Worse Than Wicked

Josy came after me, asking me what had happened. She couldn’t understand why I had been so touchy. He was only trying to help. He knows about you and Pete. He wants to make you happy. But I couldn’t listen to this anymore. I wanted Pete back and not some pervy money-bags who thought he could do what he liked to me just because I was on a downer.

The girls were less sympathetic the next week. No more cream buns. I was just feeling sorry for myself, they said, and they couldn’t understand why I had offended Raymond. I said I would never go back to Raymond’s again, and got on with work. I didn’t need them. Didn’t need anybody. Not Pete, or Josy, and certainly none of the slappers who worked in that office.

Meeting Mark was a turning point in my life, though I didn’t know it. Josy was the only friend I had by this time, and she was still trying to help me get through this “difficult stage”. I was starting to wonder whether it really was just a “stage” or whether I had to adapt to a new type of life altogether, one where I was not expected to be happy at all. Then Josy said she knew a guy who was alone. Really kind, good-looking, intelligent. My first thought: why would he want to come anywhere near a screwed up mare like me?

The first night he took me to a quiet restaurant. The owner, Steve, knew him well. There were smiles all round and pats on the back and Steve shook my hand and showed us to a nice little table for two. Over dinner it came out Mark was a priest.

“Well, not a priest exactly,” he laughed. “I’m not qualified. I read occasionally in church and help with some of the jobs that need doing. We’ve got an elderly congregation. They need plenty of support just to get through the day.”

I found myself listening without getting bored. He painted a picture of a warm, friendly environment, where everyone helped everyone else. Then he asked me about my life. I had an idea Josy had already filled him in on the juicy bits, because he asked me with pity already in his eyes. His kind manner and easygoing questions were too much of a bait for me and out it all came, the whole gory story. I told him about Pete and the wicked things that he had done to me, worse than wicked, and how everyone since Pete had left was trying to get me back into the swing of things, and every man I met was just trying to hit it off with me because they knew I was available. Surprisingly, by the time I had finished, he was still sitting there. Not only that, but he looked even more interested than before. We finished our meal, and he took me home. There was no funny business, though I wanted him to kiss me. He just took my hand, and told me he would pray for me.

I went to bed that night with something burning inside me. It was a good feeling, solid, warm, real. I knew I would see Mark again, and I knew he had all the answers. I didn’t know what it was that I felt. Love, friendship, hope? It could have been all of those things. But something had come into my life that I had not known before, and for the first time in ages, I found myself looking forward to the dawn of a new day.