The newspaper did not publish my second letter, but did have a picture of the girl in white dancing on the altar in the cathedral and lots of hate mail for “that awful girl”.
I moved into an unused room in St Andrew's Vicarage, I kept the door locked, I ate food out of the Vicar's fridge, he didn't notice. How could I get closer to Ronny?
There he was, on the top of a small hill on the moors. I had noticed the hill before, it was odd, it had no trees, no gorse bushes, no bushes at all, just bracken and rough grass. I stopped and stared at him for five minutes, I was the girl in white, he stared at me, he didn't move. I wanted to get closer, very much closer, but it was not the time.
I discovered that Ronny went every day at the same time to the hill and stood there. I went every day and stood in a different spot. We stared at each other.
I searched the Vicarage again, I found all sorts of things, mostly useless, I suppose all the previous vicars had had families and left much junk behind. I found some clothes that fitted me and a big box labelled “My Sermons – Jacob Haitsbury”. It was locked, what could have been inside it, certainly not sermons.
Sleep tight tonight, Jake Do not waken Keep on snoring For tonight's the night The girl in white comes To take your keys away Sleep tight tonight, Jake Do not waken Keep on snoring Lest you see The girl in white And stop your heart
I borrowed the Vicar's keys from his bedside table as he slept. Hey presto, I opened the box. It contained handwritten pages, but not sermons, but crimes. There was one page dated the coming Thursday, the day he “wrote his sermons”. It was a list of 101 evil things to do to a little girl named Josephine. I took some other pages and hid them in my room, I locked the box and returned the box and the keys.
I followed the Vicar secretly everywhere he went, he kept to his schedule on the blackboard, until Thursday afternoon – “write sermon” time. He did not stay in the Vicarage, he walked to the church and waited in the entrance porch, a little girl came, they entered the church and he locked the door behind him.
A locked door does not a girl in white stop. I followed them into the vestry, he had locked the vestry door too, I reappeared sitting on a rafter high above them. I am not going to explain what the Vicar did next, I disappeared into the nave of the church and smashed the fire alarm. If the alarm had not worked my plan B was to ring the real bells in the belfry.
Very soon the church was full of fire fighters in red, the Vicar had unlocked the doors, I saw the little girl run away, I don't think that the Vicar had seen me, but I had seen what the Vicar did to a little girl with my own eyes, Fiona had not been lying.
It was time for another letter, I included one of the Vicar's “sermons”.