Scandal (12 page)

   “I’m sorry son,” the bride’s father had said.  “She just doesn’t want to get tied down at such a young age.” 

   Fighting through his own tears he’d managed to respond.

   “But why plan all of this?  She was never forced into anything she didn’t want to do.”

   “I really don’t know son.  I’m as shocked and as baffled as you are.” 

   Father Michael felt he needed to see her.

   “Where is she now?  Can I see her?  Just let me talk to her.”  Her father bowed his head before finding the courage to deliver the final blow.

   “She’s gone,” he said.

   “Gone?  But where?  Why?”

   “She just told me to tell you that she needed to get away to clear her head.  She also wanted me to tell you that she’s very sorry and never intended to hurt you.  She just got carried away, she said, with the dream of a wedding.”  His words offered little comfort, he knew that.  Unsure of what to do next with a man who had a broken heart, a man he’d grown fond of, he held out a hand for Father Michael to take.  When he didn’t respond, Felicity’s dad thought he’d give it one last shot.  “Come on son.  Come and have a drink with us.” 

   The look of anguish on Father Michael’s face as he looked up with red eyes had pained Felicity’s father.  To think his daughter was the cause of so much anguish was an atrocity in itself.  Her mother had broken down in church upon hearing the news.  For Father Michael though it was worse.  He’d been left having to face his friends and relatives.  What shame she’d brought upon him.  What humiliation.  He wanted to hate her but how could he after all the love he felt for her? 

   Wiping his eyes Father Michael had said, “I really don’t want to be around people right now.  You go.  Take Felicity’s mum and make sure she’s alright.” 

   A pat on the back was all Felicity’s dad could do.  Before he left the room, there was one more thing he needed to say.

   “There’s no reason why you still can’t call round to see us.  We’ve grown fond of you over the years and we were very proud to have you marry our daughter.”

   With a forced smile Father Michael had replied, “Thank you.  That means a lot.” 

   The door had closed firmly behind him leaving Father Michael alone.

   He couldn’t explain to anyone how he’d felt that day or how he was going to get through it.  He did though, thanks to his mum, dad and four brothers.  No-one ever mocked him for being jilted at the Altar.  Only positive support was offered.  And in time, very slowly he began to play squash on a Friday after work and began to go out again with his friends.  It took two years for the raw pain to dissolve; two long, painful years to start feeling human again.  He never saw nor heard from Felicity again.  After a painful decision, he cut all ties with her parents, apart from sending a Christmas card once a year.

   When Jane came into his life another year later, Father Michael was cautious.  They’d met at the squash club, eventually going out for a drink.  She made him start to live again and to laugh again, gradually easing him out from inside the protective barrier he’d put up around himself.  After three years of dating, they bought a house together.  Father Michael didn’t want to tempt fate so never proposed to her.  She’d never hinted about marriage either.  It took another two years to get the house how they wanted it but it was worth the wait.  But having a four bed-roomed, detached house with en-suite bathroom, double garage, conservatory and gardens to the front and back came with a high price.  Luckily they both had well paid jobs.  Jane worked as the secretary to a heart surgeon and Father Michael had been a computer programmer.  If it hadn’t have been for his job, he probably would have gone off the rails when Felicity jilted him.  He’d found love again in Jane, something he’d thought was impossible to do.

    The bombshell came one Monday afternoon when he’d left work early, feeling unwell.  He’d been surprised to see Jane’s car in the drive when he came home; she never finished early.  Upon hearing a noise upstairs, he’d gone straight up to surprise her but it was he who’d gotten the surprise.  As he opened their bedroom door, Jane looked up from the bed covers in total shock.  She wasn’t alone.  Father Michael didn’t know who the stranger was and didn’t stay to find out.  With the only thing on him being his wallet, he walked out, never uttering a single word.  He checked into a hotel and drank solidly for four days, hardly eating.  After refusing to let the maids in day after day, he was eventually asked to leave.  For the second time in his life, the feeling of rejection was eating him alive.  To be hurt badly once was bad enough but the second time had been worse.  He’d staggered aimlessly through the streets that afternoon oblivious to the stares and comments.  Slumping against the wall of a church looking like a tramp, the priest who’d worked at the church at the time had spotted him.  With a gentle hand on his shoulder he’d said, “Why don’t you come in son?  Have a warm drink.” 

   In a daze, Father Michael had followed.  There were a few people in there dressed like him, some worse, more unkempt, but they all had a warm drink and someone to talk to.  The priest sat next to him and watched Father Michael drink his soup hungrily.  He knew that underneath all the grime and whiskers was a young man in desperate need of help.  He’d seen his kind far too often.

   “There’s a place you can have a shower and a shave if you need to son.” 

   The smell of alcohol wafted over the priest as Father Michael opened his mouth to speak.

   “I’m off to a hotel,” he slurred.

   “Son, they won’t let you into a hotel looking the way you do.  Have a wash first, then see about going.”  Even though he hadn’t asked for more soup, the priest handed Father Michael another cupful with a chunk of bread.  It was sad to see adults reduced to this.  The priest had seen it so many times now.  He himself had once worked as a banker, walking passed beggars all the time as they held out cups for any loose change.  It was because of them he’d left the bank to become a priest.  Father Michael was just another lost sheep needing a chance to get back on his feet.  “There’s a hostel nearby if you need a few days to gather your thoughts,” he’d told Father Michael.  “And the church is always open to you.” 

   Father Michael had searched the priest’s face.  It was old and lined but his eyes spoke volumes.  Something happened to Father Michael at that silent moment.  He didn’t know how but he just felt he’d gotten the call from God.  The priest sensed it too.  He handed Father Michael a card with a name and phone number on.

   “He’ll guide you son.  Have faith.” 

   After giving Father Michael his third cup of soup, the priest tendered to another man who’d just come in.  The soup had warmed Father Michael’s body through, even sobering him a little.  Finding a telephone box outside, he called the name on the card immediately.  That single phone call had been the first steps he’d made to become a priest.  Years later, his destiny had led him away from Ireland to a church in Leeds; his first ever sermon only days away. 

   Making the choice to move away from Ireland just six months ago, had been a hard decision for him, especially because it would mean leaving his parents.  There were plenty of other brothers to watch over them, so when he heard of the chance to take over from Father Patrick, he knew he’d be a fool to let the chance slip away from him.

   Becoming a priest had been the making of him.  He began to see the work the church did as very rewarding, wanting to give back something for the help he’d received during his hour of need.  Ashleigh’s circumstances were so different from how his had been but the advice he could give her could prove beneficial.  His role as a priest had barely started.  He’d only touched the very fringes of what would be expected of him.  The advice he’d given Ashleigh had felt right and it had felt good being able to help.  Even if all he could offer was a pair of ears to listen, he knew the outcome could have the right consequences.

   He said a little prayer for Ashleigh that evening, asking for her to be guided and for her to find strength within to be able to work things out with her husband.  He sensed she was vulnerable but had also felt she had a lot more about her too; more strength in her than she herself realised.

There were mumbles coming from the television in the bedroom as Ashleigh let herself into the flat, guessing Finn was still in there.  Feeling nervous at seeing him, she knocked on the bedroom door softly and went in.  He looked like he’d been crying.  Switching off the television he patted the bed.  Ashleigh went over and climbed on the bed.

   “Are you alright?” she asked tenderly.

   “I’m not sure.”

   “What’s wrong?”

   “I’ve treated you badly today and I don’t know why.  I’m so sorry.”

   “Shush my love,” she replied softly.  Cradling his head on her chest she stroked his hair.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

   “No, not really.  I am really sorry though.  Can you ever forgive me?” he asked pleadingly.

   “I already have.”

   “I love you Ashleigh.”

   “I love you too Finn.”

   They ended the evening snuggled on the bed watching a romantic film.  She felt as though Finn was back.  A silent prayer of thanks was sent to God, as once again, her pleas for guidance and strength had been answered.        

Chapter Twelve

If Father Michael had been nervous for his first sermon, it hadn’t shown.  Finn had gone with Neil to a football match so Ashleigh had gone to church.  She hadn’t told Finn about her plans for the day but she was determined to show support for Father Michael.

   The congregation had been full and he delivered his sermon well.  As he stood at the doors at the end of the service, waiting to greet the congregation, he was pleased with the positive comments he was given.  When he caught sight of Ashleigh standing by herself, he touched her wrist, asking if he could have a word with her.  For reasons unknown, Ashleigh felt nervous being alone with him.

   “Hello Ashleigh.  I won’t keep you.”

   “Okay.”

   “Firstly, how are you?”

   “I’m fine thank you.”  She saw him frown.  “Really I am.”  Hoping she wasn’t just saying that for his benefit, he didn’t pursue the matter.

   “Good, good.  The other thing is, are you still available to run a stall in two weeks time?” 

   She’d forgotten about the offer she’d made about covering a stall but daren’t admit to that.

   “Yes of course.”

   “Fantastic.  There’s a lady who lives at the back of the church.  Muffit Lane I think, number ten.  She’s organising the event and when I told her about you, she asked if I’d send you round to see her.”

   “I see,” Ashleigh said.

   “Would that be alright?  She said she’s in most afternoons.”

   “Okay.  I’ll have a wander round then.”

   “Thank you.  I’m in charge of the book stall; should be fun.” 

   Ashleigh thought it was nice how he made a joke about his role at the fete.

   “I enjoyed the sermon today Father,” she added, as he walked her to the door.

   “Thank you.  I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

   “I’ll see you later then Father.” 

   As she proceeded down the path he called out to her.

   “Ashleigh.”   She turned round promptly.

   “Yes.”

   “Don’t forget, the door’s always open.”  She didn’t speak, just smiled.

   Father Michael kicked away some wandering leaves from the church doors, with a sense of pride running through him.  He’d done it!  He’d started his career with flying colours.  Feeling like he was truly home, he scooped up the collection plate ready to give to Mr Gregson the choir master.  The rest of the day was more or less his own to do whatever he pleased.  Tomorrow he would introduce himself in an assembly at one of the local primary schools.  It was going to be a full time job being a priest.  Apart from it feeling good, it felt right; so pleased he’d followed his heart all those years ago.  This path had been his destiny and for the first time in his adult life, he felt content.  

Ashleigh was surprised to see Finn home before her.  She hadn’t expected him until a little later.  Even though he was facing her as she walked in, he didn’t look up or show any acknowledgement.  Instead, his eyes glared intently at the television.  She could tell he wasn’t actually watching it.

   “Hello Finn.  You’re home early.” 

   Upon hearing her words he immediately slammed down the remote control for the television, making her jump.

   “Where have you been?” he snapped.

   “To church, why?”

   “Don’t question a question Ashleigh.”  She couldn’t understand why he was so angry.  “Why did you go?  You never said anything to me this morning about going to church.” 

   A little puzzled by his attitude, she suddenly realised her words would have to be chosen carefully.

   “I like church.”

   “You like church?” he repeated mockingly.  “Or is it the priest you like?”

   “Don’t be absurd Finn.”  Within a split second, Finn was out of his chair and up close to her.  He grabbed her tightly by the shoulders, pushing her into the wall.

   “How dare you use that tone with me?” 

   Spittle flicked out onto her face as he spoke with a rage she’d only ever seen before coming from her father.

   “I’m sorry Finn.  Please let go, you’re hurting me.” 

   His nails dug into her arms.

   “I don’t want you going there any more, do you hear me?”

   “But why?  I like the church.”

   “I think it’s the priest you like really,” he accused for a second time.  “He’s a lot younger than the other one they had.”

   “That’s a crazy thing to say Finn.”  Again he slammed her against the wall.

   “I’m not crazy.  I saw the way he kept you back today when everyone had gone.  How clever is that?”

   “He wanted to discuss the fete that’s coming up in two weeks.  I’m doing a stall.”

   “Over my dead body.”

   “But Finn, I’ve already agreed.” 

   The next shove caught her head on the corner of a shelf, causing her to whimper a little.

   “You’ll have to tell him you can’t do it then won’t you?”

   “But why?”  Ashleigh was sobbing now.  Not because her head had started to bleed but because of the way Finn was treating her.

   “Because I say so,” he yelled loudly. 

   He pushed her one last time into the wall before releasing his vice like grip on her arms.  Picking up his jacket, he slammed the door behind him.  Ashleigh was left in a heap on the floor, unable to comprehend what had just happened.  She slowly got to her feet and staggered into the bathroom.  The cut on her head wasn’t big but it felt deep.  Blood began to congeal in her hair, causing it to tangle.  She caught sight of her pale complexion in the bathroom mirror; the collar of her blouse now stained heavily with her blood.

   The warm shower stung the wound to her head but it was the only way she could clean her hair.  The water was still stained with crimson despite having spent twenty minutes standing under its warm flow.  Her fingers probed the wound which immediately became sticky.  Stitches were necessary but totally out of the question.  Reaching for some plasters, she carefully moved her hair away from the gash, sticking several plasters across it.  By now her head was throbbing.  There was a first aid box in the cupboard under the sink which held a small piece of bandage.  She wrapped it around her head as a way of soaking up the excess blood.  After taking a couple of tablets for the headache pounding inside her head, Ashleigh placed a towel on her pillow and lay down.  Feeling sick and dizzy now, the security of her bed felt the most sensible of places to be. 

   The sound of the bedroom door closing several hours later woke Ashleigh.  Finn slid into bed and moved up close to her.  With her back to him he had no way of knowing she was awake.  He nuzzled into the back of her neck but there wasn’t a chance in Hell Ashleigh was going to respond to him.  The smell of alcohol wafted passed her.  For a fleeting moment, she felt like a teenager again.  Everything she’d endured in her mixed up life suddenly came flooding back. When Finn put an arm around her, she stayed perfectly still, frozen with dread. 

   He soon began to snore.  To lie there any longer would have been torture.  Pushing his heavy limbs to one side, Ashleigh slid out of bed.  Finn didn’t stir.  Taking a blanket from the wardrobe, she tiptoed into the lounge, making a bed up on the settee.  Her head felt extremely tender but the blood flow had virtually stopped.  How she’d be able to face Finn in the morning she didn’t know.  They’d been married for two months and yet the love he’d shown her seemed to be quickly dissolving.  Twice now he’d shown odd behaviour.  Was there a side to him he’d failed to warn her about?  Should she ask him what had caused him to show such aggression or should she just ignore the incidents, pretend they hadn’t happened?  But how could she ignore such an outburst of anger?  The man had been like someone who was possessed, not the man she’d met and fell in love with just over a year ago.  The loneliness she’d felt as a teenager was back, so was the sickly feelings of being scared for her life.  Fresh tears wet her pillow.  Crying for most of the night through utter confusion, she felt as though she’d been plunged once again into a life of Hell.  What had happened earlier could never be discussed with anyone, ever.  Of that she was certain. 

   During those lonely moments that evening, Ashleigh’s thoughts once again went to the one person who’d offered her comfort recently.  And it was that someone who had intrigued her, but Ashleigh knew he could be dangerous in her life.  Father Michael must never know how she was beginning to feel about him.  And above all, neither must Finn.