Secrets Among the Spires (The Oxford Chronicles #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

As Clara stood in her immaculately pressed cassock and surplice, she stopped for a moment and looked around at the congregation, hoping that what she was about to say could help someone.

Her long auburn curls fell down into her hood as she took a deep breath before her voice boomed authoritatively across the chapel, echoing along the wooden beams above.

‘I was reading an interesting article this week. Did you know that one in six of us experience loneliness?’

She paused for dramatic effect as she maintained eye contact with her loyal congregation.

There must have been around sixty people sat on the wooden pews hanging on to her every word.

She wondered who her script resonated with.

Clara worked out that statistically there must have been at least ten lonely individuals in the room.

Would it be Roy, the church organist, who was sat to attention, as he waited patiently to play the next tune?

Was it the gifted choristers who were students at Oxford University and decked out in their choir dress, complete with long tippets, who were listening intently?

She thought how, despite their talent, any one of them could have been feeling lonely as most studied far away from home.

You would never know who it could affect.

Young or old, loneliness wasn’t discriminative.

Clara smiled sympathetically.

‘Just remember that with God we are never alone. I also want to reiterate that nobody here should ever feel lonely. I’m always here to talk to.

If you have troubles, if you want to share your joy; whatever you’re going through, please know that I’m here for you.

The world would be a much happier place if we all cared for others, gave forgiveness and seized every opportunity for happiness and love.

We should love others like Jesus loves us.

Now I want you to stand up and turn to the person next to you and shake hands.

Of course, you can fist-bump, if you’d prefer. ’

Clara was always intrigued by the way people carried out this task and felt that she could tell a lot about their different personalities by how they performed it.

She noticed how the older members of the congregation always shook hands with each other, whilst the students normally chose the fist-bump option.

Meanwhile, other members of the congregation shook hands self-consciously, mortified that they had to greet someone. Everyone was different.

Once the church quietened down and all were sat back on their pews, Clara continued.

‘Thank you. I hope you’ve made some new friends today. So, you see, we shouldn’t be afraid to show our feelings. Don’t be afraid to meet new people, make new friends. Chat to strangers – in a safe public space, obviously.’

Clara let out a nervous snort. The last thing she wanted was to put anyone in danger.

‘And, if you know someone . . . If you care for them, then do tell them. Don’t be afraid to show your true feelings.’

Amy, one of the medical students who was sat in the congregation, let out a giggle.

Clara glanced over at her and could see that she was thinking of someone in particular.

What she didn’t realise was that, as usual, Clara had managed to inspire.

Amy had already decided that she would be telling her cohort, Danny, how she felt when she saw him at the Turf Tavern once she left Evensong.

As Amy daydreamed about Danny, Clara threw her hands in the air theatrically and announced, ‘Carpe diem.’ It almost felt as though she deserved a round of applause as the congregation members were filled with hope and inspiration from her enlightening sermon.

Brian, an elderly member of the church, smiled at Clara.

Her words had struck a chord with him too and he decided that the next time he was home alone and not wanting to bother his daughter, he was going to call her.

Brian was never one to make a fuss and he knew that Helena wouldn’t mind; it was merely his own stubbornness that was to blame for any loneliness.

Helena was always trying to get him to visit her at her new home in Exeter.

Continuing to look around at her audience, to ensure she still had their attention, Clara made eye contact with one of the newer church members.

The dashingly handsome Tom Hartley was the tenor in an over-sixties choir that practised at the chapel twice a month.

Clara felt as though he had been gifted with the finest of genes, with his thick head of mousy brown hair and muscular physique that he managed to maintain.

She would have assumed he was in his early fifties were it not for the fact the choir had a strict age policy.

He was a bit of an enigma but always pleasant enough.

As he appeared to stare at her as if looking into her soul, she wondered what he was thinking.

Was he a lonely soul perhaps? His poker face didn’t give much away.

Clara had no idea that his heart was racing with every word she said.

Her focus returned to the rest of the churchgoers and she closed another successful service at St Peter’s.

‘So, I’d like to end by thanking you all for coming and I do hope some of my words will make a difference. Don’t ever forget that I’m here for you all. Now, please do join us for port and hot chocolate. I’ve also brought in some of my homemade brownies.’

She knew how much everyone loved her brownies, and this filled her with joy. Her happiness had always come from feeding and caring for the community.

Amy hurried off, since she only had one thing on her mind, but most of the other congregation members stayed on. An American couple, visiting Oxford for the first time, introduced themselves to Clara as Ken and Tracey.

‘This is just so British,’ said Ken. ‘What a beautiful place this is. We adore all the history in the United Kingdom. We enjoyed your sermon too.’

‘That’s very kind of you. I’m glad to hear that. Now, please, do share some port with us.’

‘It’s so exciting that you have port,’ squealed Tracey as she took the glass from Clara.

Tourists regularly visited from around the world. Clara loved how they always enjoyed the old Oxford traditions, and she was only too pleased to fulfil their expectations and answer any questions.

‘Now would you mind telling us more about the history of the chapel?’ asked Ken.

Clara was happy to oblige and reeled out the tales she saved for tourists. Then she informed Ken and Tracey of the forthcoming events that they might want to enjoy during their stay in the city. Even though she was a clergywoman, Clara often felt like a tourist guide too.

As Ken and Tracey enjoyed their port and discussed their new knowledge between them, some of the regular worshippers approached Clara before they headed home. One of them was Janet, a local widow who never missed a sermon since her social life revolved around it.

‘Thank you for a lovely service,’ said Janet. ‘As always.’

‘Very poignant, I thought,’ said Brian who had recently been widowed.

‘It was indeed, wasn’t it,’ added Professor Binton, who was Head of Theology at the university. ‘Loneliness is an epidemic in students. We need to talk about it more.’

Everyone nodded their heads in full agreement.

Clara was proud of the fact that she somehow continually managed to pull off a sermon that could appeal to anyone; despite her initial apprehension each time she commenced a service.

After all, it wasn’t easy trying to appeal to tourists, elderly members of the church, students, academics and university staff alike.

But now that the service was over, she was able to relax a little, and Clara took a big mouthful of brownie when she noticed Tom making a beeline for her.

She cursed herself for placing so much in her mouth and hoped she didn’t have any brownie stuck between her teeth as she nervously felt around with her tongue.

‘Thank you for yet another enjoyable service, Reverend,’ said Tom.

‘Please, call me Clara.’

‘Sorry, of course.’

She watched how he took a big swig from the water bottle he always carried around with him. She wondered if it was a nervous habit, or if it was something to do with his passion for singing.

‘Anyway, how are you settling in with the choir? I’ve noticed you have quite the voice as a tenor. You’re a credit to them.’

She wasn’t sure if she should admit how she had stood in the background listening to them a few times. They were all a talented bunch but Tom had the voice of an angel. She would go so far as to say that he was even gifted.

‘I’m settling in well . . . And thank you very much. Coming from someone like you, that’s a big compliment. That’s made my day.’

He flashed a cheeky grin that made Clara’s cheeks flush and her heart flutter.