At 3:30 I had read three chapters of three different books, updated my games, read people's comments on my status and private messaged anybody who really cared. Everyone seemed to have made the assumption that my dad had died of some sort of condition related to old age. Irrationally, this was annoying me. He was healthy and rational, clever and engaging. He was not at death's door, he was fine up until the moment my mother pulled out at the roundabout. Somehow I could feel myself directing my anger at those people who didn't know him well enough to know that he wasn't unwell.
There was a knock at the door. I stood up to answer and was almost knocked out of the way by my sister running to answer the door. She flung the door open, leaving me standing awkwardly in the hall. Ali showed in a man, moved him to the sitting room and sat him at the end of the sofa where I had been a moment ago. It was a man in a blue shirt with a dog collar and jacket. He was wearing jeans and suede boots.
"This is Bryn, from church." my sister said unnecessarily. He stood to shake my hand, but as he did, my mother walked into the room and he moved to embrace her, her grief superseding my own. He obviously knew her and she seemed pleased to see him. He sat back down as she did and he encouraged her to talk. My sister reappeared with coffee cups and cake and sat on the sofa opposite Bryn.
"I'm so sorry Carol." he spoke warmly with a deep Welsh accent. "This must be a very difficult day."
He was very attentive as my mother spoke about Dad, and although she finally described a father I recognised, the vicar seemed to know a funny, old man who sang loudly and knew everyone at church. He started to talk about the service, the hymns, whether or not I wanted to read. I didn't know what he was doing here. He was charming, intense and perfectly pleasant, but my father and I had had many conversations about the Church, faith and religion. I thought we were singing from the same hymn sheet.
"It's like organising a wedding, but in only two days..." Bryn was saying sympathetically, that must have been where Ali got that phrase from; "As you know." He did a sweeping gesture with his arms to encompass my mum and Alison, then with his eyes, included me in the gesture, just in case he'd got me wrong and I wasn't the unmarried sister, but actually the previously married / divorced sister. I held his gaze for a few seconds, but he didn't look away. He obviously had an inner confidence that didn't put him off. Of course. That must be what faith does for you. He had pale blue eyes and a white and black beard. His hair was almost grey. He was very handsome, and tall, and looked toned and slender; the kind of middle-aged man who has cycled a lot. I continued to look at him, dispassionately, curiously, feeling protected by my lack of belief and his intensity of belief. A man who knew he could not be desired. He had on a wedding ring, so I assumed he had four children under 15 like other vicars I had met.
It was then I noticed Alison. She wasn't staring at him, but seemed to be aware of his every word, laughing a little too loud and sitting far forward on the edge of her seat. She's got a crush on the vicar I thought. The absurdity of the situation made me inhale quickly, trying not laugh and every one stared at me. Fortunately, I appeared to have picked an opportune moment as they seemed to think I was stifling a sob and all three tipped their heads to one side in a gesture of sympathy which made me want to giggle more than ever. I wasn't happy, I must have been overwhelmed. I sipped my coffee to cover my mouth and inadvertently tipped the cup too much making me dribble coffee all over my front. I brought my arm up to my chin to cover my t shirt.
Alison, momentarily distracted from her man shot me a glance which conveyed her suspicion, but I had composed myself by then and she turned back to Bryn, who by then was in conversation with Mum.
I didn't think that a good looking vicar was the reason for my sister's newly found interest in the Church. She was not that shallow, but neither was my father, and I found it very hard to reconcile the man I knew with one who enjoyed an active life in the community of faith.
Then Bryn was standing to leave and asking if he could pray with us. I smiled and moved away, collecting cups and plates as if this had nothing to do with me. I was not in the right mood for forgiveness yet.
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