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.
