Chapter 4

I woke to the unfamiliar sensation of a sleek, silky, warm form snuggled next to me. Yes, the first time I’d woken (as an adult, anyway) with another human in bed with me. I turned my head and met a pair of wide, intensely blue eyes.

“Do you still love me this morning?” tremulously.

“More than ever,” I smiled. “Have I satisfied your criteria for a wedding?”

“We’re already married.” Stated definitively, as she snuggled closer. I was aware of the consequences of our joining coating my skin.

“Perhaps. But I want the world to know.” I contrived to get our lips to meet. “Shower,” I said, “Breakfast, then talk to Dulcie.”

“Don’t want to get up,” she said, softly.

I kissed her again. “Neither do I, but I need to, I’m afraid.” I rolled out of bed and held out my hand.

“What?”

“Plenty of room for two in the shower,” I smiled.

She shook her head. “In a minute, Joe.”

Actually, I was just sighing with relief as I emptied my bladder when Rebecca wrapped her arms around me and pressed herself against my back.

“I just realised I was being silly,” she said, as I enjoyed the contact.

“You don’t need to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“Yes, I do, Joe. I’m breaking out of the strait-jacket my parents put me in.”

We changed places and I went to start the shower running. It’s a pretty good shower, but it takes a minute or two to settle to the right temperature.

And ... yes, it was fun showering together.

We were awake too late to go to Matins, but even so there was no great need to rush, and we followed Dulcie along Park Drive. She walks briskly, does Dulcie, and arrived at the Rectory well before us. Liina let us in, with Peter trotting along behind her, and she showed us to Dulcie’s study.

She smiled warmly at us. “You worked it out, then?”

“Yes!” We spoke together, and Dulcie laughed.

“Thought you would.” A considering glance. “A date?”

We looked at each other. “We need to talk about that,” Rebecca said. “I don’t want to interfere with Joe’s work, and of course I’ve got school, at least until about June.”

“I can take some time off, Becca. That’s not a problem.”

“We’ll discuss it.” Rebecca turned back to Dulcie. “I’m going to move in with Joe anyway.”

Dulcie smiled. “Joe?”

I shrugged. “What she said.” Then I smiled. “Becca’s the missing part of my life. If she’s happy to move in with me before it’s official, then I’m very happy to have her.”

She didn’t have much, only clothes and school books, really, but even so, it was more than we wanted to carry. Liina loaded everything – and us – into Dulcie’s people-carrier and delivered us back home. Yes, home. My place to sleep has become a home.

Two days later, back to the Rectory for the party Dulcie had organised; Becca was eighteen. A few friends of hers from school, “I don’t have many that I want to invite, but Adele and Naomi, Kate and Patrick, they’ve been so supportive.”

I was a little surprised to see Patrick, but it became clear that he was very gay, in both senses.

It was a quiet celebration. Good food – Liina is an excellent cook, and produced delicious finger foods, soft drinks and enough champagne for a toast to Becca – and, of course presents. Finally, I got my chance to go down on one knee to propose, and when she accepted, offered the ring I had bought (yes, I changed my mind) weeks before.

Her eyes widened, and a tear trickled down her cheek as I slipped it on her finger. “I love you. Please don’t cry,” I whispered in her ear.

She had a little smile through the tears as she turned and whispered to me, “I know. I love you too. It’s just so much, I had to shed a tear or two.”

There was a little scatter of applause, which ended shortly after we separated.

Then Dulcie commented to Becca, “Rebecca, don’t wear that ring to school. Have it on a necklace or something. The school has a rule about jewellery. We had an argument about it over a previous fosterling who got engaged. Assuming you marry before the end of term, you’ll be able to wear your wedding ring.”

“Oh! I hadn’t thought about that. I mean, I read the rules, but promptly forgot about jewellery. I’ve never worn any, and just skimmed over that section.”

Once more we had a lift home. Some of the gifts were quite bulky; a full set of marine waterproofs, boots and gloves. I was surprised about that. Once we were home, though, Becca explained.

“I want you to take me sailing, when you can, anyway. I need to share that part of your life.”

“If you really want that, we’ll get you in as a Third Hand. There shouldn’t be a problem with that. But it can be hard work. Cold, wet and sometimes dirty.”

“I really want that. To try it, anyway.”

Easter came and went, and I was out with Repertor over the Easter weekend, leaving Becca at home. She knew that she could retreat to the Rectory if she needed, but she was determined. “This is my home, now, with you, and I need to be a wife.”

During Easter week, we had some day-sails, and Becca came too as Third Hand. She had little idea, of course, at first, but soon picked up the rudiments as she was reminded if a couple of outings the previous summer. Afterwards, she was excited.

“I love it!”

“Just bear in mind that the weather isn’t always as good as we had it this time.”

“Oh, you pessimist! Got to take the rough with the smooth.”

“True enough.”

We fixed a date at the end of June, when the exams would be finished, and took up the offer of a small cabin boat belonging to one of the barge skippers. Peewit was a twenty-eight foot sloop rigged boat, built of marine ply over oak frames, with a small inboard motor.

Becca was assiduous in her studies. She’d caught up, according to her teachers, and was heading for four good ‘A’ levels. The only question was what she would do with them.

“Joe?”

“Yes, Sweetheart?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Uh huh?”

“Would you mind if I trained as a priest?”

Now, that was possibly the last thing I might have expected.

“I don’t think so. But I’m surprised.”

“So’m I, really. But I see Dulcie, you know. It’s just so different to what I was used to. I think I’d like to explore that.”

“Then you’d better talk to Dulcie. There’s no problem with funding; you’ll probably be in line for some bursaries whatever track you choose.” So that was something else to think about.

Conjugal relations? After her initial nerves, lots and lots. She might plunk herself in my lap after several hours in the books and kiss me. Or I might stroke an errant strand of hair away from her face. Whatever the trigger, the end result is sensual rapture for both of us. After her – actually our – initial bashfulness, nudity was often the order of the day around my little flat. She is beautiful.

Dulcie speaks.

I’ve watched Rebecca, from seeing her battered and emotionally and spiritually wounded in a hospital bed, through settling in as a student as it became apparent she was very capable, to connecting with Joe. But right now she wants to talk to me. She’s sitting in the sofa in my study, and I’ve rolled my office chair round so the desk isn’t between us.

“What can I do for you, Becca?”

“I need some advice.”

I raised my eyebrows. “About?”

“A career. I was thinking of college, to study a science, or perhaps nursing, like Joe. But...” She took a deep breath. “I’ve watched you, and I’m wondering about ministry.”

Now that did surprise me. “I’m surprised,” I said, resisting the temptation to use ‘I’m shocked, shocked’ from Casablanca. Her face fell. “Oh, I’m not going to say no,” I said, quickly. “It’s not up to me anyway.”

“What do I do?”

“Initially, I contact the Diocesan Director of Ordinands, and get you an interview. However, I’d suggest a different course of action. Either enrol in college, perhaps with a comparative religion minor, or get a job for a year or so and take the Readers’ Course. You need to explore your own faith and get some experience of life. More experience, that is.”