Robin's Year 03

I asked Jane if she wanted to spend the night with me; she looked drained.

"I dare not, I am supposed to be reporting to Anya, and she will already be wondering why I am so late."

A thought occurred to me.

"Tell her that we have made up and that you managed to persuade me that I overreacted."

"Why?"

"It covers your arse, Jane. It might be the only covering it gets!"

We both giggled, and it felt like something had eased between us.

I ordered her a taxi, and once she had gone, sat down to reflect.

I knew that I should have reported Jane to the Archbishop. But I was a pastor before I was anything else, and my main concern had to be for Jane. The way the Church had treated gay clergy had created a situation which had prevented Jane from finding a partner with whom she might have been able to work through her sexual desires. Where they had come from was a matter for speculation, and I was well aware that I was not going there. But the fact was that they had been triggered by a situation with Anya was not her fault. Perhaps with a wife she could have found a less risky way of living through her sexual desires?

Destroying her career would destroy her. I could not see any way in which this would be good pastoral practice. Then there was a utilitarian consideration. Although Irina's organisation had an undercover agent inside one of the clubs run by the Russians, there was no one with higher level access. There would be a sense in which Jane could become that.

I smiled as I realised that I was rather good at rationalising my actions. In truth, there was no part of me that could have borne to have reported Jane. There were, I knew, still feelings there.

I slept well, and after showering, went to celebrate Morning Prayer.

To my surprise, the chapel was full. The sonorous prose of Cranmer soothed my soul, and, as it turned out talking with the women after, it had a similar effect on them. Ilona came up to me and thanked me.

"After that, I think I see why we are being cared for by the Church. I am not a Christian, but I felt something soothe my soul; thank you."

As I told Rhona, there could be no greater compliment.

"You have an invitation from the Hungarian Embassy, Robin. There is a dinner there early next week and you are invited."

"Am I free?"

"You are. It was that man, the big, tall one, who talked to you. He said he'd much like to see you again."

Yes, I thought to myself, I bet he does.

I talked with Irina about Jane.

"Can you trust her?"

"I doubt it, but surely it can't harm us to be able to know what the Russians are interested in, or to be able to control what they know about us from Jane, especially as they think she and I are an item again."

Irina gave me an appraising look.

"Are you sure you are not an MI5 agent, Robin? That is such a good idea. Let me talk with my people."

The result was that the Ukrainian secret service, no doubt with the approval of our MI5, arranged it so that select information would be fed back via my Centre to the Russians. That would give Jane the cover she would need with Anya, but also, Irina said, allow us to feed back disinformation, as well as check on Russia's intentions. I began to see what it meant to say, 'need must when the Devil drives.'

Thanks to Irina and Rhona and the university students, our new Corps soon began to make an impact on the community. Maddie was delighted with the 'colour' which it gave to what turned out to be a series of pieces for the 'Church Times,' on our activities.

Trying to fix up an appointment (as I called it when talking to Rhona) with Alice Watson turned out to be a task worthy of my doughty Executive Assistant. Whether she would have been quite so diligent had she realised she was fixing up a date for me, I hope I would never have to find out.

"Robin, it's hard, but I have good news!"

"What's that?" I said, rather wanting some.

"She's going to that dinner at the Hungarian Embassy, so you two can match your schedules then. I have updated your diary right through to the New Year."

"Thank you, Rhona. You are the model EA, and thank you, again, for all you did that the launch."

"We have had a note of thanks from the Archbishop himself. Oh, and Bishop Jane wanted to chat, she needs some information about our clients."

"Ah," I said, "I thought she might. If you have a word with Irina, she has the background material the Bishop wants."

In fact, Irina was giving the background information we wanted the Russians to have. Presuming that they wanted to find out more about the women so that they could put pressure on their relatives, Irina's people had prepared a fake dossier. The names there would all be ones of people already killed by the Russians, which would leave them without the leverage they were looking for, and protect the real families. But, as a bonus, Irina had added some details of Russian agents who, according to the women's files, were working for MI6; that should help sow discord and distrust, as indeed, it did.

The days were so busy that time passed swiftly. The model I had developed in Felixstowe adapted well to the new environment, but the help from the university and its students enabled us to expand our service to the community and provide help for our own women. It was heart-warming to see them getting back their self-respect and begin to come out of the cycle of trauma and abuse and adapt to a new 'normal.'

Ilona came to see me the day before the Hungarian Embassy dinner.

"Miss, I hope I am not bothering you, but Miss Rhona told me you were going to a dinner at the Embassy. They know, of course, that I am here. Do you know what they want?"

"That," I said, "is what I hope to find out."

"They are still very keen for me and the other women to relocate to Budapest where they have promised us homes and partners."

"And what do you and the others think of that?"

"Some of the girls are keen, but I'd rather go back to my old life, but their view is that after what I have been forced to do, I would not be suitable as a teacher anymore."

That sounded like Viktor's lot, I thought. Blame the victim, but offer her a new life as a wife and mother in the cause of the greater good. It was so typical of a certain view of women. How very recently, historically, had we, as women, been allowed to own our own sexual desire? How often, even now, were we shamed when expressing it. It made us "sluts," if, instead of allowing ourselves to be used to satisfy the desires of the man, we took the lead and asked for what we wanted? For men like Viktor, it was as simple as one and one making two. The woman would be acted on by the man, and a child would be the desired result. Where, in any of that, I thought, was there pleasure for the woman,

I reassured Ilona that she could stay with us, or indeed, in the UK, for as long as she wanted.

"Thank you, Miss Robin. The work I am doing is really helping. I feel more human. I don't know if I will ever be the same again though."

"Ilona, of course you cannot be the same again, but you can heal, you can process what has happened and do one of two things, let it do something even the soldiers did not manage, and let it destroy you, or survive it and grow stronger, knowing as you work here with us, that far from being weak, you are strong enough not only to survive, but move on."

"Will I ever do that, Miss Robin?"

I smiled at her.

"It takes time. I am sure your counsellor has told you that it can take from anything from eighteen months to two years, but the main thing, Ilona, is that you are on the upward curve of the trauma cycle."

She looked at me. I could see tears forming in those bright blue eyes. She trembled for a moment and then came in and hugged me.

"Thank you, thank you," she said.

That was the moment when I knew why I was doing what I was doing,

The conversation kept coming back to me as I prepared myself for meeting Alice at the dinner. This whole intimacy thing was something I had yet to crack. Sexual desire frightened me. It opened me up in the most intimate way to the desire of another. My body would be available for another's sexual pleasure, as her body would be to mine. It was not that I did not have desires; I did. What Irina and I had done together was something I had enjoyed, but somewhere at the back of my mind, I understood, viscerally, what Ilona had meant when she had accused herself of being a "slut."

I smiled as I reflected how my own church upbringing had not helped one bit. Mama had taken a very clear view: the Bible sanctioned sex within marriage. Marriage was between one man and one woman and anything else was sinful. That I understood, but as I had tried to tell her, what did you do when you were sexually attracted to women? The Church seemed to be saying that sex was a gift from God, but that it was also sinful, so should only be used inside marriages for having babies. But sexuality was far more than explicitly sexual behaviour or even gender identity or orientation. It was something which touched us at the most private and vulnerable levels. It was how I experienced myself and others experienced me. I was attracted to other women. Either God made me wrong, or he made me this way. Throwing texts from St Paul at me out of context had once made me sad, now it made me angry, as so few of those proof-texting me knew that context. But my Mama and others had condemned me for being honest about my sexuality, told me I was confused and would "grow out of it." At the same time, my own church seemed profoundly ambivalent, recognising lay same-sex relationships but forbidding them to clergy. If I was confused, I had just about every excuse going.

If I was honest with myself (and if I couldn't be that what was the point?), then seeing Jane like that with Anya had an effect on me. It had aroused me because it spoke to something in me that wanted to be treated the same way. But then I knew that if I yielded to that, I'd risk putting myself where Jane found herself - subject to blackmail or just the mental coercion which could come from such submission. It was all very well to imagine that such a relationship could be confined to the bedroom or the home, but who knew what demons might be unleashed?

And, I reflected, smiling at my own processes, there I went again. I had not even had a date with Alice yet. I was only guessing she might be amenable to a relationship, and there I was, imagining obstacles to something that might never happen. Was it any wonder my romantic life was a desert? I hesitated to commit. I worried what might happen if I did. My ideals and reality were clearly not likely to match each other.

Preparing for the dinner at the Hungarian Embassy, I decided to ask Ilona for advice.

"I would not know, Miss Robin, but perhaps something elegant yet understated?"

I tried on a few outfits, and the one we settled on was a lantern sleeve V-neck pleated A-Line green dress which came just below mid-thigh.

"That is lovely, Miss Robin, very elegant, and shows just enough of your legs to add a hint of loveliness."

"I think three-inch heels? The red Manolo Blahniks?"

"Let's see."

I tried them on and gave her a twirl.

"Oh yes, Miss Robin, but if I might offer advice?"

"Of course."

"Be careful, I like the stockings, but if you are not careful, you may show more than you want."

I blushed.

"I may go for tights then?"

"I think just adjust the garters, that should work."

Eventually we decided on the outfit. She recommended that I wore my hair down. In the end, she helped me get ready.

"Thanks Ilona."

"Is it a special evening, Miss Robin?"

"It could be," I grinned.

"Well, best of luck."

I took the train to Richmond and changed to the Waterloo line, picking up a cab there for the Embassy. The looks I got reassured me.

Serendipity struck as I arrived at the Embassy at the same time as Alice. We checked out coats in. She was in a classic little black dress which highlighted her slender figure. I told her.

"That dress is so you," Alice replied. "You still on for a drink after this?"

"I am," I grinned.

We walked in together and Viktor Kossuth descended on me like a one-man introduction team, taking us to the Ambassador and his wife, and then to others. He made sure we had our drinks, and when Alice went off to speak to one of the other MPs, he joined me.

"I am so glad you could come, Robin. Might I say what a beautiful dress that is?"

I smiled politely.

"Of course you may, Victor, if I can call you that?"

"You can. I told the ambassador that the work you are doing with the women here is so impressive. He would like to come out to visit you at some point. We would be interested in offering many of the women settlement in Hungary with a generous grant if they would like to start up a family."

"That is very kind of him Victor, and of course, he can come out and I am sure the women would be most interested."

"Good, good. And do pardon my question, but have you yet found yourself a gentleman to be with?"

He was quite as direct as I had remembered, so I answered politely that I had not yet had that good fortune.

"Well, I am surprised. It reflects badly if I may say so on your men."

I doubted there was any way of stopping Victor from saying what he wanted, so smiled and nodded. I was, I have to say, a little dismayed to find that he was sitting next to me at dinner. As the person on the other side of me was a journalist, I tried to chat to him as much as I could. It helped that he was a friend of Rupert Myers and therefore had heard of me. I looked across and saw Alice between the Ambassador and someone senior from the Foreign and Commonwealth Office.

The dinner was very Hungarian, which meant it was meat heavy, something I always found a little difficult. I wanted to be a vegetarian, but thought that if God had really wanted me to be one, he would not have made bacon!

Naturally, Victor noticed I was not eating too much.

"I hope it is to your taste, Chicken paprikash is one of my favourites."

I assure him that I was enjoying it.

"Ah, I see," he smiled, "watching that lovely figure, very wise. I was saying," he said across me to the journalist, "very wise of Robin to keep that figure trim."

The journalist looked at him, then at me, smiled, and said:

"Viktor, I can see why you are famed for your diplomatic manner."

I caught the irony, Viktor, who clearly did not do irony, took it at face value and beamed. Oh well, I thought, manners were clearly different in Hungary, and it did not stop me enjoying the delicious Gundel pancake and the hot sweet coffee which accompanied it. Who cared about sleep?

After dinner we retired to a salon where the Ambassador said a few words about Anglo-Hungarian relations, and the senior man from the FCO added a few anodyne ones. Alice thanked the Ambassador, and we broke into small groups over a rather strong liqueur called unicum, which amused me for some reason.

"I rather liked name, but then I have that sort of sense of humour," Alice said, hoving into view as she circulated. I smiled back:

"I am glad it was not just me," I grinned.

"I'm going to give it another ten minutes," she said, "and then back to my flat? I'll order a cab to take you back to Teddington later," she added.

"Sounds good to me," I nodded.

I began to say my farewells, thanking the Ambassador for the invitation.

"Viktor will be in touch, I do want to see your Centre. Are you able to accept money from foreign sources?"

"We are," I replied, rather surprised.

"Good, Viktor will be in touch, but we should like to support such a family-friendly Centre which helps abused women back into normal life. You do good work, Muss Topham."

"Thank you, Ambassador," I said, thanking him.

"I will be in touch, Robin," Viktor said when I told him I was off. "Thank you for coming."

And with that, as I went for a peck on the cheek, I found myself with a full-blooded kiss on the mouth. To say it was unwelcomed and unasked for was hardly the half of it. Did I look like a Spanish female footballer?

He pulled away.

"See you soon Robin," he beamed, entirely unconscious of my feelings.

"Robin, we have to go."

It was the reassuring voice of Alice, who put her hand on my shoulder, said goodbye to Victor, and helped me to the cloakroom.

"Are you okay Robin? I saw what that idiot did. He'd been leering at you all through dinner. Do you want me to complain to the Ambassador?"

"No, no," I said, "not this time."

I wondered later whether I should have said yes, but I did not want to make a fuss.

Alice steered me to her official car.

I sat next to her. She held my hand.

"I am so sorry, Robin. If you just want to go home, that will be fine."

"No, no," I protested. "I wanted to have a drink with you, let's not let him ruin that."

Her flat was in the Barbican, not that far from where Mama lived. It was comfortable, and she put on some music and poured us each a glass of white wine.

"So," she said as we sat, "welcome. I'll be open, Robin, I really like you and I want to get to know you better. But I am guessing you don't put out on a first date?"

Wow, I thought, why did I seem to attract these straight-talking types? Whatever happened to a little euphemistic flirting? I smiled back.

"Well, I'm glad you did not bring me back to get me drunk."

"Those stockings show your legs off to devastating effect," she grinned, "I have always been a legs sort of girl."

"Yours are pretty good, too," I replied, seeing her smile.

I was conscious of feeling not altogether sober, but also that some of that was a giddiness. I was enjoying her company, and, of course, her flattery.

"I'd like to take away that ghastly kiss Viktor gave you," Alice said, her eyes fixing on mine in a way that brought a flock of butterflies to life in my stomach.

"I'd like that, Alice."

"Come here then," she said in a voice heavy with seductive tones.

I put my wine glass down and wet towards her. She stood up too and met me halfway. As our mouths met, I felt a sense that all was right with the world.