Page 47 of Annabel and Her Sisters

The following day Ralph rang me and asked if I was free for lunch.

It wrong-footed me slightly: I’d expected a dinner date and in light of my conversation with Polly had been unsure what I’d reply, but lunch was better, and it was just a pub, by the river, on a lovely day.

I told him I’d run into Colin and Mike and that they’d mentioned he’d gone to York.

‘Yes, that right. I went to see an old friend of mine, he’s a bishop, actually. Well, retired. Needed some advice. It was a good trip, as a matter of fact; I’m glad I went. I’ll explain when I see you. A bit of an impulse, if I’m honest.’

You see, Pol? Totally innocent. Not– and yes, I had wondered this, to my shame– entertaining some pretty young Born Again he’d met at the festival. We chatted a bit more and laughed as I asked if he’d swayed and he said ‘Certainly not!’, with feeling.

When I put the phone down I found I was still smiling. It was no good, I liked him. I obviously hadn’t mentioned Margot, but I’d decided I would, when I saw him. Somehow. God knows how, but I’d think of something. Clear the air. I hated secrets.

He gave me a big hug when we met, which was lovely, if I’m honest. Quite an intense, lovely-to-see-you squeeze.

I realized I’d missed him. We got our drinks at the bar and ordered lunch, and then, miraculously, found an empty table on the grass under an umbrella, literally as another couple were vacating it.

Ralph seemed to know quite a few people, who smiled and waved, and I laughingly asked him if he was a regular.

‘Well, it’s my parish,’ he said with a grin, sipping his pint. ‘So unsurprisingly, yes.’

I smiled. ‘You love it here, don’t you.’ It was more of a statement than a question, or at least a rhetorical one, but his reply took me by surprise.

‘Yes, and no.’

I looked at him enquiringly. ‘Meaning?’

‘I love London, I love Hammersmith, but there’s a lot I don’t…’ he hesitated, ‘not like, but agree with.’

‘Such as?’

He sipped his beer thoughtfully. ‘Well, it’s one of the reasons– or the entire reason, as a matter of fact– that I went on to York, after the festival. Which I didn’t enjoy, by the way.’

I smiled. ‘I thought you said the band was good?’

He made a face. ‘So-so.’

‘It was never going to be your thing.’

‘No, but I felt I had to go. I won’t go again.’

I was surprised by his vehemence. ‘Colin and Mike loved it.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, they would. Or Colin, at least. Mike holed up in a pub for most of it.’

I waited: knew there was more. He studied his pint, then looked up. His greeny blue eyes were frank and honest. ‘I’ve decided to become a Catholic priest.’

I was taken aback. Quite a long way back. ‘Right. Golly. Can you do that?’

‘What, cross the Tiber? Yes, of course. But it’s controversial, naturally. Although about ten per cent of Anglican vicars have already done it. Quite recently, as it happens.’

‘Because…?’ I asked cautiously.

‘Because… there’s a direction the church is going in, our church is going in, which they don’t agree with. And I’ve always been old school, as you know.’

I regarded him. ‘Specifically? I mean– what don’t you agree with?’

He hesitated, then didn’t answer me directly. ‘I think, in the future, if I stay where I am, I won’t be following God’s will. Or what is in the scriptures. I went to talk to my friend in York about it. He agreed.’

‘Is it… to do with you having to marry gay people in church? One day?’

‘Two of my best friends are gay. Not married, because they can’t be– Colin’s not allowed as a vicar, and I think that’s wrong. I think they should be allowed to have a civil ceremony, I’m wholeheartedly in favour of that. But could I perform the service up at the altar under the cross?’

‘Could you?’

‘Could you ?’

I stared at him. ‘I’ve never really thought about it.’

‘Quite. Why would you?’ he conceded quickly.

‘And female bishops?’

‘Oh yes, I see no reason for that being blocked. But on the other question… I need some time, and I don’t have that.

It’s rattling towards us like a runaway train.

And I don’t like being rushed. So… I need to go to a seminary, on a course, for two years, part-time, to convert.

Of that I’m sure. It’s possible the Catholic Church will go the same way one day, but not as certain. So I’m going to join their gang.’

‘Right.’ I was flabbergasted. It was such a huge leap. ‘But…’ So many questions crowded my mind. I blurted one out, obviously the most selfishly pertinent to me. ‘Aren’t Catholic priests celibate?’

‘They are. But Anglican priests can be accepted if they’re already married. If they’re unmarried and become priests, they can’t then marry.’

Two prawn salads arrived and they were very welcome.

It seemed to me the world was turning very fast, but the salads, the huge chunks of bread, the butter, the cutlery, the little pots of mayonnaise and the napkins gave us a moment.

They were taken unsteadily from a tray and arranged by a young girl at some length, there were so many little pots and bits, and it gave us time to reform and regroup.

When the waitress had retreated with her empty tray and we were alone again, I licked my lips.

‘When did you decide this?’

‘I’ve obviously been thinking about it for some time, but the festival was the final straw.

Everyone seemed to be embracing new ideas.

I felt in a minority. And seeing Alan, the retired bishop friend of mine, confirmed my view.

He converted, too, which is why I went. But I also, absolutely, know I couldn’t be a celibate priest.’

‘No. I mean, I see.’ But I meant no. Because I absolutely knew he couldn’t either. From the hug just now, and simply the way he was. This man was a hot-blooded male. Suddenly I felt very brave. ‘Is that why you had lunch with Margot Arnold?’

Oh yes. I’d quizzed Polly a bit more. So she, in turn, had asked Hannah for more details.

Got a surname. More info. Hannah even knew where she lived; she’d dropped a choir notice through her door once.

It turned out to be Hebe’s road, coincidentally.

So I’d rung Hebe. Rich and pretty. A divorcee.

She also knew that she’d changed church, was now at St Paul’s Knightsbridge, which was Anglo-Catholic.

Rather a key detail in view of our current conversation.

Ralph looked taken aback, but then he nodded. ‘Hannah. On the next table with some girlfriends. And yes, in a sense. No, Annabel, that’s a lie. It was absolutely why I had lunch with her. Do you know her?’

‘I only know of her through a friend, but I’ve never met her. Apparently she’s very nice.’ Hebe had said as much.

‘Yes, she is. But you’re nicer. To me, anyway.’

‘So you were weighing us up?’

He looked at me gently. ‘Wasn’t that what you were doing with me and André?’

My turn to look surprised. I gave it some thought. ‘I suppose. Yes.’

‘Because none of us– not me, not you, not Margot, not André– are teenagers. Or in our twenties. Or thirties. Or even forties. We don’t have so much time.

Sure, we want to get it right, but…’ He tailed off.

‘Time is not on our side.’ It was everything I’d thought but not said, only relatively recently. And yet.

‘Ralph,’ I swallowed. ‘We’ve kissed, literally, just once.’

‘I know. But I didn’t feel I could go down the path of going out with you for six months, a year, without you knowing all this about me.’

‘And you and Margot had a proper relationship?’

‘Well, it depends what you mean by that. But yes, I saw her for six months. A lot longer than a couple of other women I saw briefly, Celine Watson and Cynthia Tucker, if you’re interested.

I only dated them. But I broke it off with Margot because she wanted to get married– she made that clear because she didn’t want to waste time if I didn’t feel the same.

Fair enough. But I hadn’t long split from Angie. And the children were… still raw.’

‘Yes. Yes, I do see. But now? It’s been much longer. The split from your wife. The children are a bit better adjusted, surely.’

‘Which is why I had lunch with her. She rang me, actually. She said she wanted to be friends, to have lunch, although I have to admit, I wanted to see her too. To see if I still have feelings for her. I don’t. I knew that the moment I sat down.’

My mouth dried a bit.

‘I’m fond of her, very fond. But I’m falling in love with you.’

‘Oh Ralph, this is all going much too fast. For me, anyway.’

Interesting. It hadn’t even crossed my mind to say: ‘And I’m falling in love with you, too.

’ I just felt, frankly, terrified. He was pretty much asking me to marry him.

Or warning me that he would, further down the track.

But it was all so businesslike. Like a corporate transaction. I said as much. He spread his hands.

‘Even though I said I’m falling in love with you?’

‘Even though.’

For some reason my mind flew back to Waitrose.

‘Do Colin and Mike know about this?’

‘The conversion?’

‘Yes.’

‘They do.’

‘And?’

‘Well, obviously they hate me for it. They’d love to get married in church, and will, one day, if they can.’

‘They don’t really hate you,’ I said softly.

‘No, I know,’ he agreed, but he looked sad.

We ate, although I picked rather than ate, and we were silent, both deep in thought. When I’d had enough I put my fork down.

‘Ralph, I’m going to have to think about this.’

‘Of course.’

‘Very deeply. As you have done. Or at least your pathway. For years, you said,’ I reminded him, almost accusingly.

He inclined his head in acknowledgement of this fact.

‘But … I’m flattered.’

He smiled. ‘Even if you would be marrying me in a somewhat tactical manner?’

‘But not manipulative.’

‘No.’

‘You’ve put your cards firmly on the table.’ I had a sudden thought. ‘It reminds me of Mr Collins, actually. The vicar in Pride and Prej . First Lizzie, then Charlotte.’

‘Oh, thanks. He was ghastly.’ We laughed, for the first time that lunch. ‘But I know what you mean. Similar, I agree. And actually, it gets even more eighteenth century.’

I frowned. ‘In what respect?’

‘Well, even though Margot and I went out for six months, we didn’t…’

I stared at him, shocked. I’d picked up my glass but I put it down again. ‘You haven’t slept together?’

‘No. Of course not.’

‘What d’you mean, of course not?’

‘Well, Christians don’t.’

‘Oh! Is Margot a Christian?’

‘Yes. And you too, surely?’

‘Well, yes, I suppose, but…’ I realized, with a jolt, and I think also a rush of blood up my neck, that there were degrees. That I was more… nominal, perhaps. I said so, rather boldly, I thought. Brazenly, even.

He nodded in acceptance of this. ‘And actually, I think Margot was, too. She went to church like you, sang in the choir, but as our relationship progressed, she obviously became…’

‘More devout?’

‘Not cynically.’

‘No, no, of course not,’ I agreed quickly, but my mind went: Oh really?

I wondered if she’d changed church because the break-up upset her; she didn’t want to revert to just being part of Ralph’s congregation.

I even wondered if the Anglo-Catholic bit was a ploy to get into his cassock.

Not very Christian of me, I agree, but I thought it. I took a very deep breath.

‘Even more to think about.’

‘Exactly.’

He smiled. And he did have a lovely smile, his eyes creasing up at the edges.

And I loved him for his honesty. But could I love him?

In the real sense of the word? How could I know?

I mean, obviously we could go out for a while, and I’d learn more about him, about how I felt.

So perhaps that was the way forward. And who wanted to go out with a man, at my age, who wasn’t serious about them?

Who didn’t want to marry them? I could see Margot’s point.

Except… I’d never contemplated that. Because of David.

I thought of Serena, a friend who was a divorcee and who had found a lovely man, Andrew, who she adored– they’d just lived together for five years because neither of them wanted to marry again.

They were happy as they were. Would I be, too?

Well, I wouldn’t have a choice. I’d be married to a Catholic priest. For some reason this seemed far more intense than a C of E vicar in Hammersmith, living at the Old Rectory, although I knew they barely existed– at least not the pretty Victorian ones with roses round the door; they’d all been sold for millions to young couples who dug out their basements.

And we might not even be in London, it occurred to me.

Near Mum. The children. Or even the home counties. Near Ginnie. We might be miles away.

He was watching me process all this, a gentle smile on his lips. ‘It’s a lot. I know.’

‘It really is,’ I said with feeling.

‘And you’re right, I’ve had more time.’

‘Not to think about me.’

‘No. But I know.’

‘Right.’ Golly.

He drained his pint while I sat deep in thought. I’d finished my wine and I put my knife and fork together. I’d barely touched my salad, even though I noticed he’d finished his. But then, as we’d said, he was much further down the pathway than me.

‘I’ll walk you home,’ he said, getting up.

‘I drove, actually. Super lazy, but I needed to get some shopping on the way.’

‘OK, I’ll walk you to your car.’

He did, which was literally round the corner. As we stood at the kerb, he took me in his arms and kissed me gently on the lips.

‘Sorry to burden you with all this.’ He rested his forehead on mine.

‘Don’t be. You’ve been incredibly open. You could have seen me for six months and then sprung it on me.’

‘That wouldn’t have been fair.’

‘No. But thank you, anyway. I’ll give it some thought, I promise.

’ And with that, I kissed my fingertips, pressed them to his lips and got in the car.

Then I drove away. As I looked in the rear-view mirror I saw he was still standing there, watching me.

There was a quizzical, rather hopeful, and– yes, very dear expression on his face.

It made him look very vulnerable and very appealing.