my rehearsal is taking place tonight.’ She fixed her eyes on her fiancé. ‘Can’t we give them some money and tell them to go and have something to eat . . . a bath even, as I can smell them from here? Please, Neil, you have to get rid of them before my parents arrive.’
Despite the distance between them, Jan had heard every word the young woman said and had never felt so humiliated in all her life. She didn’t know where to hide her face. She felt a hand touch her arm, turned and saw Glen telling her with the look in his eyes that it was time for them to go. Her shoe was back on her foot and she was out of the church door and hurrying down the path back to the crossroads before he had even managed to ease himself out of the pew.
Joining her outside, Glen said matter-of-factly, ‘You’re going to have to grow yourself a thicker skin if you want to survive on the streets. That was mild compared to some of the abuse I’ve had to deal with. Wait until the drunks start spilling out of the pubs. There are always more of them towards Christmas.’ Then he turned in the direction they had been heading and continued walking.
Jan looked after him, horrified. It seemed to her nothing could be worse than what she had just endured. The thought of going through that ever again, or worse, was unthinkable. She had to get herself out of this living hell in which she found herself. But how she would manage that without any means at her disposal was as insoluble problem.
CHAPTER THREE
Back inside the church, Neil Graham, a tall boyish-faced nineteen year old with a short back and sides haircut and a hint of a quiff in front, was looking very pensive. His fiancée, a pretty girl of around eighteen dressed in the height of fashion, in a full red skirt with layers of netting underneath, a wide black belt around her trim waist and a short-sleeved Peter Pan-collared blouse under a pink cardigan with embroidered black flowers down the front, stood deep in conversation with the frustrated-looking vicar, intent on checking that every minute detail of the forthcoming wedding service was dealt with to her satisfaction. Neil gave a deep sigh, a grave expression settling over his face. There was something he had to do, something he should have done a long time ago . . . but each time he thought he had built up the courage, at the last minute it had failed him.
Taking a deep breath, he cupped his fiancée’s elbow and said to her, ‘I need to talk to you, Cait. Now, please.’ Suddenly remembering his manners, he said to the vicar, ‘I do apologise for the interruption.’
The clergyman looked relieved rather than offended, and indicated that there was no problem.
Tossing back her mane of long blond hair, Caitlyn Thomas responded, ‘Can’t it wait, Neil? I still have a few details I need to discuss with Reverend Harper and . . .’
He said evenly, ‘Cait, you’ve given your instructions to the Reverend on several previous occasions to my knowledge. I’m sure you don’t need to keep going over them with him. Now I do need to speak to you.’ He then asked the clergyman, ‘Is there somewhere private we can go, please?’
‘You’re quite welcome to use the Vestry,’ Reverend Harper told him. Then he took a quick glance at his watch. ‘Er . . . will this take long, Mr Graham? Only we’re already over-running and I have sick parishioners to visit yet.’
Neil assured him, ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’
The rest of the gathering looked on perplexed as he guided a bemused Cait into the Vestry. Once inside, Neil shut the door behind them.
She stared at him expectantly for a moment. When he stared back at her, seemingly tongue-tied, her impatience got the better of her and she snapped, ‘Neil, you said what you had to say to me was urgent, so please get on with it. I have a mountain of things still to do and the wedding is only seven days away.’
He had been experiencing feelings of dread, afraid that yet again he was going to back down and not tell her what he knew he needed to, but Cait’s reminding him that their wedding was only a few days away hardened his resolve. He blurted out, ‘I can’t do this any more, Cait.’
She