1 out of 2 :)
Please read and comment on the author's note at the end of the next chapter.
Love you,
K. xx
***
They thankfully weren't approached by a single well-wishing parishioner of his while they enjoyed coffee slash Earl Grey and the strawberry scones, which were indeed well deserving of their fame, in Miss Rosa's cosy tearooms. There was only one more customer inside, an elderly gentleman who was hidden behind his paper the whole time. Miss Rosa was a pleasant middle-aged woman with a thick Portuguese accent, who served them their treats herself and disappeared in the kitchen right after.
There was still a moment Ulla found somewhat challenging when he put down his cup and leaned down to his paper bag, announcing "I have a present for you." Ulla froze with her teeth sunk into her second scone.
Um, how about no? Ulla Svensson didn't accept presents from men! If one was to be completely honest, the men she'd slept with had never given her presents. They just weren't the type. She'd been propositioned and offered 'presents,' which had made her feel like a call girl and had been refused most firmly. Which often involved such phrasal verbs as 'sod off' and its ruder equivalents.
She quickly chewed and swallowed - still unsure what to say - when he put a book in front of her on the table. Ulla snorted.
"Heretics Anonymous," Ulla read the title.
"It's very good," he said with a smile. "A Catholic school, hormonal teens, and no pressure to convert," he announced. "I think you might enjoy it."
He picked up his cup again, and Ulla touched the picture of a slice of burnt toast on the cover.
"If memory serves me right, you suggested I read up in the genre I'm writing," he said innocently. "I think this book could be a good compromise between your interest in middle-grade fiction and–" He trailed away and took a sip of his tea.
"And what?" Ulla asked. "Oh! You're being clever here, Rev, aren't you?" She shook her finger at him. She should be feeling pretty cheesed off, shouldn't she? He was trying to educate her. Enlighten her, even! And yet, she didn't. Ulla laughed again. "At least you didn't buy me a Bible."
"I should hope I'm more subtle than that," he said.
Ulla shook her head and chuckled.
"You're lucky I'm so full of the moreish scones I don't feel like picking up a fight," she said and bit into her scone again.
He saluted her with his dainty china cup. Clever, clever man. By the way his mannerly tea drinking was giving her palpitations! These lips, on the rim of a cup! Ooph!
Also, between him buying her a good book - at least not the Good Book - and them visiting his church next, in how much bloody trouble was she exactly?!
***
"It's– beautiful," Ulla said and cleared her throat.
She looked over the brick building, with its arches and a slim tower, and neat round columns. Ulla knew nothing of architecture, and the architecture of places of worship especially, but all and all, the church looked... charming. As in, one could imagine them filming a telly show here, about a quirky female vicar and her misadventures with the locals and eventual wedding to a tall dark stranger.
"It's not the oldest in the region, but there is some possible Roman work, and the tower is Norman," he said, looking at the building as well. "It was renovated, or one could say almost rebuilt from scratch, in 1876, and was paid for by the Oakby family. There has traditionally been a Holyoake vicar in it, with us being the descendants of an illegitimate child of Jonah Oakby, the crusader."
"Blimey, you lot are posh and naughty at the same time," Ulla murmured, and cocked her head on one side. "So, who's the vicar there now?"
"Not a Holyoake," he answered with a chuckle. "The Reverend Phipps. Let me introduce you," he said lightly and took a large step towards the gate of the church yard.
"No!" Ulla hissed, grabbed his left arm, and sank her nails into the sleeve of his jacket.
"I need to pass Mrs. Tiddles' envelope to the Reverend Phipps," he said looking down at her with laughing eyes.
"Maybe I'll wait here then," she grumbled, letting go of his arm. "What if I spontaneously combust when I step on the hallowed ground?"
"Are you a vampire?" he asked, giving her an amused smirk. "Darling, I think you largely overestimate the judgement this institution places on individuals." He pointed at the rainbow flag, fluttering happily in the crispy Winter air on a post near the porch. "And besides, I have the utmost assurance of the underlying purity of your heart."
Ulla, who was unconsciously following him as his velvet baritone lured her along the pathway to the entrance to the church, dug her heels in the ground.
"Why?" she exclaimed, summarising so many emotions and thoughts in this one word. Because– why would he?!
He looked her over and smiled one of his most beautiful smiles.
"It's my superpower, remember?" he said and picked up her hand. "C'mon, darling, let's see if you start smoking and turn into a bat."
He took a step forward, and Ulla followed.
***
Inside, the church was neat, and just as charming, and surprisingly didn't cause an immediate rageful fit in Ulla - nor a panic attack. The first thing she saw by the door was a large cork board with the sign that said 'St. Peter's Mission' with booklets of multiple charities pinned to it, as well as arranged on a table nearby. And then she caught a movement from the corner of her eye, and saw Holyoake bow and cross himself. Ulla's spine grew stiff. See?! That's why she wanted to stay outside! What's she supposed to do now?!
He then looked at her and grinned, "You look properly pale, love. Maybe you are a blood sucker."
She narrowed her eyes at him, but felt too tongue-tied to give him the answer he deserved.
"Come," he said again, picked up her hand, and pulled her along the aisle between the rows of long benches.
She caught a glimpse of a half screened away area that looked like a typical children's soft play place with colourful toys and a well-stocked bookshelf, as well as an Ikea table and chairs, those green ones with fat legs one could see everywhere.
"Ah, the Reverend Holyoake," a pleasant quiet voice came from behind another screen to their left, and Ulla jolted.
"The Reverend Phipps, allow me to introduce you to Ms. Ulla Svensson," Oliver said smiling at a grey-haired man of colour who walked towards them. "And isn't it too early for the honorific?" Holyoake said.
"Well, it's just a few months," the Reverend Phipps said. "And as many in the parish would say, you've worn the honorific since you were a child." The vicar laughed softly and met Ulla's eyes. "Good afternoon, Miss Svensson. Welcome to St. Peter's Church."
Ulla swallowed and squeaked a greeting.
"I've got an envelope from Mrs. Tiddles' for you," Oliver said.
"Ah, right. The book reading invitations. I'll be hosting the party in the vicarage, as my last hoorah," the vicar said and gave Ulla a wink. "And then it's all yours."
"May I remind you, you have promised to visit," Oliver said softly.
"My dear boy, I will of course," the vicar said. "But you must understand, not at the beginning."
"I wouldn't dare to interrupt your honeymoon, Reverend," Oliver said.
"Likewise, my boy," the vicar said, throwing Ulla a merry look. "Likewise. So, shall we have a tour of the vicarage then?" he asked, rubbing his hands as if in anticipation.
Oh god. Wait, no, not in this place. Oh... bother!
"Perhaps some other day," Holyoake answered, and Ulla gave out a discreet relieved exhale. "We're expected elsewhere, I'm afraid."
"Ah, understandable, completely understandable, my boy. I remember all that fuss before the wedding, all the arrangements," the vicar said with a nod. "I'm so relieved it's all almost behind me now."
What. The–
"Oh, and of course, these," the vicar said and pulled out two large cardstock invitations. "You are coming to the book reading, I hope, Miss Svensson."
"Thank you," Ulla rasped out, taking one card. "I'll be delighted."
"Well then, have a lovely day you two," the vicar said.
When they were outside, Ulla gave out a long shuddered breath and darted away from him along the street without looking back. He caught up with her rather quickly. Damn his endless legs!
"Are you alright?" he asked in his usual amicable tone.
Ulla came to an abrupt stop, and he as much as slid ahead, trying to slow down in time.
"Of course I'm not!" she hissed at him, quickly looking around to make sure they had no audience. "They all think we're getting married and moving into that vicarage together! Every single person we've met today thinks I'm your future Mrs. Vicar!"
"Darling, they can think whatever they want. It surely doesn't place any obligations on–"
"What about you?" she interrupted him. "You gave me a present! A book that has to do with faith and church and whatnot! And you didn't correct them! Not a single time! When yet another nosy Parker in this bloody infuriating town implied we're a couple, that we're getting married, or anything else going beyond the one night that we spent together," Ulla was now almost shouting, "you haven't corrected them one single time!"
"I do not think I owe anyone an explanation," he said in his usual composed manner.
Ulla clenched and unclenched her fists, and exhaled noisily, trying to calm down. This town? In the middle of a street? Just a few steps away from his church? Worst possible place to throw a benny, Ulla!
"I think we should go back to the cottage and work," she said in a low voice.
"Of course." His tone was once again serene. "With or without stopping by a pharmacy?"
Oh, so infuriating!
"Without," she barked. "I'll pick up some in the city on my way here tomorrow. In a pharmacy where no one knows me! Or the cock I'm going to enjoy putting it on!" she hissed, turned around, and marched away from him.
He followed, of course, and Ulla fumed for two more blocks, and then slowed down allowing him to walk near her. He didn't acknowledge her foul mood, but by now she knew better. Anything could be cooking in that noggin of his, and she'd never know! Damn his poker face!