I knew I was ripe for an affair. My life was comfortable but lonely and I was bored. With four children you'd think I'd be busy enough but I needed something for me. I needed love and companionship. My husband worked at home six days a week usually from 9am until at least midnight. Despite being in the same house all that time if I wanted to talk to him or do anything he said I had to put myself in his diary. His bloody diary?!! I was his wife for f*ks sake. I'd knock tentatively at the study door, scared of being sent away or told I was disturbing him. Most times when I opened the door he'd be playing computer games or sat on his sofa reading a book. He often had four books on the go at once and finished them all in few days, I had one book on the go for about four months and I wasn't even 'working' so how slow was I? Computer games would be flicked down quickly in guilt and if I said anything he'd answer in despair that he needed some 'thinking' and 'relaxing' time before his next bit of work. The study was his tardis.
I would sit alone in the evenings with my husband either in the study or at a meeting. I'd go to bed and often by 1am when I couldn't sleep I'd creep downstairs where it was dark bar a thin strip of light under the study door. All I wanted was for him to come to bed so I could sleep. I'd turn the door handle but it would usually be locked. Sometimes I'd rattle it hard enough for him to know I was there but then I'd slink quietly back to bed disheartened. If I asked why it was locked he'd say it had happened by 'accident'. Well it never happened by accident to me or the children if we were in there! Sometimes he'd open it in a huff and rush back to his desk as if I was the ghost of Marley come to haunt him, not the wife he claimed to love so deeply. There was just no evidence of that at all and hadn't been for years.
I was even scared to tell him of invitations to parties, friends or other events. I knew he'd say he was too busy to go or what a waste of time it would be. I was desperate for a 'normal' social life and friends to have a laugh with but I had to refuse so many things we ended up not being invited anywhere very much. We were once, very early in our marriage, at an 'Auction of Promises' a friend of mine had organised to raise money for a local disabled play centre. My husband (I'll not name him) said quite loudly half way through what I thought was an enjoyable and worthwhile evening, "Why on earth are we here? I'd rather give the money and stay at home". I was shocked and confused that my new husband would say such a thing. Surely we were going to have fun in our lives and at the same time support friends who put in such effort for good causes? How wrong was I. After that I often went to places alone and would make up work excuses for his absence; I was continously trying to protect him and keep up the image of a good man and a good marriage.
So it was the loneliness really, after 15 years of staleness, that led me to take the next step and begin considering if my husband would even notice if I started another secret life of my own.
*
My sister text me and said 'check out my profile on friends reunited dating will you?'. So I did. I'd never looked at a dating website before but with my curiosity getting the better of me I looked at a few more profiles.... so many of them were married! Well if it's good enough for them then it's good enough for me I thought. I made my own scant profile for fear of being recognised and told my sis. 'Don't be so bloody stupid, just don't go there' was all she had to say but it was too late, I had gone there.
I started getting little messages left for me and got such a buzz from looking. Some made me laugh, some I replied to, others I ignored but it gave me something to do while my husband was ignoring me. His obsession had turned to ebay. He bought and sold Hornby railway trains and accessories! 'My God', I thought 'I am just way too young to be doing this'. Daring to talk to him without putting myself in his diary first (see previous post)I sat on the sofa in his study whilst he sat at his desk (the only way I ever really got to say anything to him) and I said 'look, this railway stuff...it's ok for people who are kind of into that stuff but I just can't do it and I can't really be married to somebody who does it!' He gave me that look he always gave me that made me feel small and stupid, selfish and unreasonable.
So I went back to my friends on friends dating website. I started emailing 'Gogs'. He was funny. We began msning. Sunday morning we were having a riot on msn, we had so much in common. Then he asked 'Where is your hubby?' and I answered 'in church' and the conversation then ran something like this...
'so's my wife', said he, 'does he go to church often?'
'he has to'
'why?'
'he's the vicar!'
PAUSE.....
'OMG!!!'
'give me a moment to take that in'
MORE PAUSE....
'so I am msning a vicar's wife who I met on a dating website?'
'yep'
'f*kin excellent!'
And so began our affair.
***
I was 15 when the new curate came to our church. I'd kind of given up going to youth group because I thought it would be boring without the old curate. But an 'incident' in my life (rape if you must know and I'll tell you about that another time in another blog) had me helping in my school christmas service to get my mind on other things and it was there I met the new guy. I, of course, being cheeky 15 year old girly, flirted with the blond, smily, sparkly blue eyed man of the cloth and bloody hell he knew who I was! He knew where I lived and everything! This baffled me completely but he asked if we'd all (me and my mates) go back to youth group. Apparently he'd been told by the last curate that if he got me to come he'd find about 10 other kids tagging along too.
So we did. And it was ok actually. I continued flirting by smiling and poking my tongue out at him with me in a pew and him at the front of church leading. I also volunteered to take the register to the school office if I knew he was taking assembly just so I would bump into him. On our youth group weekend away I chatted a lot with him about the rape, and I continued being friendly by jumping on his back and biting his ear - that kinda thing!! I was 16 by now but still very much a kid and 27 year old men of the cloth and youth group leaders are just like teachers aren't they? They are 'safe' and out of bounds aren't they? They have duty of care and are untouchable to 16 year olds aren't they?
Well not this one. I was actually going out with the 16 year old vicar's son at the time (And NO we were not holier than thou!!) but whilst I was round the curate's house one evening, having popped in after evening service whilst my friends waited for me outside, he put his hand up my top and felt my boobs! I was shocked and confused but I quite liked it to be honest. I liked that this man was giving me special attention. I was the chosen one, I was the girl he preferred out of all the girls, I was special.
*
Before long we were sleeping together. I was still going out with my boyfriend. The liason with the curate was utterly secret - obviously a 27 year old curate just cannot have a relationship with a 16 year girl in his youth group. Sex before marriage is strictly forbidden in the bible. Even without the sex it was improper. So it had to be 'our secret'. And to be honest it gave me a thrill.
So at age 16 there I was taking every opportunity to have 'private' times in the arms and bed of the 27 year old guy in the dog-collar. I'd get off the school bus and walk the long way round in hope of seeing him in the street. He'd time his trip to the shops for when I'd be walking by. Sometimes we'd say a coy 'hello' and be on our way, other times I'd go to his house and bonk on his sofa or bed and then I'd get back in my school uniform, sling my bag on my back and walk home. I'd tell my mum I'd missed the bus to explain why I was so late.
We were sex mad. Any opportunity was taken. After church, after youth group, after school and so on. It was a surreal existence because I was sleeping with him but outside in public I had to keep a distance, had to try to be the same as everyone else was with him. It actually went the other way and we were more detatched in public than we would otherwise be because we had to cover up our 'naughty' relationship. That was really hard.
I remember him going out to concerts or pubs etc with his friends and I was jealous but I was just too young to join in. I had to go home, do my homework, be a normal school girl while he did adult things with adult friends. I hated that.
I went into hospital to have my appendix out a month before I was 17. He came to visit me but was brought in by a friend because he couldn't drive. She was my friend too so it didn't seem unusual to her that they would visit me. I was just kid in hospital bed to her, nothing else crossed her mind.
I finished with my boyfriend after that. I couldn't handle going out with a suitable 17 year old boy when I was secretly sleeping with 27 year old man. I loved going out with him but I wasn't going to let my relationship go any further physically with my boyfriend so I ended it. I hated that too.
When I turned 17 we challenged each other, me and the curate, to who would pass their driving test first. He did of course being so much older and more sensible. It took me three attempts! Him having a car meant we could do so much more. I'd hide in the footwell while we got out of town and we'd visit all sorts of places. It was like going out properly when it was just us two away from where people knew us.
He packed a picnic up once and took me to Frinton. I was amazed at the grown up picnic including wine. He also took me to a posh restaurant in the countryside one evening. We ate steak and drank red wine, then drove back to his place, made love in his bed and then he drove me home to my mum and dad. Of course I'd had to lie terribly to them about where I was.
To me then it all seemed so romantic. But looking back now I know I was handling too much grown up stuff too young.
***
Just after I turned 17 my period was exceptionally late. I was a definite 28 day girl so I had a massive panic that I was pregnant. I didn't say anything for a week but my anxiety soon got the better of me and I shared the news with the curate that I was late and that I had never ever been late before. Luckily a few days later - on a Sunday morning in fact - I got my period. Relief is an understatement. That morning I sat in my usual place in church and managed to get the message across, by subtle sign language, to the curate in his position at the front, that I was not pregnant. It was a yucky, heavy period and I have since come to believe that I may have had an early miscarriage.
Not learning from this lesson we continued our illicit liasons in his house. We did use condoms but another time it kind of slipped off during our mad passionate moment! I said I thought I ought to get the morning after pill but we discussed it no further. After school the next day I went straight to the doctor's instead of bible study (which about 12 of us kids from the youth group did every Tuesday after school, in the curate's house, and led by him). So I didn't turn up and I didn't tell him I wasn't going to. I think I thought he should work out why.
I left the docs with a prescription for the morning after pill and headed for the chemist. I was so embarrassed handing that prescription in and mortified when they said they didn't have any in stock. Frantically I knocked on the door of one of the female youth group leaders and begged her to drive me to the chemist a couple of miles away to collect a prescription 'I promised my mum I'd get for my sister'! She did take me and I felt sick for deceiving her. She was so lovely and also so Christian and pure that I felt it was doubly awful. She overheard the chemist asking me some questions and worked it out so I lied to her again by saying it was the morning after pill for a friend whose mum would go mad if she found out, so I was doing her a favour. I think she knew. But I couldn't have her asking questions about who the 'boy' was could I?
I hated that time too. Hated it with a passion. She offered to drive me home but I said I'd walk from her house - I had the option of seeing the curate then because I had to walk past his house. As I got near I could see him walking ahead of me but away from me though. Only 100 metres or so but he hadn't seen me and for some reason I couldn't shout out after him. Especially after what I'd just done. I felt particularly young, vulnerable and alone that day.
I went on the pill after that.
*
Throughout all this time I was being taught about being a Christian. The formal part of youth group was about being a Christian and was like a trendy teenage church service almost. And as I have already said we did bible study on a Tuesday after school. So there I was learning about the bible, Jesus, God and how to live as a Christian whilst all the time secretly having sex with the man who, among others, taught us all these things.
It didn't add up. I heard one thing but saw another. The curate wasn't obeying God. He was putting sex with me before that. I wanted to talk about it. I wrote letters to him about it. I said we are not being good Christians and I wanted to be and could he help me to read my bible, pray and be a good Christian. He said not to worry too much. He said he knew it wasn't ideal but that he loved me. He said in God's eyes we were already married because he was committed to me.
But nobody else knew we even had a relationship, let alone that we were sleeping together. I really struggled through this time. I did want to be a good Christian but I also loved the thrill of sex with the curate I fancied like mad.
My mum and dad went on holiday and left me behind for the first time and that very first night the curate came round and we went to bed in my mum and dad's bed. It was to be our first full night together. At 1am the phone went and it was dad from the airport saying their flight had been delayed and they were coming back to sleep for a couple of hours. F*K F*K F*K!!! So I aired their room and the curate went home and I went to my own bed. Sh*t what a panic.
The next night they were definitely gone but I didn't dare do that again. So I went to his house for the night even though it was only a single bed. It was fine until about half 3 in the morning when I was awake and he was very much asleep. I felt so bad being there in that supposedly 'holy'man's bed that I got up and walked home. Through the dark streets in the middle of the night. I cried my eyes out all the way back. I shivered with cold and wondered what the hell we were doing it all for.
I looked out of my sister's window onto the street hoping to see the curate coming round to my house after me. I wanted to see him coming to check I was ok. I wanted him to come so I could cry in his arms and we could talk about our weird secret relationship and what we were doing. He never came.
*
I have since discovered a few things about that time... Other people were beginning to notice we were close. One of the leaders from a younger youth group I'd been to went to the curate and said he should leave me alone as I was still a child and he was worried about what it would do to me (and he had no idea how far it had gone). He was told quite firmly by the curate to mind his own business, it had nothing to do with him. Two of the female leaders who led the youth group with the curate also went to express their concerns. The curate categorically denied any relationship with me. The church warden also went round to his house and told him he should not have young girls in his house on their own.
I kind of wish these people had made more fuss. But then again as one of them said recently as a teenager I woulod probably have been cross and ignored them because it was what I wanted. Maybe they are right. They had no idea the relationship was sexual and probably they would have interfered further if they did know that.
I had a great 18th birthday party. Of course I invited the curate but he made excuses not to come. I think a whole bunch of energetic 18 year olds is not his best idea of fun. He did turn up for about half hour, gave me a plant for a present and then went. Great to have a lover on your 18th isn't it! I was really happy though without him there to be honest, I enjoyed myself with my friends as any other 18 year old would.
I was 18 and a half by the time we made our relationship public, it was becoming obvious anyway. I had left school and the youth group by then so there was no other reason to hide it. We made sure people thought it was a new thing. Some warned me off such an older man but others were ok about it. The strangest thing was the amount of people that said 'get real - you are made to be a vicar's wife are you?', 'can you really imagine yourself in a vicarage?' etc. No I couldn't but I didn't care, my vicar wasn't like the rest, he was a normal person who had sex before marriage and swore etc. Little did I know.
**
Fastforward to the time he moved to a new parish and I went to teacher training college. I was a student away from home for the first time and revelling in my newfound freedom. I went to his home often and he came to college often. We were still sleeping together all the time, whenever and wherever we could. I definitely still looked at other men though, I was young and flirty, it was natural. I went to parties, got very drunk, puked in other people's rooms, cuddled and laughed with other men etc but I never ever slept with anyone else. I wanted to for sure but I didn't. I felt kind of trapped but already I knew I was tied. Marriage was inevitable. I didn't want to break it off but I did want fun, the fun all 19 and 20 year olds want and need.
A really close friend became terribly ill in the first term of my second year. I helped her a lot at half term and then my grandad also became ill. Lots of people were suddenly dying. People I'd known at school, too many. Then grandad. At the end of that winter term I grew depressed and wanted to go home. My mum and dad took me back a week early and I went to see my ill friend. She was like a skeleton, she was more than ill. She died two days later, it was bowel cancer.
Just after Christmas I went to the curate's home to stay before the funeral. We made a bed on the floor of a room as his single bed was not really comfy for us both. We were engaged to be married but because of his job we still had to give the impression that we didn't sleep together. When we visited his sister's house we were given separate rooms etc and it seemed such a farce. But I didn't make a fuss. Anyway, that Christmas holiday I became pregnant. We didn't know for a few more weeks after I was back at college.
So, there I was in the middle of my teacher training pregnant by a vicar - just great!
*
In true Church of England style I was advised my pregnancy was only going to be a problem if anyone found out. It is the case all so often amongst churches - so long as it remains hush hush all is fine! I'm not that bloody stupid - sin is sin whether people know about it or not, you can't hide it from God who I thought was who they work for! It is true across the board for churches I have come to realise - sex before marriage, homosexuality, choir boys... so long as no one knows about the sin a blind eye will be turned.
And so it was for us. We had to arrange a quick wedding. We were married on a wet January Tuesday with 10 days notice and nobody was supposed to guess it was because the curate had got me pregnant??? For God's sake!!! Even if no-one asked on the day what about when a baby was born eight months later eh? They are such a stupid naive bunch! I was sworn to secrecy despite some friction from me and I was just not strong enough to argue about it with the vicar who advised us - who by the way is a bishop now. We had to get a special licence, I had to get a dress (which was not my ideal choice with only a week to find it), send out invitations, book a reception, a car, order flowers, plan the service etc. I sat in the vicar's study letting them get on with what readings and music we were to have - I gave my choice - I wanted to walk down the aisle to the 'here comes the bride' tune, I was only 20 after all and completely non-musical, but the response to me was just a 'no that is so silly'! Great - my wedding, it was rushed and I had no choices; my pregnancy, it was to be kept secret...it was MY bloody baby I wanted to say, MY body, MY wedding. But of course I didn't, I was just too young to stand up to the older important men who knew best!
We had the wedding, it was a good day actually and the church was packed. We went away that night to a lovely hotel nearby which really was brilliant, but the next day what did I do? I went back to college for my lectures! So the next two nights I slept as usual in my room at college and went to my 'husband' for the weekend! And that's mostly how it went for the first few months of our marriage - me at college during the week and at his house for the weekend. The second weekend of our marriage was my 21st birthday. All my mates from home who were at universities across the country were coming to spend the weekend with me at my college and to party etc. So that's still what we did. My curate husband didn't come though, he had church and anyway he was too old! I danced with my ex-boyfriend that weekend and was very flirty and kissy with him. I told him I still fancied him. Good start to marriage eh!
