Hey, I’m so sorry but something’s come up at the last minute. Have fun.
Have fun? Is that all he could say? She had told him about the date weeks ago. He had confirmed he would be here as late as yesterday! He knew it was an important event on her social calendar and, more importantly, that they were making a big joint announcement. What could be so significant that he couldn’t make it?
ChapterSeventeen
Pat had always told Tom that walking was good for his mental health. He had to agree that it felt better than being cooped up indoors thinking about things that were beyond his control. He put his moccasins on and made his way out of the front door. He knew that he should be making his way to Clara’s by now, but somehow his feet refused to point that way. He could have taken a right turn. However, he chose to go in the opposite direction of Clara’s, knowing the consequences. Besides, he reasoned that he hadn’t even dressed for her strawberry tea. He had a scruffy T-shirt and shorts on and wasn’t in the mood to press a nice shirt for the occasion. It was easier not to go.
As he walked alone thinking of the mess he had made of his life and of his devastating estrangement from Josh, Tom tried to blot out the picture of Clara getting excited as she served up her delightful tea. She was an excellent host and would no doubt give everyone a day to remember. He convinced himself that there was no need for him to feel guilty about not being there. She would be surrounded by her friends; it didn’t matter if he was there or not. She may have wanted to tell everyone about their relationship, but she didn’t realise that this was for the best. It was practically more in her interest than his. He knew how much her reputation mattered and he didn’t want to make a fool of the lovely lady. No, the more he thought about it, the more he knew he had to stay away. He was helping her; he wouldn’t want things to end as catastrophically as they did with Josh. From the moment Tom had woken up, he knew he wasn’t in the right frame of mind and he wasn’t going to take someone else down with him. Tom wasn’t going to do that to another loved one.
What Clara didn’t realise was that no matter how meaningful the day was to her, it was an even more important date for Tom. Josh would be 21 today but there would be no phone call, no card or visit. The thought tortured Tom as he imagined his beautiful only child celebrating without him because of the hatred he harboured towards his dad. His mood soured further as he looked at his watch: 1p.m. What would Josh be doing now? Would he be celebrating with his mother and stepdad? Did he have a girlfriend who he had gone off on holiday with? He thought it was a disgrace that he didn’t know where his own son was on a special day like this, and the worst part was that it was all self-inflicted. The shame of it. He started getting angry with himself but the more frustrated he became, the more he thought how he didn’t have much to lose. He kicked at a stone in front of him in annoyance, which landed in front of a corner shop. The open door looked welcoming with the chocolate at the counter inviting him in. He decided he needed a bar of something to cheer himself up and what better than a little dopamine boost? But Tom knew he desired something more. He tried to kid himself into thinking it was a sweet treat that he was craving but, deep down, Tom knew he wouldn’t be walking out with only a chocolate bar.
Slowly, he walked along the alcohol aisle, taking in the offers for the cans of lager and bottles of vodka. He cursed the fact that stores made liquor so appealing, so normalised and harmless-looking. A tall fridge stood at the end of the aisle with cans of lager that had already been chilled to the perfect temperature. The weather was glorious and practically demanded such a drink. As the temptation heightened, he knew he should call Pat for support but realised he’d left his mobile at home. The choice he was about to make would change everything. There would be no coming back from this. Although, a part of him wondered if he might be able to stop at one drink. What if he had changed? Perhaps there had been no need for any AA meetings. Then again, who cared if he drank ten pints? He had nobody to answer to.
‘Too bad,’ he said to himself as he opened the fridge door and pulled out a four-pack of lagers.
When he held the cans to his chest as though he had been reunited with a long-lost friend, the beads of condensation dampened his T-shirt. He didn’t care about the wet patch as he picked up a bottle of red wine on the way out. He had decided that if he was going to break his sobriety, he may as well do it in style. Besides, it would be there for another day if he didn’t want it. It was always good to get stocked up in the house and it didn’t mean he was going to drink it all in one session.
He stared at his selection on the counter as the cashier rung them up on the till. Tom admired the picture of the enticing seahorse on the wine bottle as if it was one of the works of art from the museum. He turned his attention to the pull tab on the cans of lager and could practically hear that hiss that came with their opening. How he had missed that noise.
Tom was imagining placing his lips on the can while the cashier tried to get his attention. Oh, how it would feel orgasmic when he had that familiar taste on his tongue. He had missed the sweet, sweet nectar and the way the bubbles danced, giving him an instant kick. How had he managed so long without it?
‘Sir, sir, that’s £14.99,’ repeated the cashier. A customer behind Tom resorted to tapping his arm to get his attention.
‘Are you okay, sir?’
Tom came back down to earth, slipping his card out from his wallet.
‘Sorry, I was miles away. Oh yes, I’m very fine indeed.’
Tom bid goodbye to the cashier and whistled as he walked back home, persuading himself that he deserved every single drop of the alcohol that was inside his flimsy carrier bag. After all, he had a valid excuse for drowning his sorrows today; surely nobody would judge him for that. Birthdays were to be celebrated and that was what he planned to do, with or without Josh.
ChapterEighteen
Clara woke up with a headache after Charlie and Professor Binton decided to stay on with her and Eleanora to polish off the Prosecco. Everyone else had left the tea by 5p.m. but, since it was the perfect summer’s evening, the four of them decided to stay in the garden until the midges came out and started attacking them. They then moved indoors where Eleanora suggested they pull out the Cambridge edition Monopoly board. Professor Binton was quite determined to buy up the Fitzwilliam Museum, while Clara was adamant that he was not getting his hands on Kings’ College Chapel. They laughed until late and Clara made the best of the evening with her friends, despite being bitterly disappointed about Tom. She made a point not to let it upset her but, now, in the light of day, she was disappointed that he could let her down on such a pivotal social occasion.
Switching her phone on, she thought she would at least wake up to a ‘Good morning, beautiful’ message, or at the very least: ‘Good morning, I’m so sorry about yesterday.’ She got neither. Wrapping her dressing gown around her and thinking of the dishwasher she had to empty, and the delicate teacups waiting to be washed by hand, she made herself a coffee. Instant today – she wasn’t in the mood for faffing around with the percolator.
She stared at her phone wondering what was going on with Tom. What was it about him that made him so reserved with her? Why wouldn’t he tell her what bothered him so much when he drifted off? What was the reason for his sudden disappearance? His behaviour was polite; he was a gentleman when they were together. He had hardly acted suspiciously yet that red flag was raised. Eleanora said that she always googled her prospective dates but Clara had never bothered looking Tom up since she didn’t feel she had any reason to. Thinking about this, she put his name into Facebook, wondering if she would find him. He had said he wasn’t on social media, but for a second, she had the dreadful thought that Tom could be married and had been lying to her this whole time. Was that the reason for letting her down? Her search was futile and unless he had made sure to block her, there definitely were no results for him. Clara wished there was some sort of trail of him; she didn’t want to be nosy but she was curious about the sort of friends he would have. She always felt you could tell a lot about who someone hangs around with.
Who had no social media trail whatsoever? It was highly unusual although not impossible. As much as she tried to push it away, she had that niggling gut feeling again. She had seen many troubled souls during her time in the ministry; something wasn’t quite right. Should she walk away now, after he had let her down so badly, or give him another chance? Clara gave it some thought and remembered how many times she had no choice but to let Tom down when Margaret and other people needed her. What if someone had needed Tom? He had only let her down the once. She thought how he could have been helping a sick neighbour, or saving a cat from a tree and waiting for the fire brigade to arrive. He was a kind man and she reasoned that he must have had to put someone’s needs in front of his own, much like she often did. With this in mind, she quickly messaged him.
Morning, is everything okay? You missed a great day yesterday. x
The message showed just the one tick. Clara felt he was probably still asleep; not everyone got up as early as she did.
Three hours later, another tick appeared. Clara was relieved that at least Tom had his phone on, although she wondered when he would finally get back to her. He had always been the sort of person to reply right away until the past couple of days. She had considered him as trustworthy. Why was he behaving so strangely?
By late afternoon, Clara couldn’t take much more and asked herself why Tom hadn’t responded. Now she began to imagine him at a hospital somewhere. She remembered what it was like when her mother was in hospital. There was no time to answer all the well-meaning messages, especially if he was the one who was sick. Imagining him languishing in a hospital, Clara decided to message Tom once again.
Thinking of you. Hope everything’s okay. x
As she pressed send, her phone let out a little beep as an email immediately flashed up. The subject was ‘Interview’. Cautiously, she opened up the message.
Dear Clara,
Thank you for your application for the vacancy at King’s College Chapel.
We would like to offer you an interview at 1:30 p.m. on 2 August and attach a map to our location.
