Chapter 3

Dulcie:

Time to think? Perhaps I should not have been so quick to relinquish responsibility for the more remote member of the Upthorpe family, but on the other hand, this way I had a new friend in James Abercromby. Not to mention the affair had a positive effect on him too. But it was good to return to my own home, familiar surroundings, and my own family. A cuddle from Sara, then Peter, a hug from Liina.

Richard was home in time for supper; as usual, he broke bread as we began and passed it round... “Let’s remember Jesus, who, in the night before he died, took bread and broke it, and shared it with his disciples...”

(It was an uphill task after we married, to persuade him that it was his role, now, as the head of the household, to break the bread and, at the end of the meal, to bless and pass round the cup, Elijah’s cup. I think he understands, now.)

It was a joy, for once, to pray with Sara and read to her as she drifted off to sleep. Usually, it’s Liina’s task, though Richard will do it when he can. Once she was sleeping, it was time for Peter to go to bed. Always, as I read to him, I remember my first husband, and catch glimpses of him in our son. The pain of losing him is mostly gone, just an occasional ache which always disappears in Richard’s arms. Richard and I discussed the possibility of his adopting Peter, but we’ve put that off. Peter knows that his father is ‘with Jesus’, and he knows that he is loved both by myself, by Liina, and by Richard.

Once Peter was asleep too, Richard, Liina and I eschewed the possible delights or distractions of the television in favour of Handel and glasses of wine. Liina was very quiet. Quieter than usual.

Richard and I retired to bed, where he asked, “Are we fair to Liina, keeping her here?”

I snuggled in his arms, protected, secure. “We’re not keeping her. This is her home. She will leave in God’s good time, when she has somewhere else where she wants or needs to go.”

He cupped my breast – when he does that, it feels like worship – and I felt him harden. I wriggled my bottom against it and moistened. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured in my ear.

“Thank you. Don’t start something you don’t mean to finish.” Giggle.

There are so many ways we make love, but there’s something about spooning as we were, that’s just ... right. We joined, and slowly and gently, climbed a hill to completion before drifting into sleep.

I don’t dream much as a general rule; at least, I don’t usually remember my dreams, but that night I dreamt I was in that austere little non-conformist chapel, watching as James Abercromby led Alice ... Gabrielle ... and Donald through a re-affirmation of their wedding vows. She gazed up at him, and he had eyes only for her. There was a crowd in attendance, but I didn’t look at them because I couldn’t take my eyes off that couple.

Waking in the morning, that dream stayed with me, but I filed it away for later consideration. The usual round of daily offices – matins and evening prayer – and pastoral visits occupied me. On Friday, I found Joe working on board one of the barges and stopped when he invited me to have a mug of tea.

“Rebecca’s still looking for something to do after the summer,” he said. “She’s going to ‘third hand’ with me through the summer, but wants some productive occupation, preferably paid, through the autumn and winter.”

“Oh? Well I may have something to interest her. The Diocese offered some funding for part-time support in the parish when I took on the role of Diocesan Exorcist...”

“Ah...”

“Honestly, I don’t need another priest. I have Father Charles filling in for me in retirement, and I have a couple of Readers. I was thinking that perhaps I might have someone like Rebecca, someone thinking of perhaps training for the Ministry, to gain some experience of pastoral care. It’d be part time ... twenty hours or less ... and not well paid, but it would provide the usual benefits, an employment record, and, of course practical experience.”

“That sounds like a brilliant idea, Dulcie! Can I suggest it to Becca?”

“Certainly! It’s not definite yet, though. I’ll have to run it past the Archdeacon at least.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea, Dulcie! Do you have someone in mind?”

“Yes, I do. She’s sitting her ‘A” levels soon, but is interested in Theological College. I suggested she take a year to work and explore her calling. She’s marrying in June, after finishing her exams. Her fiancé works on the barges in the summer and as an agency nurse in the winter.”

“Fascinating! I’ll look into it. I can’t see any problem arising. When were you thinking she might start?”

“Perhaps August? She should be able to fit in twenty hours even if she’s working on the barges at the weekend.”

“Good enough. I’ll get back to you.”

*************************

Donald Upthorpe continued to attend services at St. Mary’s, although he declined to join in with the Communion. “Not yet,” he said, “I hope you’re not offended, but somehow, I’m not ready for that. Alice ... my wife ... is she really wanting to be ‘Gabrielle’ now? Is at Trinity Reformed, and I’m not ready to meet her. But, you know, I miss her.”

“Do you now? I think that’s a good thing. Do you think you might be reconciled?”

“It wasn’t I who caused the separation. At least ... I suppose seeking out Rebecca and then encountering God the way I did ... that precipitated the problem, didn’t it?”

“It did. But that wasn’t a bad thing, you know. Now, you’re both different people. When you’re ready, you can explore that.”

“Yes ... You know, Dulcie, when I met her, she was actually known as Gabrielle. It was only later that she changed.”

“I see.” I did. I was quite sure that something had happened to – I suppose a good word is infect – her. But that was something for another time, and probably for James to explore rather than me.

My services as an exorcist (I really don’t care for that title!) were not required before the wedding in June. Rebecca, Joe and Don were all in agreement that the ceremony should be videoed, and several cameras were set up to cover different angles.

Some weddings are, I’m sorry to say, routine. I treat them all seriously, of course, but have no control over the attitude of the participants. From my point of view, the best ones bring faith and holy joy and are uplifting to everyone concerned.

When Rebecca and Joe made their vows, the church was almost full. I think they were surprised, but they’d made a place in many people’s hearts so that all who were free to do so came; there were friends from the barges, some who knew Joe from nursing. There were school friends of Rebecca’s, including several from the Christian school she’d attended before leaving home. I mentioned ‘holy joy’, and that, I think, summed up the service. Many of those attending commented afterwards, and both Rebecca and Joe were glowing; to the extent that I was surprised that their feet were firmly on the ground! Anyway, for the wedding, I used the beautiful gold cope belonging to the church, and changed it for the golden chasuble for the communion.

Photographs ... lots of them, of course, before we all moved the festivities to the Moot Hall.

James called me. “Dulcie, could you spare some time to come and talk to my people?”

“Perhaps. When were you thinking of?” I was thinking of all the needs of my flock, and how I hadn’t even begun to set up my pastoral assistant. I couldn’t do that until Rebecca was back from sailing with Joe, and then it would have to be round her sailing.

“I was hoping for something before the summer break.”

““I’ll have to call you back when I have a better idea, but I’m afraid I’m quite busy.”

“That’s a pity. I expect it’ll keep, though.”

*****************************

The Archdeacon had called and given me a provisional go-ahead to recruit Rebecca.

“It’s a formality, really, Dulcie, but we’ve got to jump through some hoops. I’ll email you some forms for her to fill in.”

“Thanks, Jack. How long do you think it’ll be?”

He answered after a few moments, “Probably four weeks, I’d think. You’re thinking of a temporary appointment, aren’t you? About a year, to give her a taste of ministry?”

“Exactly. Perhaps, when she’s got an idea of what she wants to do, it could be something for other potential ordinands.”

“That’s a thought. I’ll be in touch. Bless you!”

“You too, Jack.”

Don Upthorpe:

I missed my wife. I had, perforce, learned some basic cooking techniques, but on the whole just kept things simple. Once Rebecca and Joe returned from their sailing honeymoon, I was invited perhaps weekly to a meal with them. Rebecca bid fair to be a better cook than her mother and Joe was good too.

It was in early July when I received a call from James Abercromby – indeed, we were now on first-name terms – to ask if I were ready to meet my estranged wife. I answered in the affirmative, and we arranged a day and time to meet at the Manse.

I am sufficiently senior in the company to be flexible in my time. Indeed, since separating from Alice – I really must adjust to thinking of her as Gabrielle – I’d put in enough extra time that our Executive Director had had words with me about taking some time off. Thursday morning, then, I arrived at the Manse door and knocked. James’ housekeeper opened the door, smiled, and greeted me.

“Good morning, Mister Upthorpe! It’s been quite a while since we saw each other. Mister Abercromby is in his study, if you’ll come with me.”

“Thank you, Missus Sullivan! Lead on.”

“Come in, Don, come in. Gabrielle will be here in a few minutes, I hope. She’s been staying with Missus Sullivan, quite near here. She’s just brought fresh coffee, if you’d like some.”

“Thank you, James. Yes, I’d love a cup.” I took the indicated chair and sat. “How is ... Gabrielle?”

James smiled shaking his head. “You’ll see in a moment. I’ll just say it is as if she’s been reborn. You may feel she’s ... very young.” He poured coffee and, at my nod, added milk before handing it to me.

I sipped. We both heard the doorbell, and two voices, followed by footsteps along the hall. Gabrielle walked into the room. James had warned me, in a way, but hadn’t prepared me to see ... not the woman I’d been married to for twenty years, but the pretty young woman I’d asked to marry me two years before that. She hesitated just inside the door, and looked at me wide-eyed.