‘A priest for God’s sake!’ Uwe’s irritation was tinged by a heavier accent than usual. ‘Why didn’t you mention it before so we could have discussed it?’ Vivid images from his years at a Catholic boarding school near Aachen flashed before him. The priests had drunk themselves celibate, then taken delight in spanking the naked bottoms of pubescent boys with a slipper, while railing against masturbation and the sins of the flesh. What had Tecwyn been thinking about? A litany of expletives competed with the chopping of an onion on the hardwood board. He always swore in his mother tongue; it was more expressive, coming from his guts. And besides, when he swore in English the silly-sounding words made him laugh. With one swipe of the knife across the chopping board he heaped the onions into the pan with the oil, garlic and chillies and through the hissing, muttered ‘Arschloch.’ Tecwyn smiled and handed his lover a gin and tonic, then, with a tap on Uwe’s bottom and a blown kiss, said, ‘Some arse-holes are very nice!’

Uwe smiled sardonically: ‘So who is this priest you’ve invited for dinner?’

Tecwyn described Nick the Vic, so dubbed by his group of early-bird swimmers. The black hair and brown eyes; the power of his breaststroke across the near deserted pool; his banter in the changing room, always too cheerful for that time of the morning; the Prince Albert that he sometimes tugged just to tease the ones who stared lustfully at him in the shower.

‘So why did you invite him?’ Uwe asked. ‘Surely not because of his muscles, or is it some fascination for a forbidden piece of fruit with the ring through his Schwanz?’

Tecwyn steered the conversation into more serious waters, asking, ‘Isn’t the whole point of tonight that we hear as many views as possible; to help us decide?’ He thought for a moment and elaborated, ‘Since Nick is gay, he should understand our situation. Since he’s a priest, maybe he can help us thrash out the heavy moral stuff?’ With that he carried the tray of newly polished silverware into the dining room, leaving Uwe to start shelling the Dublin Bay prawns.