Chapter 3

The congregation of my parish church, St. Jude's, is quite young, like the vicar, Peter Hanson. Rose-Marie and I walked the short distance to the small, modern building. It couldn't be a greater contrast to the place Rose-Marie took me to the previous Sunday. It was bright and colourful, and a Christmas tree was bright in the chancel. The church was filled with quiet conversation and muttered prayers – for some reason, some of the younger folk often prayed aloud.

I found us places about half-way towards the front. At the Midnight service, there tends to be quite a few folk coming in rather the worse for drink, but they usually stay at the back. Reverend Hanson walked up the aisle and stopped when he saw me.

"Hello, Ted! Good to see you here. And who is this young lady with you?"

"Hi, Mr. Hanson. This is my..." I suddenly realised I wasn't sure what our status was, but went on "my girlfriend Rose-Marie."

"Well, I'm delighted to meet you, Rose-Marie. But if you'll excuse me, there's a minor crisis to deal with." At which he swept off.

"So ... I'm your girlfriend now?"

I looked at Rose-Marie, "Do you mind? I suddenly realised I didn't know what our ... relationship ... was. I..."

She placed a finger on my lips. Her eyes were sparkling and she was smiling. "Hush! I'm happy to be your girlfriend."

Whatever the minor crisis was, it must have been easily dealt with, because the vicar swept back down the aisle and disappeared into the vestry. He emerged a few minutes later in robes, white, but with brilliant embroidery, accompanied by a young man, Mike ... something? and a woman, the vicar's wife, Dulcie, both in white robes with a sort of blue scarf.

The service proceeded normally with lots of lively singing. When we got to the sermon, though, the preacher was Dulcie Hanson who spoke beautifully, evoking the atmosphere of the first Christmas.

"They travelled to see a human baby because they thought He was the hope of the world. We know Him to be the Son of God, but He is just as approachable today as he was back then. He reaches out to us, regardless of race or gender, status or political affiliation. All we need to do is take the hand He offers us, with the gift of forgiveness, wholeness and healing. No-one is too good or too bad. I..." she paused for a moment, found a handkerchief and blew her nose. "I stand witness that even if you're at rock bottom, in the gutter, no matter what you've done, He'll pick you up, take you in His arms, and tell you He loves you. In a few minutes, we'll be receiving bread and wine, the symbols of Jesus' sacrifice for us, of our acceptance. We hope that if you need to meet Him, you will stay at the altar rail and let us pray for you." She paused again. "So, to Him who is above all, yet reaches down to the lowliest, to Him be ascribed as His most just due, all might, majesty dominion and power, now and forever."

The congregation joined in with her 'Amen'

I realised Rose-Marie was holding my hand and squeezing it and I turned my attention from the preacher to my companion. Tears were trickling down her cheeks. There were prayers, with members of the congregation chipping in, sometimes with a sentence, sometimes just a name, then we got to the 'Peace'.

We all stood, and Peter Hanson announced, "The peace of the Lord be always with you,"

To which the congregation replied, "And also with you,"

And suddenly there was chaos as everyone moved to shake someone's hand or embrace them. Rose-Marie stood frozen in place. I put my arms round her, pulled her to me and placed a kiss on her forehead, whispering in her ear, "Peace be with you." Then, out of no-where, "I love you, Rose-Marie."

She pulled away from me and looked me in the eyes, but there was no time to say anything more. Everyone was in his or her seat and the service proceeding.

She held me in place so we were among the last to go up for communion. Having received, I stood, but Rose-Marie didn't. I stood, undecided as Dulcie came to Rose-Marie and bent to speak to her. Dulcie looked up and gestured for me to kneel with Rose-Marie before beginning to pray for her. I tried to make out what she was saying, but it sounded like gibberish to me.

It was embarrassing, kneeling with Rose-Marie at the altar-rail as the vicar continued the service, but I watched her as she was prayed for. Her head lifted and she smiled a brilliant smile, beginning to ... babble is the best word I can think of. But I didn't have much time to analyse what was going on because Dulcie was in front of me, and she was talking;

"If anyone lives in love, he lives in God and God lives in him ... my son, I have watched as you cared for your friends. You may not have thought of Me, but I am loving those around you through you. I am close to you and if you reach out to Me I will hold you. You are just realising you have a different love for this, my daughter and I am trusting you with her love."

Writing it like that, it sounds strange, but it had an impact I can't convey. I stayed there with Rose-Marie as the congregation sang 'Christians awake! Salute the happy morn... ' We were still there when the vicar blessed and dismissed the people who trooped out as Dulcie came back to us.

"Hello," she smiled, then looking at Rose-Marie, "I'm Dulcie Hanson."

Rose-Marie seemed to drag herself back from some exalted place. Dulcie knelt to bring her face down to our level.

"I didn't know women could preach," Rose-Marie said.

"In some churches, including the Church of England, we can." She smiled. "I'm just obeying the call of God on my life. Right now, I'm a Reader – lay preacher if you like, but I'm studying and in a couple of years I'll be ordained, like Peter."

"I didn't know church could be like this, like ... a loving family," Rose-Marie said.

"It's not always easy," Dulcie responded, "there can be some tough times..." and for a moment her face was sad, "but you're never really alone."

We stood then and set off down the aisle, but we were met by the vicar.

"Ted, Rose-Marie, if you need to talk, call and we'll either come to you or you can come to us."

We walked home and, once inside the front door and our coats off, Rose-Marie turned to me. "I'm not quite sure, but I seem to remember you saying something to me during the service."

"I said... 'I love you', Rose-Marie."

"Did ... did you mean it?"

"Oh, yes. I didn't realise ... I didn't mean to say it then anyway ... but, yes I do."

Her face lit up. "I love you too! Isn't it wonderful?"

I kissed her and held her, but had to suppress a yawn. I looked at my watch. "It's nearly two o'clock ... sweetheart."

"So it is... darling. We need to get to bed."

So we did. We separated on the landing; I cleaned my teeth, went ... okay, you don't need the details, so that's enough, undressed and got into bed ... put the light out and lay there thinking about the turn-around in my life. I heard my door open – I really should give those hinges some WD40 – and a figure padded across the room in the gloom and slipped into bed with me. It was Rose-Marie of course; she slipped under the duvet with me and cuddled up. I wrapped my arms round her. She was so slight ... her skin so smooth. I could feel the softness of her breasts ... they weren't big, but they felt nice against me.

Her breathing slowed and I realised she was asleep. That might have been a problem if I hadn't been so knackered myself. Anyway, it must have been about nine o'clock when I surfaced. We'd moved in the night – I was on my side facing Rose-Marie who was on her back. My right arm was under her head and my left hand cupping her breast, which just filled my hand nicely. It felt as though her nipple was boring a hole in my palm...