Clara wondered why Tom would even consider that she might not turn up and questioned whether he was perhaps feeling as nervous as she was. She had never thought that men could get nervous about dates; they always seemed so self-assured. Conversely, Tom seemed shy now that they were both stood there, and once again neither of them knew what to do next. Were they supposed to hug? Kiss on the cheek? What was the etiquette? For a moment, neither spoke. The awkward silence was only broken by a waitress asking where they wanted to sit.
‘Would you like to sit outside?’ asked Tom.
‘I think so, given this glorious weather. May as well make the most of it, Tom.’
Clara had a habit of using people’s names when she spoke to them. She felt it made any interaction more intimate and personable. She didn’t always remember names though and would sometimes use word association. This was normally done quietly in the back of her mind, but she still cringed about the time she was introduced to someone called David and she said ‘David Beckham’ out loud. Like most things, she blamed the menopause for her slip-up. She wouldn’t forget Tom’s name in a hurry though; that she knew.
The waitress managed to find Clara and Tom a little wooden table for two with a red-and-white checked tablecloth, which had only a rope separating them from the edge of the river. With the water lapping against the side, it was so perfect that Clara felt as though the angels were gazing down upon them.
Ordering two lattes to begin with and being tempted by the cream tea, Clara spoke ten to the dozen, not even realising that she wasn’t making much sense.
‘Then I said to the congregation that I had a fabulous sermon planned for the following week but when I went home, I realised I didn’t have a clue what I was on about. I’d already forgotten what I had planned. Memory of a goldfish nowadays and so that’s why I write everything down... Even though I was so excited about today... Well, not excited, you know, just... I thought it would be nice to have some male company, but, yes, so I still wrote it all down in my planner. Wait, let me show you my planner...’
Finally, she took a breath when she leaned into the large handbag that she carried everywhere for all the things she needed. She pulled out her childhood Bible and put it on the table as she hunted for her planner, even though she realised that Tom was probably not in the slightest bit interested in her furry zebra-print Filofax. However, the thought of an awkward silence was too much to risk.
‘This looks old,’ said Tom, picking up her Bible.
‘My parents bought it for me for my first birthday. Religion is in my blood. My dad was a vicar in a parish. I’ve always had a strong relationship with God.’
Since Clara realised that all she had done was talk about herself, she stopped searching for her planner to calm down a little and let Tom take a turn.
‘How rude of me. I’ve spoken about myself for the past ten minutes. So, Tom. When did you find God? Have you always gone to church?’
He took his time to respond, knowing that he would have to answer this carefully.
‘No. I’m a later-in-life Christian.’
‘Well, you know what they say, better late than never.’
‘Yes, exactly. Better late than never...’
‘So, what made you turn to religion? I’m always so interested in why people turn to God later in their lives.’
‘What made me turn to it?’ he repeated. Tom had understood the question quite clearly. He simply had to bide his time to think of an acceptable answer.
‘Yes, was there a defining moment?’
‘Oh, goodness. What an interesting question.’
Tom rubbed at his chin, squirming in his seat as he wondered how he could steer the conversation in a different direction. Then he took a sip of his coffee as he tried to figure out how he could avoid digging himself into a giant black hole. He knew the less said on the subject the better. This was exactly why he hadn’t been on any dates since the divorce. People always wanted to know about your past. There were always questions.
As a seagull landed on a nearby table and stole the leftovers of a baguette, Tom thanked his lucky stars for the digression.
‘Did you see that seagull? They’re cheeky things, aren’t they?’
‘Oh, no. I missed it.’
‘Ah, yes, you had your back to it. Oh, anyway, before I forget, I must thank you for agreeing to come today. I have to say that when you walked in here, I almost didn’t recognise you.’
Clara was so taken back she forgot about her question. She had made such an effort and wasn’t sure how to take the remark.
‘Really, Tom?’
‘Oh, no. That came out wrong. I mean, what I’m trying to say is that you look even more beautiful today. You look lovely in your clergy wear – don’t get me wrong. But your dress shows your personality. It’s bright and lovely. Just like you. You look absolutely gorgeous... As you always do, of course.’
Clara did her nervous snort, which made Tom laugh. If only he knew how long it had taken her to decide on what to wear today. Naturally, she didn’t want to dress for Tom, but she wanted to feel confident, and her long vibrant summer dress with the bright yellow sunflowers always gave her a boost of confidence. She watched his hazel eyes sparkle as he looked at her and she couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming urge to touch his hand from across the table. Of course, she was much more restrained than that, though, and instead she felt something stir inside her that hadn’t stirred in a very, very long time. Composing her thoughts, she drained her coffee cup and wondered whether they should order the afternoon tea that sounded so tempting. Although as much as she would like it, she didn’t want a big blob of cream smearing her face. She was only too aware that she loved her food a bit too much and would wolf it down like a hungry little piglet. On a date with someone so lovely, she knew that she needed to show a bit of restraint.
She pondered on whether Tom was enjoying himself but she found him hard to work out, even though he was very complimentary about her. As she gazed at him, she noticed the perfect Cupid’s bow on his upper lip and the way his hair was starting to grey at the sides. He was such a distinguished-looking chap. She was ashamed to admit it to herself but she wondered what he saw in her. Why her when there were so many other single ladies in Oxford?
