Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
When Pat next visited Tom, he was armed with books that he felt might help. For the first time since he had known Tom, he saw a proper determination in his eyes and not the half-hearted attempt to change that he had witnessed in the past.
‘Here are some self-help books I’ve been reading recently.
You need to remember that having a relapse isn’t about being weak, it’s often that you’re in a bad place and not knowing how to deal with those emotions.
Josh’s special birthday was a trigger. I think these books will be good for you.
There’s a lot in there about forgiving yourself and how to handle emotions; getting to the root cause,’ said Pat.
Tom gladly took them from him, holding them tight as though they were a lifeline.
‘I promise I’ll keep them safe and when I’m done with them, I’ll pass what I’ve learned on to someone else. I want to give something back for all the help you’ve given me. I might even become a mentor.’
‘Baby steps. Remember? Don’t run before you can walk.’
‘Sorry, I’m getting carried away. I just want to win Clara back; show her I’ve changed.’
‘Then do it the proper way. If you want to succeed, you’ll have to take your time.’
He wanted to repeat to him that he didn’t have time on his side, but he knew Pat would force him to take things slowly. However, Tom was already flicking through the self-help books before Pat could even leave the room.
By the next morning he had already read the first book.
Having stayed up late reading page after page, he was determined to move on to a new chapter both in the book and his life.
With each chapter came more motivation and hope.
He finally began to see that he wasn’t the only person suffering and, as he started the next book on healing, he wrote down his favourite extracts and began to chant any reaffirming words he came across.
He took every opportunity he could to get better and when he was offered sessions on mindfulness, he snapped them up.
* * *
As Tom said goodbye to his troubled past, Clara was saying goodbye to a few of the students.
Arabella, Ffion and Jade were on their summer break, but they headed into Oxford as soon as they heard the news that she was leaving.
They wanted to be one of the first to give her a leaving gift in case they missed her by the time they came back for Michaelmas.
They had always felt that Reverend Clara was like that approachable aunt you could depend on.
Clara opened the hamper to see a keyring, notepad and a mug. She read the slogan on the items aloud: ‘She believed she could so she did.’
The girls all laughed nervously, hoping Clara liked it.
‘I absolutely love it. How affirming.’
‘We’re so pleased. It was Ffion’s idea but we all chipped in,’ said Arabella.
‘That’s so thoughtful. You’re the best and I’ll miss you so much, but I can’t wait to see what wonderful things you’ll get up to in life. I know you’ll all be top barristers one day.’
‘I think I might start making hampers. Have you seen how much they charge for these things?’ said Jade, laughing.
‘You’re not supposed to say that,’ said Ffion, playfully kicking Jade.
‘Oh, I hope it didn’t cost too much. You need to save your cash for your partying. I mean books. But I absolutely love it and I shall have my coffee in this mug every morning and think of you lot,’ said Clara.
‘And the keyring for your car. You’re not forgetting us that easily,’ said Ffion.
‘How could I ever forget you. The lovely Three Musketeers.’
‘All for one and one for all,’ said Jade as the three of them fist-bumped and Clara joined in.
The youth of the girls reminded her of how old she was.
She didn’t have another twenty years to think about her career.
It was now or never and, as she tearily said goodbye to people she adored, she might not feel as though she was doing the right thing but she had indeed smashed it.
So, while Tom was chanting his own reaffirming messages to himself at rehab, in the office of St Peter’s, Clara chanted a reaffirming message to herself.
‘This is the opportunity of a lifetime and you smashed it!’
Back home that evening, Clara continued with her packing as her departure came closer.
As she carefully placed her mother’s vintage dishes in bubble wrap, a wave of sadness came over her.
She was sure that King’s College would be happy for her to do her summer tea and similar fundraising events but, as she looked out of the kitchen window and into the garden, she pictured everyone having fun just a few weeks ago.
It was her tradition, something she had created from scratch, and now someone new would be coming to replace her.
Would they continue with her strawberry tea?
Clara hadn’t heard who would be replacing her yet.
She certainly hadn’t witnessed anyone coming in for an interview.
It was going to be difficult handing over to someone else.
She had never had children but it felt like handing over your baby to someone you didn’t know.
She cared so much for the congregation. She often felt as though they were the family she didn’t have and now she was walking away from them.
Following the newspaper article, word was getting around like wildfire of Clara’s departure and, the next morning, she was surprised to find a leaving gift had been mysteriously placed on her desk in the office of St Peter’s.
There was no card, but a carefully wrapped box sat on the top of her notepad.
‘Does anyone know who this is from?’ she asked Lawrence.
‘Nope. Not noticed anyone drop anything off.’
Clara undid the bow on the top and opened up the plain brown paper to discover a white glass candle.
Emblazoned across the front of it were the words: Smells like abandonment. Infused with the tears of missing you.
‘Who on earth sent this?’
‘No idea. I haven’t seen anyone come in here either,’ said Flora.
Clara wondered if it was from Tom but assumed that he wouldn’t know of her imminent departure from St Peter’s.
A teeny part of her hoped it was from him, and the more she thought about it, that was exactly what she had done – abandoned him.
She felt guilty as she thought about it.
Had she abandoned him in his hour of need?
Maybe she should have visited him to talk but, whether rightly or wrongly, she thought it best she let him recover. No, she couldn’t regret her decision.
The more she thought about the candle, she realised that it was probably a joke from someone she worked with. Charlie! That’s who it would be. It was exactly his humour. To be sure, at lunchtime, she popped into the halls of residence to find him.
‘Ah, my favourite gargoyle.’
‘What a greeting,’ said Clara, pretending to be offended.
‘A fine-looking gargoyle, mind you.’
Charlie gave Clara one of his cheeky winks. ‘Anyway, what can I do you for?’
‘I came to see if you knew anything about a mysterious candle?’
Charlie rubbed at his chin and wrinkled up his face. ‘A mysterious candle? Let me think. In the church, or . . .?’ Then he let out a mischievous grin. Charlie could never keep a secret, because he was one of those people whose face always gave it away.
‘Ah, I thought it would be from you.’
‘Bleeding abandoning us. That’s what you’re doing. Had to get it when I saw that. No idea what it smells like though.’
‘It smells gorgeous, so it would seem your tears smell like vanilla and patchouli.’ Clara fleetingly thought of Tom and the lovely scent he wore when they went punting.
‘I always knew I was different . . .’ Charlie teased her.
As Clara and Charlie laughed together, she thought of all the fun times they’d had at work over the years.
‘Will you be coming to the Michaelmas service?’
‘Does a zebra have stripes?’
‘I had to think about that for a second. Brain fog!’
‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world, lovely. I don’t think there’ll be enough pews for this one.’
Clara hoped she would have a good turnout for her service.
Everyone so far had promised they would be attending.
It was just a shame that one important person wouldn’t be there, but she couldn’t dwell on that, even though she desperately wanted to hear Tom’s voice echoing through the church.
She missed his singing. There were a lot of things she craved about him, like the way he spoke so quietly and calmly, and those silly jokes he told.
Nobody could make her laugh like Tom, not even Charlie.