Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sleepless nights were becoming quite the thing for Clara. She had struggled with them when she went through menopause, but now they were back with a vengeance for one reason and one reason only: Tom.
Since Pat had promised to make sure that he would support Tom from the addiction side of things, Clara decided they needed some space. She knew Pat was the right person for this part of Tom’s journey. He had been through it himself and understood better than she did what needed to be done next.
As much as Clara wanted to reach out to Tom and Pat to see how they were getting on, she knew that sometimes you had to take a step back.
In addition, she needed to start thinking about her job interview that had finally come around.
This wasn’t made any easier when she went to the student halls to pick something up and Charlie greeted her with a box of chocolates.
‘Now, I’d love to say they were from me, but Sian dropped them here earlier. She wanted to say thank you for all the support you’ve given her. She was packing up the last of her stuff.’
‘Oh no. That’s sad to hear. I knew she wanted to leave but I do hope she hasn’t dropped her degree completely.’
‘No, she’s transferred closer to Cardiff, so she’s over the moon.’
‘I’m so pleased to hear that.’
‘She also left a card for you.’
Charlie passed over a red envelope with Clara’s name on.
‘Oh, that’s nice. She’s a lovely young lady,’ said Clara to Charlie who was watching her.
‘She thinks the world of you, she does.’ Charlie paused. ‘But then again, doesn’t everyone around here?’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’
‘You’re far too modest, Clara. You keep everything together here.’
Clara felt embarrassed by all the praise. ‘Only doing my job.’
‘No, it’s more than that. You’re special and we all love you. Don’t you ever think of leaving us. Nobody would cope without you.’
‘Ha. I’m sure they would cope just fine.’
Clara wondered if Charlie was becoming a bit of a psychic.
Either that or he was stalking her every move.
Since when had he started going on about her leaving?
Clara was convinced he knew something about the job interview she was having tomorrow.
After all, the porters all talked, and what if someone had recognised her name on the interview list at Cambridge?
Even though Clara was realistic enough to realise that Charlie was probably speaking hypothetically, she knew it was only a matter of time before someone leaked the fact that she was there.
Anyone could spot her. As she felt a twinge of last-minute interview nerves, she wished she hadn’t gone ahead and applied.
So much for Eleanora saying to go for it, as she might not get anywhere anyhow.
It felt as though the universe wanted her to stay in Oxford when she bumped into Brian and his daughter outside Clara’s favourite second-hand bookshop, near Little Clarendon Street.
‘Good day, Reverend, this is my daughter, Helena. I don’t think you’ve met before.’
‘No, we haven’t. How lovely you’re visiting.’
‘After Dad’s fall, I wanted to get up here as soon as I could. He told me how wonderful you were. I don’t know what he’d do without you.’
Why was everyone telling her this today, of all days? Perhaps people always said nice things to her and only now she was noticing it.
‘It’s nothing. Brian is a very valued member of our congregation. I had to make sure he was okay.’
‘You certainly do that. He looks forward to your services. He didn’t go to church after Mum died. He lost his faith a little after she suffered so much, but you’ve made him believe again. Thank you.’
‘I’m happy to hear that.’
She felt content and smiled to herself, thinking that if she had any more compliments today, she mightn’t be able to fit her head through the doorway by the time she got home.
But her day wasn’t over and whilst she had received her fair share of pleasant surprises so far, when she arrived home, there was a different sort of surprise to come.
Along with the usual junk mail offering her a stairlift or funeral plan – after all, she was over the age of 50 – there was a plain blue envelope addressed to her with a first-class stamp.
She didn’t know many people who used the first-class service since the price of postage had risen.
Her name and address were in beautiful cursive writing and Clara sat, admiring it for a while.
Her own handwriting was much more like something you’d find on a doctor’s prescription.
No matter how hard she tried, she worried that it was never legible to anyone except herself.
Thank goodness for computers and emails.
Something about the writing made the sender look arty and creative.
She remembered how Tom always loved music and talked once of being in a band.
He was so creative that it made her think of him.
She wondered what he was doing right now and if it would be him who would have sent her a letter. Why not a text message?
Clara unfolded the letter carefully. She noticed the smell of Tom’s aftershave on it before she could read the words. She would know it anywhere.
Dearest Clara,
This is the hardest letter I’ve ever had to write.
Firstly, I should probably thank you again for saving my life. When they say ‘you’re a lifesaver’, I guess that’s what it means. Ha.
I’m digressing already, aren’t I? So, yeah. Time to be serious. Where do I start?
Oh, lovely Clara, I don’t deserve you. But I’m going to try and change.
I’m writing this from the St Luke’s Rehabilitation Centre.
Pat suggested it would do me some good. I probably need a closer eye on me right now since I’ve proven how easily, after two years of sobriety, I can fall off the wagon.
Being home with a supermarket around the corner isn’t a good idea when I am left alone with the demons I carry.
I’m so ashamed about what I have done and I promise I’ll do better.
I don’t know how long I’ll be in here for.
I mean, how long is a piece of string? I’m determined not to leave until I’m ready though.
I need to get better and know for certain that I’ll never have another relapse.
I can’t take that chance again. I shudder to think what would have happened to me had you not come along the other night.
I’m so sorry to have put you through that.
I keep replaying the scene I came home to and I’m utterly horrified that you, lovely Clara, had to see that.
It is this that has made me determined to change once and for all.
I ask your forgiveness and I wonder if you might be kind enough to visit me? I would love to see you. I would like to think that when I’m better and finally out of here and get myself together that we can pick up where we left off – well, not the bad part. The bit before that.
I know it’s very early days but all I can think about whilst I’m in here is seeing you again. I’ve been imagining I was back at the picnic with you, or the theatre, and then I remember how you looked that night.
You’re so beautiful, Clara, both inside and out, and I hope that we can be together again.
I want to be well again and have you in my arms. Will you visit me soon?
It would mean so much to see you. I do understand also if you don’t contact me and if not then I promise not to bother you.
I will accept whatever decision you make, and I want to assure you that I am getting better for myself, regardless of your decision.
My love, always, Tom xxx
P.S. Please don’t let anyone know where I am. It’s mortifying enough that you know!
* * *
It had taken Tom almost an hour to write that.
He still had so much he wanted to tell her but wasn’t quite ready.
After Pat had promised he would post it for him, he wondered how long it would take until he saw Clara’s lovely smiling face peeping around the door.
When would she visit him? Would she come running straight in as soon as she received it?
He wasn’t sure what the visiting hours were and for a moment he allowed himself to imagine her running in and demanding she see him immediately and clashing with the staff in her hurry.
He knew that she would never really clash with anyone, but he imagined himself in a movie scene and the woman he had fallen in love with was desperate to embrace him.
As he sat on the sterile green chair in his room, he prayed to God for forgiveness and promised that he really would change this time. He would go to church again, give up all his spare time for charities and do random acts of kindness daily, even if Clara chose not to return to him.
* * *
What Tom didn’t know was that after reading his letter, she had made up her mind. She felt certain that Tom had issues that were bigger than alcohol and it was better that he worked on himself now. He needed to rid himself of all that emotional baggage before embarking on any relationship.
She looked at the letter beside her once more. Then she grabbed a piece of writing paper, along with her fancy ink pen, and started writing Tom a letter in return.
Dear Tom,
Thank you for your letter. I am sorry to hear you’re in rehab, although it is definitely in your best interest. I would very much like to see you there, but I don’t think that’s a good idea at this stage.
I’m afraid it’s too late for us. We were good while it lasted but everything is too complicated. Now isn’t the time for you to invest in a relationship. You need to concentrate on your healing. Besides, I have something to tell you.
Tomorrow I’m going for an interview for a post in Cambridge. If I’m successful then I’ll be leaving Oxford and I guess by the time you’d come out of rehab, I’d be gone. I mean, there’s no guarantees I’ll get it, but . . .
Oh, Tom, it’s been so wonderful getting to know you. You have given me the best times I’ve ever had with anyone and I want you to know that, so thank you.
I wish you the very best with your rehabilitation. Good luck with your recovery programme.
Goodbye, my dear, darling Tom.
My love, always,
Clara xx
Just as the tear had escaped onto Tom’s chest when she found him, a single tear fell on her letter and the last line blurred into oblivion. Like their relationship, the letter was ruined. Clara scrunched the writing paper up and threw it in the wastebasket.