Confession at Maddleskirk Abbey Read Free

eight-hour shift patrolling in police uniform within the spacious estate that comprised Maddleskirk Abbey and College. The rest of their time was devoted to their monastic calling. On occasions, one or more monkstables might be directed to one of the external properties that came within the abbey’s jurisdiction, such as a school or parish.
    In addition, and upon request, they could be seconded temporarily to other local abbeys or convents such as Ampleforth, Stanbrook or the Bar Convent in York. The likelihood of a female monkstable being recruited had not been overlooked – a nunstable perhaps? That idea was awaiting development and was proving of interest to the local convents and indeed the abbeys.
    Under the capable leadership of Prior Tuck, himself a former police officer, the monkstables were doing a good job – there was less litter around the campus, there had been a reduction in bad language and noisy behaviour, and there was an awareness of the need for good parking along with more considerate driving and cycling. People seemed to take more care when walking through the grounds, even collecting litter they had found, to then drop it in a waste bin.
    One surprising bonus was that a lot of found property had been restored to its owners and the uniformed monkstables were also proving very knowledgeable guides to the increasing numbers of daily tourists or those on retreat. They could even perform car-parking duties during major events at the abbey. There was no doubt the monkstables, in their smart black uniforms and white helmets, were proving extremely effective. Black was the colour of the habits worn by the Benedictines; most police uniforms were a very dark navy blue.
    On that Monday morning in September Nick walked from his home to the abbey, a journey of some ten minutes. As he strode along he was aware of a military helicopter flying down the valley; it was using a designated route that avoided built-upareas. Monday was when the army cadet corps was on parade to deal with staged incidents, often arranged by incoming professional soldiers of all ranks. The ‘copter would land on the helipad within the grounds and would be used in today’s training of the corps.
    Helicopters from both military and private sources were a regular sight around the college. Even the Archbishop of Canterbury had once arrived by helicopter, sparking a rumour that he was about to convert to Catholicism and join the Benedictines.
    With the autumn foliage showing its seasonal colours, Nick was heading for the cop shop within the main building. It had formerly been the abbey and college shop, selling everything from sweets to fashionable clothes. When the shop had transferred to larger premises, the old tuck shop had found a new role as the abbey’s own dedicated police station. Inevitably, it became known as the cop shop. During opening hours it was staffed by one of the monk-constables whilst a couple of the others would be patrolling the huge site in between their monastic duties.
    With its blue light above the entrance, the cop shop had all the appearances of a small busy police station, which in fact it was. On office duty that day was Father Will Redman, a small studious man in his early fifties with thick spectacles and an amazing knowledge of monastic history and culture. His understanding of computers had been a wonderful bonus to the monkstables and through his technical knowledge the cop shop was now linked to the control room at the county police headquarters and also the local police station at Ashfordly. Under Father Will’s guidance, security cameras had been installed in selected areas of the abbey and college, both internally and externally. After each tour of duty, the monkstables entered their daily records in the cop shop computer system, an ideal means of maintaining up-to-date information about all the events and occurrences in and around Maddleskirk Abbey and College.
    ‘Ah, Nick, good morning,’ greeted