‘Yeah, they sold out so quickly.’
They were about to walk away when he started on the next song.
‘And here’s a favourite of mine,’ said the busker.
As he started playing the first notes of ‘Perfect Day’ on his guitar, Clara had goosebumps.
‘It’s our song,’ said Tom.
‘It certainly is.’
When the chorus began, Tom swirled Clara in his arms and they were enraptured in the moment as they danced together.
Tom was so happy that when the song finished, he removed a £20 note from his wallet and placed it in the hat that was laid out in front of the talented busker.
‘That was generous of you,’ said Clara.
‘Well, he deserved it.’
‘Indeed. What a coincidence he sang our song as we were passing.’
‘I know; has to be a lucky sign.’
‘I have to agree.’
Tom stopped walking and turned to Clara.
‘Oh, Clara. Every day is just the perfect day with you; I truly mean it.’
‘It is indeed,’ said Clara, wrapping her arms around him. She had never been so happy.
ChapterThirteen
When Clara was back at work, the porters of St Peter’s, the students, congregation and even some of the dons were noticing a change in her. She had always been known for her jolly demeanour but now she was positively beaming. Eleanora was one of the only people in Clara’s circle to know that the secret to her radiance was mostly down to Tom’s influence, but tongues were starting to wag. The question on everyone’s lips was, what was Clara’s secret? There were even questions raised by some of the more cosmetically enhanced students whether the modest Clara may have gone for a Botox appointment. Although this rumour was quickly quashed when she raised her eyebrows to Lawrence’s request of giving him a free ticket to the strawberry tea in return for a favour he had done. He would do anything to avoid putting his hand in his pocket.
Clara had always been regarded as an open book but everyone felt something strange was going on. She was hiding something. Lawrence, in particular, could feel it in his bones. They hadn’t worked together for over twenty years for him not to notice a change in her. They had been through so many stages of her life together. When her parents died and she needed compassionate leave he was there for her; when she was late for work because she was busy saving a fox who had taken refuge at the bottom of her garden, he had reluctantly understood.
He was even one of the first to recognise that Clara was in perimenopause after she burst into a rage and then into tears because he had eaten all the office custard creams. His sister Gwendoline had been much the same, not that he ever publicly acknowledged it. He was old-school and those were things that happened to women that he would rather not discuss. Although he did agree to attending HR’s talk on menopause in the workplace. He was proud of the fact that he wasn’t prehistoric! He watched Clara closely as she smiled to herself as she boiled the kettle. She had been texting more, smiling more and if he didn’t know otherwise, he would say she had fallen in love. Not that he had ever felt like that himself, but the eternal bachelor had seen enough of it during wedding ceremonies.
It wasn’t only Lawrence who had his suspicions. When Clara saw Margaret next, this time because she had stuffed a bag of Werther’s Originals in her pocket without paying for them, she said that she wanted to ask her something.
‘Of course, Margaret, what is it?’ she asked, as they walked arm in arm back to Margaret’s bungalow.
‘Are you seeing someone?’
‘Seeing someone?’ she asked innocently.
‘Yes, a young man. Perhaps that nice chap from the amateur choir.’
Clara laughed at Margaret’s portrayal of Tom being described as a young man. Although to Margaret, she figured he would practically be a toy boy.
‘Goodness, what made you think that?’ She didn’t want to lie but she didn’t want to announce the news quite yet either.
‘I’ve seen the way he looks at you, my dear. My Albert used to look at me like that. You know, back in the day.’ Margaret’s face lit up as she spoke of her loving late husband.
‘He’s a very pleasant chap. You could do a lot worse. You know, me and Janet are hoping you two get together. We’ve discussed it and we think you’re the perfect match.’
‘Ooh, I do hope you’re not all gossiping about me, Margaret.’
