Date: Mon, 5 Apr 2010 17:47:10 -0400
From: Jeffrey Fletcher <jeffyrks@gmail.com>
Subject: Peter Broad's Story chapter 10

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.

If you wish to be added to or removed from a chapter post notification
list, please send an email with your request to jeffyrks@gmail.com

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-

54.

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-

55.

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-

56.

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-

57.

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-

58.

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-

59.

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-

62.

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