York Minster. How right it was, to stand at this altar. How wrong, that it should be for the last time. She needed a maniple, really, to wipe the river of tears that flowed from her eyes!
Afterwards, the party. She'd wanted it after the service to avoid going home to an empty flat, and was glad of that decision now. Wine flowing freely, laughter and sorrow and congratulations and commiserations. Around the walls, display after display, photos dredged out of God-knows-where. She’d already caught a glimpse of some of the Westcott ones. She'd have to take a proper look later. If only she were allowed wine.
First, though, a retreat, to sit near the top of the stairs and lean against the bannister. A moment of quiet relief from the noise and the crowds.
“Do you want company, or would you rather be alone?”
Ruth looked up and considered for a moment. “Hi Isla. Company’d be nice. Your company, at least.”
Isla sat down next to her on the step. “You’re pretending well, just so you know.”
“Good.” Ruth rested her head against the bannister and blinked hard. “I don’t want to go.” It came out strangled, taking her by surprise.
“But you have.”
“Yes.”
You’re not Archbishop anymore, Ruth. It’s over. Officially, properly over.
“So. That’s us. It’s been a good innings.”
“It has. And you’re off to Tom now. I’m glad.”
“Yeah. It’ll be different.”
“Of course it will. Probably the better for it.”
“And you’re off to… what, Turkey?”
“Once I've moved everything to Cambridge and had my last scans. Cleanest break I can manage.”
“Enjoy. I know you will.”
Ruth tried to sit up. “So. All these embarrassing photos…”
Isla pulled a face. “They’re not too bad. Might want a few more drinks before you go that far back down memory lane, though?”
“My thinking exactly. Except my doctor said no.”
“Ah. Well, maybe a bit of quiet time first. Do the crying in private.”
“Not done so well at that so far today. But yeah. I was thinking about going to chapel.”
“Yes. Or a walk round the gardens.”
“What, in this weather?”
“Fair point. Keep forgetting heat wave has snapped. Still, storms are rather fun.”
“I’ve had enough lectures about self care…”
“Oh yeah. Shouldn’t be encouraging you. Bad chaplain!”
Ruth half smiled. “I could just go back. Drink wine. Don't tell my doctor...”
“Self care?”
“Hey, I have to get through this somehow…”
“Plead age and take an early night?”
“It’s literally a party for me.”
“Give it about half an hour and nobody’ll care about that anymore.”
“Fair point.”
“So. Clear path ahead. Eyes to Cambridge.”
“Yup.” Ruth sighed. “It’ll be fun.”
“It will.”
“It’s going to be weird.”
“It is.”
“Not working tomorrow. Or the day after. Or the day after that. What am I going to do with myself?”
“Uh, see the world..?”
“Oh yeah. Well, obviously.”
“That feels like plenty to be doing.”
“And house move,”
“Oh yeah. We’ve both got that joy, haven’t we?”
“Yup.”
Isla picked at her trouser leg. “Well. It’s been wonderful working for you.”
“Oh, I’ve been pretty awful, no need to pander.”
“Oh yes, would never claim you’ve been my easiest employer. But still. Or even, with all that. It really has. You taught me so much, and made me who I am now - a better, stronger person.”
“I'm glad I've had the chance to work with you too. Sorry for all the times I’ve been horrible. It’s been a wonderful few years. Do keep in touch, ask if there's anything I can help you with, maybe come visit me?”
“Definitely. The same to you. When you’re not terrorising ordinands.”
“I’m not going to terrorise them!”
“Yeah, yeah…” Isla laughed. “Ah, I know you won’t really. Except when they deserve it. There’s a soft heart under all the spikes.”
“Shh, don’t tell…” She pulled herself to her feet. “It’s right to go now, really, and everything will be fine. I just… really don’t want to, right now.”
“No. Of course you don’t.” Isla stood up too.
“Maybe it’s time to drink wine and go see what horrors Karen and co. have pulled up for me?”
“It’s quite a collection. Slightly terrifying how much they keep in those archives…”
“Oh joy.”
“Some fantastic parish placement ones…”
“Great, I can guess. I spent way too much time in costume. And for some reason allowed people to document it.”
“And ordination photos, of course. And newspaper cuttings. Book extracts. Sermon snippets.”
“Oh come on.”
“Yup.”
“Right. I have to see this thing. Find out whether I have to kill Karen.”
“Don’t do that, you’ve done pretty well until now, don’t wreck it. I mean, I know you like firsts, but…”
Ruth snorted. “Right. Don’t be the first Archbishop arrested for murder. Would I be the first?”
“Not a clue. Come on, let’s get back in there.”
“I guess we should.”
“Good. Let’s go. Assuming you don’t want your quiet time anymore.”
“Nah, it’s fine. I already cried in the Minster.”
“Nothing wrong with crying during the consecration.”
“No. But in front of that many people. Hopefully wasn’t too noticeable?”
“Nah, shouldn’t think so.” Isla grabbed two glasses of elderflower cordial from the table and thrust one of them at Ruth. “Don't moan, I know how much you hate dialysis. Ready to brave the photo boards yet?”
“Let’s go for it.” Ruth caught Karen’s eye and indicated the boards with a jerk of her head.
The publicity officer was over in an instant. “What do you think?”
“Not looked yet. Going to make you come and listen to my running commentary.”
“Most of it wasn’t me, you know. Blame archives. I just directed the putting up, since apparently my lot are the only ones who know how to format.”
“Yeah, yeah, where’s the start? Over there? Oh for goodness’ sake, you got that picture? Seriously? The information age is a terrifying thing…”
Karen laughed. “Well, you know, what happens at theological college... definitely, definitely doesn’t stay at theological college!”
Ruth rolled her eyes. “Evidently not. Evidently. Not.”
No comments:
Post a Comment