Robin's Way 14

I woke with a start as the sunlight filtered through a gap in the curtains. Putting a robe on, I looked out of the window and realised why I had woken - there was a press pack outside my door. My phone, when I turned it on, had three missed calls and a voicemail to call the BBC. Maddie had done her stuff. Someone must have seen the curtains twitch, as there was a knock on the door. Brushing my hair and checking I was decent, I went down to answer it.

"Robin, can we talk with you?"

"Can you all give me a few moments to freshen up and dress, and I promise I will be with you. Teas all round?" I asked.

I went back, put the kettle on, showered in record time, dressed in something suitably clerical, and then, making ten cups of tea, went to the door, where the pack was still there, joined now by a BBC van.

For the next half an hour I told the press what had happened, omitting only our interrogation of Elena and her name, but I did say that a member of the police force was involved in the crimes.

As we wound up so I could do the BBC interview, a tall man with a striking head of blond hair asked for a quick word.

"Rupert Myers from the Times, I wonder, Robin, whether we could do an in-depth story on this, there's a lot more to this, I am sure."

Just at that point, Maddie from the "Church Times," arrived, her face flushed.

"This," I said to Rupert, "is Maddie from the 'Church Times,' who broke the story and is doing an in depth on the project with the women. Could she work with you?"

I had said it in a way which implied that I would only cooperate if he would let Maddie in, and Rupert was quick enough to have caught that and immediately agreed.

"If that's agreeable to you, Maddie, if I may make so bold."

"You're Rupert Myers, aren't you? Love your stuff, yes, sure, be honoured to share the deep background, I don't think my stuff for the CT will take the same line as yours."

"Look," I said, "I have to do something for the Beeb, so if you two want to settle down in the kitchen and have a chat, I'll be with you soonest."

"You might want to see the story first, Robin," Maddie smiled.

"Mail Exclusive: 'Randy Rev and the revolting Russkies,' by our special reporter, Maddie Stone: see pp. 4, 5 and 6." It was complete with that picture of me, my nipples prominent in the wet tee-shirt. Ah well, I thought, it was not as though everyone interested had not seen them before.

The BBC reporter did an interview for the radio and asked whether I'd be interested in doing the Sunday programme live in London. As I was down to help at St Mark's for the Sunday services, and that was not going to happen given Richard's injunction to me, I said I would.

"We can put you up overnight if that will help, and send a car."

"If you would, I shall happily do it. Will you bring me back?"

"Of course!"

So, I would be in London later - which set my mind working on Jane. Sunday was, of course, our busy day, and unlike me, she was not barred from services, but I decided to text her and see what happened.

Back in the house I made some breakfast for the three of us, and chatted to Maddie and Rupert about what had happened. I gave Mac a ring; he took some time to answer.

"Robin?"

I told him what was going in, and he agreed to see Maddie and Rupert down at the station later.

As Maddie left, she stopped me.

"Robin, thanks, I think you just made my career."

I smiled back.

"Just do what I know you can and will, be honest about what we are trying to do here, and try not to let Rupert get carried away."

Rupert checked that he could call me for "colour," and then I went down to the station with them.

Roly, the newsagent waved as we went past and came to the door.

"I see you are in the papers again, Vicar?"

"I am, Roly, hope that helps you sell more papers."

"That picture of you does!"

Mac looked a bit sheepish when I saw him, but I smiled nicely and introduced Maddie and Rupert to him, and agreed to meet them later for lunch.

I went over to the Retreat. Miriam was in, "catching up," she said, but clearly burning with curiosity about the news, so I filled her in.

"Gosh, Robin," she said at the end, "you're becoming a celebrity."

"That," I said, with feeling, "is the last thing I want. But I will be on the BBC Sunday programme tomorrow, so if you get the chance...."

"Are you not at St Mark's?"

"I have effectively been banned from there, so I will go into town and, hopefully, see Bishop Jane."

As though uttering her name had been an incantation, my phone buzzed, and it was Jane.

"Excuse me, Miriam, that's the Bishop!"

"Robin, what on earth is going on? I had the press office on the line, and was going to phone you. They'd like a briefing."

"Look, Jane, I am on the BBC tomorrow and am coming into town later. As you free later afternoon, early evening?"

"I can be, and if you can Zoom with the press office in a few minutes that will help us all."

And that, was that. Short, pleasant, business like. That train had clearly left the station.

I did the Zoom meeting and then phoned my BBC contact and asked if they could send the car after lunch as my Bishop wanted to see me before the programme. They agreed.

So, all of a sudden, I had a few moments to myself.

I hated loose ends; and there was one.

Elena had known I was being posted to this Mission before I had known. Someone had told her. I could understand those arrested with Surtees wanting to keep an eye on me, but how could they have known where I was being sent before I did? It would have had to have been signed off by the Archbishop, but there could not have been that many people in the loop. I needed to find out who they were.

I wandered out into the lobby to think, when down the stairs came Anna, who smiled at me.

"Hope you did not mind?"

"Anna, darling, you had your needs, I hope Mac was the man to satisfy them?"

She grinned.

"Was he SO! He's dishy, and we're meeting again. I see you are in the papers again?"

"Yes, we have some journalists in town, and I am going up to London later, so I shall be away overnight."

"You really have no problem with my seeing Mac?"

"Really," I smiled, leaning in to hug her. "I'm delighted for you both."

I was.

The phone buzzed. It was Irina.

"Robin, I have seen the news, being trying to get through, but your phone seems permanently busy."

"It's been that sort of day," I replied. "What can I do for you?"

"Really just wanted to congratulate you on getting Dimitri and company out of the way. It will really help us."

I told her about Elena.

"So that was how the bastards knew who to target back in Ukraine. How could anyone do that?"

"Baffles me too. But I wonder if your services could help me with a problem?"

I told her what Elena had told me about the Russians knowing about my new situation before I had, and asked if her people could dig around. She promised to help.

"I shall be going back to Ukraine for a while next week, any chance of seeing you before then?"

"Yes, every chance, I am off to London later, but will be back for the week ahead. Let me know what evening you'd like."

"I shall," she promised.

I met Maddie and Rupert as agreed at my favourite place on the sea front. Already, the autumnal coolness was militating against my favourite place, sitting outside, and watching the sea and sky. We got a table by the window. They both seemed happy with their morning.

"Robin, I have to thank you for access to Macduff, from what he was saying there is much more to this," Rupert said, getting down to business as Maddie and I scanned the menu.

"Oh there is, and if your editor has the stamina for it, I think there is a really good story here."

"Actually," Maddie interjected, "there are two, and that's what Rupert and I have been discussing. I am going to have a word with my editor about doing a couple of church-orientated pieces on you and your work, and Rupert wants to do a short series on the wider context."

"That sounds marvellous," I said, thankful that the focus was shifting away from me to what I was doing."

"There's a 'but,' coming, Robin," Rupert said in a tone anticipating opposition from me. "Editors and readers like a personal angle, and we'd love to do a profile of you to preface the articles on your work and on the Russians."

And, I thought, just when I had supposed the focus was shifting from me, back it swivelled. But, of course, what Rupert said made sense, and if it would help get his editor on side, then how could I say no?

"I think I can trust you both," I smiled, hoping I was correct, "so yes, by all means."

We spent the rest of the lunch talking about my least favourite subject, me. They both had recorders on their phones on, and they promised me that I could see the final version.

"I'm not naive enough to think I have a veto, but that's kind of you both."

"We'll get it done in time for the deadline, and it will advertise a two-part feature on you and the Russians over the next fortnight. How does that suit you?" Rupert asked, flashing me his broad smile.

"I am off to London soon," I said, "but I can pick it up on my phone, so just text me when you're sending it."

Seeing the time, I thanked them both, went back home, and packed an overnight bag, just in time for my lift to arrive.

Had I done the right thing, or was I being naive? I'd told them about my life up to now, and been honest about my sex life, or to be truthful, lack thereof. Had I opened myself up too much? But I did, I really did, want to highlight the plight of the women I had been working with, and to get the focus to shift onto them, so it was a price I had to pay.

The journey to London was pleasant enough. My driver did not try to chat me up and left me to my own devices for the most part. I pondered what to wear for my interview, but even more, what to say to Jane.

It only took a couple of hours to get me to the hotel, and once I had unpacked there, I took a cab to Lambeth.

The door keeper let me in, and directed me to Jane's quarters. To my surprise, the Archbishop was also there.

"Robin, you know the Archbishop? Justin, this is Robin."

"Welcome Robin, I wanted to meet and talk with you. Will you take some tea with us?"

Getting over my surprise at the top man wanting to talk to me, I said that of course I would.

After we sat down and tea was served, Jane began.

"His Grace and I have been considering what to do about the situation, Robin. I will let him expand on that."

My heart lurched before descending to my stomach and making somersaults there; I felt slightly sick.

"You will understand, Robin, that we have a safeguarding duty to you and those with whom you have dealings. All this publicity must be stressful for you, and now there are the added weights of this business with the Russians and the whole gay issue. It is too much to ask you to bear. We think a period of rest and relaxation might help. We can then consider where your gifts might be best applied."

Throughout this masterpiece of mealymouthed doublespeak (which of course meant 'you are a troublesome young woman, and we want to use the excuse that you must be stressed out, to take you out of the public eye and calm down the furore'), Jane maintained a beatific expression of benign concern.

I struggled to retain control of myself, the feeling that I needed to vomit, rising rapidly. So, I bit into the scone, and then took a sip of tea, letting the Archbishop rabbit on in the same vein.

It was clear enough. I had become a source of controversy, and there were various ways of dealing with me. The kind option was the one they were proposing, namely that "out of pastoral concern," they wanted to move me from the eye of the storm. But I knew there were others. "Safeguarding," was double-edged sword, and in reality, it usually meant safeguarding the church.

"It must be hard for you, Robin, and we are aware that there may be some safeguarding issues concerning you and one of the Ukrainian women. We have had a report of inappropriate behaviour which we may have to explore if you were to stay."

And there it was, the other option laid bare. 'Go or we shall make you go.'

My mind was in turmoil. There had been those few moments with Anna, but no one else had been in the room, and it had not gone anywhere, and we had done nothing, and Anne had taken the lead, and, and so on and so forth. But that was the point, of course, it would go on until I agreed. I could agree in a way that would not damage my career, or I could agree once my career had been damaged. What hurt most was that Jane had bought into this. She had not warned me. She did not want to see me; she had called me in for a chat with "the Boss."

As someone said to me a few hours later:

"You should have told them where to stuff their job and left, that was disgraceful of them!"

Maybe. But what I am about to write will take longer to set out than it took to think it.

Perhaps I am too much of an Anglican, but I actually understood. Under my mounting anger, I saw two good people trying to protect the church and me. They had put their minds together and come up with what they thought was the best way of doing it. Keep quiet, be a good girl and all will yet be well. I had no doubt they'd have found me something somewhere. Make a noise and be a bad girl, and it will be the worse for you, and you will be harming the church. Jane knew how I thought and was banking on my being a good girl, as I had been brought up to be. But they were both wrong. They were thinking small.

I looked at them both.

"We all know that all you have on that last is Miriam peeping in through keyholes. Nothing happened beyond a kiss, and the woman concerned, Anna, will not only not confirm whatever Miriam told you, she will tell you the truth!"

I could see the Archbishop beginning to reply and, rather rudely, cut him off.

"It's okay, I'll go!"

I heard sighs of relief. They had not wanted to go down the "bad girl" route.

"Why would I want to stay where my assistant behaves like that, and my parish priest treats me like a pariah because I kissed a girl and liked it? But I have a suggestion to which I would like you to agree."

The Archbishop looked taken aback. I thought I saw a smile flicker across Jane's lips.

"I am in town because tomorrow I am being interviewed on the BBC's "Sunday" programme. That morning the "Sunday Times" is running a profile on me and a piece on what is being done in Suffolk, it is the first of two. The "Church Times" is running a piece contextualising our work, and saying something about the treatment of gay women in the Church."

I could see all of that had gripped the Archbishop's attention.

"I want to be able to say that the Church is helping and doing Christ's work in the world, but if what I have to say is that I am being moved away, well, I don't have to tell either of you how that will be received. We can all see Monday's headlines now. Moreover, the Home Office is also taking an interest in what we are doing, and I daresay MPs might ask what is going on."

They both looked worried.

"But of course, there is a way in which moving me can be part of a good news story."

I could see I had the Archbishop's interest. I had not threatened anything, I had not lost my temper, and I was going to go.

"If it were to be announced that as part of the Strategic Mission and Ministry Investment Scheme, a new Ministry of service to abused refugee women and girls was being set up, and I was being appointed as its first Director, don't you think that might play rather well with the media and MPs?"

For the first time since I had come into the room, the Archbishop's thin lips broke into a smile.

"Jane told me you were clever. She was not wrong. What you are outlining would, of course, achieve some of the objectives we need; but where would this be based?"

"London is probably the most 'gay-friendly' diocese, and it so happens there is a vacant large church building in Southwest London looking for a use. There are some church flats in the complex next to it, sounds to me as though that would work. It would put me out in the leafy suburbs, look like a promotion, help the refugees, and burnish the church's reputation. Moreover, one more gay woman priest in liberal middle class Teddington would make no great stir, would it?"

He looked at me, then at Jane, then back at me.

"If we agreed to that now, you could get that onto the programme tomorrow?"

"Not only could I, I would. And, I just have time to get it to my journalist contact to go with tomorrow's story. What do you say, your Grace?"

"I say you are an extremely bold and resourceful young woman. I am setting up a commission to see what more we should be doing for refugees; I want you to be on it. If you agree, you can tell them that, too. I will brief the press office immediately after this."

I grinned.

"Deal, your Grace!"

He stood up, and I did the same. He looked me in the eye and shook my hand.

"I meant it, your idea was much better than mine. God be with you!"

And with that he left, rushing off to brief the press.

"Jane, can I have a moment to tell my press person?"

"Of course."

I phoned Maddie who was delighted and who promised to tell Rupert.

"We'll send you the final piece in about an hour."

Ending the call, I sat and looked at Jane.

"I am sorry, truly I am. But you understand why we could not leave you where you were."

"I do, I really do, but I think my idea is a better way of doing it."

"You're disappointed in me?"

"Not really. Sad, but I know you are a Bishop, and you have to consider the wider implications for the church."

"It's like my hopes that we could have a relationship. Robin. I really wanted that, but the damage it would now do to my position is too great."

"Like the damage I did to mine, letting that picture be published?"

"That's different. You have only yourself to consider, I have the whole benefice over which I preside."

"I know, I know," I said, rather weakly, not wanting to end this with an argument.

"I will tell Bishop Sarah on Monday, Robin, and we shall try to get you in for Advent. How would that be?"

"Thank you." I meant it. The speed things usually moved in the Church, I could still have been in Felixstowe for Easter, and the longer it took to do anything, the greater the chance that it would not happen. Jane's final gift to me as my Bishop was one that would help me. But I was sorrowful. It must have shown in my face.

"I am sorry, truly, Robin. If I can do anything to help in the future, just ask."

"I shall," I said, "let me show myself out, I know the way."

We leaned in for an awkward hug and pecks on the cheek.

As I left, I noticed in the outer office occupied by Jane's PA, a Russian icon. I looked at the nameplate which read: 'Anya Rostov;' I would have put money on Ms Rostov being the origin of the "leak." That was rather worrying, and I made a mental note to tell Jane.

As I left and walked to Lambeth bridge, a wave of feeling passed over me. It was that strange time, late on a Saturday afternoon, when the business of the everyday world began to run down. I had always felt a sort of melancholy, as though time itself was slipping away. I wanted company, and yet had none. The phone buzzed. Assuming it must be Rupert or Maddie, I just took it.

"Robin?"

"Mama?" I exclaimed, shocked, as apart from Christmas and birthday cards we had not spoken in two years since she had excommunicated me from the family when I came out.

"Oh Robin, I read the papers. Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, Mama, I am. How good to hear your voice again."

"Robin, I am sorry."

Part of me wanted to say: "who are you and what have you done with my infallible Mama?" but I simply said: "about what?"