“You,” said Isla, standing over her, “need a break. An actual break… and no, post-op recovery time is not a break! Especially not when you decide to work through it!”
Ruth blinked tiredly up at her, briefly considering honesty and then rejecting it. “I’m fine. Just busy. Too much backlog.” She'd just finished a meeting with James, who'd been Samantha's training incumbent, and was still seething. All this because he hadn't had the patience to work with Samantha properly. What kind of training incumbent initiated disciplinary proceedings against their own curate, as a first resort?
“You. Are not. Fine. Do I have to count your typos? Make a tally to show you? Or maybe when I have to actually catch the paten when you drop it, rather than just spending the entire consecration wondering whether I should save Jesus or you, when you go… which should I go for, actually? I’ll let you decide. I mean, if it’s the chalice, I don’t think there’s much I can do…”
“I’m not going to fall over during the consecration.” If only she'd known... she'd gone into Samantha's case assuming James had at least tried. Why did she only get the context now, when it was too late to consider it? And why did Isla have to chose now to have a go at her?
“The vicar noticed, too, at that confirmation on Sunday, you didn’t see how he was watching you?”
How easily this whole bloody situation could have been avoided. Ruth felt her anger rearing up again. “No. Because I was concentrating on the Mass.” He hadn't even met with Samantha until after the end of the disciplinary process, she still couldn't believe that. And he'd come to her crying about how bad he felt, as if expecting her to reassure him. And she'd had to try and be gentle, because she didn't need any more bloody breakdowns on her hands. She'd bottled up her emotions, and Isla'd walked in before she'd had a chance to deal with them.
Isla hesitated, her resolve wavering for a second; but only a second, before she set her chin determinedly. “I might only be your chaplain, but I will fetch Kath if I have to. Or I could call Lizzie.”
I just need five minutes, Isla, or I will scream. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“And the fact you’re responding like this proves I’m not. You told me to be honest and tell you if I thought you were going wrong. I’m worried about you, because you’re going to mess something up badly if you carry on like this.”
Ruth slammed her pen down, her temper finally snapping. “Well? What am I supposed to do? Drop everything and go dancing off on a two month holiday?”
“Go on sick leave.”
“I’m not fucking sick.”
“You will be.”
“And can you imagine the media then? Archbishop having a mental breakdown? Or maybe Archbishop goes running off because she’s tired while everyone else just deals with it? I already have work piled up from retreat. I don’t fucking need this from you, Isla, I have work I need to be doing…”
“I'm trying to help.”
The words quavered, and Ruth felt a sting of remorse, even more so when she saw the tears in Isla's eyes. She took a couple of deep breaths.
“Forgive me, Isla, I shouldn't have said that.”
Isla set her chin, not quite meeting Ruth's eyes. “Tell me what I can do. What I can cancel, or deputise for. You’ve meetings most of this afternoon, I’ll go to them, you stay here and work through your backlog. And I’ll have a word with Kath, get her to stop booking you appointments. And we’ll block out a bit of holiday time.”
“My diary can’t support that.”
“You’re only one person, Ruth. What would happen if you died tonight? The entire Church of England come crashing to a halt?”
She thought for a minute. “I guess… a bit of chaos. Lots of cancelled meetings. Julia… would step in as deputy, to some of it… there’s a lot wouldn’t happen. Other stuff… it’s not like losing Lizzie.”
“But the Church would keep going.”
“Not exactly unaffected.”
“You literally got arrested last year. Twice. You got suspended. The Church of England carried on.”
“I…” Ruth sighed. “So I get myself arrested again?”
“If that’s what it takes…”
Ruth looked at her hands. She didn't want to step back, but she'd lost her temper a moment ago, and this meant she really ought to listen. “Fine. Work your magic. Carefully – the last thing I need is tabloid rubbish about my health or work ethic.”
“Following cataract surgery, the Archbishop of York has been advised to remain off work for two weeks longer than planned. After this time, she expects to return to work normally. See, easy.”
“Not more fuss about my bloody cataracts.”
“Ruth.” Isla sighed. “Why not take the opportunity? Just tie it to the operation… you shouldn’t be back at work anyway. Karen can just say it’s to ensure you avoid complications in the long term, or something. It’s not a lie.”
“It is.”
“Do I have to get a doctor to say it?”
“The operation was three weeks ago.”
“And you should still be off. I can imagine what you’d say to anyone else. Different rules for you, though, right?”
Ruth didn't look up. “It’s not affecting my work anymore. There’s no reason I can’t come back and build back up again gently.”
“And this is not building back up again gently. Is it?”
Ruth sighed.
“Is it?”
“No.” She twisted at her ring.
“Look. Okay, nobody knows everything you do, except for me and Kath. They just know you’re busy, and do a lot of different things. And that quite a lot of them are confidential, or involve admin. They can’t tell how much you’re doing, they just know if you take a while to deal with their thing, you clearly have something else more urgent to deal with.”
“If only. People aren’t that understanding. If I don’t do it now, I’ll have to do it later, anyway.”
Isla’s shoulders sagged. “Ruth, I think you need to think about it. And then come back and decide what you’re going to do. I’ve said my bit.”
Ruth blinked tiredly. “Oh… okay. Um, thanks, Isla.”
Was that parting look pity or infuriation? A mixture of the two, probably. Ruth looked back at the letter she was writing, rubbed her eyes. Wrote two more sentences, then stood up and walked next door. If she didn't swallow her pride now, she'd just feel guilty about it later.
“Isla?”
“What can I do for you?”
“Would you mind… deputising for me? This afternoon?”
“Of course.”
“And… I’m going to ask Kath to stop booking me appointments, where possible. And block in some holiday, if I can find a space.”
She was rewarded with a beam. “Certainly, that sounds like an excellent idea.”
“It’s entirely your idea.”
Isla shrugged.
“And… I’d like to apologise again. For losing my temper with you. I said some… really unacceptable things, and was totally unprofessional. I'm not going to make excuses."
A real smile, far more warmth than she deserved. “I’ll forgive you, if you’ll listen to me.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“You should speak to someone. Your spiritual director, or me, or anyone. You’re getting bad habits.”
“My life is made up of coffee and bad habits.” Ruth tried to joke, but Isla just raised her eyebrows.
“About that. Six cups a day, most of this week. You were better, the first couple of days you were back.”
“Six? That’s… a lot.” And her head still ached. “So... more tea, less coffee?”
“That sounds like a sensible compromise. You could consider making your own too, sometimes – not that I mind, but you don’t leave your desk unless you have a meeting.”
“You’ve been keeping tabs.”
“I’ve been hoping you’d sort it out. What time do you leave the office? Always after me, I know…”
Nine, ten, sometimes later; work was a good distraction. It probably wasn't the healthiest of coping strategies. “I have a lot of evening appointments.”
“And make up for them by taking time off elsewhere?” Isla shook her head. “And don’t tell me it’s just appointments. Obviously I haven’t been monitoring your every move, but I can guess.”
“I have been judged and found wanting.” Ruth looked at the floor. “I have a friend I would talk to but… well, he’s dealing with other things at the moment. I was meant to meet him a few months ago.”
“I think you either need to see him anyway, or see someone else.”
“And I will reluctantly admit you are right.” She sighed. “Have you got time?”
“Of course. It is literally my job. Do you have a preferred time, or shall I look at your diary?”
“Soon. I’m going to be responsible.”
“Good.” Isla looked down nervously, clicking around her computer screen. “Tomorrow morning?”
“How did you do that?”
She tapped her nose. “Magic.” Then shook her head. “By stealing your admin time. Sorry. Is that okay? I’ll replace it by going to your meetings for you.”
“You’re going above and beyond.”
“I’ve let it get this far…”
Ruth shook her head. “Your job isn’t to take care of my health, I should definitely be doing that myself. I do know the risks, but… anyway, talk tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll pop in in about an hour to go through what I need for the meetings – though of course I’ve been to most of the recent ones in your absence anyway. And then I'll brief you on the contents at the end of the day.”
“Perfect. You're really sure?”
“Make good use of the time.”
“I’ll do my best. I’ll drop Kath an email, too.”
“She’s literally right next door.”
“Yes. That’s… yeah.”
“See you shortly.”
It was strange, at the end of the afternoon, to be leaving the office just before six, not to go to a function but simply to sit down in her apartment. And then to stand up again and go downstairs, out of the Palace for a walk through the village. It was dangerous, living in the same building as one’s place of work. The village… she definitely needed to come here more often - there were new flowers in the gardens, and one of the shops had changed hands. It would be nice to come down here during the day, when it was actually open. Perhaps it might almost be enough distraction to keep back the crowding thoughts for a minute or two.
And then it was morning, and she left Morning Prayer trying to shake off the trepidation. Isla’d been working here for over a year, they knew each other well enough… and anyway, she’d never had a problem working with Tom. Well, Isla’d already given her the full lecture, that would make this a little less uncomfortable.
“Good morning, Isla.”
“Morning. How are you feeling?”
“Like I really, really need a coffee!” Ruth tried to laugh, but stopped when Isla didn't, realising how stupid it sounded. “I did sleep last night, honest…”
“You think you might have exhausted yourself beyond one night’s sleep?”
“Just possibly… I'm sorry, again, for swearing at you.”
Isla managed a small smile. “I know, it's okay. So, I’m here. What do you want? I know you’ve had a lot to deal with recently, between the operation and Samantha's death, the enquiry. What do you need, what’s on your mind?”
Ruth went for the easy answer. “The operations were just routine. No complications.”
“Still, it’s a reminder of your age.”
Wow. Isla, having lost the deference, had lost it pretty thoroughly. “I suppose so. I talked about it with a friend last time we met… way back, several months ago, he encouraged me to go to the optician and do something about it. But… yeah, I’m not that old but I’m starting to feel it. Re-evaluating a few things. Planning for retirement.”
“You are?”
“Yeah, not… full retirement. But stepping back a bit, taking a few months out to go on pilgrimage, find myself again a bit, and then doing something… less all-consuming.”
“You’ve got ideas, then? Things you’d like to pursue?”
“Well, I’d like to do a bit more academia. A bit more on holy orders, maybe. And I like sketching, I could try to build that up, have a go at painting. Maybe take up a sport, squash or tennis or something. Get out more.”
“Things you can’t find time for at the moment?”
“Absolutely. And I thought… well, there’s a bit of me which would like to go off on a mission somewhere… really in need. But that’s romantic ideals. Actually, I’ll probably see if a theological college would like me. I’ve enjoyed… there’s a curate I’ve mentored a bit, it makes me think I really like sharing knowledge.”
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
“I have, haven’t I?” She shrugged defensively. “I’ve probably spent enough time thinking about it I could have done half of it, if I hadn’t convinced myself I don’t have time.”
“You know, most of your predecessors have balanced your job with something else? Like a family. Or a pet. Something else, outside of work.”
“Yeah. My family… well, I’m not starting a branch of my own. And… yeah.”
“Family isn’t always the answer.”
“A friend suggested I try to rebuild the bridges.”
“And did you?”
“Um…” That phone call, the accusations. “Shall we say… it wasn’t very successful. And I don’t want to stir up what seems to be working fine.”
“That’s okay. You tried, you don’t have to succeed at everything.”
“Families or… pets?”
“You know, dependents. A reason to go home in the evening.”
“Ah. Not very fair on the poor creature.”
“That’s why you have to go home in the evening, see.”
“Mmm.” Because that was totally a suitable reason for getting a pet. “Anyway, Tom pointed out maybe God has called me to give my whole life to the Church, and that’s as valid as having a family or whatever.”
“Right. Um… give your life, in a healthy way?”
“Obviously.”
“Maybe concentrate on the healthy way bit?”
“Well, yeah…”
“Right. Okay, you told me a little while ago… to let you know if I thought you were going wrong. Making mistakes. As I said then, I really admire how you handle things, I’m always impressed. Were you thinking of anything in particular when you said that, though? I wasn’t sure how to ask then, but… now I guess I might as well just go for it. You don’t have to answer, obviously…”
Ruth leant back in her chair, licked her lips and swallowed, her eyes drifting over to the cross on the wall. “So… I’ve been quite harsh, with a number of people. Sometimes I catch myself, sometimes I… wonder afterwards. And when… I know, I don’t always know how to stop myself. Like with you, yesterday. But when I say the wrong thing, it can cause a lot of hurt, and…” sometimes, people can end up dead. “That bothers me.”
“I can see that. It’s a peril of having power, isn’t it?”
“Of those to whom much is given, much is required.”
“Definitely a challenge. But then, haven’t we all been given a lot? I know you have an important job, in earthly terms you’ve been given a lot, but then… I have the responsibility for supporting you and the Palace, that’s a lot. And incumbents have the cure of souls for each individual in their parish. And laypeople… well, they have all kinds of responsibilities, to witness to Christ not through a way defined by their jobs but in their lives, maybe against the expectations of their jobs. And in heavenly terms, is power and position really a big deal? But we’ve all been given a lot in the form of our lives and gifts, and we are required to use them in… the many different paths to which we’re suited.”
Ruth picked at her fingernail and absorbed it. “You’re… quite right, of course.”
“You think?”
“Definitely.” Ruth slid her ring up and down her finger. “I keep thinking… I’ve got so much responsibility. But then I’m not alone in that. And in thinking that…” Those who are first will be last. Be as the little children. “I’m… sorry I didn’t talk to you properly before.”
Isla's face softened a little more. “You don't have to, only if you want to. I'll do whatever I can to help, I know I’m not telling you anything you don’t know.”
Ruth shrugged. “I’m a world-class expert at forgetting what’s right in front of me. And not following what I tell to other people.”
“Don’t we all do that, to an extent?”
“Perhaps, I’d like to tell myself that.” She sighed, longing for something other than Isla's kindness. “I get so caught up in… how it feels like an impossible job. Like, in the words of the consecration service, caring for Christ’s own flock, bought by the shedding of His blood.” She swallowed. “And I wonder if I just got caught up here… out of ambition. Rather than because it really suits my gifts. When I keep on meeting other people who’d be so much better suited to it.”
“I watch you doing it and… I’m amazed. I don’t think you can say you’re not well suited to it.”
“That’s kind of you to say.”
Isla shook her head. “I’m not just saying it to make you feel good.”
“No. I know.”
“Do you, though? Seriously, Ruth, I mean it.”
Ruth looked at the floor rather than answering.
“You think you’d have climbed this far, or stayed here this long, if God weren’t calling you?”
“I don't know. Management seemed to come naturally to me, even at eighteen…”
“Ruth, you were the first female Archbishop in the Church of England. You think that decision was made easily, and based simply on your management skills? You think you could trick your way through the Crown Nominations Commission? You didn’t even put your name forward, you were nominated.”
“Well…” Ruth inspected the ring on her finger. “It… still doesn’t seem real. Like, the first. In the history books.”
“You think Lizzie feels differently, in Canterbury? You think Libby didn’t feel that way? Or that first batch of women as they were ordained priest, less than fifty years ago? It’s not the sort of thing anyone expects to be first at, there are so many worthy women who… never had the chance. But it just happens to be you. But yeah, if you’re going to be the first, you have to be a cut above, because it’s a risk. Still, you’ve done a good job, you’ve already proved their decision to be a right one. Think about it, I expect Lizzie’s feeling pretty similar to you – and she’s got the whole Anglican Communion threatening to schism on her. Tell yourself what you’d tell her.” The corner of Isla’s mouth twitched. “Also, she’s doing that with a wife. Who I should think expects to see her occasionally.”
Ruth rolled her eyes. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“It takes me a while to say anything, but when I do, I stick by it.”
“A good trait.”
Isla smiled. “Well, we should probably get back to work. But I’m just going to temper what I’ve just said about you being good at your job, with a reminder of what we talked about earlier. You’re not meant to be the best leader, or manager. You’re meant to be a Christian. A Christ follower.”
“And I should be developing in that, and deepening my understanding, for myself personally.”
“In the end, you can only teach what you’ve been taught, and obey the commands you’ve been given. You don’t have to prove yourself… okay, to people, maybe, but not to God.”
“However tempting it is.” Ruth pressed her ring to her lips to think. She should find someone else, she thought, someone she could talk to properly, who could help her go deeper than Isla. Another bishop, perhaps, one of the ones who had mentored her in the early years after consecration. Yes, that would be the sensible thing to do. She'd intended to be honest, but now they were talking, it was clear Isla wasn't the right person for Ruth to be honest with.
Isla shifted, with a familiar awkwardness that cemented Ruth's conclusion. Much as Ruth appreciated her, she wasn't the right person for this conversation.
“Is there anything else you want to talk about? Otherwise, I suppose we should get back to work. I know you’re still busy, if you’re going to leave at a sensible time tonight…”
“Indeed. You’ve given me plenty to think about, anyway.” Ruth was silent for a minute, thinking. The crushing weight on her soul, the weight of Samantha's death... she wasn't ready to talk about that yet, at least not with Isla. Words popped into her head, something she'd said to Samantha: I want you to hear the words of absolution and know them to be true. She hardly deserved that. She shoved the words aside and tried to smile. “Will you pray?”
Isla, who had started to reach for her bag, paused. “Oh. Yeah, of course.”
Ruth bowed her head again, letting the calm wash over her. Maybe she could deal with this, and maybe it was worth doing so. At least she'd acknowledged the problem, and she had some idea what to do next. If she could make herself do it.