Chapter 4

Ah, the first flush of new love. We didn't neglect our studies; it's possible (knowing some of our peers) that we both did more than most, but we were very conscious of each other's presence and touched whenever possible. We took time out to go for walks; nothing strenuous at first, just strolls in Derbyshire. I showed her places I loved, where there are birds, other wild-life and trees. I got her to hug an ancient Sessile Oak in Padley Gorge; she looked very thoughtful after that. One day we went a little further afield to an RSPB reserve, Old Moor near Wath-on-Dearne. (RSPB is the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds, I believe the largest conservation charity in the UK). I thought it incredible that at twenty, with her love of nature, that she'd never used a pair of binoculars before, or visited a wild-life reserve of any sort. A simmering anger at her parents bubbled away deep in my subconscious mind.

She saw her doctor and started 'the pill'. We still needed condoms for over a month, but...

We called in on her house; I encouraged her to set timers on lights and a radio to give some impression of occupation. We picked up one or two things she wanted, books and so on, and she checked the phone. There were several messages for her, all from the Pastor of 'her' church.

When we got home and out of our gear, she turned to me. "I must ring Pastor Grey," she said, "but I'm a bit nervous. Hold my hand?"

She used my land-line. With hindsight, I ought to have bought her a cheap mobile.

"Pastor Grey? Rose-Marie Burnham ... yes, I'm fine, I'm sorry you've been worried ... I got lonely in the house on my own and I'm staying with a friend from University ... I'm sorry I haven't been to church, I've been to the local church with my friend ... Oh, St. Jude's." There was a long pause then while I could hear a lengthy series of squawks from the handset. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Pastor Grey, actually I felt a great deal closer to God in the services I attended at St. Jude's than I have anywhere else ... No, I'm sorry, I think I'd rather be damned for eternity than sit through another of your sermons..."

I could understand the much louder series of squawks that ensued following that remark, which Rose-Marie terminated by hanging up with a sigh, turning to me and holding me close.

"That was perhaps not the most diplomatic way of commenting on his ministry," I commented sternly, but chuckled, "however accurate it may have been..."

She wasn't laughing, though. In fact, tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"He was so nasty, Edward, so vicious. How can anyone that claims to be a Christian be like that?"

"The wrong sort of religion sometimes makes people that way," I commented. "One reason I've never really taken to church in a big way. So much of it seems to be 'Don't... ' and 'You must not... ' and 'anyone who disagrees must be damned... ' Anyway, I'm for a drink after that. What would you like?"

"Whatever you're having," she said.

I poured two whiskies adding a little water to both. I handed one to her and sipped mine appreciatively. She took a gulp of hers, choked and gasped.

"That's... vile. Whatever is it?"

"Whisky," I said, "very good whisky – twelve-year-old Talisker."

"I should be more careful," she said ruefully. "Have you got something a little ... sweeter?"

"Sherry," I offered, "or Port? There's some cider if you want something more refreshing."

"Port ... that's what we had with the Christmas pudding, isn't it?"

"That's right."

"A glass of Port would be nice," she decided.

The phone rang as I was pouring it and Rose-Marie answered it in the hall. There was a long pause after she picked up before I heard her voice.

"No, Pastor Grey. You were unconscionably rude about my friends and I do not wish to discuss this any further ... of course, you must do as your conscience dictates ... just remember I am an adult and you have no right to interfere in my life ... no, neither do my parents, who abdicated their responsibilities when they decided their faith was more important than their offspring ... goodbye, Pastor Grey."

When she returned to the room, at least she wasn't crying; her colour was high and her lips tight.

"That arrogant, insufferable, chauvinistic... " she bit off whatever she was going to say next, just adding, " ... person."

"We can block his calls, if you like," I said. "There's a little box in the phone line – all you have to do is press a button."

"Show me," was all her reply.

We sipped our drinks listening to a CD of relaxing music. It included a particular favourite of mine, 'Cantique de Jean Racine'. I held her close, wondering if I could contemplate life without her. How could I have got so ... involved ... so quickly?

In bed, later, she clung to me with an intensity that was a little frightening as we made love...

Apart from that, my ... our ... life was idyllic.

We returned to University after the break. Being separated came as a bit of a shock and we had to endure a little teasing from our friends and a few raised eyebrows. Just two examples;

Cheryl cornered us and poked me. "You were only supposed to take her to the Christmas Ball," she said, "not go and fall in love with her. What are we supposed to do when we fall out with our boyfriends?"

"Same as you always have," I laughed, "I'm sure my girlfriend will lend you my shoulder to cry on."

"How could I do anything else," Rose-Marie chipped in, "I wouldn't have him if it wasn't for you."

Cheryl laughed then, "Seriously, guys, I'm happy for you. You're both special and you deserve each other."

On the other hand there was the ... athletic type ... who told me, "You must be desperate – what can you see in her?" (There was more, but I'll leave you to guess at it).