The Mission

By Andrew Muir

Weighed down by prohibitive maintenance costs of their 43 cathedrals and beset by declining revenues from a dwindling membership, the Church of England is close to bankruptcy. With no more properties to sell and no shareholders to bail them out, the Archbishop of Canterbury is at his wit's end. The Catholic Church also has its problems - notably on an increasing number of cases of child molestation by their priests dominating the Press. But it has money - and especially in England, where immigrants from Catholic countries are swelling their congregations and consequently their coffers. In a gesture of apparent ecumenical generosity, Pope Paul offers to absorb the Anglican Church's current deficit with a handsome gift of 120 million pounds... --- The protagonists of "The Mission" are Sister Ursula Green and Father Richard Brown SJ who are on a clandestine mission to bring about fundamental changes to the Church of Rome that will allow women to be ordained. Working from the inside, using Father Brown's financial skills and Sister Ursula's feminine wiles, they come up with a unique approach that receives the Pope's blessing. Other characters who play a leading part in the development of the plot are Don Guido Leone, the Mafia boss in Sicily who has a hidden secret, John Reilly, the defrocked Catholic Archbishop of Westminster who marries a blond teenager, a Benedictine monk who shoots himself to avoid exposure, a depressed Anglican Archbishop who takes an overdose of sleeping tablets to kill his pain, a priest who acknowledges that he is the father of three children, and a professional dominatrix who uses her psychological skills to good effect. The action oscillates between Lambeth Palace, the Vatican, Rome, Salisbury and Palermo.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mondial
• Release date: Apr 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781595692436

Book preview

Chapter 1

Wimbledon College

Richard dropped his battered leather suitcase on the open space next to the driver of the cab at Heathrow Airport and climbed in the back.

Where to guv? asked the driver.

Wimbledon College.

Right you are guv – that’s at the top end of Edge Hill in Wimbledon. Right?

Richard nodded his agreement as the cabbie put a strap around the case and they headed out of the airport.

Richard had just used up the last of his air miles, earned when he was traveling as an investment banker, to fly first class to Heathrow from Rome where he had spent the last three years at the Jesuit Seminary studying for the priesthood. He had been ordained by the Pope himself – albeit with 120 other prospective priests. Now he was destined to be a teacher at the Jesuit school to which he was headed. The suitcase, covered in labels of the prestigious hotels he had visited as a banker such as The Mandarin in Hong Kong and the King David in Jerusalem, contained all his worldly possessions.

Prior to entering the Seminary he had led a full and interesting life – if slightly avant garde - combining his work with the worldly pleasures of wining, dining and loving some unforgettable and wonderful women. He had fathered three children, two of which were named by their grateful mothers after him. He had it all, then it seemed as if his life had fallen apart, every aspect of his life imploded. The beautiful young Japanese woman with whom he had fallen desperately in love calmly informed him that she was, in fact, a lesbian, even though she was pregnant with his child. Around the same time he found himself without a job. He had turned to his amateur shrink, Denise Davies, who ran a clinic for maladjusted men, mostly wealthy - they had to be, to afford her fees. She advised him to return to his first love, the Catholic Church, and study for the priesthood. With his academic brilliance at Stonyhurst and his facility for picking up foreign languages he was accepted immediately by the Jesuits who saw in him the perfect teacher and missionary. He turned his back on his early life and threw himself, mind, body and soul into his studies. He was a fast learner and he had qualified for Holy Orders in just three years.

To celebrate his ordination, he sold his vintage Lagonda for two million dollars and invited all his ex-mistresses from as far away as Beirut, Hong Kong, Singapore and Paris to the ordination ceremony and afterwards to a going away party – all expenses paid. [Note: See The Last Mistress by the same author.] Richard felt that he was ready to start a new phase in his life – a changed man, more serious and less concerned with the pleasures of the flesh – at least that was what he hoped.

The taxi pulled up outside the main gate to the college and a shrunken man with a useless left arm came out of the porters hut just inside the gate.

Don’t tell me You must be Father Brown. The Headmaster. Father Swindells is waiting for you in his office. Go in the main door, turn right and up the staircase to the first floor. His office is at the end of the corridor. I’ll take your case he said as he grabbed hold of it with his good arm and I’ll have it sent up to your room. Welcome to Wimbledon College!

Richard walked the hundred yards or so to the entrance of the main building looking around with interest as he went. All was quiet and almost deserted, term was not due to start for another three days. The playing fields in the distance looked fresh and green ready for the start of the rugby season. The posts were already up and painted in the school colors of dark blue, yellow and red alternating stripes. The school buildings themselves were a mixture of old and very new. The main building was red brick with Gothic stone framed doors and windows and spoke of years of solid ‘tradition’ while the other buildings of glass and steel sent a message of progressive modernity. However the school badge gave the clues to the true story. A heart shaped shield topped with the letters IHS surrounded by the Latin inscription Collegium Sacratissimum Cirdis, the Sacred Heart College, made it clear that this was a Catholic College – traditional and deeply rooted in old style Catholicism.

Richard pushed his way through swing doors into the main building, ran up the stairs and made his way to the heavy dark wood door marked HEADMASTER in elaborate gold letters. He was about to push open the door and walk in, but thought better of it, stopping on the threshold and knocking firmly instead.

Come! boomed a thunderous voice.

Richard entered the office expecting to see a giant of a man to match the commanding voice. Instead he saw a gaunt, bespectacled, gray-haired priest seated behind a desk. His most prominent feature were the large eyebrows sprouting in all directions which had earned him the nickname among the boys of Shaggy Swindells. He rose gingerly from behind his desk to proffer a painfully thin white hand, the prominent dark veins like a road map.

His handshake was surprisingly strong and firm almost to the point of discomfort

Father Brown, I presume, he intoned as he returned to his desk flipping the wings of his black cassock with consummate ease as he regained his seat. He’d probably been doing it for forty years or more. One should explain here that the Jesuits cassock alms reaches the ground and has a long flat empty sleeve hanging from behind each shoulder and it is the task of every schoolboy to try and tie them together without the master knowing. It irritated some of them and amused others and therefore was a good litmus test for boys to quickly assess a new teacher.

He turned a cold and disapproving gaze towards Richard Before we go any further he said icily I would prefer in future that you adopt our normal dress code. Richard was wearing a black silk suit cut in the slim Italian style with smart turn-ups and the merest suggestion of a dog collar. What you are wearing may be appropriate attire for the Vatican, but here we prefer to eschew signs of worldly ostentation. I’m sure you understand and will, of course comply. But let me move on to more important matters. Term starts in three days. I have decided to put you in charge of Figures 1 – that’s the reception class here for the more able and academically gifted boys of about ten years old. There is a Figures 2 for dunder heads, but I think the brighter boys in Figures 1 deserve someone of your undoubted ability, he said as he pointedly leafed through the pages of the resume that the Seminary in Rome had forwarded to him.

"Was this an attempt to say something nice and friendly?" thought Richard. "If so it was rather begrudging at best."

I’m so sorry if my dress is unsuitable, Headmaster, but it was standard issue at the Seminary in Rome, he lied.

You can call me Sir, he said brusquely as he handed Richard a large foolscap folder. Here is the syllabus for all subjects in Figures 1. Neither Latin nor Greek I’m afraid. It seems that the Ministry of Education consider them to be dead languages. That’s a great pity, as I read here that you speak both fluently. Instead you will be rather wasted on English Grammar and Literature, French, Mathematics, Physics and Chemistry – the latter two at a very basic level. Also of course RE.

RE?

Religious Education.

Richard’s heart dropped as he knew that meant teaching the Catechism by rote – he would prefer to have them learn Shakespeare’s Sonnets by heart.

Two further items, Brown – you will be able to celebrate Mass every day at 7.30 am in the Church of the sacred Heart just down the hill. I suggest you try and encourage a couple of your students to serve at Mass for you, just be careful they don’t take a liking to the wine.

There was a pause while Richard was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You said two things, Sir.

"Yes, so I did. I’m afraid I need you to be chaplain at the Ursuline Convent in Downs Road just near here. It entails going there every Sunday morning to hear their confessions and then saying Mass. I’m sorry to burden you with this chore (was he being serious?) but the Reverend Mother has requested a change."

May I ask why, Sir?

Swindells fidgeted with the papers in front of him wondering how best to answer this question with delicacy... The truth is that Reverend Mother wanted someone younger.

Why would that be, Sir?

If you must know the present chaplain apparently has halitosis and breaks wind frequently during confession and as the confessionals are rather confined the Sisters find it disagreeable.

Richard burst out laughing. The Headmaster was about to say that it was not a laughing matter but Richard’s infectious and convulsive laughter affected him and within a few seconds, a twitch of his thin lips had become a broad grin and suddenly they were laughing together. In that moment a bond was formed between these two very different men. When their laughter died, Swindells instantly reverted to his previous austere seriousness.

Now you’d better leave my office and get yourself settled before the students arrive. We expect only the best here, I do hope you will live up to our expectations. Good day to you, Richard!

Richard was trying to find his way around the unfamiliar corridors looking for his room so that he could unpack when the porter shouted up to him from the ground floor.

Father, there’s a man outside with a crate for you. It’s enormous, far too big to carry so can you come down and sign for it. You’ll need to open it down here

I’ll be right down.

Richard had no idea what it could be - something he inadvertently left behind in Rome perhaps. Outside there was a middle aged man waiting for him whose face looked vaguely familiar even though he couldn’t quite place him.

Motorcycles Ltd, Hayes Road. Remember? I sold you that lovely black and gold AJS. You were off to foreign parts. What became of that lovely little runner?

Christ Almighty (he added the Almighty as being more appropriate now that he was a priest although he had doubts as to the veracity of that adjective). That was back in 1945 and I was just a kid. Well I kept the bike for three years and then I had to give it away as they wouldn’t let me take it aboard the troopship when we had to leave Palestine in a rush.

Well there’s a treat for you inside this here box, you’d better read this letter first though, he said handing him an envelope. It read:

Dear Richard – or should I say Father Brown?

Please accept this small gift. My conscience has been troubling me for the last three years. I feel I took an unfair advantage of you when you were at a difficult stage in your life and I know I paid too little for your wonderful Lagonda. I am sure you will need some form of transport in your new post and I hope you will accept this with my very best wishes.

Good luck!

Franz Schmidt

With the help of Joe the porter they dismantled the crate to reveal a glorious black and gold Harley Davidson complete with traditional bucket saddle seat and – just in case he might need to carry a passenger – a pillion and two additional footrests.

It’s all brand new and fully tested by me. Give it a try! said the man from Motorcycles Ltd. Richard swing a leg over, placed a foot on the kick starter, gave it two gentle push-downs and then a full kick. The motor burst into life with the characteristic sound of a twin-engined bike with virtually no silencers. He lifted the toe of his right foot to engage first gear, opened the throttle, let out the clutch and disappeared in a shower of flying gravel through the gate and down Edge Hill. Ten minutes later he returned with a grin on his face.

I passed by the Ursuline Convent he explained to let the nuns know what to expect next Sunday morning. It’s a beauty. Please wire Herr Schmidt for me and tell him how I reacted to his generous gift and tell him I’ll write soon and hope to visit him again one day in Stuttgart.

Would you like to keep it in my shed? asked Joe the Porter.

Yes please, but will it be secure there? I’d feel happier knowing it was under lock and key. Don’t forget I’ll need it at the crack of dawn on Sunday.

Right you are Father! Joe grinned don’t worry, your little beauty will be safe as houses with me

Good, oh and you can call me Sir - I’m not your father.

Right Sir!

Richard spent the next couple of days swotting for classes on Monday, preparing lesson plans in accordance with the syllabus he had been given – sometimes pacing his room rehearsing how he would start with his new charges. He resisted the temptation to try out his new toy. That could wait until Sunday. Right now he was getting concerned about the Catechism. The boys would already have been issued with a pocket edition setting out the important articles of faith in Question and Answer form.

Richard didn’t have a copy but he remembered how it started.

Who made you?

God made me.

Why did God make you?

God made me to know him, love him and serve Him in this world and to be happy with Him forever in the next.

What is sin?

Sin is an offense against God.

My God! he thought himself "there is enough here for a huge debate amongst the greatest theologians, philosophers and scientists of the world - and I have to teach this to 10 year-olds? No wonder they had put it in baby language."

Sunday morning came and after a sleepless night arguing with himself as to who made him, he was glad to get on his bike and hot-foot it to the Convent to hear confessions and say Mass. He had decided to wear his Italian tailored black suit as a cassock would be tricky to manage astride the Harley. A pair of goggles over his gray flecked hair gave him a sporty look and being tall, good-looking and with blue, blue eyes he was quite different to the previous incumbent to the chaplaincy.

Joe the Porter was holding the big entrance gates open, Richard gave him a jaunty salute as he pulled out of the College premises, revving the Harley to produce a rich throaty roar of the two 250cc cylinders. He headed towards the Ridgeway, there he turned left, and after a block left again down Downs road and swept into the driveway of the Convent just halfway down the hill. He pulled up right outside the front entrance and cut his engine. He sat for a moment astride the bike, pulling off his goggles and wondered if anything could be more glorious than riding a bike early in the morning. His reverie was broken by the sound of heavy bolts being unlocked and as the heavy front door opened he thought that the Virgin Mary herself had come to greet him.

Hi! You must be Father Brown. You can leave your monstrous machine where it is and come and let me show you around – we have time enough.

She was without doubt, the most beautiful nun he had ever set eyes on. Perfect complexion, dark curved eyebrows, rich hazel colored eyes, her nose a little broad for conventional beauty, full lips showing perfect brilliant white teeth that you only ever see on movie stars and certainly hardly ever in England post war. And all of this wrapped up in the traditional nun’s black habit except for the contrasting white starched band covering her forehead.

I’m Doctor Ursula and Reverend Mother has asked me to welcome you here. She spoke with a distinct southern belle drawl which Richard found enchanting.

You must be an American with that accent, said Richard as he dismounted and ran his fingers through his hair in case the band on the goggles had flattened his hair and disturbed his usual casual look.

Born, bred, raised and educated in Texas. I’m here on loan for a year to help bring this school’s science department into the 20th century.

Richard, Richard Brown said Richard as he held out his hand Why Doctor and not Sister?

I’m Doctor because I have a Ph D in Computer Sciences, it was hard won, so I use my title - but you can call me Ursula, though preferably not in front of the other nuns, she added smiling.

Come with me and I’ll take you to the chapel, she said taking his hand in hers as though leading a child. Richard was aware of the Americans belief in touching as the surest way to become acquainted. Though there had been very little touching for him in the last three years and it brought back disturbing memories of his life before he embarked on Holy Orders.

They walked together down a long corridor past the refectory, the kitchen and several closed doors which Richard took to be meeting rooms until they came to the door to the chapel. Ursula opened it to let Richard enter.

I must go now but I’ll see you at breakfast, Richard, she smiled up at him and squeezed his hand as she turned to go. Wow, she is one gorgeous looking woman, I wonder what that shapeless habit is hiding Richard mused to himself as he watched her walk back along the passageway. He mentally shook himself Stop those thoughts Brown, poverty, chastity and obedience he reminded himself.

The chapel was small but well lit and just big enough to accommodate up to 50 nuns. Two candles were lit on the diminutive altar and an altar boy was patiently seated to one side next to the vestments Father Brown would wear to say mass. On this occasion it would be a green chasuble. The majority of the nuns were still entering from a side door that connected to their dormitories, but there were already half a dozen seated just behind the confessional box. A standard wooden structure with two kneelers either side of the central enclosure for the priest. Inside he would be able to open either one of two small shutters to hear the appropriate penitent’s confession.

Richard walked past the waiting nuns and said good morning to them with a smile to try and reassure them that this would not be an inquisition – rather just a friendly chat. He put on his stole, sat in his chair, drew the curtain for privacy and then opened one of the grills.

Bless me Father for I have sinned began the first nun.

"That I doubt," mused Richard, allowing her to continue. And so it went on with the first five nuns really just wanting to reassure themselves that they were in a fit state of grace to receive communion. However the last of the six proved to be a little different. After the preliminaries she dropped her voice to a whisper so as not to be heard by anyone outside the confessional who might be listening.

I think I’m in love Father.

Falling in love is not a sin, my dear. I’ve done it a dozen times" he thought to himself wryly.

It’s what I do Father that is sinful.

"Oh Christ she’s banging the gardener in the woodshed,"

What then Sister, is it that you do? he asked as gently as he could not wishing to show undue curiosity.

I think of Doctor Ursula.

Is that all? he ventured.

I play with myself. her voice dropping to the merest whisper.

"Sister, let me be frank. That is not a sin, it’s just fantasizing. Why not just talk to Doctor Ursula, tell her you admire her and would like to help her whenever she needs help. That way you will sublimate your desire for her and instead establish a real relationship and not a fantasy that will lead you nowhere. She’s bright and will understand perfectly."

Thank you, Father – and my penance?

Walk three times around the garden every morning and thank God for giving you such a wonderful life. Now go in peace, my dear.

That was the identical penance he had given the other five nuns – now they would all have company for their morning walk .

After he had said mass he thanked the altar boy who had made the responses and rung the bell during the elevation. While he was removing his vestments the nuns, all of whom had received communion went to the refectory to have breakfast. As he left the chapel, Ursula was waiting to take him to breakfast in the Convent’s visitors waiting room. A jolly fat nun in a voluminous white smock covering her habit greeted him,

What can I get you, Father. We have eggs, bacon, mushrooms, just about everything.

Good morning Sister. What a lovely soft Irish brogue. Are you from the south?

Yes I am that Father, now what would you like for your breakfast today

How about some coffee, toast and marmalade.

No eggs?

Well if you insist some scrambled eggs would be fine.

I’ll have the same, interjected Ursula who was anxious to have time alone with Richard

When the cook had gone Ursula, who had seated herself across from Richard at the small table, put her hands on his and looked into his eyes.

Richard, may I confide in you? I have come to an unexpected crisis in my life which I need to discuss with someone I can trust implicitly. She paused, looking searchingly into his eyes.

Of course Ursula, Go on – I’m listening, he said.

It’s a bit complicated and I think it will take more time than we have right now to explain properly and maybe this is neither the time nor the place. Do you think I could come and visit you at the College when you have time? she asked.

I don’t see why not he replied How about Wednesday afternoon when the boys have sports. I will be free then. Come around two and meet me in the waiting room . We won’t be disturbed there.

Just then the cook came in with a huge tray bearing a heap of toast, two large plates of scrambled eggs and a pot of coffee. She laid it all before them.

Ring the bell if you need anything. Enjoy your breakfast!

Thank you Sister, they said in unison.

Would you like some coffee Richard? inquired Ursula. Without waiting for a reply, she got up and leaned over him to fill his cup. Was he mistaken or did he detect the scent of Chanel No. 5? While they ate, they chatted about generalities, the Convent, its scholastic record, the relationship between college and convent. In the course of the conversation, Richard managed to get a broad impression of the daily life of an Ursuline teacher. Once they had finished Richard stood and muttered something about lessons to plan as he edged his way to the door. He kicked the Harley into life and shouted above the roar of his machine - Thanks for breakfast, see you on Wednesday, Ursula!

Chapter 2

A Meeting of Minds

Richard entered the College waiting room balancing two cups of coffee as he closed the door behind him with a push of his foot.

Sorry if I’m late, Ursula, but I was summoned to the headmaster’s office at the last minute. If he wants a word, I jump, so by way of apology I brought you a cup of our best black coffee.

Ursula was seated in a high back chair to one side of a small working table and remained seated as Richard entered. She was wearing the customary Ursuline habit with every part of her body covered except her face and her hands. She was wearing no make-up but Richard noticed her fingernails were well manicured and painted with discreet pale pink nail varnish. She was wearing a fresh flowery scent and she greeted him with a broad grin showing off her movie star teeth.

It’s good to see you again Richard. There’s no need to apologize, really, I was glad to have the time alone here to gather my thoughts. The coffee is a kind gesture and very welcome, thank you. Please, come and sit over here, next to me, so we can talk without having to shout at each other.

Richard drew up a chair and sat at an angle to her – neither opposite to confront her nor beside her where he would lose objectivity.

Don’t worry! he said as he sat down, All the meeting rooms are sound-proofed. We have to maintain privacy.

You’re kidding of course. Aren’t you? she asked uncertainly.

Yes of course I am – but you look so anxious, I wanted to say something as a joke to try and lighten the atmosphere. Maybe it was in bad taste? he raised his eyebrows questioningly then went on I want you to relax and be comfortable. I realize that whatever is troubling you must be very important he said reassuringly.

It was some time before Ursula spoke. She took the time to marshal her thoughts so that she could present her doubts and fears in a suitably serious way.

What I am about to tell you is not a confession, but I hope that you will keep it confidential as if we were in the confessional. A secret between the two of us.

Richard started inwardly at the implication of a secret between himself and this undeniably attractive nun. He suspected that she had deliberately chosen the word to create a bond between them.

Eyes downcast, Ursula began to speak in a low voice.

I am ashamed and afraid to admit it Richard, but I seem to have lost all semblance of my former faith in the dogmas of the Catholic Church. She paused, swallowed and cleared her throat as if to emphasize that she was not speaking lightly.

"You should know something of my background first so you can understand exactly what I am trying to say. I was an only child of Catholic parents who were not overly concerned with religion although they did go regularly to Mass – not everyday but most Sundays. Although they weren’t pious they were pillars of the Catholic community. They were an active part of every Catholic organization going and helped raise money for numerous charities connected to the