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.
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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
Face to face with the vicar.
Peter slowly climbed the stairs, and went back into his room. He sat again at his desk. The fickle breeze that had caused the trouble continued to stir the curtains, but he did not notice. The beauty of the setting sun shining with its final rosy glow was unseen to his eyes. The blank sheet of A4 and his biro still lay on the desk. He stared at them blankly, and then buried his head in his hands.
A variety of emotions followed each other through his mind. He was angry with his mother for picking up the piece of paper and reading his private letter. He was ashamed of all that had come out into the open with his parents. He was angry with fate, with God, that this should happen. He felt guilty, tremendously guilty. He thought of Anton, but nothing of the joy and pleasure of his relationship that had been so strong in him only a short while before could reach down into the blackness of his spirit.
Where could he go from here? He thought for a moment of fleeing back to Nottingham to live with Anton. He felt too guilty and ashamed to entertain that idea for long. There were also a number of very practical difficulties. He was too close to his family, and especially to his parents to up and off in the middle of the night. There were also other things, like his work at the Hermitage. His sense of responsibility would not allow himself to walk out on that. He was even unsure whether his relationship with Anton was that secure.
The only other alternative seemed to be to stay at home, and face the music. Perhaps something could be done for him. Perhaps his sexuality was a disease that by some way could be healed. With his parents he could have the resources, spiritual, ecclesiastical, and if necessary financial, to see that the best thing was done. The crossroads picture that his father had drawn was vivid in his mind. The figure of the rather sad man he had met on his first visit to the Rutland Arms passed across his mind. He could end up like that, or even worse. Perhaps it could be sorted out. Perhaps he could be made like the majority. Perhaps he would eventually find a wife and have children.
So he sat, head in hands, turning things over and over in his mind. The grandfather clock in the hall down stairs striking eleven called him back to the present. He felt thirsty, but could not run the risk of meeting anyone by going down to the kitchen to make himself a drink. The house seemed silent and asleep. He slipped out of his bedroom to visit the loo, and to clean his teeth. He got some pyjamas out of the cupboard. He had not worn any over the last few weeks. He got undressed, and putting his pyjamas on got into bed. He knew that Anton never slept in pyjamas. So the act of putting on his pyjamas seemed to mark a capitulation to his parents, their beliefs and standards.
He heard the clock strike the hour four more times, before falling into a restless sleep.
All too soon, at 6.30 his alarm went. This was one of the mornings when he was going to have to cycle into Hitchin. It was made worse by a slight drizzle falling from a dull overcast sky. When he got down stairs, he got his own breakfast. Cereal, toast, and a mug of tea. He heard the sounds of someone moving upstairs, so he bolted down the last mouthful of toast and slipped out of the house.
Work was not easy that day. He forced himself to work. He found it hard to concentrate on what he was doing. Fortunately much of his work was routine. In the middle of the afternoon he and the chef were sitting together, taking a break over a large mug of tea.
"What's the matter, Peter? You haven't been your usual self today."
"Things are going a bit wrong."
"What at home?"
"Yes, at home."
"They fuck you up, your Mum and Dad.
They may not mean to but they do. They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you."
Peter smiled. "Yes, it is something like that."
"But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old style hats and coats, Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats."
"I didn't know you liked poetry. Where does that come from?"
"Philip Larkin. You sound surprised. A common or garden chef like me can like some of the finer things in life, other than food."
Peter gave a slight laugh.
The hardest part of the day was facing his folk back at home. He knew that his parents had said nothing to his brother and sister about their discovery during the Easter vacation of his meeting up with Ben. The Easter inquisition had remained something between his parents and himself. But this time things were much more serious. The Broads were a family that faced things together. There were few secrets between them. He knew that Andrew and Mary would soon realise something serious had happened. The looks on his parents' faces would show that.
When he arrived home, he made his way in through the back door, and then into the kitchen. His mother was there. Her eyes were red from much weeping. She gave him a despairing look of loving sorrow.
"I am sorry Mum. That I have caused you so much distress."
"Thank you for saying that, Peter. I am sure that with the Lord's help it can all be put right."
She came across and gave him a hug. "How did your day go?"
"It wasn't easy. But it went!"
He made his way through the kitchen, and then up to his room.
Mealtime was very difficult. It was obvious that Mary and Andrew knew. Peter could tell from the way they looked at him. There were attempts at the usual items of conversation. These quickly dried up, likes streams in the desert.
So the first few days of the week passed. On the Wednesday evening Mary stopped him on the stairs. She took hold of his two hands. "Peter, what ever you are, and what ever you do, you will always be my kid brother. And I love you." She gave his hands a squeeze and carried on downstairs.
He called down after her, "Thank you, Sis. That means a lot to me. Thanks."
Andrew's reaction was expressed early on the Friday morning. He came down for his breakfast before Peter could get away to the Hermitage. "So my young brother is a dirty little shirt lifter." This was said with real bitterness. "You bring disgrace on your family. I dread to think what Angela and her family will think if they ever find out." Angela was Andrew's current girl friend.
On Friday evening Peter did not get home from Hitchin until nearly 9.00pm. He had eaten at work, so he just got himself a can of beer from the fridge and half a dozen biscuits, and made his way upstairs. He drank half the can, and ate the biscuits, and then got out a large book on the economic, social and political influence of multinational companies. He kicked off his shoes and lay back on the bed.
Half an hour later there was a knock on the door. It was his father, who came in. Peter started to get off the bed.
"No, don't move," said his father sitting on the edge of the bed. "What sort of week have you had, Peter?"
"Not very good. Rather grim, in fact."
"Yes, I am sure. It has not been the best of weeks for any of us, I guess. I certainly know it has not been good for your mother. Peter, I have been to see Bruce to ask for his advice and help"
Peter's heart sank. Though he had realised that some others would have to know, the fact that Bruce, and probably Helen as well, now knew, thrust him back into the depths of his black feelings.
"He thinks as a start it would be a good idea if you went round to see him, and told him about it all. There are a number of things that only you can tell him. He will then know what course of action would be for the best."
Peter replied with a big sigh, "Okay Dad, I'll do that. I will ring Bruce tomorrow."
Peter's father looked at his watch. "It has only just gone 10.00. You could phone him tonight."
"No, Dad, I will phone him tomorrow, when I get back from Hitchin."
"All right then." His father stood up, and looked down on Peter. "You know we do want the best for you. We are on your side. We care for you. We do love you, you know." The last sentence was said with slight embarrassment. The Broad males were not at ease with their expressions of affection.
His father left the room, and Peter was left alone with his thoughts. He tried to read some more, but could not concentrate on economics. He rose from the bed, and got a novel; but even lighter reading was no help. He lay on the bed, doing what he had done so much over the last few days. He churned it all over in his mind. Going round and round in circles. At this stage he realised that it might be necessary to go through the mill in order to be straightened out. His religious background had taught him that suffering was often necessary to spiritual growth. .
He phoned Bruce from Hitchin during his lunch break. They arranged to meet in the morning of the following Tuesday. Peter was working late that evening, so did not have to be in Hitchin until 12.00noon, and Bruce's diary was clear.
Tuesday morning was bright and sunny. The Hertfordshire countryside was in its summer glory. The half mile walk to the vicarage was not easy for Peter. It felt as though his feet got heavier with every step. No schoolboy crept more snail-like to school, than Peter to the vicarage.
He rang at the door. Bruce opened it. "Do come in, Peter. Good to see you. What a wonderful morning!"
Peter barely nodded, and made his way through to the study. This bright and book-lined room held many happy memories for Peter. This was where his confirmation classes had been held. Here, regularly, he had come to see Bruce, where he had been able to ask the usual growing questions of adolescence, and receive encouragement and counsel on his spiritual journey. Today it held the prospect of shame and disgrace.
"What would you like to drink? Tea or coffee?"
"Coffee please. Plenty of sugar."
Bruce went to make the coffee. Peter sat in his usual chair and waited.
"Here we are then," and Bruce handed him a mug of coffee, and set a plate of chocolate biscuits on a small table alongside Peter. "I know you are always hungry, and are partial to that sort."
Bruce sat down, and there was an awkward silence for a moment.
Peter had already decided to tell the whole story. Bruce listened attentively while Peter talked of Janet, of dreams, of the encounter with Raymond at the Bible Study and what had happened, and not happened afterwards. He spoke of the party to which he had been invited, where he had first met Anton. He told of the night with Anton, and the few days that he recently spent together, and the revealing of it all by his mother when she picked up the wind blown letter.
"And then what did you do?"
"What do you mean, `what did I do?'"
"Did you just go upstairs and read a book, or go to bed, or what?"
"I just sat there at my desk. I buried my head in my hands and sat there in despair for a long while. Then finally, I went to bed, and spent a sleepless night."
"What were your feelings?"
Peter thought for a moment before answering. "I felt awful. I felt remorse, regret." He hung his head even further in shame.
"Peter, there really seems to be one thing very lacking in all that you have told me. I am very surprised, and saddened, by the fact there does not seem to be any sense of repentance. Am I right?"
"Partly. When I first came home, at the beginning of the vac, there was a tremendous sense of guilt. During the Easter vac I had proudly been able to say to my parents that I had never had any sexual relationships with another person of either sex. I realised I could never make that boast again. I did pray for forgiveness and help."
"And what happened?"
"I had no sense of being forgiven."
"So what did you do? Why did you go back up to Nottingham for another orgy of sexual debauchery?"
Slowly Peter replied, his head low, the lock of his hair almost hiding his face. "The feeling of guilt passed off. I wanted more. I wanted to do it again."
"And there was no feeling of guilt when you got back from Nottingham from that second round."
"No. I was counting the days until I could see Anton again."
There was a lengthy silence.
"Peter, look at me." Slowly Peter's face came up, and with his hand he put his blond forelock back into place. "You know me well. I believe I have been of help to you over the years. I want the best for you. The best for you in this life. And, of course, your eternal welfare is at stake. I think that all that you have told me is very revealing. It shows both the seriousness and the deceitfulness of sin. The initial feeling of regret quickly passed. The feeling of guilt is pushed to one side, and all too quickly you are going back to Nottingham for another session of sin. I am not one of those clergymen who see the devil's hand in every situation that is not a hundred per cent perfect. But listening to your story I do begin to think that his finger prints can be seen in what has happened with you. You fall into sin. Yes, there had been things in your past life. Your dreams. Why? Why Peter, did you not tell me about those at the time? You used to come to see me. You were very open with me about many things. Why did you not share those dreams with me? I could have helped you at that stage. All this terrible thing that has happened this summer could have been avoided."
"I thought about it. I did not know how to start. I was much younger then. I did not understand the dreams. I was ashamed to tell you about them."
"I think that the evil one was knocking at your door even then."
Peter gave a slight shrug of his shoulders.
"But let's get back to your present plight. Even though you have had those dreams, you continued faithful to the Lord. You continued to worship and serve Him. Even when you went up to University you continued to go to church and you joined the Christian Union. Many promising young people like you drop away at that stage. But you did not. There were several of us here in the weekly prayer meeting praying very much for you last autumn, and we believed that our prayers were answered. Then somehow you get led into temptation, and all so inexplicably quickly you are just wallowing around in sin. Do you understand it?"
Slowly, Peter nodded.
"And it is a particularly vile sin. If you had gone and slept with a girl student, it would have been wrong, terribly wrong, but it would have been in some way natural. In some way understandable. If you had gone into town, and had a prostitute, it would have been wrong, horribly, seriously wrong, but even that is understandable. But to have sex with another man. The Bible says it is an abomination. It is something vile, utterly abhorrent, to God. God completely and utterly hates that sort of sin. It totally and absolutely goes against the plan and purpose of God. It is not just a straying from the way, it is a complete turning back. It is like putting two fingers up to God. I am sorry Peter. I must not get angry. I do, I really do, just want the best for you."
There was another pause.
Bruce continued, "The question is now whether you want to go ahead now. The choice is yours. Do you want to come back to the way of the Lord, or do you want to go on down that sinful slope that you are at the moment sliding down?"
Slowly Peter nodded. "Yes, I want to get it right. I want to be right with the Lord. I was wrong, I must put it right."
"Then we must think very carefully about what the right steps are for us to take." Bruce thought for a moment. "I think it important that there is some formal expression of repentance. What you have told me this morning is in effect a confession of your sins. I don't think it will be necessary to go through the whole story. The essential link that needs to be made is between your confession and the Lord. There needs to be an expression of sorrow over what you have done, and seeing it not as something by which you have shamed yourself and your family, and indeed the church, but also chiefly something that you have done against the Lord. You have sinned against him. He is grieved. You need to ask for his forgiveness. It needs to be an asking for forgiveness and that in future, with His help, you will never do this sort of thing again. Are you prepared to do that, Peter?"
"Yes."
"I don't think that we need to go over to the church or anything like that. It is something we can do in here. I suggest you kneel. In confession sum up the sins that you have done, ask for forgiveness, and ask for help. I will then pray for you, and lay hands on you. Then I will go and leave you alone. When you are ready, then make your way out of the vicarage, and go home. Then I want you to come and see me next week. By that time I will have thought and prayed over what else needs to be done."
They fixed the date for the following week.
When it was all done, confession made, prayer offered, and hands laid, Bruce left the room, leaving Peter with his thoughts. He felt more at peace. He was glad it had all come out into the open. He believed that Bruce had his true welfare at heart. Perhaps all would eventually be well.
-0---0---0-
A Letter from and a letter to Anton.
Peter just had a few minutes at home before setting off for Hitchin. While he was at the vicarage the post had arrived. On the small table in the hall there was a letter with a Nottingham postmark for him. He recognised the handwriting. It was from Anton. He only hoped that his mother had not inspected the post mark. If she had there would be another inquisition.
Peter put the letter in his pocket. As he was having to cycle into Hitchin he was not able to read it on the journey. He was kept busy at work. All the time the letter burned in his pocket. He had mixed feelings towards it. He wanted to read it, and yet he dreaded reading it. He thought of taking a prolonged loo break, so that he could read it in privacy, but he was afraid of his possible emotional response. So he worked through the day, and well on into the evening. His mother was at some meeting in Hitchin that evening and it had been arranged that she would collect him at 10.00. She was waiting in the hotel car park when he finished his work at 10.30. He came out, and slipped into the car beside her.
"Sorry to keep you waiting for so long, Mum. I am afraid it tends to be rather like that in this sort of job."
"That's alright. I was enjoying listening to classic FM. I rarely can sit and just listen. How did your day go?"
"Okay."
"How did you get on with Bruce this morning?"
He was dreading a question about the letter. Then he realised that it was not necessarily his mother who had put it on the table. The woman who helped with the cleaning had been in the house that morning. It was with some relief that he answered. "Yes I think it went all right. I am going to see Bruce again next week."
His mother did not probe any further, so he asked, "What were you listening to?"
Their discussion now turned to music and the merits of Schubert as a composer. When they got home his mother got them both a drink and a bite to eat. It was nearly midnight by the time Peter could be alone, when he made his way to bed. He went into his room, and took the now rather crumpled envelope out of his pocket, and put it on his desk. He made his way on the bedtime visit to the bathroom. When he came back he sat at his desk, and slowly opened the letter.
My dearest Peter, Thank you so much for your wonderful letter. The great thing is that I feel the same way about you, as you seem to feel about me. Every day seems so long knowing that you will not be in my flat when I get home. But every day brings nearer the time when we can be together again. Close together with no distance, no phone wires, no letters, no clothes between us; and we can lie in each others arms. But it is not just the sex. I never thought I could ever like as a friend some southern toff who speaks with a posh accent, and uses words like a bloody dictionary. I too have been into a travel agent. There are some quite cheap holidays on offer to several Greek Islands. Think of it, days of sea and sun, and siestas of sex together, and as for the nights!!!!!! Some chaps at work say that there are quite a lot of beaches in Greece where you can be in the nuddy. That's a nice thought. Roll on September. With masses of love, Anton.xxxxxooooooo.
Peter put the letter down on his desk, and stared out through the window into the dark night. The letter acted as a reminder of Anton. Images from their relationship and all that they had done together passed through his mind. It stirred up Peter's attraction and desire for Anton. He wanted it all again. But no! Into his mind came also the other pictures. Where he might end up, a disgraced, lonely, unloved old gay queen. There was the other path. The path that he had agreed to take when he was with Bruce twelve or more hours before. He knew the path that he should take. Without reading the letter again he put it back in its envelope and placed it in a drawer in his desk.
He continued to sit at his desk, deep in thought. How was he going to reply to that letter? He knew he would have to reply. He could not just leave Anton with silence. It was not going to be easy.
Slowly he rose from his desk. He prayed, as was his custom. He undressed, and put on his pyjamas, and went to bed. The peace within him was very fragile.
It was Thursday evening before he could attempt to reply to Anton's letter. He sat at his desk, got out the letter and read it again. He knew he had to do it, but the warmth of their mutual feelings they had had for each other made it difficult to start. He opened a drawer and pulled out some paper.
'Dear Anton, I am afraid I can't see you any...' He tore it up and threw it in the waste paper basket.
'Dear Anton, It is with real regret I write to inform you that.....' Again it went into the waste paper basket.
Attempt after attempt was made. He soon realised that he would have to draft out a letter and then make a fair copy of it. The sheets of paper had scrawls and crossings out.
The eventual letter read 'Dear Anton, I think that this is the hardest letter that I have ever had to write. I have been giving our relationship a lot of thought. I have come to the conclusion that genital homosexual activity is wrong. I have sought forgiveness, and am going to receive further help to save me going down the path I had begun with you. I do not blame you in any way for what happened. It was all entirely my fault. In these circumstances I do not think it would be right or safe for me to see you again. I wish you well. Yours sincerely, Peter Broad.'
The finished letter was put in its envelope but not sealed. It lay in the drawer from Thursday evening through to Monday morning. It was read through several times. Only then, with both a heavy and uncertain heart, did Peter seal his letter, and destroy Anton's letter. It was with a sense of finality that Peter dropped it into the post box.
The days between the visits to Bruce were emotionally up and down for Peter. Memories of Anton frequently came into his mind. Often they caused a warmness in his heart, and occasionally a sexual stirring, but resolutely he struggled to push such thoughts to one side. He tried to lay hold of the forgiveness and cleansing that had been prayed for at his time with Bruce on the Tuesday morning. Sometimes he felt he was back where he had been in his spiritual life several months before. But the spiritual clock cannot be turned back. There was forgiveness, complete forgiveness; but he had still experienced a gay relationship, and gay affection, perhaps, in truth, gay love, but the experience of forgiveness could become a place from which growth and progress could be made. That is what he sought. He wanted to put the affair with Anton behind him, and be stronger and more mature in spite of what had happened.
Once he even tried to overcome sexual feelings for Anton by imagining getting into a sexual relationship with a girl. He tried hard, but did not succeed. The only good thing was that no dreams were remembered to disturb him further.
They were not easy days.
-0---0---0-
Meeting the Vicar again.
It was 8.00pm on the following Tuesday evening when Peter made his way again to the vicarage. His feet did not feel quite as heavy as they did the week before. He rang the door bell. Bruce ushered him into the study, and went off to make some coffee. This time there was a plate with a couple of slices of sponge cake.
"Helen made it this afternoon." Bruce sat down. "What sort of week have you had?"
"Up and down."
"I am not surprised. Tell me more."
"First of all, I had a letter from Anton. I have written back telling him that I cannot see him again."
"Good."
"How do you feel having done that?"
Peter paused for a moment. "Both sad and relieved." There was a further pause. "Sad because I liked Anton. I enjoyed the sex, and I liked him as a person, as a friend. But relieved because I want to serve the Lord. I don't want to be estranged from Him. Does that make sense?"
"Yes, very much. Thank you for your honesty. Last week you said that though you had sought some degree of forgiveness earlier you had not felt forgiven. Do feel any different about that after last Tuesday morning?"
"Yes. But there is still a conflict going on inside me. There are times when I find myself thinking of my times with Anton, and I find myself wanting it again. But then I sort of come to, and I push it all away. I think of last Tuesday morning, and the Anton thoughts seem to disappear for a while."
"I am not surprised that it has been like that. I often think that people are like some of those cans of tomatoes that have one end with an opening ring. That is the right end to open the can. However the tin can be opened with a tin-opener at the wrong end. You have opened the can of your life at both ends. When you opened your heart to the Lord you opened the can at the proper end. Then the Holy Spirit came into your life. Your sexual activity means that you have also opened the can of your life at the wrong end. Such sexual activity is devil inspired. It is evil. That is why you are having this conflict. You will have that conflict until the wrong end can be sealed up again. Even then you will always be vulnerable to temptation of a homosexual nature."
"Can anything be done about it?"
"There are two things that can be done. The first is an immediate emergency repair job. The second is for you to receive some form of counseling and help to be strengthened to overcome any future temptation, and so be able to put all this behind you."
"What can be done about a course of counseling with me spending most of the time in Nottingham, and only the vacs down here."
"It has been marvelously provided. There is a centre in Nottingham itself that deals with this sort of thing."
"Good, and the immediate repair job."
"It is something you know about, and have seen already. You know all about the laying on of hands with prayer for healing. I think that you should receive that as a special ministry, and not wait until the next time it is done in church. I think I should call together three people from the ministry team, who can be utterly trusted to keep confidence. Then at some time when we can all get together, we can meet together in church, and really pray that you will be cleansed, and healed, and given strength to put behind you what you have done. That you will have strength to stand firm in the face of future temptation. I know no one is tempted beyond what he or she can stand, but that does not mean that we do not need to build up your spiritual defenses. How does that seem to you?"
Peter thought for a moment. "Will they really need to know? Who would they be?"
"There are five people in the team that does this. It is a matter of choosing three of them. I would be there, so there would be four of us there; five with you, of course."
"Who would they be?"
"Well, as you know your father is one of those."
"He already knows, so that would be all right."
"Carol Spencer, who you know well from your youth club days is another."
Peter pursed his lips and gave a slight shrug of his shoulders as though weighing it up. "I suppose that might be all right."
"Then there is Stanley Menzies."
"No way!" said Peter, almost shouting. "There is no way that I am going to have that man lay his hands on me. I don't want him to touch me."
"Peter, Peter. I thought the Menzies were friends of your family."
"He may be a friend to my parents but not to me."
"Why this reaction? Did he catch you scrumping his apples when you were a kid, and give you a spanking or something?" said Bruce with a grin.
"I want as little to do with him as possible."
"Why, Peter? Such a reaction is not like you."
"It is because of what he did to Ben."
"To Ben? Who is Ben?"
Peter immediately realised that Bruce did not know about Ben. The exiling of Ben had happened several years before Bruce became vicar. Peter was surprised that the village gossip had never leaked this tit bit of scandal to Bruce. Perhaps vicars were not leaked such salacious information, when it involved a churchwarden's family.
"Who is Ben, Peter?" asked Bruce again quietly.
Peter realised that he was going to have to give Bruce some possibly explosive information. For a moment he wondered if he should be economical with the truth. Then a sort of determined, almost rebellious spirit stirred in him. Slowly and quietly he replied. "Ben is Stanley and Dorothy Menzies' eldest son."
"Come off it Peter, Matthew is the elder son, and Luke the younger son. There is no Ben in that family."
"Oh yes there is. Something around twelve years ago Ben, or Benjamin Menzies, lived in this village. He was the oldest son of Stanley and Dorothy. He was about eighteen at the time. He was an exceedingly bright school boy, and had won a scholarship to King's College, Cambridge. I liked Ben, though he was ten or eleven years older than me, he always spoke to me and answered my questions as though I was an adult, and not a mere annoying kid."
"Yes, and what happened?"
"Stan Menzies threw him out of the house with twenty four hours notice. And I think broke Dorothy's heart." Peter found that he was rather enjoying spinning this out. For the moment the ball was at his feet, and not at Bruce's.
"What happened that Stan did that?"
"Stan came home early one afternoon and found Ben in bed having sex with a certain male inhabitant of this village."
"Who?"
"I do not think I should answer that, as he still lives here. Do you agree?"
"Yes, you are right, Peter. He threw him out of the house? How do you know this? If you were only seven or eight I am sure you were not told. Did it leak out to you later?"
"As I grew up, I pieced together most of the story. The exact details I got from Ben himself. He is a lecturer in the English Department at Nottingham, and an expert on Chaucer. I literally ran into him during the autumn term, and I recognised him. He told me"
"Is he still gay?"
Peter realised that with that question he had lost the initiative. The ball was now at Bruce's feet. "Yes."
"Have you had much to do with him?"
"I have seen him a number of times."
"Is he in any way involved in what has happened with you?"
"He has talked with me. His partner suggested I talked things over with the chaplain at the hospital where he works. It was at their house, their party, that I first met Anton."
"There has never been anything sexual between you and this Ben?"
"No, never. He and Clive are in an exclusive relationship together."
"I suppose that is something. We must be thankful for some small mercies. This chaplain, what did he say to you?"
"We talked a bit about how people who believe the Bible to be the infallible word of God, come to different conclusions over several things."
"Such as?"
"Contraception, divorce and so on."
"The man sounds to me to be very liberal. The Bible sounds to me to be very clearly against homosexuality, and most definitely against any form of homosexual activity."
Peter did not want to argue. He did not feel able to. He wanted to get things sorted out. He wanted the help that Bruce was offering.
"To get back, Bruce, to this laying on of hands that we were talking about. Is it necessary to do it in that special way? Why can't it be done in church when you have one of the healing services?"
"Two reasons. First, it is a healing service, and I think with you we are asking from the Lord rather more than simple healing. It is not just a sore throat, or a bad back. Secondly, it is very serious, what you have done. I think that those who are doing the laying on of hands need to know that we are praying over something really serious."
"I suppose at the end of the day I am not sure on the confidentiality aspect. I trust you, Bruce. I trust Dad. If Carol Spencer knew, I just wonder if she would not find it irresistible, and to tell James. I don't want to run the risk of having a gay label round my neck in this village. I am looking for forgiveness and strength. I want to be straight, and to walk right with the Lord. To have a suspicion of being gay would put off my matrimonial prospects with any girl from this area."
Bruce thought for a moment. "I see your point. I will agree on one condition."
"What is that?"
"That when you come up for the laying on of hands you say to those who are doing it that you have taken a serious wrong turning, and you want strength to keep to the way of the Lord. In particular, strength to overcome any future temptations. How does that seem to you?"
"Yes. I am happy with that."
Again, their time together ended with prayer. Bruce again laid hands on Peter praying in fairly general terms for his welfare.
When they made their way to the front door, Bruce said, "Thank you for what you told me about the Menzies family. When I come to think of it, your information explains one or two cryptic remarks that have been made to me over the years. Thank you."
"That's okay, so long as you don't let Stan Menzies lay hands on me; actually I think that if he got the chance he would lay hands not with prayer but in violence."
"Why is that?"
"I did not tell you the whole story." Peter then told Bruce all about Dorothy's illness, and Ben's visit to the hospital; and then about the visit to the funeral."
"You were there?"
"Yes, at the back as much behind the door curtain as we could get. Unfortunately we were seen later in the churchyard by Mrs Walker, who knows me, and recognised Ben as she used to work for the Menzies."
"I did not know that."
"Stan Menzies must have come to the grave sometime after Ben and I had left. He found the wreath Ben had placed on his mother's grave. I gather he took the wreath away and destroyed it."
"Did he now. Thank you for letting me know all that."
Peter walked away from the vicarage in a more happy mood. Bruce shut the door, and walked thoughtfully into his study.
The healing service of which the laying on of hands with prayer was held ten days after their meeting. Bruce felt the service had gone well. Peter was one of several who had received the ministry. Peter felt helped by what had happened. He now knew he was forgiven. He now began to wonder what would be involved in receiving counseling and help to change his sexual orientation. But that would have to wait until he returned to Nottingham at the end of September.
Bruce rang him and told him that he had been in contact with the group in Nottingham, and that he would be hearing from them.
So the last few weeks of the long vacation came. The Hermitage Hotel in Hitchin were only too happy for Peter to continue to work until a week before the start of term. Often when he had the time he would try to read some the books suggested by his tutor. He found it difficult to concentrate. His thoughts wandered, sometimes on to sexual memories of his time with Anton, sometimes on how Anton must feel. He heard nothing in reply to his letter. He thought about Ben and Clive. Bruce had said that he must not see them again, certainly not go round to their house. He found that hard. He liked them both, and especially Ben. But from his earliest days he had been taught that there was a cost to his religion. He saw that not seeing Ben and Clive might well be a part of that cost. Apart from the occasional memories of his time with Anton he was sexually numb. He had no dreams. For the first time since adolescence he had no desire to masturbate. He found this slightly surprising, but then decided that it must be part of the curing process, and an answer to the prayers which he knew were being said for him. He began to be hopeful that what had happened with Anton was just an unfortunate escapade, and that victory over this sin would be given to him.
-0---0---0-
The End of the Summer Vacation.
A week before his return to Nottingham Peter received a letter from Straightahead, the organisation to which his name had been referred. The Nottingham postmark made him wonder who it was from, so he took it up to his bedroom before opening it.
He sat at his desk, and slit open the envelope. The letter was type-written on official stationery. 'Dear Peter, Your name has been referred to us by the Revd Bruce Perkins. He writes that you will be expecting to hear from us, and that you will soon be returning to Nottingham University for your second year as a student. He thinks that we may be able to help you. Straightahead is a Christian organisation largely supported by voluntary donations. It exists to help those who have either got involved in homosexual activity, or are being strongly tempted on that line. We do not use any draconian or doubtful means in our ministry, and all who come to us for help come as volunteers and continue as volunteers. This means that if you do not find our ministry helpful you can cease to come at anytime. Mr Perkins has not told us any details about yourself, except that we may be able to help you. We meet on Wednesday evenings at 7.00pm at 117 Radford Street, which you may know is one of the roads radiating out of Canning Circus. The premises we use are some rooms over a chemist's shop. I think you should try to reserve Wednesday evenings in your diary. However, when it comes to your first visit, I think I should see you alone and explain to you the set up, without any other clients around. So I suggest you phone me to make an appointment as soon as possible. I look forward to meeting you and being able to help you. When you arrive ask for me. With our prayers in the Lord, Yours sincerely, Charles Turner, Director Straightahead Nottingham.'
Peter read through the letter twice. He thought about what might be involved. It was a friendly enough letter. They may well be able to help him.
There was just over a week between stopping work at the Hermitage and going up to Nottingham. Goodbyes were said at the hotel. He had enjoyed his time there. The staff had found him a pleasure to work with. He had shown himself as willing to tackle anything, and with a good sense of humour when it came to being teased. Work had served to take his mind off his personal problems, and had also put some money into his pocket. Though his father was generous, and he was not exactly short, his desire to work had shown that he did not just want to live off parents, grants and loans.
He intended the week to be spent getting ready to return north, and in reading the books he had been recommended by his tutor.
He finished work on the Saturday evening. He was able to go to church and take it easy on Sunday. It was the middle of Monday morning when he went up to his room to do some work. The book he had begun to read was opened, and he read the first page. Then his mind began to wander. It was from this desk, with the window open, that the fateful letter had blown onto the floor, only to be discovered by his mother. For a moment he wondered what he would have been doing now if that breeze had not blown. Staying on some Greek island? He dragged his mind back to his book.
Very soon he was thinking of a sun drenched beach and Anton's naked sun tanned body beside him. He felt the first stirring in his groin since writing the letter. But that was wrong. He was returning to sinful thoughts. To lust in mind was wrong. The evil was still lurking within. He prayed for help, and continued reading.
Then he thought about Anton. How was he? How had he taken the letter terminating the friendship? He had liked Anton, they had talked and laughed. Then he came to, that line of thought was leading in a wrong direction. The Anton chapter was over. He was going to go straight from now on. He then thought about Straightahead. How much of his story would he have to divulge? He thought about what might happen. A lot of Christian charismatic activity, signs and wonders? Some sort of exorcism? Prayer? Fasting even? Counseling? Doing things in groups, or would it all be one to one? He just did not know. It would be interesting finding out. He turned back to his book.
All too soon he heard his mother calling up, that lunch was ready. He looked at his watch. It was 1.15pm. He realised that he had read very few pages in all the time he had been in his room. Lunch was simple in the Broad house. His mother had set out some bread and cheese, with chutney. There was the cake tin, and the fruit bowl also on the table. Peter and his mother talked over their meal. His mother had to go out, so Peter cleared away.
He then made his way into the hall and stood at the bottom of the stairs. He knew he ought to go up, and get on with some more reading, but he could not face it. He decided to go out for a walk. For a while the beauty of the Hertfordshire countryside absorbed his interest. The sun was shining brightly, and there were the first early signs of autumn in the trees. He walked past the church, and remembered his time in there just after Easter. "All would be well, all manners of things would be well." He now took the words of Mother Julian of Norwich as a confirmation that he would come through on his present path. He would just be one of many with a homosexual past. Time would heal. All would be well.
He walked along several footpaths and tracks, making a circular walk of about three miles. He returned back to the village. He was walking along the main street when he saw Nigel Tooley cycling towards him. Nigel Tooley was now a strong muscular man in his late twenties. Immediately Peter's thoughts went back to what he now knew had happened between Ben and Nigel those many years before. He found himself wondering if Nigel was homosexually active today. He knew that he had never married. His elderly mother had died some three or four years before, and Nigel, an only son, had continued to live in the family house on the council estate up the hill. As far as he knew there was no gossip in the village about Nigel. He was tempted to stop him and speak to him about Ben; but he knew that would be dangerous. He was likely to be seen, and it might be reported back to his parents. They just nodded to each other. That was their usual mutual greeting. He pulled his thoughts away from thinking about sex with Nigel, and continued to make his way home.
He made himself a cup of coffee, and took it up to his room. He opened his book, but felt tired. So he lay on the bed and slept for a couple of hours. He got up, went down stairs, made another cup of coffee, and read the paper.
It was just after 8.00pm that he returned upstairs after the evening meal. He sat at his desk, and opened the book. He succeeded in concentrating on the book for just over half an hour before he found his mind wandering again. This time it was on to Ben and Clive. What did they do together? How often? He struggled to get his mind back to economics. Just after 9.00 he gave up, and went down stairs to watch the television.
This was to be the pattern for him over those last few days of the summer vac. He saw how much working in Hitchin had kept his mind off what had happened, and had made him physically tired so that he had slept. Now he found he had difficulty in concentrating on his book work. All too easily his mind wandered off in a sexual direction.
He had a final session with Bruce. He was given strict instructions about not making any contact with Anton, or to go to any place where Anton might be. Bruce also advised him not to see Ben and Clive. Bruce prayed for Peter, and wished him well.
On the final night of the vac he had another dream. It was of Nigel Tooley, though it was with Anton's body and voice. The person in the dream climbed through his bedroom window. A totally naked Peter opened his arms and legs, as he watched the person seductively get undressed, get into bed and embrace him. He woke on the point of climax. He did not want to relieve himself in his usual way. So he got out of bed, and went down stairs to get himself a drink. He read the paper for about an hour before making his way back to bed. He was just dropping off to sleep when the memory of dream returned, and he was aroused again. He felt guilty that he had welcomed the person in his dream. Was there to be no way out?