Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
As Clara headed towards the Ashmolean Museum, she felt like switching her mobile off.
She wanted to see Tom more than anything but was torn.
She wished she could switch off and relax, like people did in other jobs, but she was far too conscientious.
What if someone needed her and was desperate?
She would never forgive herself if she wasn’t there for someone in their hour of need.
‘Hi, you finally made it,’ said Tom, quickly leaning in to give Clara a kiss on the cheek.
‘Oh, Tom. I’m so sorry about the last few times. You know I desperately wanted to see you. It’s just . . .’
Clara fiddled with the button on her cardigan.
She knew she was practically married to her job and that her worshippers came first but, as she looked at him, she realised quite how much Tom meant to her.
She didn’t want him thinking he always came second best. If she had it her way, Tom would be first on the priority list.
‘Hey, I understand. You don’t need to say anything.’
Tom might have his moments of frustration about having to share Clara with all and sundry but he also understood what a giving woman she was, and that was one of the things he loved so much about her. She was always so selfless.
‘You’re here now and that’s the main thing,’ said Tom as they strolled inside the museum.
Clara didn’t remember much from her childhood visit but figured there had probably been many changes since she was last here.
Although the one item she remembered from that school visit was the Guy Fawkes lantern, which had fascinated her.
She recalled how when they got back to class, they had to draw their favourite item and that was the one she chose, despite her lack of artistic ability.
She was thrilled to see it again and thought back to how different her life was when she first saw it.
Since then, she had studied theology, her parents had sadly passed on, and now she had met someone she could finally fall in love with.
While Clara felt sad as she remembered her beloved parents, she was proud of the woman she had become.
‘Ooh, would you look at that!’ exclaimed Clara as she saw one of the statues.
‘Good grief. What is he doing?’ said Tom.
‘I think it’s self-explanatory,’ giggled Clara as she tilted her head this way and that for a better look.
They had only just walked in and already Clara was enjoying herself with Tom. Whatever they did together, nothing ever felt stuffy or forced.
Admiring the exhibits, Tom pulled Clara closer to him as he pointed at a wooden model and read the labelling for it.
‘Look at that. Rich Ancient Egyptians were buried with servants to ensure they had it easy in the afterlife. Can you imagine that?’ Tom wondered who he would take with him in the afterlife. He decided it would need to be Pat, although he would love Clara to be beside him in any life.
‘Gosh, can you imagine even having servants after you’ve died. Astonishing.’
Tom gently touched Clara’s arm as the couple walked through the different galleries and admired the exhibits until they eventually reached the artwork of Picasso and Van Gogh. Clara loved how such prestigious works of art were available to view in the beautiful city she lived in.
‘Why on earth did I not come here sooner, Tom? Thanks for bringing me here today. I won’t leave it so long next time.’
‘It’s easy to take things for granted when they’re on your doorstep.’ He thought how his specialist subject was taking things, as well as people, for granted.
Clara’s favourite areas of the museum were those where the paintings explored religious beliefs. The Annunciation, by Paolo Uccello, which was a painting of the Angel Gabriel announcing to the Virgin Mary that she would bear the son of God, took her breath away.
‘Goodness, Tom, you really do take me to the best places. I’m so glad we decided to come here.’
A wave of happiness came over her like the hot flushes she used to endure, only this was much more pleasant.
In fact, Clara was elated as she walked around, touching Tom to get his attention at certain exhibits and, more importantly, to feel closer to him.
By the time they stopped for a coffee break, she couldn’t stop talking with excitement about what they had seen so far, but she noticed that Tom had drifted off.
‘Penny for them,’ said Clara. How she wished she could get inside that head of his and see what he was thinking.
‘Oh, sorry. I was miles away then. Where were we? Ah, yes, you were saying how fascinating the Greek coins were. Yes, very fascinating indeed.’
The coins simply served as another reminder of his heinous behaviour.
Everything reminded him of what he had done and the ultimate betrayal at the end.
Tom knew he had to stop living in the past and enjoy the present, so why could he not do it?
He even mentally gave himself a good talking-to.
It was time for new, happy memories now.
Memories filled with precious times with Clara.
Surely, he could manage to put his troubles behind him.
It’s just that Tom found it easier said than done, but he would still try no matter how hard it was.
He was determined to be positive as they continued their tour of the museum and entered the Violin Room with its earliest known violin.
It gave Tom an idea to woo Clara further.
He grasped hold of her hand and played with the ring she always wore on her right ring finger.
It made him feel closer than ever to Clara as he fiddled with it in the same way he’d noticed she did whenever she was nervous.
The way in which she would put her head down and play with her ring self-consciously was yet another thing he adored about her.
‘Did you see that the Sheldonian Theatre has a violin virtuoso from the Oxford Philharmonic Orchestra playing next week?’
‘Does it? How lovely.’ Clara wasn’t sure if Tom was simply informing her of the event or planning their next date, although she knew what she was hoping for.
‘Yes, I thought I’d see if there are any tickets left. Would you like to go if I can find some?’
‘Tom, I’d absolutely love to. That sounds like such a civilised evening and with you beside me, then I couldn’t ask for more.’
‘Great, I’ll check for tickets.’
With the museum visit almost over with, Tom and Clara prepared to leave through the Ashmolean shop.
Clara wasn’t one to be swayed by consumerism but, as they wandered in, she had a slight memory of buying a magnet for her mum when she came as a ten-year-old and thought a look around would jog her memory.
As they perused the mugs, magnets, pretty notebooks, greetings cards and jewellery, something caught her eye.
‘Ooh, look at those colours. Isn’t this gorgeous?’ said Clara, gently stroking a peony-patterned silk scarf.
‘Very pretty. Why don’t you try it on?’
‘Oh, I don’t need it. It’s okay.’
‘No, go on. I bet it’ll look amazing on you.’
Clara smiled. Tom didn’t even mind her browsing around a shop and actually encouraged her! Where was this man from? she asked herself. If there was a planet that made the perfect man then he must be from there, she reasoned.
‘I don’t need a scarf. It’s fine. There are plenty of people who need things more than me out there.’
‘But it’s nice to spoil yourself sometimes. You deserve a treat too.’
‘Oh, I’m fine. I really don’t need spoiling.’
She genuinely meant it. There were people in the world starving and unclothed.
She realised how fortunate she was and would never think of spoiling herself.
She had always been quite insistent that when she bought two of something, that wasn’t consumerism, but stocking up for when the clothing eventually wore out.
As they left the air-conditioned museum and the warmth outside hit them, Tom made excuses to run to the bathroom before they headed off. Clara waited patiently by the exit when Tom returned with a bag in his hand.
‘Here. If you’re not going to spoil yourself, then please allow me to do so,’ said Tom, handing over the bag to Clara.
‘You didn’t?’ she said with a smile. She may have had her rules about splurging on herself, but she couldn’t be so heartless as to reject Tom’s gift, could she?
‘I did. I hope you don’t mind that I’ve taken the liberty of spoiling you.’
Clara pretended to make a cross face but the truth was no one had ever spoiled her. She didn’t mind one bit that Tom wanted to treat her and pulled out the pretty scarf with glee.
‘Oh, Tom, it’s so beautiful,’ she said, unravelling the scarf to admire it.
‘Will you let me put it on for you?’
Despite the warmth in the air and a silk scarf being unnecessary, Clara couldn’t wait to try it on.
‘Oh, yes, please.’
Tom wrapped the scarf around Clara’s neck tenderly and tied it loosely on her décolletage.
‘There, it’s so you, Clara. It was made for you.’
Even though Clara couldn’t see her reflection, she felt the silk and admired it.
‘It’s beautiful. Oh, Tom, thank you again.’
Tom and Clara stood gazing at each other.
Her pulse raced as she looked into his eyes.
She wondered if it was too soon to admit to him that she was falling in love.
She felt so safe around him. Instead, she settled on a kiss and that electrifying spark she got from him shot right through her once again.
‘You truly are amazing, Tom.’
‘Thank you, you’re not so bad yourself,’ said Tom, squeezing her at the waist playfully.
‘You must let me spoil you too. Now that you’ve got me this, I have to do something in return.’
‘Good grief, not at all. I bought it for you because I want you to have it and not because I want something in return.’
‘I know, but I feel guilty. I’ll have to think of some way to pay you back.’
‘Now, if you do that, then I won’t treat you to anything again,’ said Tom, pretending to tell her off.
‘Okay, I tell you what . . . I’m doing my annual strawberries and cream afternoon at the rectory soon. I do hope you’ll come along. It’s ￡10 a ticket and all the money raised will go to the church fund. There’s a raffle too. I’ll buy your ticket and then it’s also an excuse to see you.’
‘Now that sounds like an offer I can’t refuse. When is it? I’ll put it in my diary.’
‘The first of July. Not too far away.’
Tom’s face turned pale. That was a date he would never forget and he had hoped he could stay home that day to reflect. Yet, despite his reticence, he managed a smile and agreed to be there.
‘Brilliant. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
As he said it, he really meant it. Perhaps it would do him good to get out that day. As Pat always told him, ‘You don’t want to be home alone with only your intrusive thoughts for company, especially not on special dates.’
Yes, it was important that he did something to mark the day, and mark the day he would.