There were comings and goings all day at St Michael’s. The following day was an important event in the life of the parish: Harvest Festival combined with Confirmations, made special by all the churches within the newly-formed Glenton, Longdale, Penningly and Bradmire Team Ministry, taking part.

     Early evening, Glenton ladies were chatting to the local parishioners as they watered the flowers and put finishing touches to the floral displays. While clearing away the mess, merry laughter sounded as they laboured with brooms and dusters. The men from the two parishes joked and chuckled while sorting out the extra chairs. It was if the parishes reflected the congenial unity of their leaders.

The Reverend Paul Skinner, surveyed the happy scene. Surely it augured well for the future. Of course, none of them were yet aware of the homosexual relationship he shared with their Rural Dean — Canon Nicholas Palmer, Rector of Glenton. He sighed… would they ever be free to be open about their love for one another and, better still, to live together under one roof?

By eight in the evening, Paul had done all that was needful. In spite of the hard work, he was feeling happy and relaxed. It had been great to return to his vicarage for light meals kindly prepared by his secretary. But he certainly didn’t expect to find her waiting in the kitchen to make him a coffee.

‘Hello, Angela, you should have gone home by now, that young man of yours will be waiting for you. Didn’t you say he was taking you to a party?’

She put the coffee mugs on the table and sat down with him.

‘He came here for me an hour ago… said he wanted to see his mates before the party. I told him to clear off. Anyway, I had that filing to finish. It’s all done now but can’t say I‘m anxious to get home. Mum and Dad will be watching telly… the usual boring stuff.’

‘Don’t watch it much myself.’ He picked up his mug of coffee. ‘Well, thanks for everything… don’t know how I’d manage without my angel.’

She smiled coyly and sipped her coffee.

He put down his empty mug. ‘I’ll drive you home. It’s the least I can do when you’ve been working here all day. I’m going out anyway… getting some fish and chips. Would you like some?’

Angela’s eyes lit up. ‘Lovely. I’ll put some plates to warm. Can we have mushy peas too?’

Paul hadn’t thought about bringing the fish and chips back to the vicarage to eat them with Angela. He hadn’t thought beyond buying them. But why not share the evening with Angela?

When he returned twenty minutes later, he found Angela had lit a roaring fire in his cosy sitting room. What with the heat and a tiring day, he was soon feeling sleepy. While he was eating his supper, he managed to keep up a light conversation, but that ended with the meal. With bleary eyes, he saw Angela get up and take the tray into the kitchen, switching off the light as she left the room. She was saying something about making coffee.

Utterly relaxed, he watched flickering shadows through half-closed eyelids. His thoughts drifted to Nick…

Something was wrong — was he dreaming?  But there was an air of reality about it. He forced himself out of his stupor. He couldn’t believe what his eyes told him. Firelight was glowing on golden hair and almost naked flesh. Angela was all over him.

Horrified, he pulled away from her. ‘Get your clothes on, Angela.’

‘But why?’ She sounded hurt by the rebuff.

He stood up and adjusted his clothes. He tried not to show the anger he was feeling. ‘I know you think you’re pleasing me, but it has to stop.’

‘But you were enjoying it… it’s obvious. It isn’t hurting anyone. It isn’t sinful,’ she argued, standing up and rolling her hips seductively… a blue gem in her belly button sparkling in the firelight.

‘You’re going to marry Mark; that should be enough reason, Angela.’

‘But it’s you I love, Paul… only you,’ she murmured, hovering over him.

He held her away. ‘I’ve told you, Angela… I’m married to my vocation.’ He looked at her with compassion and said tenderly, ‘I’m sorry, so very sorry.’

‘But I’m not asking you to marry me.’

‘Mark would be very angry. Think of him, my angel.’

‘I’m not an angel. I want you to make love to me. I’ve saved myself for you, Paul,’ she said, putting her arms around his neck. ‘Only you, my darling.’ He could smell alcohol on her breath

‘Oh, Angela. I really appreciate what you’re offering but it isn’t possible. Please get dressed. It’s time I took you home.’

‘I don’t want you to take me home. I want to stay here with you. I’ll let you do what you want… anything,’ she pleaded, trying to wrap her arms around his neck and push her body up to him.

He took hold of her wrists and pushed her away from him. ‘Now stop it, Angela. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t give you what you want. Please get your clothes on.’

He pushed her on to the sofa and quickly left the room. He ran upstairs to the bathroom and locked the door, feeling completely at a loss. Girls had made passes at him before, but this was something else. Clearly it was his fault. He should have seen it coming. All the little hints and her willingness to please, should have told him that she was in love with him. Now his angel was badly hurt and there was little he could do about it.

The sound of the front door slamming informed him that Angela had left. Should he go after her and take her home? If anything happened to her, he would never forgive himself. He went downstairs, put on his coat and pocketed his keys. The phone rang just as he was about to leave. He quickly picked it up. It was Mark on his mobile asking if Angela was there.

‘She left a moment ago. I’m about to pick her up and take her home. Can’t stop. Goodnight.’ He put down the phone and hurried out. If Mark had been drinking, he didn’t want him picking Angela up.

She hadn’t got far. He stopped his car just ahead of her and jumped out. He went up to her but she turned her head away and went on walking. He barred her path, trying to get her to stop before she reached the houses in the lane. Tears were glistening on her cheeks, causing pity to well up inside of him.

He held out his hands in a pleading gesture. ‘Angela, please let me take you home,’ he said with urgency. ‘Mark rang. He’s on his way to pick you up. He sounded half drunk. He shouldn’t be driving. Please get in the Discovery.’

‘No! I hate you!’ she snapped, her voice betraying the humiliation she was feeling.

She tried to dodge around him but he caught her arms. ‘Okay, you hate me… but let me take you home.’

‘Let me go or I’ll scream!‘ she yelled.

‘Keep your voice down and be reasonable,’ he pleaded. ‘You’re just tired. Let’s forget what’s happened. It’s my fault. I let things go too far. I didn’t realise what was happening.’