Forgive Me Father. Paul Gitsham
18th March
For those who weren’t believed.
Scaling the ancient stone wall wasn’t difficult. The metal spikes that lined the crumbling edifice were over three hundred years old and those that hadn’t been lost were rusting to nothingness. The whole wall needed major repair work, but the cost of restoring the medieval brickwork to its former glory would run into hundreds of thousands and the fundraising had barely started. Besides, who would want to break into the ruins of a deserted abbey?
Nathan Adams gallantly laid his coat over the top of the wall in the gap created by two missing spikes, then cupped his hands. The wall was about five feet tall and his companion, Rebecca Hill, easily pushed herself up. Nathan enjoyed the view as her short black skirt briefly rode up, exposing more of the snow-white flesh already tantalisingly revealed by the strategically placed rips in her black tights.
Nathan passed up the plastic carrier bag of cheap cider, before attempting to pull himself over as well. It was harder than it looked, and he wondered if he was going to have to drop back down and take a run-up, when his scrabbling feet found purchase. Rebecca grabbed the handle on the top of his backpack and with her help he finally flopped onto the wall, the rough stone scraping his stomach where his jacket had opened. The drop to the grass on the other side was slightly less, and he rolled clumsily over the wall, landing in an untidy heap.
‘Are you OK?’ hissed Rebecca.
‘Fine.’ he said, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. The weed in his pocket and the booze would take the edge off it, and if all went to plan, he might even get a shoulder rub later. He put that thought quickly to one side, lest he embarrass himself.
Raising his arms and suppressing a wince, he helped her down to the ground – for a brief instant, their faces were bare millimetres apart. He froze. Should he kiss her or should he wait until they were a bit more mellow? His indecision lasted just seconds and then the moment was gone. Was that a flash of disappointment in her eyes?
Rebecca had been here before and she took charge, taking his hand and leading him further into the abbey grounds.
An evening in the graveyard of a ruined abbey, in winter, wouldn’t be Nathan’s first choice for a romantic date, but he was happy to let Rebecca call the shots; he’d spent most of the previous week persuading her to give him a chance tonight and he wasn’t going to ruin it with a bit of squeamishness. An afternoon spent trawling through her Facebook and Instagram posts had revealed her favourite music – death metal bands, all of which sounded the same to him when he’d streamed their albums on Spotify. The T-shirt he’d ordered online had arrived that morning – all shiny and smelling of plastic packaging. He hoped it wasn’t obvious that a week ago he’d never even heard of Flesh Kitchen.
The graveyard was in the centre of the abbey’s grounds. Nathan dimly remembered the layout from school visits, but it looked different in the dark with only a sliver of moon to light their way. The glow of Middlesbury town centre behind them did little to pierce the gloom. He stumbled along behind Rebecca, hoping it wasn’t much further. The weather had been dry and the skies clear, but February was February and the cold was beginning to bite. Rebecca had promised that she knew a cosy spot inside one of the crypts, and that they could light a fire with no one noticing.