The Little Church by the Sea: A heart-warming Christmas tale of love, friendship and starting over by Liz Taylorson

Author:Liz Taylorson [Taylorson, Liz]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Manatee Books Ltd
Published: 2017-11-22T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Too Much Mulled Wine Is Not A Good Thing

Cass stood at the front of St. Peter’s Church up in New Rawscar, a deep sense of her own hypocrisy and shame burning in her mind and her face.

Eight o’clock service at the little church of St. Stephen down in Old Rawscar had been no problem at all as there had been a congregation of precisely zero – not even Graham had made it to church this morning, so Cass had slumped down on the altar rail, head in hands, and tried to fight the overwhelming feeling of nausea that was threatening to overwhelm her.

But ten o’clock communion at St. Peter’s was a different matter entirely. The congregation were enthusiastically singing Hills of the North and Cass’s head was throbbing with a mixture of hangover and guilt. But chiefly guilt.

What had she been thinking?

She was in her late thirties, not some stupid teenager to let a few drinks drive away all her self-control, but that’s exactly what she had done, and in the process, she had committed most of the seven deadly sins. Lust in bucket loads. Envy and Greed because she had gone after something she knew she shouldn’t have. Pride because Hal had picked her out from the crowd. Gluttony - well, she had lost track of how much she had drunk in the hot, steamy atmosphere of the pub. Only Anger and Sloth had passed her by last night, and she was feeling both of them this morning. Anger at her own behaviour, that she had let herself down so badly, and the sloth of possibly the worst hangover of her entire life.

Suddenly she was aware of a silence. The hymn had ended and she should be doing something - what should she be doing? She had dropped her service sheet on the floor. She picked it up and stepped into the pulpit, wincing at the light from the spotlight that was meant to illuminate her text. The service was nearly over, and once it was done, she could go home and sleep, she reminded herself. Sleep and try and forget what she had done.

‘I publish the banns of marriage,’ she began. She had done all the difficult things this morning. She had distributed communion though she felt unworthy. She had pronounced intercession and blessings that she didn’t believe would have any effect at all. She had even made a joke about the power cut in her sermon, about how she had seen the light, which had come back on just as she started to deliver her sermon.

But it was entirely the opposite of seeing the light that she was experiencing right now as she stood to face her congregation. She felt as if she was looking upwards and instead of the divine revelation of truth, all she could see were the storm clouds pressing in, and a seagull about to drop something unpleasant on her from a great height. She shouldn’t be standing here; she was the wrong person, in the wrong place.

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