The Archbishop, his admirer, and a friendship that ended in suicide

The bleakest moment in the life of the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, occurred more than 30 years ago, when a woman killed herself. He had been her friend. He thought he was acting informally as her spiritual counsellor, helping her to deal with her despair.

It was not until after her death that it dawned on him that the woman had put an entirely different interpretation on their intimate talks. She was secretly in love with the young theologian.

On the night she killed herself, she phoned a mutual friend to leave a message saying that he should not blame himself.

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But blame came his way from a suspicious coroner, and from the dead woman's family, according to a new biography of the Archbishop published this week.

Its author, Rupert Shortt, insisted yesterday: "Everyone else who knew him who was aware of this story has said that he was being the good samaritan. Sadly, he was out of his depth. This was a very disturbed person. His intentions were noble throughout."

The shock of the incident had an enduring impact on Dr Williams, making him "acutely aware of the fragility within himself", and spurred him to make a careful study of how to deal with the mentally ill. One of the distressing aspects of it was that Hilary Watson's family evidently felt that he had let her down. "Her parents blamed me for her death at the time, and, I think, still do. That hurts," he told Shortt.

The young Dr Williams was completing his doctoral thesis at Wadham College, Oxford when he met "Lori" Watson, a graduate student in Applied Social Studies. She had spent some time with the religious community on the island of Iona, off the coast of Scotland. After she left, she made several suicide attempts. Her mental state was aggravated by problems with her lungs.

Though he was only 24 years old, Dr Williams, who got up at 5am to pray for at least two hours before breakfast, was already marked out as a talented theologian. Other students had begun to turn to him for advice. To some of his contemporaries he was "scintillating" and "magnetic". One told his biographer: "Some critics said that he trifled with other people's emotions. I just don't think he realised what an aura he gave off."

One of the students he advised was Miss Watson, whom he met through a counselling network. As they talked through her unhappy emotional life, he was apparently unaware that there was more going on than simple heart-to-heart discussions between friends. He did not have the expert training to ensure that relations were kept at the proper distance.

The pair had a long talk on the evening of 25 April 1975. The 28-year-old graduate student then went back her room at the New Barnett House halls of residence and rang a mutual friend, Pam Lunn, in Leicester, at 12.30am.

In his book Rowan's Rule: The Biography of the Archbishop, Shortt writes: "Pam Lunn felt surprised by the call, but chatted for a few minutes, not wishing to sound unfriendly, before eventually asking Lori why she was ringing so late. The reply was evasive and included the words, 'I want you to tell Rowan that it's not his fault.' Then Lori put the phone down."

Ms Lunn tried to call back to fathom the meaning of his disturbing message, but the number was engaged. It emerged later that the troubled woman had had a final telephone conversation with a Catholic priest before swallowing a lethal mixture of barbiturates and whiskey. The reason that she chose to call her friend rather than someone closer to hand may have been that she did not want to speak to anyone who was close enough to intervene, to prevent her suicide. She went to bed and switched on an electric blanket that kept her body warm, preventing the pathologist from establishing the cause of death.

The priest, who was the last person to speak with her, refused to give evidence at the inquest the following month, saying that it would break the seal of the confessional. The coroner appears then to have vented his frustration at this refusal by subjecting Dr Williams to sharp cross examination.

"He was deeply uncomfortable about this," Ms Lunn said. "The coroner asked him if he had any idea whether Lori's suicide could have been anticipated. Rowan answered sharply with a counter-question: 'Do you think I'd have left her on her own if I'd suspected what might happen?"

She added: "The inquest was plainly immensely upsetting for Rowan. The coroner's line of questioning was probably insensitive. But one problem he did identify was that Rowan had a manifest spirituality, and people flocked to him, even though he had no training, all of which was 'unprofessional' because this wasn't a 'professional' situation.

"At that time he seemed to be wholly unaware of the transference, to use a psychoanalytic term, that was occurring in mixed pastoral/friendship relationships, such as with Lori. The expert can deal with this, because they have mechanisms for establishing professional boundaries. In situations involving students at universities, there tended not to be proper boundaries, and fantasies could have free rein. Rowan didn't understand the full extent of what was going on."

The book claims that Lori was "evidently in love" with the young theologian. "Lori was a disturbed and needy person, who had sought and received extensive support from Rowan. He made offers of help in a spirit of charity. But he was also an amateur in the art of counselling, and was on the receiving end of eroticised projection. These aspects of the relationship became fully clear to him only after Lori's death.

"It was a heavy burden to carry, and illuminates that he was acutely aware of the fragility within himself at this time. It struck him that he had better acquire the distance-creating skills of the professional pastor or therapist, in case a similar situation arose in future. He acted on the lesson with diligence."

Miss Watson's brother, John, who attended the inquest in May 1975, told The Times: "I feel my sister was pleading for help and did not intend to kill herself. She wanted someone to come and help her but that did not happen. I cannot say that person should have been Rowan Williams."

Dr Williams was forewarned that the story would be retold in his biography, which is to be published on Thursday by Hodder & Stoughton.

Shortt, a former pupil of Dr Williams who is now religion editor of the Times Literary Supplement, said: "I have known about this story for some time, and thought that it would have to be included in a biography of the Archbishop. He also knew that it would have to come out at some point, and we did discuss it."