Thursday's Child

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Authors: Clare Revell

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BOOK: Thursday's Child
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Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Thursday's Child

The Firefighter's Prayer

Dedication

Praise for Clare Revell

Other titles by Clare Revell

Glossary of Terms Used

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

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23

Thank You

Thursday’s Child

 

 

Clare Revell

 

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

 

Thursday’s Child

 

COPYRIGHT 2012 by Clare Revell

 

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Pelican Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

 

eBook editions are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. eBooks may not be re-sold, copied or given to other people. If you would like to share an eBook edition, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.

 

Contact Information: [email protected]

 

All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version
(R),
NIV
(R),
Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com

 

Cover Art by
Nicola Martinez

 

White Rose Publishing, a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC

www.pelicanbookgroup.com
PO Box 1738 *Aztec, NM * 87410

 

White Rose Publishing Circle and Rosebud logo is a trademark of Pelican Ventures, LLC

 

Publishing History

First White Rose Edition, 2013

Print Edition ISBN 978-1-61116-245-5

Electronic Edition ISBN 978-1-61116-244-8

Published in the United States of America

 

Monday’s Child must hide for protection
,

Tuesday’s Child tenders direction

Wednesday’s Child grieves for his soul

Thursday’s Child chases the whole

Friday’s Child is a man obsessed

Saturday’s Child might be possessed

And Sunday’s Child on life’s seas is tossed

Awaiting the Lifeboat that rescues the lost.

 

****

 

 

The Firefighter's Prayer

 

When I am called to duty, God, whenever flames may rage;

Give me strength to save some life, whatever be its age.

Help me embrace a little child before it is too late

Or save an older person from the horror of that fate.

Enable me to be alert and hear the weakest shout,

And quickly and efficiently to put the fire out.

I want to fill my calling and to give the best in me,

To guard my every neighbor and protect his property.

And if, according to my fate, I am to lose my life;

Please bless with Your protecting hand my children and my wife. ~ Author Unknown

 

Dedication

 

To all the firefighters who put their lives on the line for us each and every day. You are all heroes.

 

Special thanks go to

Station Manager Tim Edwards of Norfolk Fire & Rescue for the technical edit of the fire and rescue scenes

Dora and Ernie Hiers for the firefighting advice

Nicole Targett of the Royal Berkshire Fire and Rescue Service

Natalja Paramonova of the London Fire Brigade

Jacqui Broadbridge and Gina McGee of the Reading CPS

 

Praise for Clare Revell

 

 

Monday’s Child

Packed with action and laced with faith, this romance builds excitement for the next book in the series of seven romantic suspense novels based on a rewrite of the popular nursery rhyme, Monday’s Child. ~ Author, Dora Hiers

 

Times Arrow

I stand in awe of Revell’s ability to pack an entire novel’s worth of action and emotion into so few pages. ~ Author, Delia Latham

 

After The Fire

What a wild ride in
After the Fire
! Ms. Revell created a sweet romance within a beautiful setting, but don’t let that fool you. There’s plenty of action in this book as Freddie and Jason work to uncover the truth. Just when you think you’re near ‘The End,’ Ms. Revell pulls out a few more surprises. ~ Author, Dora Hiers

 

Other titles by Clare Revell

 

Novels

After the Fire

Monday’s Child

Tuesday’s Child

Wednesday’s Child

 

Novellas

Season for Miracles

Cassie’s Wedding Dress

Time’s Arrow

An Aussie Christmas Angel

 

Dollar Downloads

Saving Christmas

 

Free Reads

Kisses from Heaven

 

Glossary of Terms Used

 

Niamh
—The heroine’s name; is pronounced Neeve.

CPS
—Crown Prosecution Service.

Shout
—Term UK firefighters give emergency response calls.

BA
—Breathing apparatus or air canister firefighters wear in a fire

RTC
—Road Traffic Collision or Crash

Dock
—this a separate box at the back or to one side of the courtroom where the defendant and a police guard sit. The prosecution and defense barristers sit on either ends of a long bench/desk in front of the judge. Sometimes the dock is behind a glass partition depending on the age of the courtroom or what the defendant is accused of.

Skippy
—“Skippy the Bush Kangaroo” was an Aussie TV program in the early 70's. Therefore, all Aussies are affectionately known as Skippy in the fire service.

ED
—Emergency Department. Also known as A&E or casualty or the ER.

Resus
—This is the large critical care room in the ED in which all patients with life-threatening injuries are taken. It gives the doctors and nurses more room to stabilize and treat patients before transferring them to surgery or ICU.

Ni
—Pronounced Nigh; Niamh’s nickname

Li
—Pronounced Lie; Liam’s nickname

Pi
—Pronounced Pie; Patrick’s nickname. (Hence Niamh calling him 3.14; a play on the math term.)

 

 

 

 

 

1

 

Thursday’s Child chases the whole…

 

 

But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. ~
Isaiah 40:30-31

 

Dressed in her black gown and white wig, Niamh Harkin sat in Crown Court number three and sent up a prayer that she would do her best and that justice would be done.

As senior crown prosecutor for the Headley Cross Crown Prosecution Service, she hoped she was beyond pre-trial jitters by now, but this case could prove to be as long and messy as it was big. The preparation had been awful, with files disappearing, and witnesses vanishing or changing their stories, due to death threats. Having finally got the case to court, she owed it to the victims to ensure the defendant was put away for a long time.

The Jonathan Acre case had made the national news and the public gallery was full to the rafters with reporters, and everyday folk alike. All of them eager to catch a glimpse of the man accused of a string of mafia type murders. The TV and ordinary cameras, prohibited under the current legal system, remained outside the court building. Thus sketch artists drew furiously on their pads to record the images for the evening news and the morning papers.

Niamh was dead against the proposed changes to allow cameras inside the courtroom. The media circus needed to stay well away from criminals and victims alike. They needed to protect the anonymity of jurors who weren’t permitted to speak to anyone about the cases they heard at all—even after the case was completed.

The jury was finally sworn in and seated. The introductory speeches concluded. Sitting under the Royal Coat of Arms at the bench, Judge Matheson looked from his papers to Niamh. The gold trimmings on the judge’s red gown caught the sunlight streaming through the barred and frosted windows. His long white wig rested on his shoulders, and he regarded her over the top of his glasses for a long moment before pushing them up his nose.

“Mrs. Harkin, you may call your first witness.” His gravelly, yet quiet voice resounded in the hushed courtroom.

Niamh stood and nodded. She tapped her papers on the desk in front of her. “My Lord, the crown would like to call Mrs. Gina Luckett.”

“No.” A shout of protest and shuffling footsteps came from the dock behind her as the defendant leapt to his feet. “You can’t call her.”

Niamh turned and glanced at him. She picked up the file and opened it.

“Silence in court!” The thunderous roar from the bench echoed in the courtroom. “Mr. Kingsman. If you can’t keep the defendant quiet, I will have him removed and jailed for contempt, and the trial will continue in his absence until it is completed.”

There was a nod from the defense counsel, and he twisted toward the dock for a moment, gesticulating at his client.

Niamh took her seat and waited apprehensively as Mrs. Luckett came in. The court usher escorted the woman to the witness box. She looked terrified, her shoulders shook, and she kept her gaze down on the floor. Niamh glanced over at the dock to catch the expression of utter panic on the defendant’s face, as Mrs. Luckett placed a hand on the Bible and took the oath. Then Niamh rose to her feet and smiled at the witness.

Before she had chance to say anything there was another outburst from the dock. “You can’t do this.”

Judge Matheson cleared his throat. “Mr. Kingsman, your client has been warned already. I will not repeat myself in my own court room.”

“Your Honor, might I have a word with my client?” Miles Kingsman got to his feet.

Judge Matheson nodded. “Two minutes.
If
that’s all right with the prosecution?”

“Of course, Your Honor.” Niamh sat and twisted her pencil in her right hand, watching the agitated conversation at the dock. The voices were kept low, but from Kingsman’s stance, it wasn’t what the defense barrister wanted to hear.

Kingsman turned to face the bench. “Your Honor, my client wishes to change his plea to guilty on all counts.”

Surprise flitted across the judge’s face for an instant before he regained his composure. “Really? He does understand the severity of his action? That it will mean a custodial life sentence? And one in a maximum security prison without the chance of parole for at least forty years?”

“He does, Your Honor.”

Niamh was unable to suppress her smile as Judge Matheson promptly dismissed the jury and remanded the convicted man into custody until sentencing the following week. She gathered her papers.

Someone blocked the light in front of her. It could only be one person.

“Is something wrong, Miles?”

“That was a dirty trick, Niamh,” Miles Kingsman hissed.

Niamh viewed the angry man before her. “What was a dirty trick? It’s not my fault that your client changed his plea. Or are you referring to the fact that I managed to track down the witness someone tried to hide? When I did find her, the paperwork conveniently went missing. I had to hunt high and low for those files, and if I ever find out your office had something to do with their disappearance—”

“Then you’ll what? Are you making an allegation here, Mrs. Harkin?”

“Of course not, Mr. Kingsman.” Why had he gone all formal?

“If you have any kind of proof—”

“Oh, please. If I could prove it, do you think I’d be standing here having this conversation? I said
if
I ever find out. There is a difference.”

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