these people’s faces and their fear. He wanted to brand his memory with their guilt and their sudden understanding of what was about to happen to them. He wanted to be sure that they realised that this was no accidental fire, though with Jean-Pierre Bernier hanging as naked as a peeled apple over the flames, that was hardly likely.

People were already panicking. Some were trying to open the double doors at the back of the hall, but had nothing to pull on them with. One grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall, and discovered it was of no use. He then used it to try and batter the double doors, but they were strong and opened inwards, not outwards. Another man ran towards the front and tried to run up the steps onto the stage, but The Vicar kicked his legs from under him as he clambered onto the stage and, with hands as hard as granite, took hold of the man’s arm and bent it at the elbow in the direction that it was never intended to go. He pulled the howling man back onto his feet and kicked him back down the steps into the auditorium. One man in the hall was as fat as a distillery pig. He was so fat that he couldn’t get out of his chair unaided but nobody was rushing to help him.

The Vicar glanced at Bernier, arms shackled behind his back and hanging in the air by his wrists. His shoulder blades protruded like open car doors and blood was running down his shadowy naked body from where the harness was cutting deep into his wrists. He danced like a man in a swarm of hornets, but the more he struggled, the more the harness cut down to the bone. His feet were now smouldering and the meaty pads underneath were beginning to melt as the skin and flesh peeled off them.