The Rebel Within

Trouble in the Vicarage cont....

Mon, 23 Jul 2007 20:28:26 +0200

So I was pregnant for the third time during the time I was training to be an antenatal teacher. As I have already said I was desperate for a boy, only partly because I had two girls already but largely to almost make up for gap the death of my nephew had left. We all needed a healthy boy in the family. I went to the 20 week scan with an older friend who was (is) almost a mother figure to me. With no husband at the scan (surprise surprise) I was free to ask the sex of the baby. It was a boy! I swore my friend to secrecy and we vowed to tell no one else. I secretly collected little boy clothes - blue socks, babygros and so on. To say I was elated is an understatement!

When I was 30 weeks pregnant I started to get very painful contractions. I was taken into hospital and monitored. One night they were so strong that the doctors decided to give me a steroid injection in my bottom to increase the function of the baby’s lungs in case he was born that night. Thankfully the contractions did fade away eventually, but after what my sister had been through it was a very scary time.

He was actually born five days late and a whopping 10lbs 7oz! I felt an instant love for him that surpassed anything I had ever ever known. And this love continued to be strong and emotional because as it turned out he was incredibly unwell for his first few years with allergies, eczema and asthma. I will tell you about that in my next posting.

Despite my happiness with my three lovely children I was becoming more and more unhappy with my marriage. I remember going round to a friend one evening with my young baby in the car. He slept while we talked, moaned and drank wine. Her husband had just recently left her and she was sharing her feelings about that and I was telling her how miserable I was with my husband – who she knew of course as our vicar. I said I would love him to have an affair because then I would be free. I felt envious that she was in the position to start again. I knew that one day I would get out of my marriage as I couldn’t see anything worth hanging on to. That was 12 years ago. Very stupidly that evening I drove home, baby in car seat really quite drunk. My mind was already a mess.

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Lust and Conception in the Vicarage

Mon, 16 Jul 2007 18:50:51 +0200

Just before our second daughter turned two I brought up the subject of another child. I loved being mum to my two girls and thought it was time for a third child as I'd always wanted three. I desperately wanted a boy so tried to get the timing right. I'd heard that boy sperm swim faster but girl sperm live longer so the timing for a boy had to be on the dot of ovulation. I've no idea if that is true but it did work! Our original pre-marriage sex madness had long since gone and it was a rare event for us by this time. I just didn't want it to be honest. He was in his study until all hours and I had got disheartened trying to convince him to come to bed earlier than midnight to the point that when he did come to bed early I just couldn't be bothered.

We had a very good looking 27 year old sporty American staying with us for a week and me being 25 year old lonely girl fell head over heels in lust with him. I spent several evenings in his company chatting and laughing whilst my husband was in the study or at church meetings. I probably showed myself up and said too much but I found myself telling him how lonely I was and how miserable my marriage was and that I didn't even like my husband anymore. That was 13 years ago! He was either a perfect gentleman or he just wasn't interested in me at all so nothing ever happened between us. I was gagging for it though and the night I conceived my son it was him I imagined in the place of my husband. That sounds a bit silly now but I have to remember that actually I was 25 and at that age I should have been doing all that flirting as a free and single career woman not a vicars wife with two children. So I don't have any feelings of guilt at all, just a bit of stupidity!

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Trouble in the Vicarage cont...

Mon, 09 Jul 2007 14:35:04 +0200

I lived for our holidays. It was the only time I even vaguely got the man I married back. Unlike a lot of other Christians we never went to church on our holiday. My in-laws just assumed we did and would never have understood why we wouldn't. I was grateful for that break on a Sunday morning but avoided the conversation with his parents or sisters. I never questioned the church thing but what I was confused by was the fact that he was happy to buy lottery tickets on holiday but not at home. I bought them sometimes anyway because I had no problem with it. A lot of Christians don't like the lottery as it is a form of gambling and so my husband didn't usually get them. It was the two-faced stuff that confused me - why was it ok on holiday but not in our home town where he'd be seen?! I much preferred the husband I had on those early holidays to the husband at home, he relaxed and was much less stuffy.

My next knock-back was when the local NCT group were advertising for somebody to train as an antenatal teacher. I was really keen as it was something I could do whilst still being a full-time mum. I could get my brain working again, gain another interest, meet more people and earn a bit of money. Having given up my teaching degree I thought it was ideal for me. I told my husband I'd really love to go for it and his response? - "You'll never do it. You won't stick with it." If I'd had more confidence and he hadn't trained me so well not to swear at him I'd have told him then and there exactly what I thought of him. But actually I was so shocked he could damn me so hard without even talking it through I was speechless. As it happens I went for it anyway, and I did well at it and I absolutely loved it.

During the training, which consisted of one day a month at the tutor's house and about 4 study days a year, I constantly heard from the other trainees how fantastic their husbands were in supporting them and how they couldn't have done it without them. Most husbands took time off work to look after the children to help their wives fulfill their training. And my husband who worked from home anyway? Nope. I could only go to the training days if I'd organised childcare - either my mum coming across or a friend. I felt sick and disappointed to the core really. I felt he didn't take anything I wanted to do seriously at all. But damn him I was good at it.

Was I lonely? You bet.

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Trouble in the Vicarage cont...

Sun, 01 Jul 2007 21:42:19 +0200

When our second daughter was 6 months old my sister needed an emergency caesarian as her 30 week baby had stopped growing. There was only myself and my sister in my family and I had two girls as well, so when she had a boy we were all elated. He was only 2lbs but we had no reason to think he wouldn't grow once he was born and in safe hands. But we were wrong. He had a rare liver disease. He didn't grow. He turned an awful brown colour and despite excellent care and treatment at Kings he died aged only 15 weeks. That was just a nightmare for us all. My husband and I became closer again for a while - I think you do when you have an emotional trauma to talk about. But I began to realise that my husband actually liked it when I was sad; he liked me crying! He always said I looked beautiful after I'd had a big crying session, when actually I looked like a sunburnt prune! I know what it was - he liked being stronger than me and comforting me, he actually got a kick out of me sobbing in his arms. They were the arms I wanted to be in at the time but I did start to think it was a bit weird just how enthusiastic he was about me being sad.

We're a close family and we were all knocked sideways by Samuel's death. I couldn't even begin to understand why this God who was supposed to be loving and caring could allow it, what had we done wrong? I was very cross with God but was told by vicar husband that "we cannot understand everything now but God does have a plan that explains all things and when we get to heaven all will be revealed." Well I'm sorry but whatever plan God has the price was just way too high. Haven't you noticed how Christians have a marvellous knack of explaining any situation, good or bad, by calling it 'God's plan'?!!

My sister was pregnant again soon after and we were convinced the same thing couldn't happen again - that it had been a freak one-off chance. So when she was taken into hospital at 33 weeks with the same problem (the baby had stopped growing due to reduced flow through the umbilical cord) it was just too much to believe. She had a 3lb 10oz girl this time, again by emergency caesarian, but thankfully, despite some scares along the way, she did grow and begin to thrive. She is now a very healthy beautiful teenager.

I was at this time becoming even less happy in my marriage. I felt a long way from my family and real friends and was incredibly lonely. Husband worked nearly every evening, every weekend (vicar's do need to I do realise!) but when he wasn't working he seemed to do anything except enjoy time with me. The computer era had arrived - BIG BIG trouble for us. The church bought him a computer and that was it, the slippery slide to our downfall. It began immediately - if I asked him to come out of the study and spend some time with me he would say he had to learn the computer. It was the way forward he said, he could store all the church records on this marvellous machine and that would save time in the long run but in the meantime it would take a bit of effort to put all the details onto it. And so I would walk away, dismissed yet again.

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Trouble in the Vicarage cont....

Wed, 27 Jun 2007 12:21:14 +0200

We increasingly started to lead different lives - he was church and garden, I was busy with a toddler and my friends. I was also pregnant with our second daughter and full of youthful life. I had good times with my todller but I envied my friends still at university and visited them often. I even went on the youth group weekend away from back home - not quite believing I was actually a vicar's wife and supposed to be grown up now, I really wasn't grown up at all. I felt like a cheat in an adults role! My husband spent his days shut in the study and I asked him several times - 'isn't a vicar supposed to go out visiting old people or something?' He said that was soooo old fashioned, the job was not so simple anymore and didn't I understand anything about his job? I had to say no not really. I couldn't work out what on earth he could be doing all week every week in there.

He did still garden - usually (definitely) when it was time to feed and bath our daughter and later daughters. He never ever did those things. I got cross that we didn't share that, at least sometimes anyway. I couldn't understand why he didn't want to enjoy those times with them either. He was at home all the time so he had great opportunity that other dad's would have loved but he never ever joined in. I would get them in bed and then cook for us. He always had other things to do so I was always alone.

That is very significant because it was the beginnings of me feeling lonely and unhappy. I thought marriage was teamwork where you enjoyed each other's company and did things together. He, I think, saw it as doing separate roles to make the whole thing work. But his thing was not my thing. I did things that helped him and the family like cooking, washing, ironing and bringing up the children while he did his work and the gardening, watched TV and read books. I questioned the amount of time he spent in the garden instead of playing with his children or talking to me. He would say 'God has given us this garden and it is up to us to look after it and maintain it and keep it lovely.' F*kin b*llocks I thought - and what about the people 'God' has given you - don't they count?

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Trouble in the Vicarage...

Mon, 25 Jun 2007 18:50:53 +0200

I soon started to realise that my husband was actually turning into a vicar before my very eyes. It was the gardening that first gave it away. He was given a greenhouse and he bought seeds and compost and then he dug a big part of the garden to make a vegetable patch. This was closely followed by a magazine subscription to 'Gardener's World'. OMG! His mum and dad would visit and the three of them would walk around the garden together discussing the individual plants. It was only a normal garden and it didn't change much between their weekly visits in my ignorant eyes but this is the first thing they'd do each and every time whilst I made them a 'nice' pot of tea - what they didn't know was that I am the world's worst tea in a pot maker. If the tea came out far too weak I would simply grab an extra tea bag and squeeze it in their cups after the milk was in. What they didn't know and all that! Other signs were being cross if I swore or blasphemed, he was so grumpy about it I had to make a big effort to stop altogether. He also wore slippers, not trendy ones but clarks old man ones with fluff inside. I threw those away quite quickly and got him moccasins instead - a wife has to be helpful where she can. Now it's not as though I am against gardening or slippers per se but you must remember that he was only just 33 when this began and I was 22.

I was desperate to build up a social life that was nothing to do with the church. My friends were from the mother and baby groups and one lady was organising a fund raising event for the disabled children's playground. I bought tickets and we were part of a table of ten. It was a lively evening with a quiz, food and lots of booze and laughter. It was definitely the best fun I'd had since we'd moved to the vicarage. So, was my husband also having a good time? Was he heck! Half way through the evening in a rude loud voice he said to me across the table - "What are we doing here? I would rather just have given the money and not come." That is really my first memory of thinking 'Oh my god, who have I married?'

Saturday social events were common where we lived, either with the children during the day or during the evening without. Everybody went as a couple. Except me. Daytime events were excused with either a wedding (fair enough) or preparation for church the next day. Evenings were avoided because of preparation for the morning, even if actually he sat in front of the TV. I became embarrassed about making up excuse after excuse for him. I continuously covered up the fact that he was just unsociable and didn't like their company. I didn't want to go on my own all the time and soon it was easier for me to not go either. The invitations soon dried up because we were clearly not part of the 'in' crowd. I saw other families going off together out for the day or even camping for the weekend. We couldn't do anything at the weekend as a family because it was just impossible to prepare for church on Friday rather than Saturday unless there was an important football or rugby match on the television, oh, or a church event!

I made a big effort I think. I went to things I hated all the time. Church being just one of them. Harvest lunch another. And how entertaining is it to have dinner with the bishop and a bunch of much older vicars and their wives? Not at all.

If friends or family came to us he would stay in his study for much of the time. When he did come into the living room where we were he'd think nothing of sitting in 'his' armchair and turning the television on. He had an amazing ability to just ignore what was going on around him. It makes me cringe to remember all that now.

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Trouble in the Vicarage

Mon, 25 Jun 2007 16:24:29 +0200

I finished my second year at college whilst pregnant and got a diploma for it. Better than a kick in the teeth but I wanted to carry on to get my degree. Nobody told me I could stay on by putting the baby in the creche, I just didn't think it was an option really, so I left. Seven and a half months after the wedding our daughter was born. Two months after that we moved to a very well-to-do parish (which shall remain nameless!!) where my husband became a fully fledged vicar in charge of his own church. I was 21 with a tiny baby in a place where most people didn't even think of having a baby until they were at least 30. My next door neighbour saw my mum holding the baby at the induction service and assumed she was the vicar's wife. She nearly collapsed in shock when she saw it was me. I was young but I also looked very young for my age and quite girly still. I felt I'd arrived in an alien world among older people who had lived and worked many years already. But I tried to fit in and went to the usual mother and baby groups to make friends.

The church was really odd. I'd only ever been part of a big lively modern church and was shocked to sit in the pew Sunday mornings and see the choir all robed walking in carrying a cross at the start of the service. My husband led the way down the aisle for them and I sat there cringing like hell. I hated it. But I went - nearly every week I was there. I was always late though, I purposely delayed when I arrived using the baby as an excuse. During the service I'd then pinch her so she cried and I could leave - not really...but I did leave at any squeak from her! I soon started to take the few children who were there out to do a children's class. I was a genius - those classes were just a fantastic excuse for me to not be in church listening to sermons and doing the peace and prayers and any other crap that is part of the territory.

What I really hated was the lack of privacy. I was public knowledge and observed. I was introduced as the vicar's wife to people - I often said very strongly 'I am me, my husband just happens to be a vicar'. I had to watch what I said - no swearing, I had to not gossip, not moan, just be sunny and smiley and get on with it. People noticed what went in my shopping trolley too - how bizarre is that!

Your home is not really your own home when you live in a vicarage either. One morning about 9am I was sitting in the kitchen with my baby in her highchair having breakfast when the doorbell rang. I was in my dressing gown and didn't want to open the door so I ignored it. The next thing I knew was a head was peering in the kitchen window. It was a woman who went to the church. I had to open the door then. She tutted and was most put out that I'd ignored her so rudely when she wanted the church key from me.

Our wedding anniversary came round and we went out for a meal. The owners of the restaurant were the son and daughter-in-law of a church couple. The night was quiet for business and we said it was our anniversary but they sat and talked to us throughout our meal about the church!

I slowly began to realise that life in a vicarage was not going to be normal. People want access to you all the time day and night.

The funniest thing about that anniversary night was the church warden who was babysitting read our cards. A few days later she said to me "Can I ask you something? One of your cards says 'congratulations on your 1st anniversary' but wasn't it your second?", "No, it was our first" I said. "Then how come Hannah is over four months old?!!" Fantastic!

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Trouble in the Vicarage

Sat, 23 Jun 2007 14:27:24 +0200

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!

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