by Aimée
They chatted companionably about gardens – Greyson confessing she did better with plastic plants or cacti than with natural ones – and Paul’s grand-father as they walked to the nearest coffee shop. Greyson sat down while Paul went to get the drinks. He came back with her cappuccino and a concoction topped with whipped cream and sprinkles. She grinned – the young man seemed to have the same taste in drinks as her goddaughter. Greyson wrapped her hands around her cup in an attempt to warm them up – even in her raincoat, she was still freezing. She was glad she had accepted Paul’s invitation, though – she would miss the surgery’s staff when she left. She would have to, eventually, and probably sooner than later, as Emily Jones was going to retire in a few months and she would have to give up most of her medical practice in order to shoulder the whole load. Some days, she thought she was ready, and others… Not so much. It was easier to switch off her feelings in the consulting room than to switch them on for counselling, hospital visiting or with bereaved families. Easier to think only practically, and not emotionally. In medicine, even in a city practice, you had to think and act simultaneously. On the battlefield, adrenaline helped. God’s service asked for other skills.
Paul was now telling her about his latest holiday with his husband in a remote cottage in Wales, when they had had the same kind of lousy weather. Luckily for her, he could be very chatty and she didn’t have to say much. Finally feeling a little warmer, Greyson peeled off her raincoat and loosened her scarf. Paul stopped talking in mid-sentence and stared at her as if she had grown another head.
“Paul? Are you okay?”
He sat back in his seat and his eyes darkened and filled with confusion. “I’m fine. Grey – what – what are you wearing?”
“What am I… Oh…” Greyson’s hand fled to her throat and she lowered her head, her hand caressing her dog collar awkwardly. She had completely forgotten. She cleared her throat: “Well – I guess I owe you an explanation.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Doctor. I’m just a little confused right now.” Paul sounded puzzled and a little miffed. “I’m assuming you’re not on your way to one of those “vicars and tarts”, so…”
Greyson shook her head and chewed on her lower lips – she had known her secret would come out sooner or later, but she hadn’t really planned on what to say. “Well, no – this is the real deal, I’m afraid. I’m sorry – I should probably have told you before, but…”
Paul had adopted what she supposed was his psychologist’s posture – arms and legs open, leaning slightly forward – and yet he still appeared unsettled. She had no idea where he stood on the issue of religion – they’d never discussed it – but from his facial expression, he was clearly struggling. Was it because she had kept something from him? They were just colleagues, after all, not bosom buddies. As she was wondering how she could explain in as few words as possible, he spoke up: “From the battlefield to the church – quite an odyssey…I knew you were a deep one, but I’d never have suspected that. To think I’m supposed to read people for a living!”
“Paul – I would have said something eventually. But you’re right – I don’t like to talk about myself. And – this is – this is a huge change in my life, and I’m still getting to terms with it myself. So I guess I just didn’t know how to broach the topic. I – I didn’t think I had to, really.”
“You didn’t “have to”. I just thought we were getting to be friends, and that’s the sort of thing friends tell each other. I’ve told you a lot about myself – I guess I was just expecting you to reciprocate a little. But after all – it’s your life.”
Greyson hung her head: “I’m sorry – really. I just – I haven’t had that many friends, I guess. In the Army – well, of course, you’re all working together, and living together, and sometimes you get even closer than friends – you become like family, and… Well, in a family, you don’t talk much about yourself, because you’re all living through the same thing – sometimes, through the same hell. As for my own family – there wasn’t much communication between me and my parents. So I’m really not in the habit of talking about myself.” Actually, on the road to priesthood, talking about herself had probably been the greatest hurdle to overcome. Some compared the discernment process – the path leading to ordination – to intensive therapy, and she quite agreed with them. By probing and prodding in the darkest, remotest corners of her soul, they had laid it bare in a painful dissection of her life.
Paul nodded: “Yes – I get that. Nor in mine, actually. My parents and I – not the best relationship. And – well, like I said, you didn’t have to tell me. But now… Now I’m a little curious… So – you’re also a vicar?”
“Technically, I’m still a deacon. I’ll be ordained as a priest in a few weeks, actually. But in essence – yes.”
“Right – you know… I wish I’d known that before I spilt my guts to you. Because …you lot don’t like us much, do you?” The young man’s tone had become slightly belligerent and Greyson raised her eyebrows.
“I’m sorry? You’ve lost me there!” She simply couldn’t understand what Paul was getting at. Her bewilderment must have shown in her face, because he uttered the next sentence in an effeminate voice, swinging his hips:
“Us poofters, us queers I mean, Vicar. Your church doesn’t like us very much - apparently your all-loving God said it was a sin to like people of the same gender. And there I go telling you all about my husband… Oops!”
Greyson blushed and for a minute she couldn’t think of anything to say. She genuinely hadn’t thought that could be the cause of his sudden irritation Obviously she knew that the Church of England had not always been very welcoming to gay people, and that part of the clergy was still reluctant to accept them completely. She had struggled with that and still did, but so far her own sexuality hadn’t been an issue. Of course, she had been single during her religious quest, but sexual orientation was not a matter of sleeping with someone. Actually, her divorce could have caused her more problems than her homosexuality. But she understood where the young man was coming from…The most honest thing would be to tell Paul about herself but she already felt very exposed and she wasn’t sure she was ready to reveal that part of herself to her colleague just yet.
“That’s – not true. The Church of England welcomes people of all orientations. I know in the past it may not have been true but…”
“Whatever – it’s not like I really care. But Carl really wanted to get married in church, and I wanted what he wanted.”
Greyson sighed – her Church’s opposition to same-sex marriages remained a sore point with her. Indeed, she had at one point considered joining another denomination, like the Unitarians, who were more open on the issue. Finally, she had decided to remain and to hope the next synods would bring new, more open church laws. “Yes – I know. It know it isn’t fair.” She glanced at her watch and although she had nothing special to do, she decided to make a quick get-away. She claimed a previous appointment and took her leave as quickly as possible. Once in the safe space of her car, she groaned and put her head in her hands – she hated herself for always fleeing from scenes of possible conflict. She had worked in war zones, and yet, in matters of personal issues, she was still a coward. She just couldn’t stand arguments. She didn’t even know why – her parents did not argue – her mother would shroud herself in an offended silence when something annoyed her, and her father spent as much time away from home as possible, but she had never witnessed any loud scenes. Of course, she seemed to have inherited her father’s mode of coping. Even at almost fifty years old, and even in situations like the one with Paul, where it was more a disagreement than a real fight, she always tried to escape. That had not sat well with Elaine, who had been more the “air out your grievances” type. Her partner had told her over and over again than it was better to let emotions out than to let resentment fester inside. When they’d fought, Elaine had always tried to make her talk – to engage her in a discussion about her fe
elings, even if it ended up being a heated one. And she had always muttered she didn’t want to talk, apologised and left the combat area. Sometimes she thought that was why Elaine had left her after ten years. Because she had always refused to play the game – always declaring herself the loser before the end. Always admitting her guilt even if she wasn’t guilty, just because it got her out of the argument. And now – now she was still doing it. She had known that her change of career probably wouldn’t go well with some people, but she hadn’t expected Paul’s reaction – at most, she had thought her current co-workers would be mildly curious at first and then forget all about her. After all, it was her life, her choice.
Chapter 17
Ahh! The wedding! That's right, you're getting married! That's it! Best day of your life, walking down the aisle... Your body's a battleground, there's a chemical war inside! Adrenaline, acetylcholine, wham go the endorphins! You're cooking! You're like a walking oven, a press cooker, a microwave, all churning away; the buttons reach boiling point and shazzam... Doctor Who
Angela had unearthed an olive-green cocktail dress she hadn’t worn for years, feeling gratified she could still fit into it. She threw a navy-blue jacket on it and checked her make-up in the mirror. Finally, she took a deep breath and stepped out of the door. She had replied to Maisie’s wedding invitation saying she would love to come, but really, she had had to psych herself up every minute during the morning. She wasn’t looking forward to a merry wedding crowd, nor to set foot again in St Lawrence, where she had stood and stared at her daughter’s coffin for a whole excruciating service. At least it would give her a chance to see Emily Jones in action on a happier occasion. Her father had several times suggested a cup of tea with his lady friend, but she had yet to take him up on his offer. Suddenly, she wished she had someone to take with her to the ceremony. She should have asked one of her friends. She should have asked Greyson Walsden. Angela frowned – where had that come from? She barely knew the woman, after all. Sure, each time they’d talked, she had felt that warm, fuzzy, unsettling feeling in her stomach, and those freaky goose bumps all over, but they were still virtual strangers. Weren’t they? The good doctor certainly wasn’t someone she could call out of the blue and ask to be her plus one at a wedding. They were barely friends. And yet...
When she arrived at the church, she barely had time to slip into one of the pews before the organ began to play. Angela had never been a particular Dr Who fan, although her brothers had watched it, but she knew enough to surmise the music had been taken from one of the episodes. No traditional Mendelssohn for Maisie and her groom. Blue and white posies sprinkled the pews and two little girls in Tardis-blue came skipping up the aisle. Then the young bridegroom entered with his mother – even Angela could recognise a Doctor-inspired outfit – she didn’t know which one, but it looked like something Peter Capaldi had worn – a sober, three-button navy frock coat with assorted waistcoat and fiery red lining with skinny trousers and a white long-collar shirt. Intrigued, she waited for the bride’s dress – surely Maisie hadn’t settled for a traditional white meringue… She wasn’t disappointed – the young woman made her entry in a wedding-adapted version of the new Doctor’s clothes – the blue culottes had been replaced by a full skirt, the beige mac had become a cape and the striped t-shirt was made of silk and showed more cleavage than the original, but all in all it was a brilliant twist on the female Doctor’s outfit. Some of the guests even applauded spontaneously and Angela thought that the young couple was lucky – even though the pews were sparsely occupied, the people who had come certainly appeared loving and supportive. As the bride and her father reached the altar and separated, Angela took a closer look at the officiants. Emily Jones stood in the centre, waiting to welcome the couple, and she could see another person wearing clerical garb sitting on the side of the apse. When Reverend Jones stepped aside after having greeted the congregation, the other officiant stepped up in front of the altar and Angela stifled a gasp. She even rubbed her eyes before looking at the woman again. It couldn’t be…
The church was about a third-full – Greyson could see a few people from the clinic – Paul, probably with his husband and other doctors and staff members. This made her even more nervous than usual, especially considering how Paul had behave after the cemetery. He had relented somewhat, but their friendly relationship had become more of an entente cordiale. This time, she was about to reveal her new career to all her colleagues – Maisie might have told then, but as no one had talked to her about it, she didn’t think so. She was getting used to performing the services for “her” congregation – which, truth to be said, rarely exceeded a dozen people, except for celebrations when the number of people could raise to forty or even sixty once – but they remained strangers. Having to officiate at a wedding with people who knew her as Dr Walsden, former army medic and GP, was daunting. Especially for a first wedding – she had assisted Emily before, but this time the reverend had insisted she should be the one to conduct nearly the whole ceremony, since she had been the one preparing the young couple. Only the benediction, which she couldn’t give alone since she was still a deacon, would be a common effort. Sitting in the apse waiting for the wedding party’s arrival, Greyson attempted to calm herself down and to focus on prayer.
The first notes of music resonated in the nave and she smiled – the eerie, sci-fi music sounded peculiar on the church organ but was perfect for the young couple’s entrance. The sight of their attire drew a smile her lips – she had seen the invitations and the church decoration, but they had kept their outfits secret. She heard Emily pronounce the traditional greeting:
“The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you.”
Greyson rose and responded with the rest of the congregation: “And also with you”. The reverend stepped aside and let Greyson continue.
“God is love, and those who live in love live in God, and God lives with in them. Let us pray.”
As she began to pray aloud, Greyson couldn’t help glancing at the congregation, and although most of them had their heads bowed, her eyes caught Angela’s. She almost lost the thread of the prayer and quickly averted her eyes. What was she doing there?
“In the presence of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, we have come together to witness the marriage of Maisie and Luke, to pray for God’s blessing on them, to share their joy and to celebrate their love.”
Even though she had to concentrate on the words, she couldn’t help wondering about Angela. Fuck! She had definitely not planned on her being there today. Telling her colleagues was one thing, but Angela… Well, Angela was special, and she would probably be furious with her. That is, if she even cared…
“The gift of marriage brings husband and wife together in the delight and tenderness of sexual union and joyful commitment to the end of their lives. It is given as the foundation of family life in which children are born and nurtured and in which each member of the family, in good times and bad …”
Delight and tenderness …That may be true for some, and Greyson certainly hoped Maisie and Luke would find that together. As she listened to the congregation sing Great is Thy Faithfulness – she had told the young couple they might want to include a few well-known hymns, Greyson took another glance at the redhead. Angela wasn’t singing. She was standing ramrod straight, staring at her with pinched lips… So maybe she did care…
Then the sacred words echoed in the nave: “Luke, will you take Maisie to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honour and protect her, and forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”
The young couple exchanged their rings – they had shown them to Greyson before – two tungsten blue identical rings with “Together through life and space” engraved in silver.
“What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined together to strengthen each other in all labour, to minister to each other in all sorrow, to shar
e with each other in all gladness, to be one with each other in the silent unspoken memories?” On these words, the wedding concluded and the final hymn started.
Greyson would have fled, but she couldn’t think of herself. So she stood with Reverend Jones at the church’s door to shake the congregation’s hands. She was dreading the confrontation with Angela but she saw her slip out through a side door. As she and Emily Jones went back to the vestry to change, Greyson saw her hands were shaking slightly. The church service had drained her emotionally. She hoped her colleague would not notice but when Emily motioned her to a chair, she cursed, not for the first time, her fair complexion which quickly became ashen in times of stress.
“You look like you’re going to faint, my dear. Are you all right? Everything went well – you can be proud of yourself – your first wedding!”
Greyson shook her head: “You were there too!”
“Only because of a practicality. In a few weeks’ time, you’ll become a full-fledged priest. Able to fly solo.” The older woman suddenly looked serious: “How are you feeling, Greyson?”
Greyson bit her lips: “Hmm…Hard to say…I’m very glad for them…I hope they’ll be very happy. I’ve grown quite fond of them.”
“That’s not what I asked, Greyson – I asked how you were feeling.”
Greyson dropped her eyes and stared at her hands: “I know…What if I tell you I’m terrified? Terrified I won’t be able to make it work – terrified I’ve made once again the wrong choice. Terrified I’m only doing it because of the guilt.”
“You know that’s not true, Greyson – you had started on that path long before …Elaine.”
Greyson wondered why she’d ever thought it a good idea to tell Emily about Elaine. Then again – Elaine belonged to her life, to her past, and her present was built on her past. And no paths had been left untrodden on her way to the ministry – not her divorce, not Elaine, nor her current singlehood. She nodded: “Yes – you’re right – I had – this is not coming out of the blue. And yet – I’m not sure I dare. I haven’t even told anyone – not that I have many people to tell, but… And anyway, today let the cat out of the bag for sure!”
