Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
When Clara was back at work, the porters of St Peter’s, the students, congregation and even some of the dons were noticing a change in her.
She had always been known for her jolly demeanour but now she was positively beaming.
Eleanora was one of the only people in Clara’s circle to know that the secret to her radiance was mostly down to Tom’s influence, but tongues were starting to wag.
The question on everyone’s lips was, what was Clara’s secret?
There were even questions raised by some of the more cosmetically enhanced students whether the modest Clara may have gone for a Botox appointment.
Although this rumour was quickly quashed when she raised her eyebrows to Lawrence’s request of giving him a free ticket to the strawberry tea in return for a favour he had done.
He would do anything to avoid putting his hand in his pocket.
Clara had always been regarded as an open book but everyone felt something strange was going on.
She was hiding something. Lawrence, in particular, could feel it in his bones.
They hadn’t worked together for over twenty years for him not to notice a change in her.
They had been through so many stages of her life together.
When her parents died and she needed compassionate leave he was there for her; when she was late for work because she was busy saving a fox who had taken refuge at the bottom of her garden, he had reluctantly understood.
He was even one of the first to recognise that Clara was in perimenopause after she burst into a rage and then into tears because he had eaten all the office custard creams. His sister Gwendoline had been much the same, not that he ever publicly acknowledged it.
He was old-school and those were things that happened to women that he would rather not discuss.
Although he did agree to attending HR’s talk on menopause in the workplace.
He was proud of the fact that he wasn’t prehistoric!
He watched Clara closely as she smiled to herself as she boiled the kettle.
She had been texting more, smiling more and if he didn’t know otherwise, he would say she had fallen in love.
Not that he had ever felt like that himself, but the eternal bachelor had seen enough of it during wedding ceremonies.
It wasn’t only Lawrence who had his suspicions. When Clara saw Margaret next, this time because she had stuffed a bag of Werther’s Originals in her pocket without paying for them, she said that she wanted to ask her something.
‘Of course, Margaret, what is it?’ she asked, as they walked arm in arm back to Margaret’s bungalow.
‘Are you seeing someone?’
‘Seeing someone?’ she asked innocently.
‘Yes, a young man. Perhaps that nice chap from the amateur choir.’
Clara laughed at Margaret’s portrayal of Tom being described as a young man. Although to Margaret, she figured he would practically be a toy boy.
‘Goodness, what made you think that?’ She didn’t want to lie but she didn’t want to announce the news quite yet either.
‘I’ve seen the way he looks at you, my dear. My Albert used to look at me like that. You know, back in the day.’ Margaret’s face lit up as she spoke of her loving late husband.
‘He’s a very pleasant chap. You could do a lot worse. You know, me and Janet are hoping you two get together. We’ve discussed it and we think you’re the perfect match.’
‘Ooh, I do hope you’re not all gossiping about me, Margaret.’
‘Not at all, dear. But when you get to our age, you realise that you never want to miss an opportunity that comes your way. You have to live your life and grasp everything that comes.’
If only Margaret knew, thought Clara. The universe had never presented her with so many opportunities but whether she would grasp them all was another matter. Eleanora didn’t call her Cautious Clara for nothing.
Despite always erring on the side of caution, when she got ready for her date at the theatre, she decided that tonight she would be more reckless and open her heart to Tom a little more.
Maybe it was Margaret’s pep talk, she concluded, or perhaps it was those true feelings that she refused to admit to herself.
Whatever the case, she sprayed a little more perfume on than normal and shaved her legs.
It had been years since she had given herself so much self-care.
She had never used so many of the smellies that people insisted on buying her each Christmas.
Finally, they had come to good use and were no longer rotting away on her bathroom windowsill.
Clara had even begun to realise how nice it was to have some me-time and she was beginning to feel like a new woman.
If this continued, she might have to pop along with Eleanora to the Oxford Belfry Hotel & Spa for some serious pampering.
Spas had always been something of a mystery to Clara and she had always wondered how people could lie around and relax when they had so many jobs to get done.
Now she was starting to learn how nice it was to look after oneself as well as everyone else.
Clara swung her arms along happily as she walked under the Hertford Bridge, or Bridge of Sighs as everyone lovingly knew it, and the glorious Sheldonian Theatre building came into sight in the distance.
She loved the building for many reasons, not least because it had an open scripture from the Greek New Testament above the door at the nearby Divinity School.
As she searched for Tom, Clara carried on walking past the herms at the back of the building, around to the crest of Sir Gilbert Sheldon, whom she knew as the Archbishop of Canterbury in the sixteenth century and the generous benefactor of the building.
She was beginning to regret not having arranged which side they should meet.
But, when she eventually found Tom, it was worth the wait.
She could see that he had clearly made an effort with his smart grey suit and freshly shaven face.
The impression was reciprocated. Tonight, Tom thought Clara looked even more attractive than ever.
The way she had tied her hair up in that chignon, made him want to reach out and touch the nape of her neck.
In fact, he was going to struggle to concentrate on the concert at this rate as she took his breath away with her innocent beauty.
‘You smell divine,’ Tom said as he kissed Clara.
‘Thank you. It’s just a perfume someone bought me one Christmas, yonks ago.’
‘It suits you. So does your hair, the dress . . . You look . . . and smell . . . absolutely ravishing.’
Clara looked down at her pastel blue dress.
‘Thank you, Tom. I’ve not been called that before.’
‘It’s the only way I can describe you, Clara. Absolutely ravishing, sublime even.’
Their playful eyes gave away the chemistry between them.
Clara stroked his arm flirtatiously. Tom had no idea that she was going to have as much trouble concentrating on the violinist as he would, but first Tom planned a walk up the 114 steps to the theatre’s cupola to admire the romantic view of the city of dreaming spires.
‘Are you sure you’re fit enough?’ teased Clara as they took on the first couple of steps.
‘Shall I prove it? Race to the top?’
‘No, let’s not have a race. I’d hate to have to call Air Ambulance.’
‘Cheeky,’ said Tom, playfully touching Clara’s waist.
By the time they reached the top of the cupola, both refused to admit that they were out of puff, although Tom had to bend down to get his breath.
He would never disclose to Clara that he felt as though he’d run a marathon.
It was a reminder that he wasn’t so young anymore and he must make the most of his life.
When breathing was finally restored to normality, Tom placed his arm around Clara and they looked out at the magnificent vista.
‘It was definitely worth the climb,’ said Tom, as he admired the views.
‘It was. Look, you can see the Bridge of Sighs and Bodleian Library,’ said Clara excitedly.
‘How lovely. Isn’t this city beautiful?’
‘It is. Maybe that’s why I’ve never been inclined to leave it.’
‘Indeed. Why would you want to leave?’
Clara thought of the potential job in Cambridge and what an upheaval it would be. She shrugged her shoulders, aware that Tom had no idea about the position she’d been contacted about. There was no need for him to know about something that she might not even apply for.
‘I could stay here admiring the view all night but we’d better make a move, or we’ll miss the concert,’ said Tom, noticing the time. ‘At least it’s easier on the way down.’
In fact, getting downstairs to the auditorium didn’t seem to take half as long.
And, as they took their seats on a wooden bench in the upper gallery of the auditorium together, Clara looked up at the ornate painted ceiling by the English landscape artist, Robert Streater.
The painting had always fascinated her since she had learned in school that the panels had been transported by barge to Oxford from London.
She had always felt as though it was like looking up to an open sky, right through the cupola that they’d just visited.
The lights then went down and the violinist started his repertoire, and Tom placed his hand on Clara’s leg. The power of the music, coupled with Tom’s touch, sent shivers down her spine.
‘Wonderful, isn’t it?’ whispered Tom in her ear.
‘Absolutely,’ she said with a big grin.
The acoustics echoed around the concert hall and Clara noticed Tom’s arms covered in goosebumps at the high-pitched plucking of the violin as Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons was played.
She had always loved this masterpiece before tonight, but sitting here with Tom in such close proximity made it even more special.
She was fast becoming used to having Tom beside her and she realised how much she enjoyed having him in her life.
Now that she’d grown so fond of him, she couldn’t imagine herself not being with him.
She realised that sometimes you didn’t know what was missing from your life.
Despite the beguiling music, Tom’s mind started to drift again.
He worried that with each date as they fell for each other further, he still had a secret that she should know about.
He needed to tell Clara about his past. She deserved to know, but how could he tell her when every date was so perfect?
He looked at Clara who seemed so content beside him.
She caught him staring and gave him a smile.
His heart melted. Why did she always look so innocent, so vulnerable?
What would she think of him if she knew the truth?
The whole truth, the one that even Pat didn’t know about?
The familiar wave of shame flooded over him.
When the concert finished, Tom insisted on walking Clara home and they euphorically discussed how wonderful the evening had been.
They agreed that the next time the violists were in town they would buy tickets immediately.
Clara realised that Tom was already planning for the future and she was deliriously happy with that thought.
It felt as though they reached Clara’s far too soon and neither of them was ready for the evening to come to a close.
‘Would you like to come in for a cuppa?’ Clara asked, hoping Tom didn’t take it as a euphemism.
‘I’d love to.’
The pair stayed up talking until 1 a.m. when they eventually fell asleep in each other’s arms on the sofa.
Clara briefly woke up at 3 a.m. but didn’t want to move in case she disturbed Tom.
Instead, she moved her arm to a slightly more comfortable position before snuggling deeper into him.
They stayed like that until 6 a.m. when the sun started to peep through the curtains.
Clara was the perfect hostess, making Tom a morning coffee and some toast as she hummed the tunes from last night that were still stuck in her head.
She felt as though she hadn’t a worry in the world, apart from how she would get Tom out of the house without Julie spotting him.
It dawned on her that unless Julie had already gone to work at the library, she was bound to catch him walking out of her front door.
Clara knew that people were talking about them but she didn’t want the confirmation of those rumours to come from Julie’s lips.
While Clara and Tom sat at the kitchen table enjoying an early breakfast, she brought up the fact that it might be time to break the news to everyone that they were now a couple.
‘I’d be very proud for you to let everyone know about us,’ said Tom, getting up from his chair to kiss the top of Clara’s head.
‘Right then. On the first of July at the tea, we’ll come out in the open. Let’s tell the whole congregation. Let our love be known by all.’
‘I look forward to sharing our news,’ said Tom as he gulped down his coffee.
His emotions were conflicted. He would be overjoyed to show the world that he was with the wonderful, popular and amazing Clara, but he needed to speak to Pat and get more of his valuable advice.
For Tom realised how much she was falling for him and he wasn’t sure he should allow her to.
In his heart he knew that she deserved so much better than him.
He cared for her too much to do this to her.
Now that they were about to come out into the open, he realised he couldn’t do it.
He couldn’t tell her the truth about his past and spoil her opinion of him.
He would have to do something drastic, but he didn’t know what.