Sorry this took a bit longer. I had a paper to write for uni and after I was finished I wanted a few days of not writing anything. But here's the new chapter, I hope you like it and thank you guys soooo much for the many reviews :)

Chapter 4

"Good morning, Clara."

She opened her eyes to see Pete standing above her, holding a cup of steaming coffee in her direction.

"Good morning," she mumbled, surprised that he was up before her. She hadn't even heard him while he made coffee, "How's your shoulder?"

Clara sat up and watched him attempt a shrug, but could see that the mere thought of it pained him.

"Very colourful. Nice shades of green and blue," he replied with a weak smile.

"I'm sure the doctor will give you something for the pain," Clara said and took a careful sip from the cup.

Pete shifted the weight of his body uncomfortably from one foot to the other which prompted Clara to raise an eyebrow at him.

"You promised to have a doctor look at it. Remember?" she asked sternly.

He sighed. "I know, I know. It's just. . . I hate doing to the doctor."

Clara had more than just a vague idea why that was. From what she had witnessed of him so far she could tell that Pete was most definitely an alcoholic and going to the doctor meant answering a whole lot of questions about how much he drank and how often, how long this had been going on and a lecture about all the health risks his behaviour was causing him. Of course he would do anything to avoid it.

"You promised," Clara finally insisted.

Pete took a large gulp of his own coffee, making Clara wonder if what was in his mug was really just coffee.

"Alright," he said after swallowing the rest of whatever it was that was in his cup, "I'll see the doctor. I'll just have to stop by work first."

"Good," she replied, a little pleased with herself.

"Could you do me a little favour though?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Could you go to the grocery shop for me? I was going to do that today but, you know," he pointed at his shoulder.

"Oh, of course. Not a problem. I can make the lamb I promised you," she dared to smile at him.

"You don't have to," Pete replied as he walked to the book shelf. He came back to Clara a few moments later, handing her the spare key to the flat.

"But I want to. You're letting me stay. Cooking your favourite meal is the least I can do," Clara said earnestly as she was given the key.

"You'll find some money in the collection of Yeat's poems," Pete explained as he headed for the door, "I'll be back around noon. Oh, and if you get too bored, there's a record player in one of the boxes on the lowest shelf. Sorry, I don't have a telly anymore."

"It's okay, I don't watch a lot of TV anyway. But thanks."

When he was gone Clara quickly finished her coffee and indeed found money where Pete said it would be. She changed into some warmer clothes and put on the only coat the neighbour had given her. Pocketing the money and the key Clara left the flat when it suddenly dawned on her that she didn't even know where the grocery shop was.

With only one person she could ask Clara headed for the neighbour's door and knocked. The old lady opened the door a few seconds later.

"Oh, it's you," the woman smiled at her, "I see the clothes fit perfectly."

"Yes, they do. Thanks again. That was really nice of you," Clara replied.

"But you didn't come here to say thanks again, did you?"

"No, actually, could you tell me where I can find the next grocery store? And a butcher's shop?" That was something she had read about in history books. In her own time there was just one big supermarket for everything.

"Of course. When you leave the building you just turn left and follow the street for 10 minutes. Ah, what am I saying, you're young, you can make it in 5. But there's the grocery store and the butcher's shop is just across the street," the lady explained.

"Okay, thank you so much," Clara replied, smiling gratefully.

"Anything else?"

"Actually, do you have a good recipe for lamb?"

"Lamb? Have you ever made lamb before, dear?"

"Not exactly," Clara replied uncertainly, "But I'm not too bad around the oven. I'm sure I can make it."

"Why don't you start with something easier instead?"

"Because I promised," she admitted reluctantly, "When Pete took me in he asked if I could make lamb and I said yes."

The old woman put her arms akimbo and watched Clara closely. "Why are you so dead set on impressing that dirty, old drunk? The state he's usually in when he clomps in late at night he won't even know it's not lamb you're giving him."

"I promised," Clara insisted and had suddenly regained her posture, "And Pete has been kind to me. I would be sleeping on the streets if it wasn't for him. I just want to repay that kindness."

The woman's features softened a little.

"Well, your heart is definitely in the right place, dear. Just don't go around wasting that kindness on people who don't deserve it."

"He deserves it, I think," Clara replied.

"Alright, I will give you a list with all the ingredients and when you're back from the shop you'll bring them over and I will teach you how to make lamb."

A big smile formed on Clara's lips. "Thank you so much. I'll be back in no time!"

When Clara walked out of the door with the shopping list she made a mental note to buy some flowers for the old neighbour. And also some to brighten up Pete's living room.