The Shop Girl and the Priest

"You've convinced me," he said.

After putting the three bags into the kitchen we walked back to Oriel as if on air, stopping every now and again to kiss and caress, just making big eyes at each other, and at one point Russ kissed me, picked me up and spun me around whooping at the top of his voice, and a bunch of pissed students gave him a round of applause.

"Propose to her, you unromantic sod!" shouted a wag, but we just carried on walking, giggling but still with the Buzz.

We climbed the stairs and once out of the fire door we were greeted with a cheer. Because of the chill in the air and a general lack of finance, I guess Gemma had called a corridor party and the entire gang was there, along with boyfriends, girlfriends and some best friends with her music playing loudly.

"JAI!" screeched Gem, running towards me, "Look at you."

My face ached with all of the idiotic and helpless grinning I'd been doing since Russ had kissed me in the church hall car park, but if that wasn't enough, my gorgeous boyfriend stepped in behind me.

Gemma saw him and just grabbed me, hugging me and sharing a few tears, "Told you it would be okay, babes, eventually, didn't!?" she whispered in my ear. "I told you!"

Two glasses of a pale orange, gin-laden punch were handed to me and we both sipped, Gemma holding both of our arms as she dragged out the latest chapter of the 'Jai and Russ romantic drama.'

"Tell us about Tabs!" said Gem. I groaned.

"Another atheist like my gorgeous Jaime here." Both Gemma and I crooned when we heard 'my Jaime.'

"She's a philosophy post-grad working on her PhD—parents originally from Guildford but moved to Pasadena in the 90's. She went to Berkley and got an exchange to Oxford. She told everyone, even the camel drivers; a gorgeous California blonde fixated on arguing religion with anyone that would give her the time of day, and is a hard-faced, hip-shooting lesbian," I felt Gemma's shoulders relax as mine did. "Fantastic body mind you, seemed to wear nothing but bikinis and sunscreen half the time."

I took a long slug of my drink to settle my nerves and Russ must have noticed,

"She was under the impression that English priests were all celibate. I told her I had a girlfriend back in Oxford that I really missed." He leaned over and kissed me.

"Drink up," said Gemma. "You two have lots of catching up to do." She took our almost empty cups from us and pushed me to my door.

As I opened my bedroom door, there was a universal whoop from everyone in the corridor, and I blushed and giggled as I pulled it closed behind us. Russ pinned me to it and kissed me, flipping the lock.

"I missed you so much, Jai," he said. "Made me realise just how much in love with you I still was."

"Oh, Russ," I sighed into his mouth, "I missed you so much, cried myself to sleep over you..."

"Take me to bed, Jai," he said. "We've got each other back and I don't intend leaving your side for at least three days."

"You remembered my schedule?"

"Could hardly forget," he said.

We removed our jackets and shoes and sat on my bed, a slow lazy end-of-the-day momentum for two extremely tired but very happy people.

"Where's your car?" I said as I kicked off my panties and slid gratefully under my duvet, looking up to admire his dark brown chest, arms and legs, but pale while and untanned groin and bottom.

"On my parents' drive," he said. "Abandoned it there on my mad dash to find clothes I could take to the Sahara!"

I thought about that,

"I went to your rooms, back to your flat the next day," I said as he moved up close to me. "The lady secretary said that you were most definitely going to London, and," I said, raising my eyebrows, "she was most distressed that she had to buy you a double bed for your London flat as your fiancée was moving in with you."

"What?" he screeched. He closed his eyes and thought, "That's Betty, Chris' volunteer parish clerk!"

He laughed, "It told her ONCE that I wanted a double bed because A) I was a fucking grown-up, and B) because my new girlfriend would be coming to stay with me." He giggled. "That was you, by the way. Ronnie told her that you were actually my fiancée so she would spend the money and go easier on me having a girl there."

I closed my eyes and laughed.

"SHIT!" I said, "If I'd known that..."

He kissed me,

"All over and sorted," he said. "I'm back and I very much hope I've got you back."

"Oh, you most definitely do have me back." I kissed him. "Make love to me, Russ, make love to me for all the times we both worried needlessly, for the times when..."

He closed my mouth with a kiss and rolled over me, his erection finding my already swollen labia and pushing up into me with a single and most welcome thrust, the first thing in there since that day...

"Oh fuck, yeah!" I hissed, feeling him back inside me where he belonged. "Just like that, Ooooooh Christ," I warbled as I felt my first two-person orgasm in months start in my toes, "Russ, please, please keep going, keep..."

Our mouths locked together as we both came, groaning and moving with each other in a joint and most welcome climax.

As we caught our breath and grinned into each other's faces, I noticed there was silence, no music from Gemma's boom box, then there was a roar from out in the corridor, stamping feet and thumps on the door, and happy whoops.

"Those bastards were listening," I said.

"I did try to keep quiet," he said, laughing.

"It's the beds. I can tell when Gemma and Will are at it when I walk past her door sometimes when I come home from work." I burst out laughing at the applause I could now hear, "Well, at least we weren't the only people to appreciate your hard work." I wiped my eye.

We slept well.

Next morning, we were up and making love with slightly more energy and exuberance than the night before. We took our time doing the things we both enjoyed and I changed position a few times, but finishing off with the missionary, with my missionary.

We got up and made tea and toast, finishing the last of Ronnie's jam that I hadn't been able to get myself to use up, knowing I'd never see any more of it. All that had changed now, of course, and after a shower and chat with a heavily hung-over Gemma and a groan from Will, we walked back to his place and the warmest greeting from Ronnie and little Jake. Chris was in his church giving his Sunday sermon.

While I explained our little 'misunderstanding' to a much-relieved Ronnie over tea, Russ packed a weekend bag and we walked to the Station for a trip to my hometown, then on to his to collect his car. I was on a 'reading week' with no classes, it was almost like it was planned.

I'd contacted Cheryl to check she would be home and not at work as I wanted to let her know that I was much better and my love life back on the straight and narrow after those long evening phone calls with my 'big sister.' She was really pleased to hear that, asked what time I was likely to be there so she could get some things in, and said she see me soon.

"Cheryl," I said as I pushed the door open, "This is Russ, my boyfriend."

"Aaah, the vicar!" she said with a grin holding out a hand that he took, "Oh and by the way, Jai?" she moved to her right and I could see who was sat at her kitchen table.

"Mum!" I said running across to her and hugging her. We just held each other tightly for a while, just hugging. After a while I stepped back. "Mum, this is my boyfriend, Russ, you'll like him," I said and with grin as I stepped to one side. "He's a priest!"

"Mrs. Connor," said Russ, taking her hand.

"Call me Gwen," she said with a soppy smile.

"Then you can call me Russ," he replied. He stood straight and pulled his shoulders back, fuck but he looked good and I just felt all gooey inside again. He saw and smiled at me. Fuuuuck!

I was just so crazy about him.

Cheryl was watching us both and smiled at me, giving herself a bit of a hug, looking at my mum and nodding towards us. Mum grinned, as well, and I slipped an arm through Russ's and gave it a squeeze,

"Who's hungry?" she said.

Over one of Cheryl's amazing dinners, everyone got to know each other, including Rosie and Ruby just back from school, who instantly dubbed my Mum 'Nanna Gwen,' and monopolized her all evening, insisting that both she and Jaime put them to bed, and she loved it.

Russ and I walked her home, and she promised she had would come to Oxford and see the sights. I kissed her goodnight for the first since before I was a teenager.

Back at Cheryl's, I slept in my room with my man; yes, of course we did.

The next day we headed by train and taxi to the sleepy lanes of a small Hampshire town where I saw his car on the drive of a really nice suburban house.

"And you must be Jaime," his mum said at the front door after hugging Russ.

It was the same again, although Russ hadn't really discussed our temporary break-up with them, so we didn't have to repeat the story. I was made wonderfully welcome, and Russ and I stayed in his room that night and yes, we made love there, too.

In his car, he opened the glove compartment,

"My phone!" he said with a grin.

"Don't listen to the messages," I gasped.

"Why?" He grinned.

"I may have been a little unpleasant about you and your fiancée," I said.

"Gotta listen now!"

IT problems came to my rescue, of course. A Smartphone that had been left in a car with a flat battery for three months didn't come to life for at least an hour, by which time we were almost home.

He drove us back to Oxford for my Wednesday night late shift, picking me up from work at midnight and driving us back to his place. We pretty much stayed there for the rest of the week, getting to know each other all over again.

We had a fantastic time but had to return to real life—me to my work and study and him to his parishioners and rough sleepers, but it was a great life.

We booked a summer holiday and I finally got to Greece, visiting the Parthenon and other historical sites I'd been recommended by lecturers, one of which was actually being worked on by archaeologists while I was there, and thanks to an introductory email to the dig director from a tutor, they showed me and Russ how and let us dig and scrape, just like my childhood Sunday evening heroes on Channel Four's 'Time Team' had done.

As much as we pounded the historical streets, I could still be found in my teeny bikinis on the beach and got a great tan, going topless a few times. Russ was amazing and followed me wherever I wanted to go. We made love almost every night, and a few mornings. I was still madly in love with him.

Back home we visited Cheryl a second time, this time calling on my Uncle Frank and Aunt Polly again, who both joined the 'we love Russ' club. My cousin Jo asked me to be her bridesmaid for her upcoming autumn wedding in Portsmouth, and said she had already set an extra place for Russ.

I went back to Oxford and started my second Michaelmas term, still working my evenings and weekends, cheerfully walking to the night shelter whenever my gorgeous boyfriend was there.

Despite his Saharan triumphs, Russ never did find himself working out of Lambeth Palace, and the following Christmas I went with him to his Hampshire home and met more of his lovely family. His parents were both schoolteachers, and his younger sister was in her last year of university doing history with qualified teacher status.

She asked us how long we'd known each other and just loved the romance. Sat in his parents Jacuzzi with a bottle of wine, we bonded, more than I ever had with my own sister at least. I'd met her brother, fallen in love with him, thought I'd driven him away, wept for him, pined for him then got him back. She cried, and so did I.

We'd had a great holiday together, lived out of each other rooms almost, shared Christmas and were all over each other all the time.

On my second New Year's Eve, we were both back at work and I walked to his church hall with bags of goodies, just as I had a year before; it hardly seemed that twelve months had passed, but what a year.

Tom wasn't there this time, but Russ did have a selection of helpers waiting for me who walked down to meet me and relieve me of the four bags pulling my arms out of their sockets. Russ was leaning against the same doorway he'd spotted me from.

"Tea?" he said.

"Love one," I said. I followed him gratefully into his office and sat down.

He made me my usual Earl Grey and handed it across, then dropped to one knee. At first, I thought he was just going to kiss me but he took my hand and smiled, looking at the clock on the wall above where I was sat.

"My gorgeous, lovely, wonderful, Jaime," he said. "I can put my hand on my heart and say that it's a year to the very minute that I first lost my heart to you; 365 days of love, five hundred and twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes of you in my head, my heart and my soul and I can't even consider not having you in my life." I held my breath. "Will you marry me?"

"Oh, Russ!" I breathed out, "Yes! A hundred times yes!" I flung my arms around his neck and hugged him. He took my left hand, slid a bright emerald and diamond ring onto my finger and I was crying, laughing and giggling at the same time.

We walked out into the chilly night hugging each other as the 'five, four, three, two, one!' started and we kissed and loved our second new year in.

I rang Cheryl and told her straight away, and she told me to ring my mum. I demurred saying that she'd be in bed and asleep and Dad would create.

"You've got to sort it out with him, Babes," she said. "Speak to Russ about it."

Cheryl had taken to Russ in a big way. Not necessarily an atheist like me, she did have issues with organised religion, but loved the way that Russ had about him, that for him being a good Christian wasn't necessarily about believing the gospel word for word, but was more about being good to other people, and that was her all over.

The next morning, I rang Mum and told her that the nice priest she liked so much had proposed to me and I'd accepted. She squealed and I could hear her clapping, and she asked me the questions that Mum's do; the ring, the party, dates, dresses, bridesmaids and I let her enjoy it. I did, as well, of course.

I still had another year and a bit of my degree course, and another if I decided to do qualified teacher status or a Masters, so there was plenty of time.

I rang Uncle Frank to wish him a happy new year, told him my news and he was all cheers, saying what a lovely lad Russ was and how we were so good for each other.

"What does your dad think of him, he's never mentioned him," he said.

"He's never met him 'as such'," I said. "Other than as the person who pulled me away from Karen's flying fists—come on Uncle Frank, he's MY boyfriend. Even being a priest he'd still have a thousand things wrong with him," I affected Dad's nagging voice, "ONLY a vicar? He should at least be a Bishop by now at his age, and he's noooooowhere near as nice as Karen's beau!"

"Not convinced she has one," said Aunt Polly in the background, listening in. "My Jo-Jo tried to set her up with a friend of a friend and they went out to dinner. She just bitched about the restaurant, the food, eventually even him..." I could tell Aunt Polly was grimacing. "Poor bastard, Jo had to apologise to him afterwards."

I thought back to my first date with Russ and how amazing it had been, and the many we'd had since. My sister Karen, I was sure that no-one would ever meet her exacting standards or put up with her on-going critique.

As so many people had now told me, I had to sort it out with Dad, once and for all, good or bad.

"Uncle Frank?" I said, "I... I need to sort things out with Dad, for good or ill; I need to either clear the air or finally tell him that's it."

"I know, Baby," he said. "It's nasty, but we need to sort it once and for all." His tone changed a bit, lighter almost. "He's changed since Dad died," he said. "Mostly for the better. Are you and Russ working Thursday evening?"

We weren't, so while we were chatting he booked a hotel room in Oxford for Thursday night, promising to take Russ and I out to dinner to celebrate our engagement and 'sort Dad.'

We met them at their hotel for the promised dinner, and as we were chatting Uncle Frank came up with an idea to break down the walls with my dad, with some suggestions and nudges from Russ and Aunt Polly.

"I'm going to have to batter him to bits with Dad's—and his—shortcomings. He turned into Dad about fifteen years ago," Frank sighed. "He got passed over for a promotion at work that went to a younger lad, a graduate no less, and just got grumpier." He sighed again. "I fear it could either kill or cure, Babygirl," he said. "This could very well be the last time he ever speaks to either of us."

I listened again to Uncle Franks plan and it seemed good. Polly said she would have a coffee with Mum, and if they all agreed it would go into action in two weekends time, when I was only working the Friday evening.

*****

Mum and Dad, Frank and Polly, had all come to Oxford, as there was a suggestion that youngest son Dan was going to be going to Christ Church to do a Masters. Complete rubbish, of course, but the plan was Mum and Polly would wander off to see the Morse/Lewis sites (and to meet Russ in our favourite Café as it turned out), and Dad would be sat down and read the riot act by Uncle Frank, in Christ Church Meadow, at precisely one o'clock.

As I walked around the park at five minutes to, I could hear raised voices from some distance off. Heated discussion that got louder and louder.

"What is UP with you?"

"Nothing!" said the other voice.

"You're just like bloody Dad!" shouted the voice. "For fuck's sake, are you tooooo bloody stupid to see what's in front of your own eyes!"

"Go on Frank, what's before my eyes, go on tell me!" Dad snapped like a sergeant major. "Seeing as I'm just a stupid idiot!"

"You've turned in to Dad you... YOU STUPID IDIOT!"

"And what's wrong with that?"

"What's... what' wrong?" I slowed down my walk, evidently Uncle Frank was still going. "You have the most beautiful daughters, but you've never forgiven them the one thing they did to upset you."

"And what, PRAY, is that?"

"For not being boys!" Frank snapped right back. "Dad didn't approve of girls and never let anyone forget it. You spent your life trying to suck up to him and his concepts of what families should be like. I was lucky, I got to watch what went on and treat his 'nostalgia camouflaged as a lifestyle' with the contempt it deserved, rather than trying to live it; you on the other hand..."

"What!"

"I'm surprised you have a TV. If Dad had told you that you should only listen to the Home Service on the radio you bloody would have done!"

That was almost true; while the rest of the world had satellite, cable, even SmartTV, in our house it was still what could be received via the aerial attached to the roof. He complained when TV went digital and he had to buy a set-top box, even though it was better, and yes, our house still had a fine selection of VIDEOS! He raved about the cassette tapes of old radio comedies and would laugh at the same points his Father had, almost robotically.

He objected to the waste of money that would have been a digital radio where he could have actually listened to a huge selection of old radio programmes and recorded them on his old audio cassette player.

When the school asked why Karen and I didn't have access to the internet, he finally gave in and had the cheapest broadband he could find installed and complained that the router 'didn't look right'.

And Frank had just reminded him about it.

"Don't... Don't talk rubbish, Frank..." snapped Dad and I could hear in his voice the same wobble I'd caused when I trashed his crappy arguments that Christmas, "Father..."