I sat down on the wooden bench, my eyes acclimatizing to the semi-dark as I peeped through the little holes into the unoccupied other side. It was quite pleasant, all things considered. Made me wonder why we didn’t have them across the board, who couldn’t use a good confessional at the end of a stressful week?
‘I’m not sure if there needs to be someone on the other side of the box for this to work,’ I added. ‘Like two tin cans on the end of a piece of string?’
Again, silence.
‘I’ll just start, shall I?’ I rubbed my palms against my thighs, the fabric of my pyjama bottoms pilling underneath. ‘My name’s Gwen and I’m having a bit of a problem.’
Before I could explain what the problem was, the door on the other side of the confessional opened and someone sat down on the bench. I pressed my back against the wooden wall, startled.
‘Hello?’ A man’s voice said through the partition. ‘I thought I heard someone enter?’
I held my breath and closed my eyes. There was no point running away, I had nowhere to go and really, what was the worst that could happen? I was in a confessional, in a church and yes, I’d seen all the films with the scary nuns but I wasn’t getting those vibes. They were almost always set in the seventies anyway, you didn’t getpossessed murderous nuns in Derbyshire in the twenty-first century. Very often.
‘Hello?’ the priest said again. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Hello,’ I squeaked, my voice breaking like a twelve-year-old boy. ‘Busy day?’
‘You could say that,’ he replied, clearing his throat. ‘Any chance you’re new at this?’
For someone who actually made her living by Being Clever, I felt extremely stupid. I knew less than nothing about this sort of thing, religion was always Michael’s forte at the pub quiz. How was I supposed to know the law, learn about Catholicismandmemorize the birth order of all the Kardashian-Jenner children and grandchildren? Simply couldn’t be done.
‘Reasonable chance.’ I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. ‘In that I have never done it before and I’m not entirely sure why I’m here.’
‘Let’s start at the beginning then. This is where people come when they have something to confess. They tell me what’s troubling them and we talk it over. Does that sound like something you’d like to do?’
His voice was so friendly and warm and kind, I one hundred per cent believed he could reassure me about anything and everything, even the ending ofGame of Thrones.
‘I’m not sure it’s so much a confession as a confusion,’ I replied, trying to come up with the best way to describe my predicament without having to actually describe my predicament. ‘It’s a bit complicated.’
‘Whatever you’re about to tell me, I can almost guarantee, I’ve heard it before,’ he assured me.
‘Christ, I hope not,’ I murmured. ‘Sorry, inappropriate language, won’t do that again.’
He took a long, calming breath in before he replied.
‘Let’s give it a try. Even if I can’t help, I can listen, sometimes that’s enough. My name’s Father Declan, how can I help?’
‘I’ve had a rough few months,’ I said, trying not to stare through the holes. It felt so weird to be talking to someone I couldn’t see, although that didn’t stop me getting into a month-long feud about the musical episode ofBuffy the Vampire Slayerwith a TheChosenOne84 on Twitter, so I wasn’t going to let it get in the way now. ‘I’m not sure where I fit at the moment and I’m feeling a bit lost, a bit stuck.’
Also, I’ve been reliving the same day for a week and I’m two Christmas carols away from firing myself into the sun, I did not add.
‘Is that important?’ he asked. ‘Fitting in?’
‘Not in the schoolyard sense, no, but I’d like to know where I belong in the world. Me and my boyfriend broke up and I’ve been off work for a bit.’ I paused and gnawed on my thumbnail for a moment. ‘I’m not sure I know who I am without my job,’ I admitted.
‘Perhaps you’re just you,’ Father Declan suggested.
What a terrifying thought.
‘Have you talked to your friends or family about all this?’ he asked.
I pulled the sleeves of my jumper all the way over my hands until they completely covered the dodgy DIY manicure that should have been gone a week ago.
‘No, not really.’
‘Any reason why not?’
‘I don’t want to worry them,’ I explained. ‘They’ve all got their own problems and I’ve been trying to help them but nothing I do seems to make any difference.’