Chapter 14

Emily settled in nicely as she grew to full term, and the two young marrieds were able to move in to their own accomodation. There was some comment on them sharing with unmarried mothers, but the comments were both for and against.

Those against argued the expected points – it wasn’t appropriate, it condoned sin, it was just not done. That their apartment was separate from the rest of the house and the other house made little headway against people who knew the answer before they knew the question.

The surprise was that their nearest neighbour was, so to speak, on the side of the angels. Colonel Smithers (retired) and Mrs Smithers were as respectable as they could be. He had served, it seemed, in every place that the British Empire had run into trouble. He had retired in 1903 after taking a semi-civilian role with the Boers in South Africa (it was rumoured that he was one of the reasons that the Afrikaaners managed to support Britain in the Great War when it arrived instead of causing more trouble in support of the Germans); he had been on the North West Frontier in India; he had done ‘something’ in Canada when the United States started to get uppity in the West of the country. It was all mysterious, possibly clandestine, and almost certainly illegal. His wife and he had met in Shimla and she had married and followed him around the world. She was the daughter of the personal private secretary to Curzon. In other words, she was the most respectable of respectable people. Their three children were well educated, polite, superior, arrogant. It would have taken a better detective than Simon Peters to realise that their eldest daughter was born somewhat too close to their marriage. In fact far too close. Yes, Mrs Smithers was pregnant before marriage. That was why he lost out on a CBE; but he didn’t mind as he had married the love of his life, and she had married hers. They had been typical of their class until then, and then had realised how close she could have come to disgrace and shame. So they supported the unmarried mothers institute. And where the colonel and his good lady went, many were happy to follow. He also admitted to his lady wife that “It was nice to see attractive young fillies on the road.”

“Not that you’d ride one of those ‘fillies’?” asked his wife.

“Gad no!” he looked at her and laughed “Haven’t got the energy.” She back at him, he had never strayed, not once in all their years of marriage.

Others had their own reasons for supporting the idea and the fact: true faith that did not condemn where they were not sinless themselves; skeletons in their family history; and even just a kind nature.

The visitors began to arrive, and while it was true that many arrived wretched, poor and using language that was rarely heard in polite society – the first time a young fifteen year old was heard to scream at her first child that ‘you better fuckin eat your fuckin dinner you fuckin bastard’, perhaps eyebrows were raised; she was eight months pregnant with another! - it was also true that some that arrived were more like Emily. Polite, well-bred, and abandoned by what Simon Peters described as ‘the Sadduccees and Pharisees of our age’. He read the passage of a respectable Jew in a parable ‘thank you Lord for not making me like that old woman but rich and respectable’ in church in the hope it would convert some. It made several leave the church. But that was balanced by the increasing membership of other classes. He was interested to see that some of the non-conformist churches were less keen on accepting the unmarried mothers to their flocks when they came for a visit. For the home was open to all, as he told his own deacons “We might even hope that more of the unmarrieds are members of other churches for that would show we were more saintly. Sadly that is not the case, they that fall come from all churches, and from none.” The church that most willingly supported the institution turned out to be the Catholic one, Simon joked that that was just because they wanted more converts wherever they came from.

“Reverend Simon Peters? I have a problem. I do so hate to bring it to you, but I know Elizabeth is your friend.” Miss Hepworth spoke to him one morning.

“You mean Emily? Is she not helping around the house?”

“No, Elizabeth. Emily is a great help indeed. No the problem is Elizabeth.”

“Ahh, how can I help?”

“Well, the fact is ... we are a home for unmarried mothers, the rules are quite clear. You see?”

He didn’t.

“Well, she isn’t. She is unmarried, but she isn’t a mother. She isn’t expecting. She is, I think, untouched in that respect. You see? She is very helpful, very supportive of her sister, but the rules are very clear. She will have to leave.” It appeared that Miss Hepworth was a stickler for rules. She was very clear with girls who tried to bring men back – and there were some who had not learned their lesson that men will fuck and run if they can (Miss Hepworth did not put it so crudely, but that was what she meant), they could stay or they could have men, but not both. Not under that roof anyway – one Julie Angelus managed to balance this by taking payment from men for beach liaisons; but she was an exception; most of the visitors were genuine unfortunates.

Later, talking this over with his wife, he said he did not feel he could interfere. “I understand Simon, I do; you think that the charity has to run its own affairs without interference from the outside -”

“Yes, and a man at that. The reason these women are in the predicaments they are in is because of men; then charities are set up to help them, and the men who set them up are uncharitable and treat the women like scum ... no! They do! This charity is different, founded by women, run by women, for the benefit of women. I should not interfere.”

“Yes, yes, all very commendable of course. You are a wonderful role model and -”

“That is not what I mean.”

“I know, I am only teasing a little. But Elizabeth is our friend; could I not suggest a small change to the rules perhaps?”

“No, I think not, they would think it came from me anyway.”

“Well, in the spirit of being an independent woman, I could still do it.”

“And if I forbade you?” Simon asked “What then.”

“Then I should naturally do what I think best ... oh ... let me think about it. I shall not rush into anything.

I do have one idea...

I shall take Elizabeth for tea tomorrow. That is your punishment day. You will have to wait until evening; will you survive?”

Punishment day – Wednesday of each week – had been arranged to enable Simon to regularise the visits now that they no longer lived at the vicarage. It seemed that there was always one or two women, perhaps one of the deaconesses, and Reverend Michael’s wife or daughter who needed some correction instilled into their bottoms with his hand. He really did try to avoid finding the instruction titillating in any degree; and he managed that with Mrs Blossop’s expansive and flabby bottom (Reverend Michael had enjoyed spanking her with the carpet beater, he had loved to see the copious flesh wobble and gyrate. He was lucky, she had enjoyed it almost as much as he; and returned frequently); but Felicia was a different story; as was Felicia’s friend Marcia – the two had been caught practicing kissing each other and they were both due a second instruction for failing to be suitably contrite after the first. Actually he gave them only a few slaps and suggested that if they were doing it because they liked kissing women then they deserved more ... he implied that they deserved a few slaps for being caught and they should be more careful. At the end of the sessions, Reverend Simon Peters was to be found hurrying home to be locked in conference with his wife for two hours or more. It was the only way he could survive without losing his resistance entirely; especially when the two girls were present and wiggling their pretty behinds in a way that said “You can have this, any time you want, you can have this.” it was true, he could. He was handsome, and they were pretty. They would even share him. He stayed firm (in his resolve as well as his member), so far.

Deaconess Angela Williams was the Sunday School teacher, she had an independent mind and a lovely face; she had great knowledge and an attractive bust. Most of all, she had radical ideas and a perfect bottom. This was a dangerous set of combinations. When Mrs Smith complained that her daughter had come home asking if Jesus could stop periods, Angela had explained that she had covered the woman who touch the hem of Jesus’s garment and been cured of her ‘loss of blood’; Mrs Smith’s daughter hadn’t quite understood. When Angela Williams suggested that a woman might lead a church, that there was biblical precedent for it, that was regarded as a step too far. Simon was quite lax in administering the punishment this time (though it still exposed her rear end which undoubtedly would have scored ten out of ten in any competition) as he had some sympathy with her position; her position on ministers, not her position bent over exposing herself. Nobody actually had to accept this punishment, but at some stage Reverend Michael Walker had persuaded the congregation that mild re-alignment by spanking was an acceptable approach to spiritual education. Once the idea had become entrenched, it would not be dislodged by a different holy man being called to administer the instruction. Whenever they noticed his bulging trousers after a ‘session’, he always apologised that he was a weak sinner, as they all were. Most (if not all) of the women found his appreciation of their rear view a compliment rather than an insult.

He returned the following day and almost succumbed to the temptation of Onan, he was so desperate. But he resisted strongly. He had a cold bath which helped briefly, but then when he got out, he got to thinking of why he had felt the need to have a cold bath and the memory of his Sunday School teacher’s perfect bottom swam back into his mind and caused his erection to return unabated.

Susan came home. He suggested they went to their private apartment to ‘discuss some things’. “Yes, that is an excellent idea. I shall tell you about the tea I had with Elizabeth.”

“That can wait.” he replied.

“No, actually. I think we will discuss it first. No, Simon, you can paw me all you want after we have discussed this. Simon, I am not a sex toy to play with. Not at the moment. You can play with my nipples later. Oh, there is something else I need to mention. Simon, take your hand out of there! And listen!

I had a very pleasant tea with Elizabeth. She has already been given her marching orders. Miss Hepworth is quite brusque in some ways. Oh, I know she is correct from the regulationary viewpoint, still, she has told Elizabeth that she has to leave in two months, which I thought quite fair.”

“Could she return to her parents, start a rapprochment?”

“Apparently their father called Emily a ‘whore, selling her honour for nothing’; their mother then added that Emily should seek to make her money in her chosen profession as she would lose her looks. Emily response was strong too, unusually for her, it was to suggest that was why her mother had lost her looks so early.

No, I think a rapprochment is unlikely.

Which brings me to the matter in hand. NO, not that matter! I’ll put it in my hand when we have discussed this. Elizabeth has to leave because she only fulfils half of the criteria to stay. She is unmarried, but she is not pregnant.”

“Well, yes, we know this.”

“If she was pregnant, she could stay.”

“Well yes. But she isn’t -” he realised that she was looking at him meaningfully. “Oh look, she’d never agreed.” Susan nodded – she had agreed. “It probably wouldn’t work. Afterall you and I have been trying for sometime and -”

“I’m expecting. Two months now. I guessed, but I went to see the doctor to confirm. So that doesn’t appear to be a problem either. So, soon you will have to abstain from me anyway. Well, abstain from you being on top. And then later abstain from any entrance in the normal place; I’d let you do the other occasionally, very occasionally. And I might go off the taste of your baby making stuff. So...”

“But I’d be defrocked, I’d be breaking my vows, I’d -”

“As to the first, you just have to agree and then you can defrock me. Elizabeth has said she would never tell. I told her that you would insist on being named as the father, but then you have already said that to Emily to give the baby a name, and we know you aren’t the father really. As to the second: what was it you said on Sunday? There are only two laws – honour God and love thy neighbour; the rest is embellishment. Your words -”

“Jesus’s words actually -”

“Well even more so then. You would be loving your neighbour if you did this. And loving me too, because I want to do what is right by them both.”

“Couldn’t someone else -”

“No! This must be kept between us! Us three I mean, possibly four – Emily might need to know, but after the event else she might object to her sister losing her maidenhood to stay with her. And – look I hesitate to say this; but you are quite good.”

“I’m good?”

“Quite good, I said. Always room for improvement.” She was laughing with him, she could tell he had given up the fight, he just hadn’t realised that he had lost yet. So the sparring continued a little longer until she simply said “So do you want to spend or not? You look a little stressed, reverend. Is the memory of pretty, naked bottoms begging to be slapped playing havoc on your calm demeanour. If you want these rosy lips to wrap around your lovely meaty sausage, darlin’; you just gotta pay the piper.” She put an accent like she was a common or garden street walker (only one with far too good an accent).

“You are devil, and no mistake. Very well, I shall insist on a private interview.” Simon started to say, Susan arched her eyebrows. “Not for that! Obviously that would be private. I mean I want to talk to her without you prompting I – ohhh, ... I ... ahhh ... I will have my waayyaa in this at least. AHHHHHH!” Finally he fired into her mouth and she was taken by surprise by his production. She was always surprised, where did it all come from? She knew his balls were only production, not containers. She wiped her mouth with a sigh, like she could think of nothing better than this. The truth was that she could take or leave the taste; it wasn’t as pleasant as she’d hoped, but it wasn’t poisonous as Miss Haversham had suggested (she was a recent new resident for the winter, she had told Susan that she hated the taste so much that she had let her brother have her fanny instead. ‘Only the once, well perhaps twice’ and now she was feeding a baby who was the spitting image of her young sibling); anyway it was fair recompense for the taste his tongue took from her, he claimed to like the taste, but she was sure he probably did not.

The following day, he went for a walk with Elizabeth whilst Emily was helping collect details from some of the young women. They found it easier to talk to one in the same position as themselves; some would admit they had been willing when they had claimed publicly that they had not; whilst others would whisper quietly that they had unwillingly submitted to their father, brother or cousin when in public they had said it was their mistake and would not name the father. Miss Hepworth was sympathetic to these, hiding as she did her own loss of virginity to her grandfather in a violent attack which left her scarred mentally as well as physically.

“Well, Elizabeth? I understand Mrs Peters has spoken to you? Is it truly your desire to stay with your sister so much? Might you not get a job somewhere and rent a small apartment?”

“Like so many of my class, Mr Peters, I am qualified at nothing and skilled at little that would be deemed financially rewarding. This is the only approach; and, if it pleases you, I would rather it was you than anybody else I know.”

“Then please call me Simon, as of old. As to timing and opportunity ... it will need more than one -”

“Oh but Emily -”

“Yes?”

“Well, it was only once, or perhaps twice.”

“Susan and I have been trying for several months. Without being impolite, the average is at least once a night I think; yet she is only now two months pregnant. Perhaps I am not very viable.”

“Oh I don’t think it needs to be you. At home, we had a friend who was ravishingly beautiful; everybody said so. I could see it and I have precious little desire for female flesh, unlike some. But she was married for three years and she assured us her husband was very attentive [here Elizabeth sniggered]. her husband had, in that time, spawned five illegitmates yet not one child by his wife.”

“Still, it could be me as much as it could be her. No matter, she has taken now. But I simply raise it as a possibility. If we set ourselves on this path, we must be prepared for the long haul even if it turns out to be short.”

“I understand. I am grateful to you for being willing to do this. I shall try and help if I can.”

“Simon! A quick word if I may?” His wife called him over, Elizabeth looked worried, was Susan changing her mind? Would propriety and principle triumph over what they had agreed. She wouldn’t blame Susan if that was the case, it was a step that few but the kindest of souls would take. “Simon, she is not like me.” He looked at Elizabeth and then back. He didn’t understand. “I mean, you have taught me that a wfie should be willing to be subject to the oddest whims of her husband; and that it can be enjoyable.

Elizabeth is a sweet, innocent virgin. Well, perhaps not innocent, but you understand? And keep in mind the aim – to get her pregnant.” Simon still looked a little bemused. “Putting your thing down her throat or up her bum will not achieve that. You have ruined me! I swear it! I was polite and demur and -”

“And now you are the curates’s wife that every other cleric in Yorkshire envies. I understand my dear. I shall wear myself to a frazzle impregnating her. It is a far far better thing I do...”

“You are not going to the scaffold, you are going to paradise. Oh! Is that blasphemous? Perhaps I shall need education.”

“Perhaps, perhaps. But that is all it will be. My spend is reserved for a better womb for a few days.” He replied. She smiled and playfully hit him on the arm. He returned to the young girl.

“Is everything settled? You have not changed your mind? I would understand if you, or Mrs Peters, had. It is a great imposition.”

“Her name is Susan, and must ever remain so. If she is willing to share me with you for this good cause, then I think you must be the best of friends. You were fourteen when we first met, Now you are seventeen; that is good. I would have struggled, I confess, to comply with this arrangement if you were still fourteen. Struggled but, I fear I would have still complied. You were pretty then, and you are very pretty now. Do you recall the swimming lessons?”

“How could I forget?”

“Yes, quite. I confess to finding the view of your young body quite delightful in ways that I should not; though I was not married – or a priest – then so perhaps it was allowed. Now we are embarking on a most unusual diversion from normal practice, but I am persuaded it is right. Are you sure?” she nodded “Then shall we go to our apartment? The guest bedroom I think.”

Susan accompanied them, saying nothing. It would not do for a minister – or any respectable married man – to be seen to take an unmarried girl (actually even a married one) into his rooms alone. Once inside, they went to the guest room, which Susan had tastefully decorated with flowers. Elizabeth thought it most attractive, Simon saw little point in flowers when they already knew why they were there. He saw no reason to seduce her, she was already willing. Wisely, he said nothing; he knew women were strange about such things. “I am in your hands. I am an innocent in these matters; though not in the mechanism of course. Should I undress?”