Hills of the North Ch. 03

AT nine o'clock, after breakfast, Ray went upstairs to the rear bedroom that he had converted into an office back in 2020 at the start of the first lockdown, and now continued to use to pursue his hobbies. His little workspace had become a sanctuary of sorts, a place of refuge from the increasing demands of church duties. Among his many hobbies was a keen interest in local history. He'd been doing a lot of research into Caroline, the dead woman who'd been unearthed on the church grounds, and had discovered some interesting information. He had a new project to work on too -- helping Alice track down the daughter she gave up for adoption in 1999.

This morning, as usual, he prepared himself a strong black coffee, and intended to spend a couple of hours reading through 19th century parish records. Just as he was switching on the laptop, his smartphone rang.

"Oh good morning Graham. Yes, I'm at home. Sure, I'll be in until twelve. Have to visit the hospice this afternoon. Last rites. What? Of course you can. Okay, no problem, see you in ten. Bye."

He put down the phone. "Well, there goes my chance of doing a morning's research," he sighed. The vicar had sounded very much troubled and wanted to call round to discuss a confidential matter of great urgency. He was intrigued and alarmed by that.

"Shit, I hope it's not about me and Alice sleeping together." He said out loud. Knowing what a staunch adherent Reverend Hosking was to professionalism and decency, a curate having sex with the married church organist wasn't going to go down too well. They'd been discreet, but as was the way, any hint of scandal had a habit of spreading around a close-knit church community like wildfire. And he and the vicar weren't exactly best buddies. There was an atmosphere of strained politeness between them, with the vicar's strait-laced manner at odds with Ray's fun-loving, relaxed personality.

At ten minutes past nine, the morning rush hour was just over. Although the roads were still moderately busy, traffic was moving smoothly and swiftly. Reverend Hosking pulled up in front of the curate's two-bed terraced house.

Ray switched the kettle on again as the vicar sat down in an armchair.

"What's troubling you, Graham?" he asked nervously, fearing he was about to receive a reprimand. "You sounded very anxious on the phone."

"I'm sorry to burden you like this. But I've got myself into a situation that I have, to my regret, lost control of. I need your advice."

Ray relaxed a bit. "I'll do my best to help in any way I can." He brewed a mug of tea.

Reverend Hosking sighed. "It's personal. I find it difficult to talk about. You see...I've just met someone, and I, uh."

"Yesterday after the service, you mentioned you'd fallen in love."

"I have Ray. I truly think I have."

"I'm really happy for you, Graham." He handed him the mug.

"Yes but here's the problem. I've never had a relationship before. Hell, I've never gone beyond kissing a woman. I'm a thirty-year old virgin. I know that must seem strange in this day and age, what with dating apps and so on. Casual hook-ups aren't for me. I'm hopeless at chatting up women. I've always struggled with shyness. Then a few days ago, a random encounter knocked me for six."

Reverend Hosking had expected the curate to burst out laughing, but to his relief, Ray listened intently, his face serious. He immediately felt guilty for thinking badly of his assistant.

"It's nothing to feel ashamed about, Graham. To be honest, I expect late bloomers often have more lasting relationships as they're more emotionally mature. I made some stupid decisions in my younger days. I never should've married in my twenties. I wasn't prepared for it. Two kids and two divorces."

"Yes, well getting married is one thing, but never even having a girlfriend? I wish I had your...confidence when it comes to women."

"It's sometimes a blessing and a curse," Ray replied. "You said you've met someone?" He gently coaxed the vicar further until he revealed all about his fateful meeting with Emily in the road, right up to she called round at the vicarage.

"She sounds a very lovely young woman, Graham. I don't recall seeing her during the service."

"She didn't come up for communion. She's still in the process of rediscovering her faith." He gave another sigh. "Well last night, I fear that I did something wrong."

"Wrong?"

Reverend Hosking nodded. "I think I have made a monumental mistake and I wish to fix it. I do not want to lose her over my...inexperience."

Ray brewed more tea. "What happened?"

"Forgive my hesitancy...it is not something I find easy to talk about. Last night, she did something to me that I have never before experienced and I fear that I had the wrong reaction to it."

Ray leaned close. "What did she do?"

The vicar started to blush, as he struggled to explain how Emily had declared her attraction to him, then had started kissing him.

"I became rather too adventurous with my hands and fondled about her tits, er, her breasts, and then she..."

"Go on."

"She...gave me a blowjob."

Ray had not expected the uptight vicar to utter such a thing, and the surprise on his face was obvious. "Blimey...well, she's either the most dedicated born-again Christian in the world, or she absolutely fancies the bollocks off you. Talk about diving in, eh? And...did you like it?"

Reverend Hosking's face turned crimson. "I did, yes. It was wonderful. But, I reacted badly. Afterwards, she wanted us to go to the bedroom but I asked her to leave. I regretted it instantly. I...I was just overwhelmed, Ray. Now I fear I've blown it and I don't know what to do."

"Graham, speaking as a fellow bloke, in my honest opinion, you just need to call round and see her, apologise and explain gently to her that things just happened a little too fast and you wanted to wait until you felt ready. Now if she truly loves you, she'll understand."

A wave of relief swept across the vicar's face. "Thanks Ray."

"Hey, it'll be okay. I really hope it works out between you and Emily. Just try to relax a bit. Enjoy it. Savour it. Trust me, when it happens, it'll feel incredible." he added with a wink.

"I will. Um, just changing the subject, what have you discovered about our Victorian victim?"

"Oh, have a butcher's at this," Ray said, handing him some printouts. "Caroline Gaskell, a twenty-one-year old local girl, died April 1870. Cause of death, a house fire. She was trapped in an upstairs room and burned to death. For her sake I hope the smoke overcame her first, poor lass. Can you believe it? She'd been locked in there by her father. A brute of a man named Albert. And a parish vicar too! By all accounts a short-tempered chap prone to drinking and bouts of depression. His wife died in childbirth when Caroline was ten; the baby died too. Caroline's life must've been a miserable one, she was a virtual slave to her father. He beat her and became convinced she was practising witchcraft. No wonder she planned to elope with a handsome young farmhand she met whilst attending church. Her one chance of happiness. Unfortunately, her father found out and locked her in a bedroom."

"And he set fire to the house and let his own daughter be burned to death?"

"Well, I haven't been able to discover the exact cause of the fire. Eyewitness accounts heard Caroline screaming and banging as the house went up in flames, cursing her father's name. Whether he started it deliberately or not, Caroline died believing her father had caused it." Ray noticed the colour had drained from Reverend Hosking's face. "Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Might be a coincidence, but the other night I had a bad nightmare. A woman, screaming as she died in an intense fire. It was so vivid, it woke me up."

"The effects of reading too many articles on this long-dead woman perhaps?" He mentioned the similar nightmare Alice had experienced. "I think you need a break, Graham. You've had a lot on your mind. Maybe you could take Emily somewhere nice and have a day out, away from the church."

Reverend Hosking clasped his hands around the mug and hunched over the table. There was worry in his blue eyes. "Poor Alice. That's one nasty dream. What do you make of it?"

"Oh, I don't think it's prophetic, Graham."

"Why couldn't it be? Mine appears to have been."

"Yes, but--it was just too wild to be taken seriously. I mean, severed heads that suddenly come to life--that sort of thing isn't really going to happen."

He nodded and stood up. "I've taken up too much of your time, Ray. I have a mistake I need to rectify, and thanks to your advice, I have the courage to do it. Thanks once again. I'll see you at the midweek service."

Today's weather was behaving itself again. Bright, warm sun and the wind had dropped. All was still as the vicar drove into town. His heart started pounding as he headed down the narrow streets of this ancient market town. It was busy.

As he parked the car, a river-cold breeze whipped out of nowhere and made some bushes at the edge of the road dance. A series of stealthy sounds. A soft scrape. A rattle that died even as it began. A silken rustle. Reverend Hosking glanced down. A discarded fast-food box was sliding along the pavement.

"Bloody litterbugs."

He frowned, picked up the piece of rubbish and deposited it in the nearby bin.

In the library, he was greeted by Winnie Chen, a cheerful, fifty-something Asian woman, who he knew quite well. Winnie was a member of the Mother's Union and often did the church flower rota.

"Morning Vicar! What can I help you with today? You're in luck. Richard Osman's latest novel is back on our shelves."

"Hello Winnie. Thanks. Not after a book this time. I believe a new member of staff by the name of Emily Williams works here? I was just wondering if..."

"Oh you've just missed her. She's gone for lunch. Said she was heading out for a walk."

"Damn," he muttered under his breath. "Ah, never mind. It can wait. Thanks." He hurried out of the building and glanced around. Where could she have gone? Feeling like a lost soul, he rounded the corner and trudged up Church Street. To his shock and delight, he spotted Emily just a few yards further up, peering into the window of an estate agent.

He swallowed nervously. "Hi."

In a somewhat dazed voice she said, "I wonder if these older houses have fire damage?"

"Um, I beg your pardon?"

She blinked and shook her head, giving him that same enigmatic smile that had enthralled him during their first encounter. "Oh hello Graham! Sorry, I must've been miles away. Er, are you alright? I was just going to get a sandwich. Have you eaten?"

Once again, he found himself tongue-tied. "Let's...delay eating for now. I must speak to you about something important."

"Graham...if this is about what happened last night, I..."

His heart lurched in his chest as he took her hands in his, before she could finish.

"Emily, please forgive me yet again. It seems that I am not as brave or wise as I think I am. I'm a shy man, and intense when it comes to my work. I confess, it leads me to neglect other aspects of my life. I'm rather hopeless at expressing my feelings. I can only apologise for my shameful reaction to your...feelings last night. I pray you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I do not deserve your devotion. What I'm trying to say is that...um...I wish to ask for your forgiveness once again in the hopes that you will take pity on me and..."

She reached up, pulling his trembling mouth down to hers and pressing her lips against his. The kiss alone reassured him that he was forgiven, and he decided not to mention it again.

"Can we go for a little drive in the country? I've got an hour to kill."

"Um, yes, of course! If that is what you'd like. It certainly is nice weather for it." He stammered.

"I wish we could walk up Pendle Hill," Emily said as they drove out of town. "But it's too far to complete in an hour."

"Way too far and steep. And neither of us are adequately dressed for such a hike. But there is a nice little woodland trail at Chatburn Nature Reserve. We could..."

"Can we go to the churchyard instead, Graham?"

"St. Peter's?"

"Yes. I'd like to see where those remains are buried. You know, the ones that were discovered a few weeks ago. The Victorian woman. Caroline."

Reverend Hosking knew of a dozen much nicer places, but so smitten with her was he, that he would've gladly agreed to a romantic stroll down a sewer if she'd have asked.

"Certainly. There's not much to see. I marked the grave with a simple wooden cross. I was speaking with the PCC and we hope to get a proper headstone fitted as soon as possible. Ray the curate has uncovered a wealth of information about her. Her life story is rather sad."

"She never got her happy ending."

"Sadly no. At least she is at peace now."

"Perhaps."

He gave her a curious glance. "Well. Let us hope so."

They arrived at the church. St Peter's, a large and imposing building built in Gothic Revival style, normally so bleak in the shadow of Pendle, actually looked softer and friendlier in the spring sunshine. Its churchyard was beautifully maintained, with flowers, lawn and bushes kept neat by a small but dedicated group of parishioners.

After a few minutes looking at Caroline's grave, Emily bent down and placed a small bunch of wild flowers on it. Reverend Hosking crossed himself and they said a short prayer together. Emily turned and looked at the church. "Is it open?"

"Oh yes. It's a risk in this day and age, but I believe a church should always be open, for anyone who passes by, be they curious tourists, the faithful or someone in need of comfort."

"Come with me."

He willingly followed her this time, but once inside the church, he took control at last, gathering her in his arms and kissing her with all abandon. As their eyes met, Emily yanked open his black shirt and cast off his clerical collar, and the vicar followed the action by pulling it off his body.

They stopped in front of the altar. He pulled her close, putting his lips to hers and letting the pure passion within him lead the kiss. Emily's fists balled up the fabric of his shirt. Her hungry fingers pulled his shirt from his trousers where it had been firmly tucked. With the bottom open, her hands searched beneath it, placing her palms flat against his chest and stomach. Reverend Hosking cast off the garment, allowing her to feel his warm skin.

"Touch me," Emily breathed heavily.

Unfastening her blouse and cupping her breasts in his hands, Reverend Hosking let his fingers wander over every inch of her. Moaning into their kiss, Emily couldn't believe how the touch of his skin on hers could make her feel, as he slowly removed her remaining clothing. He shuddered, gazing in awe at the beauty of her bare body. The fact that they were here in the church, his sacred workplace and where someone could walk in at any minute, seemed not to concern either of them. Reverend Hosking appeared mesmerised, his earlier shyness quelled. He quoted a passage from the Book of Revelation 12:7-12.

"Then war broke out in heaven. Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fought back. But he was not strong enough, and they lost their place in heaven. The great dragon was hurled down -- that ancient snake called the devil, or Satan, who leads the whole world astray. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him."

The curate's words echoed in his head. "Compassion. Give her your all."

Reverend Hosking pushed her back on the stone floor, his mouth covering hers, then moving down to her erect nipples and sucking. She gasped at his assault, allowing him complete control as he moved from breast to breast. He then continued downward, planting kisses on her belly and then her mound.

"Oh Graham! Oh God!"

He hesitated, but Emily begged him to continue. His long fingers spread her puffy lips apart, entering her. He fingered her slowly, before withdrawing to lick her juices off his fingers. He was the reason that she was wet and wanting, and this only served to make his prick throb more. He lowered his mouth to her slit. Despite his lack of experience, he was a quick learner; and was soon pleasuring her with the same same fervour which he used when preaching from the pulpit.

He felt her body tremble and he pulled back a moment to press her fleshly lips apart again, giving her a small smile when her clit arose, throbbing and pink with blood. His tongue teased the small nub and she screamed, climaxing like she'd never done in her life.

He gave her a few moments to calm down. "Are you...alright?" he tentatively asked, amazed that he'd produced this reaction in a woman.

"My sweet Reverend." She sat up and unbuckled his belt. He unzipped his trousers and removed them and his underpants, pausing for a moment as he realised he was completely naked before her.

Emily slipped her hands around his manhood, gently stroking the warm shaft, before lowering her head to suck it.

Reverend Hosking let out a moan.

"I knew you liked this," she grinned, continuing to tongue his member. Clear fluid oozed from the tip. She licked up every drop.

He gasped. He was in Heaven, yet still on Earth. She continued sucking his cock, making him cry out in joy. She cupped his balls and caressed his belly. When he seemed on the verge of climaxing, Emily released his cock and moved upwards, positioning herself above him. Slowly, she came down on him.

The slow feeling of her body enveloping his cock for the first time was enough for the vicar to spend right there, but he held on, and cast off his virginity forever. This was a transcendent experience; it was like nothing else he'd ever experienced in his life.

Her breath was hot against his neck. She pressed close, rocked and tensed and twisted and flexed in perfect harmony with him; her exquisite, pneumatic movements were as fluid as currents in a warm river. She arched her elegant back, lifted and subsided in tempo with his measured strokes. She was as pliant, as silken, and eventually as all-encompassing as darkness.

The sky is darkening like a stain,

Something is going to fall like rain

And it won't be flowers.