Chapter 3 - Ruth

Retirement, when it became a reality rather than a dream, seemed to lose so much of its appeal. Just as work, when the end drew near, lost so much of its monotony. Not that Ruth’s work was really monotonous, but emails were emails and school visits were school visits and charity functions were charity functions, however much the packaging varied.

The final months were slipping by, plans starting to fall into place. “If I’m still in the job when I turn seventy, it’ll be time for me to step back and make way for a younger person” – something she’d said in multiple interviews, in response to questions following the increase in the mandatory retirement age. Maybe she was now allowed to carry on to seventy-five, but that didn’t mean she should. Or wanted to. Really, it was a miracle she’d hung on this long…

But now, that big birthday was hanging on the horizon. She’d chosen her end date - when she’d hand in her resignation, step back, make a cup of tea and watch keenly to see who would be called up to take her place... Nah, step away and find something else to do.

“It all depends on you, doesn’t it?” She ruffled Dot’s ears, and the dog stretched languidly beside her on the sofa. “Poor old girl. Old bones all full of aches, eh?”

First, secret discussions, long journeys down to Cambridge and a college which still seemed familiar, even so long after those happy PhD years. Could she really return? Yes, she reckoned she could. It had been long enough. If she was honest, she was looking forward to it – young minds, intellectual challenge, just being in a place where the Church’s future was being built. Where the Holy Spirit was so clearly at work. Where people still had the energy to believe in change.

And before she got stuck into that, a chance for a break, most of a year completely free to do whatever she wanted. And so now this evening she was back on the internet, researching for decisions she couldn’t yet make. She could, perhaps, spend Christmas in Rome, experiencing the great pageant of celebration. And then Holy Week and Easter in the Holy Land, reliving the story in the place where it had happened, from the Mount of Olives to Holy Sepulchre, amid the remnants of a too-recent war which had felt sadly natural in a place so famed for bloodshed. Good Friday, in a place where the concept of violent death felt far too present.

All that depending on Dot, on the vet’s estimate which counted down months. The dog who coughed a chesty cough and laid her head down on Ruth’s lap, content to just be. Dot wouldn’t be leaving the country, which meant that if she were still here, nor would Ruth. Time at home with her dog was an option which appealed at least as much as globetrotting anyway, so she wasn’t booking anything yet.

She shut down the tablet and sat, running her fingers through coarse fur. “So, old girl. If you keep hanging on, what shall we do? So many lovely things we could do. We’ll go up to the Lakes, yes? And we’ll stay there, for a quiet few months, and go for long walks when we’re feeling good, and short ones when we’re feeling creaky. And we’ll have a little log fire, and you can lie by it and dream of chasing squirrels… no, that’s beneath you, isn’t it? You’ll be dreaming of driving those flocks over the hills, of being a champion herder, of glory and adulation and red rosettes - or will it just be squirrels after all? It’s all about the simple things, really, isn’t it?”

Dot’s ribcage rose and fell, milky brown eyes blinking slowly. What was she thinking, Ruth wondered, did she know? It made Ruth feel guilty, to be planning things to do once she was gone… but then the end was inevitable, and likely to come soon. If Dot were still here, well then she wouldn’t go after all. But the worst prospect was one of being left alone, no dog and nothing to fill the hole left behind.

“We’ll have to organise you a birthday party, so hang on for that. Fifteen years old, eh? A very respectable age for a dog, especially one that’s worked as hard as you. And you hanging on with that gammy old leg. What do you want, then? Something nice to chew on? You’ve moved on from squeaky toys, haven’t you, really? And material goods in general; you always seem quite content as you are. How about an entire day where we just sit on the sofa and cuddle? I’d be up for that, and I bet you would too. Or we could get a couple of people over to help make a fuss of you? People you like – though that’s everyone, isn’t it?”

It was from there that her mind managed to drift on to godchildren, and to Mika. A promise made to Tom, as she’d tried to persuade him to promise certain things to her. Best if she set an example by keeping her word… she checked the calendar and took out her phone to give Tom a call while she had her diary open.

“Hi Ruth.”

“Tom. How are you doing?”

“You and Luke taking turns to check up on me?”

“No!” She pushed away the slight sting of guilt, the sense she'd betrayed his trust. “No, this call is unrelated to… all of that. I was just calling to see what you’re doing two weeks on Thursday.”

“Working, why?”

“In the evening?”

“Being at home, with my family, doing any leftover work, why?”

“And Mika?”

“Mika? Oh!”

She smiled to herself. It was fun to mess with him, just a little bit.

“Um, she has… gymnastics, finishes at half four, that’s it.”

“Great. Know any good places to eat near you, preferably dog-friendly ones? It’ll be about four days off the anniversary of her admission to Holy Communion, by the way, it’s the closest I can get and a good excuse for me to insist it’s my treat.”

“We can cook for one more…”

“But I insist, and you know me…”

Tom groaned. “I do. Giving up now.” A pause. “You know I’ll get you back though.”

Was that humour? Almost? “No doubt. Suggestions?”

“Um… I’ll text them to you? Once I’ve checked with Megan? She knows the area…”

“Good. And will Mars and Megan both be free?”

“You don’t have to take us all out…”

“I thought you said you’d given up.”

“Ugh! I’ll check.”

“Good, let me know. How are you doing, anyway?”

A long silence, one which promised at least some level of honesty. “Not great. But working on it.”

“Luke helped?”

“I’m still not sure I’ve forgiven you for that. Setting my bishop on me…”

“I’m afraid I’m not sorry, so you’ll just have to get over it. I can leave you to him, though?”

“Stop worrying, I’m tough.”

She paused. That’s why I’m worrying, she wanted to say. “You’re still human.”

Tom sighed down the phone. “Luke’s been helpful.”

“Good.”

“Can you stop worrying about me now?”

“I’ll stop worrying about you when I’m dead.”

“Well that’s cheery… what if I predecease you?”

“Don’t.”

The finished the phone call laughing, which was more than Ruth could have hoped for. She hung up and buried her head in her hands to pray, for Tom and for all his family, and for others suffering such loss. And then she retrieved her phone to search for small gifts for eight-year-olds.

Two weeks went by so fast, as time always did when it was packed full. And then the long-awaited day off dawned, with the promise of a lazy few hours wandering through some woods and then an evening with friends. As Isla had said to that description, it was just the way Ruth ought to be spending her days off.

Just as well they’d chosen woods today, because the sun was blazing down, baking the back of Ruth’s neck even just crossing the car park. They took it gently, a dawdle to the edge of a field, where they could sit on – or lie by – a bench in the shade. Ruth took a pig's ear out of her bag for Dot, followed by a sandwich for herself. She ate slowly, watching the passers by, before checking on Dot.

“Go on, girl, almost there…” The collie gave her a baleful look, flopping down on Ruth’s feet. Ruth reached down, shoulder clicking, to ruffle her fur, as Dot laid her head down on her front paws and closed her eyes. This was how lunchtimes always went, at least when Ruth was around; chew for a while, take a nap, then get back up and if necessary finish chomping. A bit longer to rest, and then they might be able to wander on. Dot had stopped herding sheep with the injury to her leg five years before, and now it was nigh on impossible to imagine her chasing down a rebellious ewe. Time to relax and enjoy the reward for those years of hard work; at least, that was how Ruth hoped that Dot saw these years with her.

They managed half an hour before the next pause, the heat definitely making a difference. And guilty as it made her feel, Ruth did have to suppress the tingling frustration, the desire to march off on a proper hike, swallowing up twelve or thirteen miles in a day without room to really think.  She and Dot had done it together for years, it was only now… and she could be patient, because Dot needed her to be, and this time would be over all too soon.

“Godmummy Ruth!”

She’d acquired that ridiculous name early on, a classic confused child mash-up of name and title. Best to just put up with such things, she told herself yet again, as she remembered to smile. “Mika! How are you?”

“Is Dot okay? She looks sad.” Mika was crouching down, hand held out. Dot nosed up to it tiredly and then lay down, conserving energy until greetings and other such human delays were over.

“She’s just an old dog,” Ruth told Mika. “Old and tired. She’s quite happy, though.” Except for the arthritis in her legs, treated with an array of painkillers each day, and the increasing problems with her internal organs. Many might have had her put down by now, and the vet had offered, but Ruth couldn't bring herself to make that call yet. Would it be kinder to end the pain? Maybe, but they managed it with medication, and Dot still wagged her tail at the sight of friends, and just seemed so contented when she lay with the sun warming her fur. She didn’t need an escape just yet.

“Oh. Is she going to die?”

“Yes, soon. Dog years are shorter than human years.”

“And then she can go to heaven.”

“Yes indeed.” Ruth bent down to scratch behind Dot’s ears. “Alright then. We should go and have dinner, and while we eat you can tell me all about what you’ve been doing since we last met…”

She could listen to Mika while holding a silent conversation with Tom, proof of how long they’d known each other. Eyes meet – are you okay? Tom looks away and back – not great but facing up to it. Small nod both acknowledging the problem and confirming that yes, he’s getting through. Reassuring smile – you can do it. And Megan? She’s trying too. You look after her. I’ll do my best. She looks after me. Yes, I know she does.

“And daddy’s going to be a bishop like you, isn’t he?”

She glanced at Tom, and he looked away properly this time. 

“God willing, Mika." She said slowly. "It’s not simple. A lot of people would like him to be a bishop, but until he is we won’t know for sure, or exactly when. It’s a big discernment process, and nothing's certain until it's actually happened. But that is the plan.” She met Megan’s eyes and blinked slowly. That’s right, Megan, whether Tom’s told you or not, it's not going smoothly. She'd have to talk to her later. Although this was supposed to be her visiting as Mika’s godmother, as family friend, not as Archbishop…

But then, it was a part of her, far more than just a job.

Usually, she let Tom lead these occasions; after all, she did not really know how to deal with kids. But now, looking at him slumped on the other side of the table, how could she ask anything of him? It couldn’t be that hard, especially now Mika was that bit older, about old enough to have a conversation and certainly able to express her own interests. Just eat and listen to her chatter on about school, computer games, church, Brownies… stare pointedly at Tom as he pushed food around his plate so that he went pink and ate properly.

“Don’t let it get cold, Mika…”

“Does Dot want some? We’re all eating without her…”

“Dot will eat when we go to your house, I have her food in the car. We have to be very careful about her food. If you give her anything it might upset her tummy.”

“Even a little bit?”

“We have to be very careful with her. No eating between meals, and this isn’t dinner time for her!”

“Oh.” Mika peeked under the table at the dog, asleep on Ruth’s feet with head on paws. “Mammy always says eating between meals spoils your appetite.”

“Indeed it does,” Megan confirmed, and Ruth nodded support. Not that she could lecture anyone on healthy behaviour.

“Except snack. Snack time is okay.”

“Well that’s like a mini mealtime, isn’t it?”

“I guess.”

“Come on, eat up!”

“Do you follow the cricket?”

Ruth finished chewing the mouthful she’d just taken and turned to Mars. “Swung a bat around with the diocesan team when I started as a bishop, wasn’t up to standard to play in the match though. Just watched from the sidelines. And apart from diocesan I can’t say I follow it too closely. You're a fan?”

“Yeah, I play for the school team. And I’m going on Saturday, Trent Bridge, load of us taking the evening out – it’s only a T20 so, like, not too long, decent revision break with exams now, y’know. We’re doing really well this season, you know."

 "Mm."

"Like we’ve got Parker, you know he just got picked for England? And if we win this one and Durham lose tomorrow we’re in the semis already, I reckon we’ve a decent chance, especially since we’re at home and we’re definitely better home than away. Then if Durham win as well as us we can still get it, it depends on next Friday though and that’s away…”

Ruth smiled playfully. “I take it by ‘us’ you mean Nottingham?”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot you’re not local. Who do you support?”

“I don’t, really, I'm afraid. I guess if I had to choose it would probably be Yorkshire, though?”

“Oh yeah, ‘course. They’re decent, White and Priyash are a solid opening pair, bowling’s not much though. There’s so few decent bowlers right now, Parker’s like the only decent spinner on the side for England. I mean Smithson was good but he did his shoulder, and Karman’s unreliable, they’ll drop him end of season I reckon…”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“If you could meet, like, one celebrity – like, singer, sportsperson, comedian, whatever - who’d it be?”

She smiled to herself. “One I haven’t already met?”

“You’ve met a lot? Oh yeah, ‘course you have. Yeah, or meet again. I guess it’s different… or who’s the most famous person you’ve met?”

“Most famous? Probably the King, if he counts as a celebrity. My personal highlight, Richard Mitchins, you heard any of his music? Very niche and before your time, probably. Who’d I like to meet? I’ve never actually met Pope John Paul, and I’d rather like to, he seems to be an interesting guy. I know, boring, sorry. Really not on top of my sporting or pop stars, though. Oh yeah, I’d like to meet Kate Carson, actually – you know, the artist? She went to Jerusalem in the middle of the conflict and produced a lot of work which really got what was happening in the public eye, opened up new inter-faith dialogues and so on.”

“That’d be awesome. And like… you meet normal celebs all the time, you’re kind of like a celeb yourself, aren’t you? So it’s like different level. What’s it like, being famous?”

Ruth shrugged. “It’s in the nature of the job. I’m not that famous. I can walk down the street and maybe a few people will recognise me but… it’s in a nice way, too. The kind of people who recognise me tend to ask for advice, or help, or blessings – or just stare a bit, maybe say hello and carry on. It was a bit crazy when I got the job but… you get used to it.” She glanced at Tom again.

“That’s awesome.” Mars shovelled pasta into his mouth. “I want to meet Jos Parker. Hopefully get him to sign my bat on Saturday, I’d love if he’d stop and talk to me but he won’t obviously, there are loads of people who want to meet him and he couldn’t talk to everyone. Not as impressive as like that artist or the Pope or whatever but you know he’s gay and spends a lot of time supporting gay teens and like doing Pride and stuff? And talking about mental health too, ‘cause a lot of young people really admire him and like he uses that well, y’know?”

“He sounds like a good role model to have.” Ruth scanned Mars quickly. Nothing to awaken concern, at least on the surface, and certainly he was far more normal than anyone could ever have hoped, considering all that he’d been through. And that although he’d always seemed a sensitive child. Although, or because? Had his sensitivity served him well in making him open, in allowing him to cry and to share his doubts and to get that help, from Tom and Megan and then from counsellors. She'd paid for most of that counselling, and looking at him now she was gladder than ever that she had.

“I want to meet Captain Catalyst,” Mika interrupted, her plate now almost empty. “You know, from Lab Rats? I want her to come to school and teach us Science, like properly, like they do on the show. Like they have Bunsen burners and all sorts of glass stuff and they do real experiments and actually measure things, and they have lasers, and there was that cloud thing too that she showed everyone, it was like magic but science and I bet it’d be awesome in real life where you could be sure it wasn’t just camera tricks, because like you never know…”

“Oh, we did that last year,” Mars told her. “The cloud chamber. It’s a radioactivity thing.”

“Yeah, and then you get the other ones that just appear, not from the rod, and that’s like coming from the stars and stuff. Even though they’re so far away.”

Ruth took the opportunity to catch up with her food while the two children talked science across her. Gave Megan a reassuring smile across the table, raised her eyebrows when she saw Tom picking at his food again. It was so hard, finding conversation when it had been so long since they’d seen each other last, especially with all that had happened in between.

“So.” Back at Megan and Tom’s house, away from prying eyes, she let herself fall back onto the sofa, Dot flopping on her feet. “Mika, anything you want to do? While you’ve got me captive?”

“I’ll go find a game. Watch this first though. Mammy, look!”

“I should go revise.”

Ruth smiled up at Mars. “All right. Good luck with the exams, and enjoy the cricket.”

"Are you watching?"

"Yes. Go on, Mika." She watched the child walk a few steps on her hands then do a forward roll. "Very good. You were going to get a game..."

She watched Mika skip out and then glanced critically at Tom. “You’re limping.”

A rueful smile. “We can't all be as bouncy as Mika. Yes, the other knee's playing up - can’t spend twenty years hopping around without some excess wear on the good leg. I’ve had five years good, and I’ve got plenty of time left before this gets bad enough to need a new one. Life, eh?”

“Keep talking to your doctor.”

“I know…”

Ruth gave him a small nod and then turned to Megan, who was loitering by the door. “So. Megan. I have no intention of talking work with your husband, I’m going to talk life with you. How’s life?” Hopefully that wasn't a completely tactless question, she thought after she'd said it. She nodded to Tom’s signalled offer of tea.

Megan shrugged, sitting down on the other end of the sofa. “Oh, you know. Ups and downs.”

“Like a rollercoaster where you can’t see what’s coming?”

“Would you believe I’ve never actually been on a rollercoaster?”

Tom stuck his head back round the door. “What?”

Megan raised her eyebrows at him. “What? I’ve never been on a rollercoaster. Go make that tea!”

“Even I’ve been on one. Even Ruth has, right?”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Ruth answered, at the same time as Megan repeated,

“Tea!”

“Yes, alright, alright. Don’t talk about anything exciting without me!”

Both Ruth and Megan shooed him out of the room and then looked at each other, the atmosphere instantly lighter.

“Yeah, ups and downs. I’ll have to start thinking about packing soon, ready for the move. And maybe looking for a job in Sheffield, once we get there.”

“Reckon it’s time to go back to work?”

“Well, I was trying before… since the BAP thing fell through.”

Awkward. Because Ruth couldn’t talk lightly about such things, but she didn’t want it to get serious either.

They were saved by Mika, coming up to them with some kind of trivia game and then standing on one leg to present it. 

“We’re playing teams. Because it’s not fair that you’re all older than me and have had more time learning.”

“Right, sounds fair. What are the teams?”

Mika looked Ruth over. “How clever are you?”

Both Megan and Ruth burst out laughing.

“Well. That’s a loaded question," Ruth answered in the end. "How are we measuring?”

Mika glared, and then turned to Tom as he came back in. “Daddy, is Ruth clever?”

He put the tea down quickly. “Um, she’s a literal genius, why?”

“Cleverer than you?”

“Why am I not in this comparison?” Megan cut in.

Mika ignored Megan and looked between Tom and Ruth for an answer.

“Teams,” Ruth explained.

“Ah. You usually go with me.”

“I went with Mars last time. And we won.”

Ruth met Tom’s eyes and avoided laughing. “It depends on the questions. If there’s a lot of sport or literature, your dad’s definitely the one to pair up with.”

“Team up with Ruth for… no, never mind, there won’t be any questions on dead languages. Or Canon Law.”

“I hope we’d be well matched on that!”

“Not a chance. Nor are we likely to get anything on Sacraments in the Church of England, which Ruth would crush us all at.”

Ruth rolled her eyes at Tom. “No, you’re not going to get a straight answer out of us, Mika. Probably just as well, it’s better if we’re more evenly matched, isn’t it?”

“You could play with your mam for a change?”

Mika grabbed Tom’s hand decisively. “No. I’m having daddy.”

“Which leaves you and me.” Ruth smiled at Megan. “You’ll have to explain the rules…”

© 2022 E.G. Ferguson