‘Not that I know of. He’s probably started advertising it by now though.’ She didn’t want to let on that she found the thought of a replacement for her heart-wrenching.
‘Whoever takes over will have mighty big shoes to fill.’
‘That’s so kind of you to say, Joanna. Everyone’s been so nice to me that I don’t know if I even want to leave.’
Clara tried to make a joke of it, but she meant every word.
‘You’ll soon settle in. I remember my first week as mayor. I wouldn’t admit this to anyone else but I did wonder if I’d made the right decision.’
‘Really? You’re a natural.’
‘Thank you, and so are you. Irreplaceable, in fact.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far, Joanna. But how things have changed over the years. I remember when I started out and had quite a bit of stick for being a woman. Older members of my first congregation weren’t sold on the idea. Thank goodness things have changed.’
‘Thank goodness indeed.’
As they spoke, something caught Clara’s eye.
‘Joanna, sorry, can you excuse me? I’ve just got to speak to someone.’
‘Yes, no problem. I must be going anyhow. I’ve a council meeting at one.’
As they both hugged goodbye, Clara kept one eye on the crowds.
She strode as fast as she could as she chased after the person she had seen in the crowds who was getting further and further away. Clara started to panic as he quickly became a dot. She must reach him. She made her way through pushchairs and couples holding hands, trying not to push anyone out of the way and appear impolite. Finally, when he stopped at a candyfloss stall, Clara could catch her breath. She reached out and touched the man’s shoulder.
‘Tom?’
The chap turned around, taking a step back from Clara, his brow furrowed.
‘I’m so sorry. I thought you were somebody else.’
The disappointment was palpable. The thought that she could have bumped into Tom had fleetingly filled her with so much hope. Accepting that it wasn’t him brought an avalanche of stored emotions that she could no longer bury. She realised that as each day went by, she missed him more and more, despite what she tried to tell herself. She might have persuaded herself that she was okay, but the truth was that her heart was far from healed and sometimes she wondered if it ever would be.
As much as she tried to stay cheerful, as she walked along the fair where everyone else was having so much fun, she burst into tears. It was the last thing she wanted anyone to notice, so despite the clouds above, she reached into her handbag and quickly put on her sunglasses. She was determined she would not fall apart and certainly not in front of anyone who might know her.
Clara shoved another piece of fudge in her mouth and reminded herself that Tom was in rehab and she would never be seeing him again. She tightened her scarf around her neck, the only piece of Tom she had left. It was time to forget him once and for all.
ChapterThirty-Two
‘Today is a gift that I am grateful to receive,’ said Tom, as he packed up his belongings.
He hadn’t taken much to rehab with him but with all the books he had devoured over the past few weeks, he struggled to zip up his holdall.
He gave the painting of Oxford University that hung in his room one last glance. He had lost count of the number of times he had stared at it when he couldn’t sleep as he thought of Clara. He was relieved that he wouldn’t be seeing it again, since it served as a reminder of all the sleepless nights when he was left alone with his thoughts that would get blown out of all proportion at 3a.m. on the dot.
The staff at St Luke’s had been fantastic but he was pleased to be saying goodbye to them. They had been so patient and kind and there were times when he felt that he didn’t deserve their compassion but, finally, he realised that deep down he wasn’t a bad man. Over the course of his treatment, he had sat beside other broken but hopeful men, just like him. Some of them had turned to alcohol due to loneliness; some of them still desperately tried to get their hands on a drink because of their addiction. No matter what everyone’s reasons were for being at St Luke’s, they all had something in common. They had a problem and were doing the best they could to deal with it. Tom had finally seen the error of his ways. For once in his life, he was doing the right thing.
When he had arrived at St Luke’s, Tom felt broken. His time there had been the biggest rollercoaster of his life as he fought with leaving on the darker days he encountered. How many times he had wanted to admit defeat. But finally, he felt as though God had given him a second chance for which he was immensely grateful. He would never make the same mistake again and was determined not to mess this up. He owed it to himself and everyone who had given him so much support. This time he was going to live his life to the full and do good in the world, without ever touching a drop of alcohol again.
Pat was kind enough to pick Tom up from rehab to take him home. Tom was tempted to ask him to swing by St Peter’s on the way, but he knew that he would have to do this properly. This part of his plan couldn’t be rushed. He thought of the white shirt back home that he wanted to wear when he would approach Clara. Tom had seen the way she looked at him when he wore it at the museum and when she saw him next, he wanted to look his best once again. He already felt less bloated than when he had arrived at rehab. His face was less puffy now and he cringed at the thought of her seeing him in that state before. Tom had always been clean-shaven and prided himself on his appearance and couldn’t wait for a long hot bath and a shave, along with a much-needed haircut. He would go to one of those Turkish barbers that had sprung up in the city and have a little pampering before he surprised her. Tom had a plan in his mind, although he was concerned that she might slam the door in his face. Still, he felt it was worth a try; after all, he hadn’t come this far to give up that easily.
Tom realised that he was already daydreaming before he had left rehab. However, instead of those terrible flashbacks that he used to have in the past, he noticed they had been replaced by happy memories of the days he spent with Clara.
Before he could see her again though, Tom needed to sign some papers agreeing that he was ready to leave. Confidently, he scrawled his name across the bottom of the paper. He was more than ready to head home.
‘I mean it in the nicest possible way, but I hope I don’t ever see you again,’ said Mike, one of the support staff who often comforted him.
