A couple of years after we were married, Alan and I moved to a house on the Newland Hall Estate near Worcester.
As part of the settling in process, we started going to the local church.
Neighbours and people that we knew went there and it was just a short walking distance from our house. It was a new building and shared between the Anglicans and the Methodists. We went just about every Sunday. Later on, when Alan lost interest, it was just me.
Anyway, to cut this story short, I will tell you that after 6 months or so, we got a new Methodist minister, a Dr. Jeremiah Hemmings.
We heard from news sent ahead of him that Dr. Hemmings had an ailing wife, and, obviously, without her help his task in Newland Hall would be that much greater. So, in order to help him, the senior ladies of the Church decided to form a special group to give him whatever assistance he would need to carry out his duties. At least, until his wife recovered or another Minister was allocated to the parish.
He introduced himself from the pulpit the next Sunday morning, as he took his first service. Afterwards, we all got to meet him as we lined up to greet him and say a few words. I had on my best short blue dress and even standing there with my husband, I felt myself go weak at the knees and blush, as our eyes met and locked for several seconds. Those piercing blue eyes made my tummy do somersault's. He squeezed my hand, as I struggled to even mumble my name. He smiled and said something else which I immediately forgot as I saw him glance down and take in my leggy display. Afterwards, I saw him look at me a couple of times from across the room. I wondered then: Did he think my dress inappropriate for a visit to Church?
After that first congregation with the new minister, it was quite a boost when the senior ladies of the church asked me to join them in their project. I was proud and flattered to be honoured in this way. I was the youngest in the new group by quite a margin. I think there were about 7 or 8 such ladies who had promised to give their time on the project.
We met him again on the next Sunday at church, when the ladies of the new group were introduced to him, individually, after the service. He was a very distinguished looking gentleman in his mid-fifties with a well-educated voice of authority. He was a well-qualified academic with a doctorate and could also be called Dr. Hemmings. As I met him again, I felt my heart flutter. I also stumbled on my words when I gushed my short little piece, offering to help in any way I could. I was positively in awe of the man and I think he could see that. But, I have to say, he had a charming way of easing past such embarrassments and made a point of repeating my name when he shook my hand. Even this slight contact with him got my heart beating fast.
At our first meeting of the ladies group, we were all sworn to contribute and play our part. It was pointed out that we all had different abilities and talents and it was from this pool that we would be able to effectively help the new Minister. Duties were allocated roughly in accordance with seniority and just about everything had gone, before it came to my turn. In the end, I got something quite insignificant. So much so, that I can't even remember what it was. I would have been quite down about it, but, for a confidential aside whispered to me by the oldest lady there, Mrs Harcourt-Smythe.
"Dr. Hemmings mentioned to me that he has a special task in mind for you, my dear. He's going to talk to you about it. After all, he did insist that you be added to our group"
That one little piece of information changed things round for me. Instead of being down at being overlooked and undervalued, here I was feeling special and important. "A special task for me," I mused, on the way home. I was on cloud nine.
It was about a week later that I got to talk to him on a one to one basis. He had left a message for me to meet him in the church rooms, the Monday after the Sunday service. I opened the door and walked inside calling his name. There was nobody there and it was very quiet.
Suddenly, he appeared and greeted me. I nearly swooned there and then, as nervously, I stumbled over my words again. What must he think of me? I thought. But, taking control, he took my hand and guided me through to what passed as his office. A room with a chair and desk and also a small informal area with two easy chairs and a small table in between. We sat down and after a minute or two of putting me at my ease with pleasantries, he began to tell me about his wife.
I got a potted history of her illness and their domestic arrangements, the gist of it being that Mrs Hemmings was a long term care patient at a special hospice and would probably be there for some time. He explained that he got to see her at least once a week, but, they had both decided his work was too important to give up and that he was soldiering on as best he could.
"I am taking you into my confidence now, Marion," he went on. "It's much more difficult here without by wife at my side. I am sure you realise how much your own husband needs and depends on you, so you will appreciate what I am saying."
I nodded, not really knowing where he was going with all this. But, I knew, if I listened carefully, he would get round to the special task he wanted me to do.
"When I met you," he went on, "I felt a certain connection between us. And it came to me that you could be a real help to me in a certain delicate area. There's a kindness and understanding in your eyes that gave me hope."
"Now, I am about to tell you something in absolute confidence which you must promise not to repeat, not even to your husband, Do I have your word?"
I gulped at the seriousness of his manner. I, out of all the women in the group, was to be entrusted with a secret. It made me feel slightly dizzy, but I managed to nod a yes.
"I know that you are an experienced married lady, but, young enough to be broad minded in the ways of the world. In other words, if I talk about sex you are not going to be offended, or be prudish and run out of the room."
"No, of course not," I said trying hard to look and sound like a woman of the world used to discussing the intricacies of sex. My green eyes were wide with attention.
"You see, Marion, the fact of the matter is that I have not had sexual relations with my wife for some time. And, I think it's making me ill, certainly my doctor thinks so."
"Oh," I managed to utter. What a shame, I thought.
"I mean any normal man deprived of such an important part of marriage is bound to suffer. Don't you agree? Anyway for me......it's having a bad effect."
"Well yes......" I stuttered. "I suppose it would be....."
"And for a man in my position.....to start an affair....or to go out seeking a certain kind of company...is unacceptable. You can see that can't you, Marion?"
"Oh yes," I agreed readily, "that would be quite......erm....."
"So that brings me to you, Marion and the important task I have for you. Because, without your contribution, I feel I would struggle badly. The church and everything and everyone who depends on it would suffer."
