Read The Priest's Well (The Greek Village Collection Book 12) for Free Online Page B

momentarily aroused. Then it goes on to quote various bible passages that seem to have no relevance until, at the end, underlined: ‘Even with a whole heart, even with a whole spirit, desires and passions can take our lives until we realise it is a mistake. Sometimes it is too late to change our lives.’ Savvas frowns, trying to recall where he has read this. Somewhere, recently. Yes, isn’t that the last verse of the poem underlined in the book from the bureau? When would Maria have had access to the papas’ inner chamber?
    A tree root is digging into his bottom and he tries crossing his ankles the other way around, but it brings no relief. Shuffling to one side, he looks at the ground to judge where it is flattest. The tree root arcs out of the soil before returning underground and reappearing to mould into the trunk. Where he has been leaning is the only bit of bark that is smooth. The rest of the tree is twisted and knotted, with deep holes and fissures that suggest multiple sapling trunks have grown and fused together. Some of the holes are so deep, they are partly filled with leaves and debris, but something blue is in one that is at ground level and wide enough for an animal to live in. Whatever it is has been stuffed deeply in the hole, leaving only a corner showing. Rolling onto hands and knees allows him to see more clearly that it is a book.
    He looks around the olive grove, but apart from the humming of insects, he is alone. The book sticks as he tries to retrieve it and it takes bit of wiggling for it to come free. It does not look old, but when he opens it, on the first page is the date some ten years before. He flips through to the end, where the last date, in a very uncertain hand, is earlier this year. He remembers his own horror when he caught his mama reading his journal, and his initial response is to return the book to its hiding place. But something about the last date and the handwriting cause him to falter.
    With another look around the grove, he pulls it free once again and puts the book up his sleeve to return to the cottage.

Just as he steps through his front door into the shadows, a ringing sound emanates from among the bags and boxes that remain untouched where he put them down on his arrival last night. It is his phone. With quick movements, yanking at buckles and pulling harshly on zips, he locates his state-of-the-art mobile. The book in his sleeve is proving an inconvenience and so, hurriedly pulling it out, he puts it in amongst his things. He hurriedly presses the answer button and speaks in a slightly breathless voice.
    ‘Hello?’
    ‘Ah Savvas, how did you sleep?’ It is the bishop.
    ‘Yes fine.’ He tries to recall the most pressing point he needs to address with the bishop. It returns to him quickly. ‘Yes thank you, now I am just finding my feet. But I am having trouble locating my car…’
    ‘Car?’ The bishop seems thrown by such a request. ‘Do you really think you will need one?’
    Savvas can feel a knot of tension start at the base of his neck. He is leaning against the wall and part of the bedroom doorframe digs into his back.
    ‘Well, I really think…’
    ‘Settling in all right?’ The bishop’s voice is jolly, cheerful, deflecting.
    ‘It’s a bit small. I was wondering if…’ He pushes off from the frame and turns to pick at the paint that is peeling off the moulding, small flakes falling to the wooden floorboards.
    ‘Is Nefeli taking care of you?’
    ‘Yes, yes.’ An image of her squeezes out all logical thought and practical issues. He stops running his nails under the paint. ‘Is she, well, can I ask?’ He stammers ‘The bump on her head, how badly has it affected her?’ A voice inside his head qualifies it as a rational question. After all, he needs to know what sort of person he is dealing with, both as his housekeeper and in relation to the house.
    ‘Ah yes, poor child. How scared she must have been. They did not find her immediately. When