This is a story that involves a little sex between males. If such a story is offensive, or illegal for you to read where you live, then do not continue, go and surf elsewhere.
This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. If there is any similarity to any real persons or events it is entirely coincidental.
The work is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author.
My thanks to Brian who has read this through and made a number of corrections and suggestions. Any remaining errors, grammatical, spelling historical or whatever are entirely my fault.
Thank you to those who have commented on my stories. If you want to comment on the story then do contact me on Jeffyrks@hotmail.com. but please, after 8th May 2010 I am away until then. I aim to reply to all messages eventually.
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Peter Broad's Story
53
Carol Spencer and his Mother
Peter walked away feeling elated by his encounter with Bruce. He had to pass the church, he stood at the gate looking in. His mood changed quickly. He realised that this church, where he had been baptised, where he had been confirmed, which had been so important in his life, was no longer his spiritual home. It was now Bruce's church. It stood now for a rigid legalistic form of Christianity. He stood there wondering whether he would ever find another spiritual home. One where he would not have to suppress or hide his sexuality. One where he would be welcomed as a gay man. He felt sad.
Then he remembered what had happened just after Easter. The words of Mother Julian of Norwich came back into his mind. All shall be well, all shall be well, all manner of things shall be well.' He smiled to himself. He had seen these words as referring to his time with Anton, and then he had seen them being fulfilled through Straightahead. He wondered how it would all turn out. All shall be well' referred to the destination, whatever that may be; not to the journey involved in getting there.
The door of the church opened and out came Carol Spencer.
"Peter darling! How wonderful to see you."
His initial reaction was that Carol was the last person he wanted to meet, she was just too gushy. Then he remembered that the gushiness covered a heart of gold, and he remembered the conversation he had with Carol and James in the summer.
"Good to see you, Carol."
"You look as though you could do with a good cup of coffee, or even a large sherry. Come back with me. I had just been in church refreshing the flowers."
They walked the half mile to Carol's house, and chatted about everyday things. Back in the warm house, Carol asked, "Would you like a good sherry?"
Peter nodded, "Yes please."
"Sweet or dry?"
"Dry please."
She handed Peter the sherry. "Peter darling, you don't look too good. Are you unwell, or is something wrong?"
Peter took a deep breath. "There is something wrong, Carol. I have come to realise that I am gay. I told my parents last night, and have just told Bruce."
"Oh, you poor dear. You would not have got a sympathetic hearing from Bruce. He is very homophobic really. I expect your dear parents were shocked."
"Carol, I don't know what I feel. Part of me wants to laugh and jump for joy, in that I stood up to Bruce, and I think gave as good as I got. The other part of me wants to weep. I feel disloyal towards my parents, and estranged from the church here. It can no longer be my spiritual home. I feel an outcast. Bruce more or less said that if I was sexually active there was no place for me here, at least not at the communion rail."
"The brute!"
Peter poured out the whole story to Carol. She listened attentively and sympathetically for a good hour. Then she suggested lunch. After lunch they talked together for a further couple of hours. It was mid afternoon when Peter eventually left. He felt much better, and a number of things were clearer in his mind.
His mother was in the kitchen when he got home. "Where have you been? I was expecting you to be here for lunch."
"I went and told Bruce everything. Then I met Carol Spencer coming out of the church, and went back with her, and ended up staying for some lunch."
"Did you tell her anything?"
"Yes. I came out to her."
"What was her reaction?"
"She was very sympathetic and helpful."
"Was she? I am surprised. I doubt whether Bruce was sympathetic."
"No he was not. We almost ended up having an argument."
"Peter! After all he has done for you."
"I must be true to myself, Mum. I have made a decision. I think it would be best for us all if I went back to Nottingham tomorrow."
"I thought you had another six days before term starts."
"I know. But I want to get back."
"Back to that wretched Ben, and that fellow Anton, I suppose."
"Maybe."
His mother sobbed, and took out a handkerchief and began to wipe her eyes. Peter went over and put his arms round her. "Mum, I don't want to hurt you. I did not choose all this in order to hurt you. But I must be what I am."
"I cannot understand it. I cannot understand you. Is it our fault? Is it in the genes, or in the upbringing or what?"
"I don't know that anyone knows the answer to those questions. I don't think it is very profitable for us to think about them at the moment. The issue at present is the three of us, you, Dad and myself. I think you need time to think, and maybe come to terms with the truth about me. You could do worse than talk to Carol about me. For all her dears' and darlings' she is a wise and kind person."
The atmosphere that evening was strained. His parents said little. Immediately after the meal Peter went upstairs to pack.
In the morning his father said an abrupt goodbye. There was none of the warm affectionate concern that usually went with saying good bye to his father. His mother took him to Hitchin station. They stood together on the platform waiting for the train.
His mother spoke. "Peter, keep in touch. Write regularly. I find it all very difficult to understand. But let us know how you are getting on. I would prefer to know the worse, rather that to be imagining the worst."
"Mum dear. I will continue to write each week. Will you write to me the same."
"Yes dear, of course."
The train drew into the station. They gave each other hug and a kiss. The tears were not only from his mother.
-0---0---0-
Meeting Anton.
Peter arrived back in Nottingham just after 6.00pm. It was pouring with rain. The prospect of walking with his luggage through the downpour to the bus station, and then from the bus stop to the house in Chilwell, was too much. He decided to treat himself to a taxi.
The house felt cold and damp. There had been no one living in it for about three weeks. He lit the gas fire in his room, and switched on the immersion heater. There was almost no food in the house, just a few tins. He had intended going to the small local supermarket, but it was quite a way to walk, and it was now raining harder than ever. He decided to make do with what was in the house, a tin of baked beans and another of tomatoes. The shopping could be done in the morning. He went up to his room and unpacked. Though the fire was fully on, it seemed to make no impression on the prevailing damp and cold. He went downstairs, and heated up the baked beans and tomatoes. Scrummaging around he managed to find a few biscuits. He took the food up to his room and sat huddled over the fire to eat it.
He tried various tapes in an attempt to cheer himself up. But no tape succeeded. He tried to read a book. He could not concentrate on any work book, and no work of fiction could keep his mind from his present situation. He had never felt so alone. He felt he was estranged from his home, and his church. He was estranged from the people he knew in Nottingham, Anton, Ben and Clive. He thought about ringing them up, but he did not think that was the best way to attempt a reconciliation. He wanted to renew contact in a face to face encounter.
There was one thing he could do. He went and got out pen and paper, and wrote a letter to Charles Turner at Straightahead saying that he would not be attending any further meetings. It was not a difficult letter to write and was soon done.
He had a bath. When he returned to his room the gas fire had succeeded in taking the temperature from cold to cool. He decided to go to bed. The bed felt damp, and it was some time before he felt warm again. He tried to go to sleep, but found himself tossing and turning through most of the night.
Peter awoke to find the low winter sun shining through the curtains. He went down to the small local super market and stocked up with provisions. He had decided he would try to make contact with Anton first, but the best time to do that would be in the early evening. He had the whole day in front of him. He tried to do some work, and succeeded in doing some reading during the morning. In the afternoon he went out for a short walk. The afternoon seemed to drag, and his depression settled even lower upon him.
What did life hold for him? He was out of step with his family. His father's picture of a homosexual's life as lonely, with no family, few friends, trying to make casual pick ups for sexual gratification in filthy public toilets kept returning to his mind. Would it be possible to find a church where his sexuality would be not merely tolerated but accepted? He knew that Robert might be able to help him over that. But Robert would not be back in Nottingham for several days. He thought about his friendship with Raymond. It had been significant, but had faded. He felt he had grown out of that friendship. He then felt ashamed for thinking that. Slowly the hours passed, till he could go to call on Anton.
He caught a bus into town. He walked down into the Park. He went along various drives and crescents until he came to Devonshire Crescent East. His eagerness to get there began to evaporate. He began to wonder what reception he would have. He had rehearsed so many times what he would say when he came face to face with Anton. He stood for a moment at the gateway of number 17. He looked up at the house, and could see a light in Anton's room. It looked as though Anton was in. He walked up the short garden path, and then round the house towards the old servant's entrance. He could see the light of two bell pushes at the side of the door. As he bent to read which was which, the door opened. He stood up straight expecting to see Anton, but it was a young woman. He must have shown some surprise.
The woman spoke. "You must be coming to see Anton, he lives in the other flat."
Peter nodded and mumbled a yes.
"If you press his bell he will know you are coming up.
Peter pressed the bell, but did not wait for the intercom. He went through the door and up the stairs. There were two flights of stairs. He was nearly at the top of the second flight when the door opened and Anton stood there. He had a towel wrapped round his waist.
"Peter!"
He continued up the final two or three stairs, "Anton, I've come to....." Then he saw another young man in the room, he was only wearing jeans and pulling up the zip. Peter's mouth fell open. He hesitated for a brief moment. "I am sorry." He turned to go down stairs. "I am sorry to have disturbed you."
Anton called after him. "Peter. Peter. You did not expect me to behave like a bleedin' monk did you?"
But Peter was gone, round the corner and down the final flight of stairs. He went out into the night.
-0---0---0-
Rutters and back in Chilwell.
Peter wandered through the streets towards the city centre. In all his imagining of meeting Anton again, what had happened was the one thing that had not occurred to him. He felt as though the bottom had fallen out of his world. He had banked so much on being able to restore things with Anton. After nearly an hour of walking the streets, he began to feel cold. The wind had now gone into the east, and it was a biting wind. He made his way towards Rutters.
He bought a pint of bitter and went and sat down in the warmer inner room. There were very few there. Three men sitting on their own, two men talking; and another two sitting very close, and wanting to get closer. The sight of their mutual interest and pleasure just made matters worse. He looked at his watch. It was now too late to go to Beeston and try to renew contact with Ben. Anyway he could not face the possibility of a second rebuff in an evening. He decided to get warm, drink his pint, and then go back to Chilwell.
He thought about his home in Hertfordshire. It had been such a strained parting from his father. He had never known his father to be like that. As a child he had known him angry. There had been times when he had been punished, and usually he thoroughly deserved it. There had been something cold, even hostile in his father's attitude. It was something more hostile than simple incomprehension. He sat wondering when he would next go home. He certainly would not go back for the Easter vac, or at least not for Easter itself. He would be a sinner outcast from the full fellowship of the church. Even if he was not sexually active, he knew he would want to be, and in Bruce's eyes that would be almost as bad. There was just one thing more to do on the list of resolutions he had made before Christmas. Tomorrow evening he would go round to see Ben and Clive.
He got up and made his way out of the pub. The wind was even colder. He walked through the almost deserted streets of central Nottingham. He just missed a bus. He arrived back in Chilwell completely frozen. His room seemed as cold and cheerless as it had the evening before. He warmed himself up by having a prolonged bath.
He got into bed. He tried to read. He turned out the light. He lay on his back. Sleep was far away. It was Peter's custom to pray last thing at night. He had done this from early childhood. There had been times when his prayers had been alive and meaningful. Occasions when he felt in the presence of God, and speaking directly to a living Christ. But those occasions were now many months passed. He began to pray. This time there was a significant difference. For the first time in all the travail of the last few months, he prayed as a gay man. He admitted to God that he was gay, and he prayed for help in his situation. During the autumn he had prayed fervently to be healed of his sexual orientation. This time he cried out from the depth of the pit he was in. "Lord, help me for I am gay."
What then happened took place very gradually. He felt warmer, but that could be easily explained by being in bed. The words of Julian of Norwich came back into his mind, "All shall be well, all shall be well, all manner of things shall be well." But that could simply be explained as a part of his memory processes. But there was something more, which is impossible to put into words. For the first time for many months he felt he was in the presence of a loving God. He felt he was loved. To his surprise, he began to cry. Deep sobs burst from him. At first he thought they were sobs of sadness, but then he realised that they were sobs of joy. He felt loved. His prayers turned to words of praise. He was confident that all would be well. How long this all lasted he never knew. It might have been for a few moments only. It might have lasted well into the night.
The next thing Peter knew was that the sun was shining, and it was colder than ever.
-0---0---0-
Calling on Ben.
The next day dragged. Eventually the time came when he could set out for his visit to Ben. He decided to walk. Most of the way he seemed to be walking straight into the wind. The sky was threatening with snow. He opened the gate and walked the few feet up to the front door. The house appeared to be in darkness, and Peter wondered whether either Ben or Clive were at home. He rang the bell.
For several moments there were no signs of life, and then he heard a door, and saw light in the fan light above the front door. The light in the hall was switched on. The door opened. It was Ben.
"Peter! What a wonderful surprise! Come on in, out of that cold wind." Peter stepped in and shut the door. Ben held out his arms to Peter, and gave him a hug.
"Ben, I'm so sorry about that terrible letter I wrote to you last term," said Peter, more into Ben's neck that to his face.
"That's all right. It is good to see you." He gave Peter a squeeze.
Peter clung on, and began to weep. "Oh, Ben, I am so sorry. It was unforgivable how I treated you, after all your kindness to me."
"That's all right. Come on in. I am sure you have a lot to tell."
They went into the front room. It was warm and cosy. "What would you like to drink, something warm, or something warming? Coffee, tea, beer, whisky, Bailey's, Cointreau? Clive is on nights by the way."
"A cointreau, please." Peter sat down on the settee. Ben poured out the drinks, and joined Peter on the settee.
"Now tell me. What is your news?"
"I am sorry Ben, for that smug self righteous letter. It was unforgivable."
"No it was not," said Ben emphatically. "I forgive you. I know Clive will forgive you." Ben put his arm round Peter's shoulders. "Come on, you chump. Tell me what has happened, because it is obvious a lot has happened to you since the summer."
Peter started telling the whole story. Ben was a good listener. He sat with his arm round Peter, occasionally patting his shoulder. When Peter came to the end of the Straightahead episode, Ben pulled away. "I shall want to ask you more about that."
Peter continued. When he came to narrate the argument with Stan Menzies Ben shouted aloud. "You said what?"
"A common little bully."
Ben jumped up. "Oh that has made my day. Made my week. Probably made my year. Peter, you're wonderful. You came out to your parents and my Dad all at the same time. That took some guts." Ben chortled away, and it was a minute or so before Peter could continue.
When Peter came to tell about the events of the day before, Ben was sympathetic. "I am afraid it happens."
They sat on the settee holding hands and talking. Ben quizzed Peter about Straighahead, and the attitude of the church back at Whitgest. It was nearly mid-night when Peter looked at his watch and saw the time.
"I must be going."
"Hold on a moment, before you go." Ben got up and went to the other room, and came back with the desk diary that he and Clive shared. "Clive is on nights for another week. What about coming round for a meal on Friday week? I know Clive will want to see you, and hear all your news for himself."
That was fixed. Ben went and collected Peter's jacket. They gave each other a hug, and some kisses. They were not sexy kisses, but the kisses of two close male friends.
It was a much happier Peter that walked back to Chilwell. He realised afresh just how much Ben meant to him. He realised that he felt closer to Ben and Clive than he did to his folks back in Hertfordshire. He was almost home when it began to snow.
-0---0---0-
With Robert.
Three days later the University term started. Brian and Robert returned full of the events of the vac. The house immediately felt warmer and lived in.
A few evenings later Peter and Robert were alone in the house.
"Well? How did your vac really go? Have you decided what you are going to do?" asked Robert.
Peter told him all the events of the vac, especially his encounter with Stan Menzies and coming out to his parents. Robert as a theological student, and a candidate for the ministry of the church, was especially interested in the session with Bruce Perkins.
"So you have rather burnt you boats at home and in your home church? I think that was a brave thing to do. My prayers to the Blessed Virgin must have been answered in giving you that courage." Peter stuck out his tongue at Robert. "You will need a lot of support and help over the coming few months."
"I have got Ben and Clive. I am sure they will both be a great help."
"Sure. But I am sorry about Anton. It is a pity that has not worked out. Unfortunately gay relationships seem to be notoriously unstable. Remember I am here, whenever you want to talk or need a shoulder to cry on. Sorry I cannot help you with the sex part, I am afraid I am totally straight."
"That is all right. I don't fancy you any way; so I will not be suffering from lustful frustration whenever I look at you."
"Good, but seriously. I have found out some things that may help you. There is a gay friendly church the other side of Nottingham. It would be quite a jaunt to get there. It is St Augustine's of Hippo. St Augustine was against almost all sexual activity, but he got in plenty of fun before he became a Christian. Which is a bit hard on us poor cradle Christians who are not supposed to have any fun at all. Seriously, the vicar is gay. The grape vine says he has got a live in boy-friend. Whether he keeps him in a linen basket like your Archbishop Cranmer did his wife I don't know. If you want to go there one Sunday I will come with you. I am afraid it will probably be a bit far up the candlestick for your liking. You cannot have both sex and fundamentalism, can you? Though some of those American telly-evangelists seem to. Did you read the books I sent you?"
"Yes, thank you for them. They were most helpful. They helped see certain things clearly."
"You know what I would be saying to you if I was your spiritual director?"
"What?"
"That God loves you. If it is at all possible, He possibly loves you more than ever with all the problems you are in."
"I think I know that," said Peter very quietly. He went on to tell Robert about his experience in St Sebastian's Whitgest at Easter, and of what had happened a few nights before.
Robert reached across the table and held Peter's hands. "I am almost envious of that experience. Hold on to it. God does not give us such experiences of Himself for nothing. You must take it as a confirmation of your stand, and an encouragement for what may lie ahead."
"I would like to take you up on the offer about St Augustine's. What about this coming Sunday?"
"Why not? I will try to find out some more."
-0---0---0-
Reconciliation.
Peter walked to Ben's on the Friday evening. When he arrived, Clive answered the door and let him in. He took off his coat, and went into the front room. Ben put his face round the door to say hello, before disappearing again into the kitchen. Clive continued to talk to him, but it was just superficial chat. Nearly ten minutes later there was a ring at the door. There was the sound of Ben going to the front door. Clive continued talking, slightly louder than before. Peter could half hear Ben talking to someone in the hall about taking off his coat in the front room. The door opened and in walked Anton followed by Ben.
Peter and Anton looked at each other in embarrassed surprise. "Let me take your coat," said Ben. "The meal will be ready in about ten minutes or so." Ben and Clive left the room.
"If anything was a put up job that was," said Anton.
"Yea," replied Peter. They stood looking at each other. "I am sorry about that letter and the way I treated you."
"I should bloody well think so, too."
"It must have come as a shock."
"That is an understatement."
There was an awkward pause.
"I am sorry. I hope you had not done anything......spent any money about the holiday in Greece."
"No fortunately. I thought we had something special going between us. I suppose you got a bad attack of your bloody religion. It's never happier than when it is having it out on gays."
"It is a long story, but it was something like that. I too thought we had something special. I am sorry."
"Stop saying you are bloody sorry," shouted Anton. "I heard you the first time. You have well and truly mucked things up between us."
"I know, I'm....." Peter checked himself. "You soon got over it, judging by that man putting on his trousers the other evening."
"Oh, him."
"Is there just one him? Or have there been a whole lot of hims?"
"That is none of your business," snapped Anton. Then looking down, more quietly he continued, "There were three. With each one I kept thinking of you.... If you really want to know."
They still stood glaring at each other. Peter was the first to speak. "I thought we had something special. I think there still is. I came round the other night hoping you would give it a second chance. You say you kept thinking of me. In all the anguish of the last five months, it was you I kept thinking about. It was you I was wanting."
"Really?"
"And I still want..... I want you, Anton."
"I think I want you too, when I think about it." Anton gave Peter the merest glimmer of a smile. As if by mutual consent they both moved towards the other. Then they were in each other's arms.
"I am sorry that I have made us waste so much good time."
"If you say sorry again! Do you want me to be a bloody priest and give you forgiveness?"
"I want your forgiveness."
Anton kissed Peter firmly on the mouth. "That is a pledge of forgiveness. There can be a lot more to come".
They sat down on the settee, and began to talk, now with no awkward pauses. They began to make plans.
After a while, there was a knock on the door. Clive put his head round the door. "The meal is ready."
"Can I make a phone call first?" asked Peter.
The telephone was in the room where they were to eat their meal. Peter dialed the number.
"Is that you, Robert? Peter here. I am ringing to tell you I will not be back tonight. In fact I may not be back until Monday night.......Yes, I'll be with Anton." Then two things happened at once. He was deafened by the cry of delight that came down the phone, and he just saw out of the corner of his eye Ben and Clive exchanging a thumbs up.
"I think we need a special bottle of wine," said Ben.
"Some of the special we brought back from France in the summer." Clive disappeared down into the cellar.
The meal was one of Ben and Clive's specials. Conversation flowed freely. There was much laughter. Peter and Anton seemed to seek every opportunity to touch each other. That proved somewhat infectious. Ben and Clive started showing more public affection than even Peter had ever seen between them. The time passed. It was getting towards 11.00pm when Ben noticed that the other two were getting fidgety.
"I think, Clive, it is about time we let our two love birds get away."
"And the night is too special to let them cool off waiting for a bus. I will run them back to Anton's in the car."
When Peter came to say good night to Ben, he put his arms around him, and gave him a kiss. "Thank you, Ben. I shall ever be in your debt."
"Nothing to the debt that I owe you."
It took Clive just over ten minutes to get them back to Anton's flat in the Park.
Anton led the way round to the back of the building. He had his key out ready. The two of them went up the flights of stairs a couple at a time. Anton opened his door, switched on the light, and went over to the gas fire and put it on. Peter removed his anorak. They faced each other for a fleeting moment. Then they were again in each other's arms.
"This room takes a while to warm up. So let's get into bed, we have over a hundred lost days to make up."
They stripped off their clothes, leaving them in a discarded heap, shirts, trousers, pants and socks on top, and slipped into Anton's cold bed; but they were soon warm.
-0---0---0-
At Anton's.
Fortunately Anton had stocked up with provisions earlier that day. They had no need to leave the flat for food or drink.
A large part of the weekend was spent in bed talking. They lay in the narrow bed side by side, sometimes with Peter's arm round Anton, other times the other way round, often they just held hands.
At one stage Peter asked, "What happened when you got my letter?"
"I could not believe it at first. I was sort of numb. Then I felt angry, and swore at you. About ten days after I went out and picked up some one. We came back here. It didn't work. I was bloody well thinking of you all the time. I kept remembering our last time, and that great few days we had together. I think the chap realised something was up. He went off in a huff. Said it was better having sex with a pillow. Clive asked me if I had heard from you, and he told me about the letter they had had. I talked quite a lot to Clive. He was quite helpful. So the weeks drifted by. I had one long spell on nights, that helped keep my mind off you."
"Thank you for telling me. I found that letter so hard to write."
"Why did you then? What actually happened?"
Peter went through the whole story in great detail. Anton listened carefully. "Is it liable to happen again?"
"No. I am sure it won't. I know myself much better now, than I did five months ago. I suppose things had been easy for me up until Mum discovered that letter. One thing had just followed another. All that has happened since has made me look deeply at myself. I know what I am, I am much more sure."
"I think that is one of the consequences of being gay," remarked Anton. "Because we are in a minority, and there are so many against us, we have to be sure about ourselves. We know more about ourselves than the average man whose interest is just in sex and football."
"I suppose ours is just in sex," remarked Peter. That flippant remark concluded that conversation.
Another time Anton asked, "How do you see things going with your parents?"
"With difficulty. I think they will take a long while before they come to accept that I am gay. I think Mary will be putting in a word for me It will be even longer before I can take you down to Whitgest and introduce you to them."
"Would you like to do that?"
"Yes, I would."
"Thank you, I appreciate that. But I would be bloody nervous about going to your posh home in the south."
On another occasion Peter sat up in bed and looked down on Anton. "How can anybody say that what we have just done is wrong? For us both it is an expression of love. I am not harming you, and you are not hurting me. We both agree, we are both consenting adults. Yet there are those like Bruce back home who say what we have done is evil. He thinks it is one of the most evil things a man can do. I am angry with Bruce, and those like him in the church."
"Are you going to give up your religion then?" asked Anton.
"Not if I can help it."
"How can you help it? It is just giving you trouble. It makes you feel guilty. If it condemns what we are doing here and now. If it says you are a sinner and will go to hell because we are in bed together, how can you continue with your church-going?"
"Hold on a moment! Some do say those things. But not everyone. Robert, the guy who is studying theology, who is in the same house as me, he took me along to a gay friendly church last Sunday."
"I didn't know there was such a thing," said Anton.
"Yes, there are. Looking round the congregation I thought there were several there who might well be gay. The vicar is gay. Has a partner living with him."
"Does the bishop know?"
"I don't know the answer to that. Some bishops try to give such situations the Nelson treatment, and turn a blind eye. If there is no protest from the congregation, or public offence being committed, then the bishop may well not want to take action. Sometimes because they are in sympathy, sometimes because they don't want to be the initiator of bad publicity. Sometimes some fundamentalist fanatic forces the bishop to take action. It seemed a lively church. Not a great number in the congregation, but it was friendly and there was quite a lot going on in and through that church."
"I can't understand it. Boring services, dreary hymns, stuffy sermons, droning prayers, men dressing up, and the whole lot bound up with a mass of restrictions, `thou shalt not do this, and thou shalt not do that'."
Peter raised himself so that he was leaning on his elbow, and could look Anton in the face. "You are missing out the most important part. Look at it this way. After just a few times together, I could not get you out of my system. I know it is not exactly the same, but in a similar way Jesus means everything to me. I cannot just turn my back on him and walk away; just as I found I could not walk away from you. I hope I can remain with the dear old Church of England. That is where my roots are, where I am most at home. But if I can't find a church where I am accepted as a gay man, then I will look elsewhere. I could become a Methodist or whatever. Failing that I could join the Metropolitan Community Church, that is explicitly for gay people."
"Why don't you then?"
"Because my roots are not there. And basically I have difficulties with a single issue church".
"So you are going to persist with the boring old bits."
"Sometimes they are I admit, but not always. I have made some good friends there. But it is Jesus that really matters to me."
"Do you love him more than me?" asked Anton quietly.
There was the barest pause. "Yes. At the end of the day I do. But I don't see it as a matter of either or' but of both and.' The two relationships are special to me, but they are very different".
Peter gave Anton a hug and a kiss, but Anton was very thoughtful for sometime after this conversation.
In the course of the weekend they discussed their future together. They decided not to try and move in together at this stage. Anton's shifts, and Peter's need to work hard ruled that out. They decided to try and see each other for a day and one or two nights each week, depending on the work patterns of them both.
In the middle of the Sunday night Anton lay wide awake. Peter stirred and muttered some words in his sleep. "With delight and tenderness.... "
"What was that you were saying?" asked Anton, giving Peter a nudge.
"I don't know," mumbled Peter still half asleep.
"Some beautiful words, about delight and tenderness."
Peter sat up in bed, and rubbed his eyes, thinking. Then in the voice often used in recalling something automatically by memory, Peter said, "That with delight and tenderness they may know each other in love, and, through the joy of their bodily union may strengthen the union of their hearts and lives. Was that it?"
"Yes, you said something like that. They are lovely words. Where do they come from?"
Peter thought some more. "I think they come from the Marriage Service."
"Are they what you feel, what you feel about us?"
"Yes. I think I do." He turned towards Anton with a slightly embarrassed grin.
"I go along with them as well. I think I feel something along those lines."
Peter slipped down under the bed clothes again.
Eventually Monday morning arrived. Anton had to be at work by 8.30. It was still dark when the pile of clothes that had remained in a heap on the floor was sorted out.
-0---0---0-
Journeys go on.
Early that week Peter sent his first letter home. He told them his news.
`I have seen Ben a couple of times, and had a very helpful talk with him on the first occasion.....I spent the last weekend with Anton. ... I am trying to get down to some solid work. ... I have been to a church where gay men are welcomed and accepted.' He did not give any further details of the church. He thought that his parents might give details of the church to Bruce, who might well try to stir up trouble with the bishop.
The reply from his mother did not make very accepting reading. Dear Peter, Your father and I thank you for your letter. We were sorry, though not surprised to hear, that you have taken up with Ben and Anton again. Remember that there is always a way to forgiveness and restoration through repentance. Remember what the Bible says, `How shall we escape if we neglect so great a salvation." We will continue to be praying for you. We told Bruce your news, and he expressed the hope that the church you now attend is not a Church of England. He too is praying for you.
The exchange of letters continued in a rather strained way through the term. They improved slightly towards Easter.
Dear Peter, You will be pleased to know that I met Carol Spencer in the village yesterday and she invited me back for coffee. She asked after you, and said how much she admired your courage. We talked for a long while, and she was able to help me understand a little more about you. She told me that I was not to blame myself for what has happened to you.
Peter decided that he would not go home for Easter, but go back for a short visit of a couple of nights after the festival.
It was on the evening of the Saturday between Good Friday and Easter Day that Peter and Anton lay in bed talking. They were catching up on news, for they had been unable to see anything of each other for ten days.
"How has the term been workwise?" asked Anton.
"It has gone quite well. My tutor had me in last week. He says my work has improved a lot over that of the previous term. But I will have to work very hard to get back to where I was in the first year. Actually I think he was saying that because he is afraid I might start taking it easy."
"How is your Christian thing going? Are you reconciling what we do with that religion of yours?"
"Yes, I think I am. I don't think my religion is warping my sexuality; and so far my sexuality has not destroyed my faith. I am happy on that score, as I am happy with you." Peter bent over and planted a kiss on Anton's lips. "I think all is well, all manner of things shall be well."
"I am glad about that," responded Anton. "I am happy, bloody happy with you. There is just one thing."
"What is that?"
"I suppose you went to Church yesterday?"
"Yes."
"And you want to go again tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"When you go to a particular church for the first time, how do you know when to stand up, and sit down."
Peter laughed. "You try to sit with other people in front of you, and you just follow what they are doing. Why?"
"Can I come with you tomorrow? I need to start finding out more about this Jesus."
The End