‘But you need hope. Think of a positive future. Where would you like to be in a year, or five years from now?’
‘I can’t imagine a tomorrow. Let alone next year,’ he had replied.
Pat didn’t push him but suggested Tom buy a plant for the new home he had moved into. Plants, Pat had told him, represented hope for another day, even during those moments of despondency.
As Tom arrived home and stood on his doorstep, he looked at the cactus he had bought and remembered those words. That flowering cactus looked inconspicuous, but it represented hope for tomorrow. Although, when he thought about it, his doorstep plant seemed piteous when he compared it to the flora of the lovely cottage he had shared with his ex-wife. When they first moved in, the garden had been bursting with colour and the couple were excited about the space for a vegetable patch at the back. Tom had even promised Diana that he would grow those earthy new potatoes that his dad used to plant. Sadly, the truth was that he never got around to it. Then, one drunken night, he walked straight through the cabbages Diana had carefully planted and ruined the entire crop. He might have also urinated on them, but there was no evidence of that, just a hazy memory and an irate wife. And the shame he felt as he thought about it.
Tom shut the front door and threw himself on the sofa, closing his eyes to drown out the memories once again. He had so many regrets but, as Pat drilled into him, it was time to put all of that behind him. There was a glimmer of hope that it was possible to have a blessed tomorrow. Tom couldn’t change the past, but he could take control of his future and he hoped that Clara would be a big part of that.
ChapterEleven
Clara had to cancel the plans for the Ashmolean Museum three times before they finally made it. The first time Brian had fallen outside the bank whilst she was on her way to meet Tom, and she had to wait with him for an ambulance. Since it didn’t arrive for four hours, the museum would have been closed by the time she got there. The second time, Sian had a crisis and was in tears because she was missing home and decided she definitely wasn’t coming back once she finished her exams. Then, finally, on the day she thought they’d make it, Margaret had popped into Waitrose again and this time forgot to pay for a packet of Monster Munch. Security were very understanding but it meant that Clara was tasked with taking a very distressed Margaret home and making her tea. Clara planned on speaking to social services about her but it still didn’t change the fact that her plans were ruined. The museum closed at 5p.m. and at 4.30p.m. she had been hunting for biscuits in Margaret’s cupboards and consoling her with a hobnob.
Today, though, Clara had a good feeling and felt positive that she’d make it. Tom and Clara had agreed to meet at 3p.m. on Clara’s day off and everything had been calm since morning. She knew that if she didn’t manage it this time, Tom would be mightily fed up and she might not have the chance to apologise again.
As Clara headed towards the Ashmolean Museum, she felt like switching her mobile off. She wanted to see Tom more than anything but was torn. She wished she could switch off and relax, like people did in other jobs, but she was far too conscientious. What if someone needed her and was desperate? She would never forgive herself if she wasn’t there for someone in their hour of need.
Approaching the museum, she caught sight of Tom wearing a crisp white short-sleeved shirt and leaning nonchalantly against one of the imposing red granite columns outside. She admired his good looks from afar. He was such a handsome man at 60 that she wondered what he looked like in his youth. He’d once let slip that he had been in a novice rock band and she imagined that he must have been very popular with the groupies. She would love to spend an evening going through old photos of him and seeing that infamous mullet, but she knew it was futile to push him. Clara appeased herself with the thought that perhaps he’d ripped every photo up in embarrassment.
‘Hi, you finally made it,’ said Tom, quickly leaning in to give Clara a kiss on the cheek.
‘Oh, Tom. I’m so sorry about the last few times. You know I desperately wanted to see you. It’s just...’
Clara fiddled with the button on her cardigan. She knew she was practically married to her job and that her worshippers came first but, as she looked at him, she realised quite how much Tom meant to her. She didn’t want him thinking he always came second best. If she had it her way, Tom would be first on the priority list.
‘Hey, I understand. You don’t need to say anything.’
Tom might have his moments of frustration about having to share Clara with all and sundry but he also understood what a giving woman she was, and that was one of the things he loved so much about her. She was always so selfless.
‘You’re here now and that’s the main thing,’ said Tom as they strolled inside the museum.
Clara didn’t remember much from her childhood visit but figured there had probably been many changes since she was last here. Although the one item she remembered from that school visit was the Guy Fawkes lantern, which had fascinated her. She recalled how when they got back to class, they had to draw their favourite item and that was the one she chose, despite her lack of artistic ability. She was thrilled to see it again and thought back to how different her life was when she first saw it. Since then, she had studied theology, her parents had sadly passed on, and now she had met someone she could finally fall in love with. While Clara felt sad as she remembered her beloved parents, she was proud of the woman she had become.
‘Ooh, would you look at that!’ exclaimed Clara as she saw one of the statues.
‘Good grief. What is he doing?’ said Tom.
‘I think it’s self-explanatory,’ giggled Clara as she tilted her head this way and that for a better look.
They had only just walked in and already Clara was enjoying herself with Tom. Whatever they did together, nothing ever felt stuffy or forced.
Admiring the exhibits, Tom pulled Clara closer to him as he pointed at a wooden model and read the labelling for it.
‘Look at that. Rich Ancient Egyptians were buried with servants to ensure they had it easy in the afterlife. Can you imagine that?’ Tom wondered who he would take with him in the afterlife. He decided it would need to be Pat, although he would love Clara to be beside him in any life.
‘Gosh, can you imagine even having servants after you’ve died. Astonishing.’
Tom gently touched Clara’s arm as the couple walked through the different galleries and admired the exhibits until they eventually reached the artwork of Picasso and Van Gogh. Clara loved how such prestigious works of art were available to view in the beautiful city she lived in.
‘Why on earth did I not come here sooner, Tom? Thanks for bringing me here today. I won’t leave it so long next time.’
‘It’s easy to take things for granted when they’re on your doorstep.’ He thought how his specialist subject was taking things, as well as people, for granted.
Clara’s favourite areas of the museum were those where the paintings explored religious beliefs.The Annunciation, by Paolo Uccello, which was a painting of the Angel Gabriel announcing to the Virgin Mary that she would bear the son of God, took her breath away.
‘Goodness, Tom, you really do take me to the best places. I’m so glad we decided to come here.’
A wave of happiness came over her like the hot flushes she used to endure, only this was much more pleasant.
