Christmas Eve in Little Smithering
My Confession
HM Prison Pentonville
Saturday 31st December, 1927
So, you’ve figured it out. I knew the charade couldn’t go on forever, but I really thought I’d get away with this one…
It all started on the morning of 20th December when I was sitting in my study, engrossed in preparing the Christmas sermon. Nia came in and handed me an envelope that had been slipped under the front door.
When I read the postcard inside, I was aghast. Somebody knew my secret. And that somebody was daring to threaten me! Their terms were clear: I must act before Boxing Day, or they’d hand me in to the police. The sermon would have to wait.
It didn’t take long to uncover that my adversary was Doctor Nicholas. I’d met her a handful of times before I left Greater Snollygoster, and she always struck me as a self-righteous prig. It didn’t matter at the time, I was planning to marry and move parishes, leaving without a trace.
But unbeknownst to me, that damn woman joined the Greater Snollygoster village council and started to uncover the financial embezzlement I’d kept hidden for years. I’d been painstakingly careful, siphoning off thousands of pounds without anyone raising an eyebrow.
I’d come so far; I wasn’t going to allow some idiotic woman to unravel my hard-earned winnings! But the doctor’s unbound tenacity had led her all the way to my front door. I had to act, and fast.
I needed to ensure that I wasn’t seen outside the vicarage after the village had retired to their homes on Christmas Eve, as it wouldn't yet be late enough to be entirely safe from prying eyes. So I recruited an unwitting accomplice in Clara Bell.
It was patently obvious that little Clara was desperate to regain her status in the Choral Society. Before choir practice, I took her aside and told her that if she wanted to become a soloist, all she needed to do was bring the doctor to the vicarage at half past eleven, long after everyone was tucked up in bed. Then I’d use my influence with Nia to reinstate Clara to her former glory. It was child’s play to use her ambition against her - truly pathetic!
I just had to keep everything from Nia. I love my wife, but she’s awfully pious, almost puritanical when it comes to matters of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’.
It seems I could rely on Clara’s creativity. She knocked on Laura Nicholas’ door, fabricating some nonsense about Nia taking ill and urgently needing a doctor.
It worked. By half past eleven, the good doctor was in my study, looking me squarely in the eye. We spoke. She told me how she had uncovered my crime and attempted to compel me to go to the police. I told her everything – a thorough and cleansing confession. There was a fire in my belly. I felt so alive and energised by the brilliance of my plan! I just knew that it would all work in my favour.
She could see her pleas for repentance fell on deaf ears, and just before midnight, she turned to go. I seized the heavy candlestick from the mantelpiece and brought it crashing down on her head, killing her instantly.
After checking that all the windows of our neighbours’ homes were dark, it took a great effort to lug the doctor’s body to the village square, where I left her under the Christmas tree. The snow fell thick and fast until one in the morning, covering my tracks in a matter of minutes.
If only she hadn’t been so tenacious. If only the police hadn’t been so thorough. If only, if only! But alas, it seems my journey ends here.
It’s a shame, I really made an excellent vicar.
Signed,
The former Revd John Winter
