Robin's Way 15

The hotel bed was comfortable, and after an evening with my Mama, I slept well. I realised how much her rejection of me had hurt. It was no wonder no one else wanted me if my own mother didn't. I felt a balm of healing descend. I said a heartfelt prayer of thanks.

I knew I had to be up early, so I showered, dressed in my best 'lady vicar,' outfit, clerical blouse and collar, mid-thigh length tartan skirt and heels; respectable but not dull.

At the hotel I had the chance to read the "Sunday Times," catching the headline about "Rev Robin's story, read more inside." And there it was, the profile, complete with rather a nice drawing of me; must get the original, I thought to myself. I texted Maddie and Rupert and thanked them. They had done a great job. Of course there was stuff about me, personally, but they put it all in the context I had wanted. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I checked out, had a coffee in the lounge, looked at the other papers, which also mentioned me, and waited for the car, which arrived at eight on the dot. The journey to Broadcasting House felt strange, the usually busy London streets hushed, the noise and bustle giving way to an unaccustomed calmness.

At the Studio, I was met by a nice young woman and shown to the make-up room, where some kind soul had the task of taming my hair and making me presentable. From there it was into the Green Room, where coffee and Danish pastries were on tap.

Laura Kuenssberg, the presenter, popped in.

"Robin, I take it?"

"Yes, nice to meet you."

"And you. You have certainly made a splash. I wanted to ask whether you could stay and help with the paper review? We have copies here and if you want to leaf through them after your interview, that will do, and we can get your car ready after that. Would that suit?"

I was flattered and, of course, agreed.

I was joined by a politician whom I knew I ought to recognise, but didn't, and an actress who was famous for her portrayal of Alpha women, who assumed I knew who she was, which was a huge help, as I could not recall her name either.

"Oh darling," she said, "I saw that profile in the "Times," so lovely. A delight to meet you, don't you think Minister?"

The Minister was hardly likely to dissent. We were then joined by two journalists who were there to review the papers. I was the first one up, the main interviewee. I suppose I should have been nervous, but somehow, I wasn't.

I was fitted with a mic, and then sat, facing Laura. After the opening credits came the news, and then it was over to Laura.

"Our main guest today is, for once, not a politician or entertainer or sports personality. The Reverend Robin Topham is front page news in most of the papers, and there is a profile of her in this morning's "Sunday Times," along with an article about her work. For those of you who have been on a Desert Island these last few days, Robin has been involved in bringing to justice a group of Russian mafia thugs who have been trafficking Ukrainian women. Robin, thank you for being here."

"Thank you for having me, Laura, and most of all for not using the name the "Mail," always uses."

She laughed, which nicely broke the ice.

She asked about the events of the last two days, and I gave as succinct an account as I could.

"Robin, as you know, there is some controversy about you because you are gay. Rumours are that the Church is rather embarrassed by some of the publicity and that you are to be shunted off somewhere you can be kept quiet. Would you like to comment on that?"

"Rumours," I said, "which are the opposite of the truth. Indeed, later today, the Archbishop of Canterbury, whom I saw yesterday, will be announcing the setting up of a new initiative, the Rahab centre, which will deal with the issues we have been discussing. I am to be its first Director, and it will be based here, in London. If that is someone's idea of the Church hiding me, it is an odd one!"

"Is that hot off the press, Robin?"

"It is, only the "Times," and now yourselves have it. I think it shows that the Church has its priorities and its heart in the right place, don't you? There is a lot of careless talk about the Church being remote from the concerns of the people, and its middle-class nature and its new initiatives being self-referential; I think this shows how wrong such criticisms are."

I could almost hear the Archbishop and Jane cheering, and him punching the air with his fist.

That led us into a discussion of refugees and how we should deal with them, which allowed me to reference Maddie's forthcoming article, and the "Sunday Times" one next week.

I got the full fifteen minutes, and it passed like a flash. As Laura turned away to the second camera, I was allowed to go back to the Green Room, while the Minister came in. Idiot that I was, I only realised when I saw the screen that it was the Home Secretary!

"Home Secretary," Laura said, "you will, I am sure, have been as impressed as we all were with the Reverend Robin, what do you think of her announcement of what the Church is doing?"

"I was, Laura, and it is an excellent example of what the Prime Minister calls the "common good," working with the communities locally. I shall, by the way, be speaking to Robin personally, and will welcome her help with our own highly successful initiatives."

Oh my! Oh well, I thought, at least my not having the foggiest idea who he was had not stopped him from wanting to welcome what I was doing. Indeed, when he came back into the Room for a post interview coffee, he could not have been more welcoming, and he gave me his card, took my number, and said his office would be in touch. After that we chatted like old friends. I sat amazed at the ability of the politician to seem so at ease with someone who was a total stranger. Still, what mattered was that I had some access to the Government.

The paper review was interesting. As I was in nearly all of them, the two journalists were quite polite, and it meant that the project got yet more publicity.

Afterwards Laura invited me to join her for a coffee.

"Thank you," I said, "you were a breath of fresh air."

"Thank you," she said, "I wanted you to stay for the papers to ensure that neither of the journos made any comments you would not like. It's so odd, we were being fed leaks yesterday that you were going to be moved, and there was nothing about the new project."

"That would be before I talked to the Archbishop."

She smiled.

"I see, would that be because all the publicity shifted things in your favour?"

"It would. However tiresome some of the stuff was, it helped."

"You mean you made it help. Look Robin, if you are moving to London, please keep in touch. I have a feeling we have not heard the last of you. Here's my card."

I thanked her and gave her my mobile number.

As I waited for the car, Mama phoned me, all excited.

"Darling girl, you were wonderful, and I love the piece in the Times. Give me a ring when you get back home, and we can see when we can meet up again."

Of all the compliments I was to get for that interview, Mama's was the one I treasured most.

The driver on the return leg was, alas, much chattier, so I was relieved when the phone buzzed again. It was Mac.

"Just wanted to say how well we thought that went."

"We?" I grinned.

"I gave that away, didn't I? Anna would like a word."

"Robin, darling, you were so good. But what is all this about a new project in London? How long have you known?"

"Oh since about four o'clock yesterday!"

"Wow! Let's meet soon, I'll put Mac back on."

"Can we meet up for supper tomorrow?"

"Tell you what," I said, "why don't we all three of us meet at the usual place?"

"Wouldn't that make you gooseberry?"

"Don't be silly, you are both my friends, and it would be nice to see you two together, unless, that is, I am presuming too much?"

"No, not at all, that would be nice."

"Okay, well let's fix seven at the usual then?"

"See you then, but probably before."

Between chatting to the driver, my thoughts on the way back were occupied by the sheer strangeness of it all, and by how easily one's life could be derailed.

I had trained for the Ministry because I wanted to serve. My ideal had been where I had served my ticket, a rural Suffolk Parish where I could be part of the community and serve those to whom God had sent me. I realised, with a sigh and great sadness, that would now never happen.

The ways of the Church of England were quite as mysterious as those of the God it served. Those who decided these things had moved me after the Surtees business, and now, scarcely six months later, here I was, on the move again. One advantage of living in church accommodation, is one could manage with the moving easily. But so soon? How did one make friends, find lovers, become part of a community if one was constantly on the move?

Still, I reflected, "they," whoever they were, would find it difficult to move me on again so soon again. I was truly grateful to Jane for promising to expedite the move. She was right, the longer it took, the more "they" might find an excuse to change their minds. After all, it was me who had made their mind up, and I doubted that would be forgiven.

What I had to do now was to exploit my notoriety for all it was worth. I would talk to the Home Secretary, I would talk with Maddie and Rupert, I would go on this Commission, and I would make sure that the Rahab Centre got the funding it deserved. I realised that the publicity blaze had given me access to a level of influence and even temporary power that nothing else could have done. God moved in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform. I would, I promised him, do all I could to deserve his grace.

St Mary Magdalen's had been the big parish church in the Teddington area, but had been replaced in the seventies with a smaller church. The original neo-Gothic building had been converted into an arts centre, and a complex of apartments built in its grounds. The Church had retained control of the complex and the building, but latterly, the arts centre had failed, and rumour had it that the Church was looking to sell the whole thing. Well, I was putting a stop to that. I doubted the money men would be pleased, I was depriving them of the income from selling assets off, and wanting more of those assets for a cause I doubted they approved of. Still, I smiled to myself, there were different funding departments, so who even knew if the right hand was aware of the existence of the left one? One hardly needed to divide and rule - the bureaucracy had done it to itself.

I was in no doubt that Mary Mags would be hard work, the hardest I had ever done. I would need to get a small team to help, it would be beyond me. I needed someone who could do the money, someone to do the administration, someone to keep things running smoothly, and most of all, I needed people I could trust and who shared my sense of purpose.

I laughter at myself, causing the driver to ask what was funny?

"Life," I answered, knowing that the real answer would have puzzled him. That was: "and just who do you think you are Robin Topham?" The answer to that was "Gods handmaiden." As the Psalmist asked, "what is man that thou art mindful of him?" We were as grass, and like the flowers of the field, we would fade, and yet God loved us. That was why I loved him; I could do no other. That being so, I had to do his work, and if that meant I would be denied the comforts and reassurances of normal parish life, and be plunged into this world of woe, then so be it. Through all seasons, I would endeavour to be faithful to that mission. It would not be easy, but then what was in this life?

How ironic it was, I thought. I had no idea what the Archbishop and Jane were proposing to do with me, but it probably would have tucked me away somewhere far away to "get on with it." But the scheme I had to put to them was not of my devising, it was his inspiration. So, girl, I said to myself, pull yourself together and get on with it! Mama would have approved.

My phone buzzed with a text. It was from the Archbishop:

"Thank you, Robin. That was great for the Church. Well done!"

Golly, now I was the blue-eyed girl. Was it only yesterday that they had been proposing to hide me away? Life in all its ironies!

The driver dropped me off at the Rectory.

The town felt cold and empty after London's hustle and bustle. For a moment I had nothing to do, no one to see and nowhere I ought to have been, so I took a walk along the seafront. The North Sea wind was bracing now, I felt it cut into me. They called it the "lazy wind" in East Anglia because it was too lazy to go round you, preferring to go straight through you. But I did not mind. It felt refreshing.

I prayed as I walked, asking for whatever the next best thing to wisdom might be. But I know that the die was cast. Already, as I looked round, all this seemed to be fading. I would miss Mac, Anne, Irina, and the women who had helped me as much as I had helped them. I ought to have felt a tinge of autumnal melancholy, but I didn't.

I took myself to the chapel at the Retreat to celebrate evening prayer alone, but to my amazement, within minutes of my arrival, most of the women staying there had joined me. Their presence spoke volumes to me, and we went through Cranmer's sonorous English together. As I finished, I prepared to pack, but one of them came up to me.

"I'm Kateryna, and the girls and I wondered if you'd like to join us for supper. We want to thank you."

So, instead of the quiet evening I had envisaged, I had a wonderful one with the Ukrainian women, sharing their food and their fellowship. They had seen me on TV, and they all thought I had "done well." It made it all worthwhile. That evening reminded me why I was doing what I was doing. I reassured them that far from it being the case that with me gone, they'd be forgotten, it would be the other way round. The Corps that they had formed would be the model for the one I would use with the new Centre. Their delight at that made my day, and after night prayers, I went to bed a good deal happier than I had been for a long time.

The morning would bring me back into contact with Miriam, and I had to decide what to do about her. The "inappropriate behaviour," with which I would have been charged could only have come from that encounter with Anna, and there had been no witnesses - or so I had thought.

I got there early, doing morning prayer with those women who wanted it. That meant that Miriam was already in the office when I had finished.

"I saw you on TV, Mother Robin. Thought you did very well. That was news about the move?"

"Glad you liked it," I said, "and yes, good news at that. I was a little concerned at one point."

She looked at me.

"Well it is a big responsibility."

"It is, but what worried me was that there was some talk about an inappropriate relationship with one of the woman. Any idea where that might have originated?"

She looked at me sheepishly.

"But I was told to report back anything that seemed to me to be wrong."

Well, I thought to myself, at least she did not lie to me.

"By whom?'

"That policewoman, Elena, she gave me the number for the Bishop's secretary and said to report anything untoward. I did not mean to eavesdrop, but I was about to knock when I heard you and that Anna woman. I felt that was the sort of thing I should report."

"Well, I ought to tell you now that the police officer who was arrested was Elena."

Miriam looked shocked.

"She was using me?"

"She was using your prejudices, Miriam."

"I am sorry, Mother Robin, I was only following orders."

"I know," I said, hearing, mentally, the echoes of that worst of all excuses, "and for that, I forgive you. But please, with my successor, talk with them first. I did not think I was unapproachable."

"I am sorry, Mother Robin, I thought you'd dismiss me."

I sighed. There really was no dealing with prejudices.

"I wouldn't. Personal contact should come first, Miriam. I hope you will be happy to help me with the process of finishing here."

She looked shamefaced.

"Am I the reason you are going?"

"No, I am," I said, not thinking that the intricacies of it were a matter for her.

She was as good as her word to me, and over the next weeks she was a help. But interestingly, I was not replaced by another priest, they put a social worker in charge of the Retreat and the other houses. That, for me, was a sign of how seriously the Church took my work. Well, I should do something about that in my next posting.

The immediate question for me was what to do about Jane's secretary? Was it simply a coincidence that she was Russian, and that Elena had contacted her? Or was it more sinister? I was not a great believer in coincidences. I would have to ponder it.

Supper that evening with Anna and Mac was a delight. As both of them had, at different times, expressed interest in me, I put their minds at rest at once by saying that I was delighted to be dining with two of my favourite people. The only sadness was in the fact that I would soon be leaving, but I told them both that it would be open house in London, and I hoped they would both visit me there. I told Anna that I wanted to use the Corps as a model for my new enterprise and hoped that she would be able to come and talk about what we had been doing; she seemed as delighted to accept as I was that she had done so.

We went to the bathroom together, prompting Mac to ask why women always did that in groups. Anna smiled:

"Much more fun that way Mac. I presume men go alone for the same reason?" She giggled.

"You are awful!" I whispered as we walked to the bathroom.

"Oh, Robin, I like him. He is actually a nice man, so gentle and considerate."

"I should clearly have snapped him up," I giggled.

"I am glad you didn't. He seems to actually like me for me, not just for the sex - great as that is!"

I felt the slightest sliver of regret. But no, I reflected, perhaps he was the man to bring healing to Anna after all she had been through.

Walking back, she thanked me.

"You were right, Robin, we would not have worked; but it might have been fun trying."

"It would have been," I concurred, giving the easy answer. There seemed no point complicating things at this stage.

At the end of the evening, Mac said that he hoped I did not mind, but that before I went, they wanted to throw a farewell party for me. Far from minding, I was deeply touched.

The next few days were hectic as the appointment to London came through, along with a request to see the Bishop. That, I thought, would give me a chance to enquire about the secretary; I hated untidy ends.

It seemed as though I had a free hand with the new initiative. I had enough funding to appoint a finance person, an administrative assistant, and a publicity officer. Just as I was wondering what to do first, Irina rang.

"Robin, there has been a development, can I see you soon?"

"I'm free this afternoon, why don't you come over? What is it?"

"I'll tell you when I see you."

I hated mysteries, but contained my impatience. I spent the late morning and lunch with Miriam and Anna discussing arrangements for the handover. Whoever took over, it was essential for the women and the rest of the community that the Corps continued.

I had arranged to meet Irina at the sea front café. She was already there when I arrived.

"I got us something to drink. Do you mind if we sit in the corner, I don't want to be overheard."

We ordered from the menu and then I asked her what she had found.

"Robin, were you and the Bishop involved, romantically, I mean?"

I felt myself blush.

"Sort of."

"I shan't ask what that means."

"Why is it important? As it happens, she and I had talked about being an item, but had not gone far before my world exploded."