It might have been Oxford that trained her for ordained ministry, but it was in Cambridge that Ruth had rediscovered her faith after the battering of said early ministry. She'd been back again and again, more frequently as the years had gone on, to lecture or preach or more recently to make arrangements, and every time there was a sense of a weight falling away. Coming back properly, buying a house here, making her life here again? It was the one thing about "retirement" she was actually looking forward to.
She should have taken a taxi from the station, really, but after hours stuck in the Lords she’d felt the need for the walk. The evening was warm, just enough breeze to make it bearable. She approached the gate with head down, already calling the number on her phone. The gate opened, and she glanced up, but slipped aside quickly into the shadows as a group of ordinands spilled out. It was a minute before the gate opened again and a more mature figure appeared, hand held out in greeting.
“Ruth! Welcome.”
“Thank you, Melissa. How are you?”
“Fine, thanks, how are you? Come on in. Would you like me to show you straight up to your room?”
“Please.”
“You’re in D1, I expect you know the way…”
“Lovely.” She glanced inside the bar as she passed, at the few students slumped on sofas. “Mid exams?”
“Indeed. It should be quiet for you. Should.”
“And compline is at half past nine?”
“It is.”
“Perfect, thank you.”
Left alone, she found her tablet and checked through emails. Details for meetings tomorrow – and for house viewings. A few promising properties, though if they weren’t right she’d leave it. There was no hurry, although it’d be nice to have something lined up when she left Bishopthorpe, nice to only have to move once. Hopefully one of the ones she’d found would do the job.
It was nine o’clock. She strolled to the window and looked out across the silent court. There had been very few changes over the past twenty-odd years. Well, apart from that new thing over behind the chapel, fortunately low enough not to affect the familiar views around the court. There was a light on in the room where she'd had most of her PhD supervisions. And there was the library, silhouetted figures bent over laptops, surrounded by piles of books. She'd never quite felt she fitted in there, but had looked in longingly more than a few times.
She hung her spare shirt up in the wardrobe, and then read for fifteen minutes at the desk by the window. Stood up, stretched, picked up a jacket and immediately put it down again, and finally drifted down the stairs in the direction of the chapel. After all her efforts not to be seen by students… ah well, even if they did recognise her, there would be no talking. If she really wanted to go incognito, she should have actually thought about it and packed some clothes that weren’t purple clericals. She didn't know why it hadn't occurred to her, especially given tomorrow was her day off, but then convocation robes had been enough to carry.
She was one of the first in the chapel, and took a seat to the side and near the front. Some places never changed, and this was one, just the candle-lit icon to disturb the stark simplicity. The bell was ringing, now, and she was lost for a moment between time and status. Thirty, thirty-one years? And from a battered young priest in the middle of a crisis of faith, to archbishop, the change bigger than years. She twisted the ring on her finger, a ring only removed once since she’d been vested with it over twenty years ago.
And now the chapel was starting to fill with those who, though currently lost in a haze of exam-induced stress, would be the Church’s future leaders. How many would one day wear a ring like hers, would be charged to guide and shape the Church of England? And how many would be called to fight battles not yet imagined? In thirty, forty years… what would the world look like in that time, through the years in which some of these young people would serve?
“The Lord Almighty grant us a quiet night and a perfect end.”
She pushed her musing aside and joined the amen.
First to arrive, last to leave. Light still streamed from the library windows as she emerged into the court, and a few huddled shapes still pored over mounds of books. She returned to her room and drew the curtains, considering picking up her book again but deciding in the end on a retreat to bed. Good habits, when she had this opportunity, she told herself. Instead she let her thoughts drift to Dot, cared for as always on these occasions by good Sister Helena. Dear old Dot, still hanging on.
She turned the light out and lay in bed. The noises of the town were just about audible through the open window but muffled, kept out by brick walls and great wooden gate. Within the court, silence. She let her thoughts drift, running through each of the houses she was going to see tomorrow.
The noise took a while to process. It had been quiet, she had been drifting off into sleep… she had been asleep, must have been. And now, laughter, a burst of off-key singing, voices calling across the court. “Night.” “See you tomorrow.” “Brunch?” “Yeah, where?”… she stretched out an arm for her phone and looked at the time. Almost one in the morning. Apparently, not everyone was in the midst of exams.
She held out for a couple of minutes, staring at the ceiling. Just visiting. Don’t get involved. They’ll be gone soon… and then came the distinctive sound of a mallet against a croquet ball. Ugh. Sleep well and truly gone, she pushed the covers back and stalked to the window, leaning out to examine the scene. Four- no, five students in the court, two messing around with croquet mallets while the rest lounged against a wall and watched.
She wasn’t the only one looking out of a window – shadowy faces had appeared all around the court, glaring down baleful but silent. She sighed and shoved the window open the rest of the way.
“Excuse me!”
She saw them jump, and heard the louder-than-intended musing on her identity.
“It is one o’clock in the morning. Regardless of whether others in this college had exams or not, your behaviour would be inconsiderate. You are also old enough to know better, and you should not need reminding what you are training for. Behave accordingly!”
She continued to glare down as they shuffled away, frequent glances back up at her window, noise reduced to nervous whispers. Only once doors had closed behind them did she pull her window partway closed and retreat to her bed again, heartrate now rather increased. Outside, All Saints chimed the hour, a reinforcement of her statement. Well, now she’d made herself known, she might as well attend corporate Morning Prayer. But first, to sleep.
Perhaps it was a benefit of age, that despite the disturbance she was soon asleep again, to wake as early as ever and head for the shower. Then to fumble with the studs of her collar, hang the cross around her neck, open the curtains and sit with bible open at the desk. One more day, begun with words and silence, with a time to prepare before crossing the court to the chapel. It put her in the right frame of mind to shut out those around, ignore the whispers, even to stifle her smile at the shamefaced looks of some of those present.
It was a shame that meetings forced her to leave with so many of the ordinands before the morning Eucharist. But the morning was bright, the sky cloudless, the heat of the day still a few hours off. Outside the gates, a constant stream of cyclists ducking around the stationary line of traffic. Ah, the morning commute, definitely something worth considering when choosing a house. For the first time in decades, not to be living within a stone’s throw of her place of work… well, it wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. Especially as a tutor, where her place of work was filled not only with colleagues, those tasked with supporting her ministry, but with those she would serve. And especially with those people being students, and all the awkwardness and recklessness that might entail. The incident last night served as a final reminder of why she would prefer to live away from the university proper.
The taxi whisked her out quickly enough, once it had escaped the gridlock of the city centre. This was certainly the right direction to be travelling at this time of day, out into the countryside, views stretching out across uninterrupted miles of fenland. Here and there, small clumps of trees and the odd church tower offered the only punctuations in a world otherwise ironed flat. There, the river snaking through, a glimpse of glistening silver, a small hint of nature’s beauty amid agriculture’s regiments, somewhere to walk and enjoy creation. But oh for a hill. It was a far cry from Yorkshire Of all the places to be buying her first house... for it was her first, really, because she didn’t count the flat she’d owned in her late twenties.
There were times she really wished for someone to share the occasion with. Even just for the reassurance of knowing that they were there, that they wouldn’t let her make any real mistakes, as she toured houses and bungalows and worked through her lists of questions and examined everything she could find to examine. Only one property off the list straight away, with traces of damp on the walls and rotten window frames. “Great potential” was what you went for when you had time and imagination. Questionable décor was bad enough, forcing her to try to picture how the place might look with brighter colours and fewer floral rugs. But here and there she caught glimpses of inspiration: a room which she might line with books for a study, a corner for a dog bed… not that Dot was likely to see this house. But a sunny yard filled with climbing roses, a wooden bench among beds of lavender, these she found were far more attractive than a browning lawn. She’d never mowed grass, and saw no reason to start now.
But anyway, there were important things to be thinking about, things like plumbing and the state of the windows and whether it had solar panels on the roof, parking spaces, road access, safe cycle paths into the city… because if she was going to come back here, she’d really have to embrace the fenland’s primary mode of transport. Even if she felt too old for such nonsense.
Well, she knew which her heart favoured, which she kept coming back to as she compared them in her head on the drive back into the city. But now, concentrate! Outside the restaurant they'd agreed, her hosts already waiting for her, and she shook hands and followed them inside.
“Archbishop. Thank you for coming.”
“Call me Ruth. Thank you for inviting me.”
“I hope you’ve more reason than just this meeting to be in the area…”
“I do, thank you, I’ve a few things to be doing in Cambridge at the moment. And I was already in London, which is rather closer than York!”
“It is indeed!”
Polite conversation was made until the food was ordered, and then Ruth moved on to the real question. “So. Adam. If I may be blunt about it, you’re preparing to retire.”
“I am indeed.” The elderly professor leant back in his seat. “However reluctantly, my health is starting to insist, and besides, I’m probably stagnating. One more year would be about perfect, I’m sure you understand the feeling based on your own decisions in recent months. And you are interested in taking over my course.”
“It’s an exciting opportunity, if it will work. Of course I’m not an academic by traditional standards…”
“It certainly falls within your subject area, and indeed I would say you are the very definition of a bishop-theologian. You’ve reviewed the course overview..?”
“I have. Quite a similar course content to when I was an ordinand, although obviously some newer names on the reading list - beside my own! Now, I do have a few questions…”
It was a productive discussion, if Ruth did occasionally wonder what diners on surrounding tables thought of the whole thing. Well, it was Cambridge. And she was sitting here with a senior lecturer and the head of the Divinity Faculty. No doubt there would be many more similar conversations in future. At last, the future was starting to brighten, her head beginning to buzz with possibilities. The chance to study again, to share ideas and help them grow. And to build the future, through young minds. To prepare others to serve God in the Church. And simply to do new things, because for each thing she was sorry to lose, there would be something new and exciting to take its place. She would find something new and exciting. And she would enjoy it.
Three more houses to view in the afternoon – packing it in, before being dropped off back outside Westcott’s gate for another meeting. And yet this was technically a day off, booked as such. After all, this wasn’t York business she was doing, it was her own. What most clergy probably would consider a day off, although it was far from a Sabbath rest. But then this would be filling time off whatever one’s career, because that’s what it took to invest in one’s future. So she powered on, doing her best to ignore the baking sun.
Appointments carried her through to dinner, and only after that could she finally find time for the video call she’d been itching to make all afternoon. “Good evening, Sister.”
“Good evening, your Grace. How has your day been?”
“Wonderful, thank you, Sister Helena. And yourself?”
“All is well here. And you’re calling about Dot, of course.”
Ruth smiled, no argument as the habited Sister crouched down, lowering the laptop to the floor, and Ruth’s grin widened further as a familiar shape limped into view, tail still wagging with a remnant of Dot’s once inexhaustible energy. “Hey girl. Hello you. Yes, it’s me, I wanted to say hello. You’re being good for Sister Helena?”
“She is, very much so. We had a lovely walk this afternoon, didn’t we? A gentle potter round the gardens.” Sister Helena knelt and bent down so that she too was visible through the camera. “She’s spent most of the day sleeping in our sitting room, a little bit of a wander up to your office to see Isla and check that you weren’t there but she’s very good about staying with me now, like she knows you’ll be back. Only a little whine this morning, then on with the day.”
“Sorry, old girl, I’ll be back soon.”
Dot rested her head on her paws and looked at Ruth, not a hint of reproach in her gentle eyes. Her tail was still banging against the floor, and Ruth just wished she could reach out to smooth that silky fur, to stroke her head and ruffle under her collar. The slightest twinge of jealousy mingling with gratitude as Sister Helena fulfilled the task.
“I’ve been looking at houses for us. Nice places for walking and for stretching out. A lovely river path which must be full of smells. You hang on and I’ll bring you when I get the chance, okay?” Swallow away the knowledge that this would most likely remain a dream. “You’ve done all her medications? Sorry, I know I don’t need to check…”
Sister Helena smiled indulgently. “I have, and she took them no trouble. Used some of the muscle oil this afternoon before the walk, it helped a good bit.”
“She was bad?”
“Not so much worse than the usual aches and pains.”
“Brave girl.” Ruth gazed at the screen. “I’ll be back tomorrow, okay, just one more night. Tell Sister Helena to give you a cuddle from me?”
“With pleasure.” The nun smiled back. “Now I’m sorry, your Grace, if you’ll excuse me I should be at the chapel…”
“Of course. God bless you, and thank you.”
“And you too. It is my pleasure.”
Ruth nodded her thanks again, eyes still on Dot. Poor old girl. You’ve hung on this long, keep doing that. God, I shouldn’t be this upset about a dog, especially as she keeps going, but just the idea… is it only four years, five? She’s everything, and I love her. The one who models your love to me every day, who loves me simply for myself. Grant her your rest, but let me be there.
The picture vanished, and she shook her head, reaching for her phone. Time for evening prayer. And then a couple of hours of real time off, to read and then simply sit in silence until the chapel bell tolled. Compline, sleep. That was how to end a day.
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