Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sometimes in life, you had to stop and smell the roses.
Clara did just that as she walked past the beautiful bouquets that filled her home.
She had to find three vases in the end, such was the quantity of red roses.
As she took in their aroma, she speculated about what Tom could possibly want to share.
He had already expressed an apology, a big one, as the number of flowers confirmed.
Today, Clara decided to pin her curls into a bun, leaving tendrils hanging down at the sides.
She wanted to make an effort with her appearance after he had caught her at her worst, although it didn’t seem to make a difference to him.
As she got ready to leave, she thought about how much had changed since they first went to the river together.
The mild-mannered, unassuming Tom always surprised her.
Some were nice surprises, like hearing him sing for the first time in the choir, to him turning up with a bouquet when she least expected.
But not all of his surprises were nice and she tried to forget the desperate message he had sent her and the subsequent shock at finding him passed out.
It was for this reason that she told herself that she still had to remain cautiously optimistic, no matter how wonderful it was to see him again.
Clara didn’t realise that Tom was planning his biggest surprise of all and she might need to brace herself.
As she headed towards the Cherwell, she was completely oblivious to the sightseeing tourists around her and carried on walking in a daze.
She still hadn’t decided what she should say about Tom following her to Cambridge and hoped he didn’t push for an answer even though there wasn’t much time.
Should she follow her heart or her head?
Her mind raced as she searched for answers.
At first, Clara didn’t notice Tom as she waited at their agreed spot where she watched a bumblebee enjoying the nectar of coral honeysuckle.
However, Tom couldn’t miss Clara. He looked at her in her shorts and adored how she always seemed so comfortable in her own skin.
She was unlike some of the women he had come across who worried about how they looked or were concerned about the food they ate in case they put on a few pounds.
He liked the fact that she wouldn’t change her ways because she thought someone would like it.
She was who she was and would never wear something that she wasn’t comfortable wearing, just to impress.
There were so many qualities of Clara’s that he admired.
That quiet confidence and positivity to see the best in everyone and everything was one of them.
He could see how she was watching the bumblebee and was mesmerised by her.
How he loved the way she found happiness in nature and everything around her.
It was a shame to disturb her, but they needed to talk.
Luckily, as he was about to tap her on her shoulder, the bee flew off towards the fields out yonder and she turned around.
‘Tom, hi. Sorry, I was miles away, admiring nature.’
‘I can see. Beautiful here, isn’t it. I’m sure you’ll miss all of this when you move to Cambridge.’
She didn’t reply. He had no idea how much she would miss it. She practically felt homesick at the thought.
‘I hope you haven’t had anything to eat yet,’ said Tom, as they walked across the same bridge as the last time they were here. This time though a lot of water had gone under the bridge. Was it time to let all their troubles wash away with the tide?
‘No, I was in a bit of a rush. Too busy admiring those lovely roses.’
‘Good, I’m glad, because I’ve got a surprise for you.’
‘I love surprises.’ Clara smiled as the sun beamed down on her and she felt that all might be well in the world as the ducks swam in the river.
‘What a beautiful day. I can’t bear to think I won’t be able to enjoy watching the bees and the ducks next summer. I suppose I’ll get used to life in Cambridge though, and there’ll be new things to see.’
‘Let’s not think about Cambridge today,’ said Tom.
‘You’re right.’ Clara was grateful that Tom didn’t want to talk about her move. It was far too nice an afternoon to have to make difficult decisions.
‘Clara, can I ask you something?’
‘Umm, as long as it’s not about Cambridge.’
‘No, definitely not.’ Tom laughed. ‘Do you trust me?’
Despite everything that had happened, she realised that she did. ‘Yes, of course I do.’
‘Okay. I promise you’re safe with me. Just trust me for a second.’
Tom put his hands over Clara’s eyes and walked her a little further along the river. Finally, Clara opened her eyes and saw in front of her a red-and-black checked picnic blanket laid out with all her favourite foods.
‘Your speciality scotch eggs!’ exclaimed Clara.
‘Of course.’
‘Sausage rolls, pork pies! And are those cucumber sandwiches? Just like my mum used to make. You remembered.’
‘Yes, I did.’
Clara noticed the ice bucket containing a bottle of Shloer that was being chilled to perfection.
‘Oh, Tom. How wonderful. Thank you.’
‘It’s nothing.’
Tom appeared bashful and didn’t admit that he was up early baking his famous scotch eggs, remembering everything that Clara had said about picnics when she was a little girl, and ensuring that he created the most magical picnic he possibly could.
He had even ensured that he found the perfect location with a view of the field opposite where cows were grazing with their calves.
He had to admit he was secretly pleased with how he had pulled it all off to perfection.
Now he just needed Clara to understand why he did something so heinous when he told her.
No sausage roll could make that acceptable.
He was nervous as he thought about how he would broach the subject but knew that this time there was no getting out of it.
He waited for Clara to enjoy a cucumber sandwich and a scotch egg before he took a deep breath and prepared to lay his heart bare.
Would she ever speak to him again after this?
He was terrified at the prospect of losing her again but he couldn’t continue with her knowing only half the story.
This time, she deserved all of it and he would accept her decision.
It was up to her what she wanted to do with the facts. That part was out of his control.
‘Some Shloer, Clara?’ He poured both of them a glass, knowing that he was going to need something for his dry mouth during this difficult conversation.
Clara took a sip of it.
‘Ooh, lovely. I haven’t tasted Shloer since I was 12 and thought I was drunk. I even thought I was going to be sick, but maybe that’s because I drank a whole bottle of it.’
She looked away, regretting her words. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t joke about that sort of thing, should I.’
‘No, It’s fine. I don’t want you thinking it’s an elephant in the room – or the field,’ said Tom, smiling and gesturing to the open space. ‘On that note, I said that I needed to share something with you . . .’
‘Yes, and what a jolly lovely picnic you’re sharing with me too.’
‘I don’t mean the food. I mean . . . I want you to know about my past. I need you to know something before you leave for Cambridge.’
‘Okay. I thought we weren’t going to say the C-word.’ Clara swallowed nervously.
‘No, it’s not about Cambridge. It’s about me. So, firstly, you know the bit about me being a recovering alcoholic . . .’
‘I do, yes.’
‘Well, that’s only half of it.’
‘I guessed that there was more somehow.’
Clara leaned over to touch Tom’s hand. She stroked it gently, just as she had done when he was vulnerable in the hospital.
‘I loved my family, I really did. I never meant to let them down. The booze just took hold of me. I was told an uncle of mine was an alcoholic. Sometimes I used to blame my genes, but it was only me to blame. It wasn’t genetic.
It was greed and addiction. I loved a drink and the way it made me feel. It helped me handle my emotions.’
‘It’s easy to do that. A lot of people love a drink to relax, Tom.’
‘Yeah, but it’s how I handled it all.’
Tom took a swig of Shloer, pausing for a moment.
‘I was having problems at work and I was stressed. It started with a drink to unwind after a day in the office. Then it escalated before I even realised. I began to look forward to finishing work so I could stop by the pub on the way home. That first pint seemed to solve everything. This drink worked so magically. Then I’d go home and continue.
I kept thinking, one day I wouldn’t need the booze.
If only work was easier, then I wouldn’t need it.
Alcohol was my crutch to surviving work, but then my wife had an affair.
She left me for this guy who paid her a lot more attention than I did.
I couldn’t really blame her, I guess. I didn’t even put up a fight.
There was no shouting or arguing. She left, taking Josh, and then there was nothing left for me to get up for. ’
‘Oh, Tom.’
‘It’s okay. I was awful to be around. I know I was.’
‘I’m sure you weren’t.’
‘I can assure you I was an absolute nightmare. The only friends I had left were the drinkers. The ones I used to play squash with and the circle of friends I had when I was married all dumped me. Nobody wanted to hang around with the loser who wanted to go to the pub as soon as the doors opened. Although it wasn’t even about the pub.
I’d hide cans of lager everywhere. I’d be in the utility room, pretending to do the laundry and coughing to disguise the noise of the can opening when Josh would come over to see me.
I even used to carry around mints, thinking he wouldn’t notice.
I thought I was tolerating it well and would pretend to open my first can in the evening.
Josh didn’t find out that I had lost my job in accounts until . . .’
Clara passed Tom a tissue from her bag as he started to cry.
He had never told another person any of this next part before.
However, as he worked his way towards what he had to tell Clara, he knew that he was fixed.
This was his biggest step yet. He could finally talk about it.
While it would always be upsetting, he could now find the words to admit to his past. He was no longer afraid of the awful truth.
‘Oh, Clara. You see, I lost all control after Diana left. I didn’t know what I was doing and that’s how I became estranged from my son.’
Tears streamed down Tom’s face as he sobbed.
‘I miss him so much.’
‘I’m sure he’d understand now you’ve come out of rehab. Can’t you reach out to him? Tell him you’re sorry for your previous behaviour.’
‘Not really, no. He never wants to hear from me again. He’s made it clear. He’s done with me after what I did.’
‘You’ve recovered from all the drinking, so I don’t see why he should forever hold it against you.’
‘It’s not that. I did something unspeakable. Really unspeakable.’
‘How bad could it possibly be? You were in a dreadful place and not thinking straight. I mean, surely he’ll understand.’
‘I don’t think so, Clara. It’s unforgivable.’
‘You were an addict. You weren’t aware of the consequences of your actions.’
‘Yeah, but what I did was so heinous.’
‘What on earth could be that terrible, Tom?’
He thought carefully about how he was going to phrase what he needed to say before confessing to the worst moment in his journey with alcoholism.
He wasn’t convinced Clara would ever understand.
Tom took a deep breath and looked at Clara’s beautiful round cheeks and those kissable lips.
Was this the moment she would walk away and never look back? There was only one way to find out.