Chapter 7
There was a large car park close to Hexham town centre; they had seen a couple of possible places to park up overnight as they drove into the town, but had wanted to be nearer the centre as they went off to explore.
Wandering through the historic streets, Aaron would have liked to slip his hand into Jackson's; there was no reason why he shouldn't, he didn't have to worry about anyone he knew seeing them, but he wasn't ready to be quite that demonstrative in public just yet. But their hands touched occasionally, fleeting caresses of skin against skin, over in seconds, followed by a glance, a smile of shared delight and intoxication.
Jackson didn't mind – well not too much – he knew Aaron needed to sort things in his head at his own pace, challenging his own logic. And to be honest, it was often safer not to be too blatant; even if he did fancy the lad walking next to him something rotten!
The road lead into a small market square with permanent covered stalls lining one side of it, half hidden from view by parked cars. But dominating the area was the warm stone of Hexham Abbey.
"There has been a church in this area since 674AD" read Jackson from one of the leaflets. "That's over thirteen hundred years. D'you mind if we go on for a look?"
Aaron looked at him quizzically, his nose and lip curling in puzzlement. "Didn't know you went in for all that God stuff."
"I don't particularly, but I do quite like church buildings; the architecture, stone work. You coming?"
"Bit of a busman's holiday then, isn't it," mumbled Aaron, following him anyway.
Their eyes took a moment to adjust to the contrast from the bright sunlight to the soft, mottled light inside the Abbey. Jackson paid a couple of pounds for a guide book and began wandering, examining walls, window frames in great detail; stuff Aaron couldn't get interested in. He followed him for a few minutes then flung himself in one of the wooden pews. It was a minute or two before Jackson noticed he wasn't behind him and retraced his steps.
"You ok?" he questioned, slipping into the seat beside him.
"Yeah, fine. You go and enjoy yourself. It is actually quite nice, just sitting here." Aaron smiled, meaning what he said. Sometimes it really did feel like he lived his life in a goldfish bowl, time alone was a rarity, unless he was sulking in his bedroom. Here he could almost feel the peace radiating from the building. Besides, he could see Jackson was enjoying himself and he wasn't going to spoil that for him. He watched Jackson wander away from him, then closed his eyes; he couldn't remember the last time he had set foot in a church although Ashley had tried to hold a service when his granddad died, it was in Zac and Lisa's back garden so it really didn't count.
Damn! He hadn't meant to think of his granddad; of the harsh, unkind things he had said the last time he saw him. He sighed; nothing could put that right now.
"If these walls could talk, what tales they could tell."
The quiet voice behind him made Aaron jump
"There will be nothing new to them; no surprising virtue or flaw in human nature that they have not seen before. And they still stand; unshocked and unshockable. I'm Finn."
"I'm waiting for someone," Aaron took a deep, steadying, breath. "I'm waiting for my boyfriend."
"As it happens, so am I."
Aaron turned then, but he didn't see the man sitting in the pew behind him, he saw the dog collar, surprise flooding his features.
"God! I know! A gay vicar; it was very shocking to some of the parish ladies. I bribed them with my expertise at tray bakes, me and Nigella. That's the TV cook, not my other half."
"How did you know that...about me?" Aaron questioned, feeling suddenly sick.
"I didn't. Switch the gaydar off when I'm in uniform" he pointed to the dog collar "and it doesn't seem to be tattooed on your forehead. I saw a young lad sitting alone in my church, thought I'd come and say 'hi'. Finn Nicolson." He held his hand out towards Aaron.
"Aaron Livesy."
The firm grip caught Aaron rather by surprise. He turned further round in the pew and looked more closely at the man behind him. He estimated him to be in his thirties, kind of chunky; a smiling face topped by what could only be described as a mop of curly blond hair.
"Pleased to meet you Aaron. You here on holiday? I don't think I have seen you around the town."
"Holiday, yeah. We just set off yesterday. We're kinda travelling about, nothing planned."
"Sounds great!" enthused Finn. "And home is?"
"Emmerdale," he sighed quietly to himself as he said it; he had been trying to banish all the intrusive thoughts of home and real life, enjoy the moment. "Yorkshire," he elaborated.
"And how is it?" Finn spoke quietly now; he hadn't missed the subtle signs of distress when Aaron named his home village.
"It's ok...small." Aaron had turned away from the priest and was gazing into his lap, his fingers twisting at the cord of his trackkies.
"And is that a problem?"
"No...well a bit."
"Are you able to tell me anymore?"
Aaron looked up at Finn, hesitant; unsure whether he should go on. He tried to look into his eyes, to read what he was seeing there, but the dappled light revealed only luminous pools, yet they seemed to be inviting him in.
"If we talk - about the serious stuff I mean - it stays between us. I am as solid and unshockable as these walls."
The quiet voice was gentle, reassuring. Aaron took a deep breath; he could feel the floodgates within himself opening.
"I didn't want to be...gay; I couldn't be gay."
...
Time meant nothing, it was irrelevant, it passed; it stood still. Aaron couldn't have said how long he talked, how many tears flowed when he spoke of Paddy and Jackson; the tears that had flooded his eyes and fallen still lay on his cheeks, but he didn't wipe them away. Quiet sobs had wracked his body when he remembered the blows he had rained down on Paddy as he struggled to help him to admit he was gay. And how wonderful it felt when Paddy took him in his arms and told him that it didn't matter; that he loved him. And still he had tried to betray that love by ending his life, not understanding. Yet he smiled too, through his tears, when he spoke of Paddy and Jackson; Paddy, the father he never had, the best father he could ever have; the best friend he knew he could never push away, who he would love until his dying day. And Jackson! Enduring and at last understanding the reason for the physical pain he had caused him, forgiving him, having faith in him, his faithfulness allowing him to grasp redemption. He loved being with him, although he knew he had often made it difficult for Jackson to enjoy his company. He spoke, for the first time, of the beauty he saw in Jackson, the revelation, just dawning, that Jackson wanted to know his mind as well as his body, the caring and the desire he saw as he gazed into the dark luscious chocolate pools of his eyes; to be so wanted was amazing, awe-inspiring, terrifying. To feel so safe in his arms that he never wanted to leave them was something he had not expected. He spoke to himself as much as to the priest, exploring memories, teasing understanding from confusion, releasing demons. And all the while Finn's gentle voice guided his exploration and wove a magical spell of comfort around him.
...
Jackson rounded the corner – and wondered who was sitting so close to Aaron. Ok, so it was the row behind him, but they were obviously deep in conversation. Aaron was twisted in his seat, elbows resting on the back of the pew, his fingertips steepled against his lips when he wasn't speaking.
Jackson slid into the seat beside Aaron and was heartened to see his face light up at his arrival. But there had been tears; Jackson recognised the flood of recent emotion in his blue eyes. He pushed his knee against Aaron's leg, just for a fleeting moment, but it was enough, a silent message of reassurance.
"Jackson! This is Finn. The Reverend Finn Nicholson. Finn, this is Jackson Walsh, my boyfriend." For a moment Jackson was speechless; he didn't know what had surprised him more, Aaron speaking to a reverend, or being introduced so firmly as his boyfriend. But there was no time to consider the matter; his proffered hand was being grasped in a firm grip.
"Aaron and I had just discovered something in common; we were both waiting for our boyfriends. Mine's gone on the Tescos run, which I have to say, is always a bit of a worry as he comes back with lots of bags but nothing to eat, if you know what I mean. Aaron tells me you are a builder Jackson, what do you think of the Abbey?"
As Jackson fell into an easy conversation with Finn, Aaron relaxed; where had all that come from? How had he ended up spilling so much of himself to a complete stranger? He was content now to sit and listen to the quiet murmurings of Jackson and the priest. He felt curiously light headed after the unexpected outburst of emotions. He might have had a few pints except he had had nothing stronger than coffee all day. But something was different, something within himself, he couldn't quite put his finger on it, except, perhaps he was feeling just a tiny bit more comfortable in his own skin.
