You know what, guys? I'm feeling nice today and I'm in a romantic mood and it's the beginning of my favourite season, so I thought you should have an extra chapter today :) Hope you enjoy it and thank you so much for your kind reviews :)
Chapter 21
Clara wasn't entirely sure how their plans had changed and maybe, it had happened entirely by accident. On Saturday afternoon, John called to ask whether she wanted to meet him for a walk with Odin before heading to Kirkwall to find a nice café and Clara agreed all too readily because the weather was lovely and after finishing her marking at last, she decided that some fresh air would do her good. The sun was shining and a soft wind was blowing the salty sea air straight into her face, so it came as no surprise to her that they stayed outside for a little longer than anticipated. They threw sticks for Odin to fetch, watched him try to dig up rabbit holes and talked about Bonnie for a long while. Since the last time they had spoken, John had learned a little more about her twin sister, and had even shown her a photo that had been taken on Bonnie's graduation day when she had received her master's degree in journalism. Somehow, Clara couldn't help but feel a little proud of her sister, but she quickly pushed that thought aside.
"You know what," Clara said after a while and granted him a smile. "Let's not talk about the case for the rest of the day, okay?"
In return, John raised his eyebrows at her.
Clara uttered a sigh. "I want to know about Bonnie, but right now, I'd rather not think about it at all. Does that make sense?"
Finally, a smile appeared on his lips. "You'd prefer a distraction?"
"Exactly," Clara confirmed.
She watched as John lifted his arms and pulled up his sleeve to have a look at his watch and shortly after, he frowned, something that made Clara wary.
"Something wrong?"
"No, it's just-" he broke off and turned to look at her. "It's a bit late to get coffee, isn't it? And I have to admit I'm quite hungry."
Clara cocked an eyebrow at him, smirking in a playful manner. "Are you asking for an upgrade to dinner?"
From one moment to the next, John looked a little sheepish and he quickly turned his head to look at Odin, who was running along a few steps ahead of them. "Well, not so much dinner as maybe…. well, an early dinner. There's a sort of pub type place that I used to go to when I was younger. I'd like to see if it's still there. Their food was excellent."
"It's alright," she replied, chuckling to herself. "Let's go to your sort-of pub cause I'm hungry, too."
As they parted ways to go home, Clara couldn't help but feel a little torn despite already having agreed to dinner. This was exactly what Amy had said to her a while ago: the insinuation that John had a crush on her – or 'carried a torch', as Amy had put it. After losing her fiancé, the last thing on Clara's mind was another man, especially not the detective who was working to discover what had happened to her sister. She didn't want to lead him on and she still needed him to solve Bonnie's death, but after six months, a part of her just wanted a bit of company. It was entirely possible that her friend was wrong anyway and John was just being nice.
Once Clara had arrived home, she didn't have a lot of time to think the matter through because as soon as she had changed her clothes, the doorbell rang and there was John, ready to pick her up.
Yet she frowned at him. "Is that what you're wearing to the pub?" Clara demanded to know, her eyes roving over his attire, which was made up of a pair of plaid trousers, a faded t-shirt and a hoodie.
"Why? What's wrong with it?" John wanted to know, completely oblivious as to why Clara might object to his choice of clothes.
So, it definitely wasn't a date. If it was a date, he would be dressed a little more formally. Clara chuckled. "Nothing. I just assumed your punk days were over, that's all."
"Shall we go?" he asked, ignoring her reference to his punk days, and Clara nodded in response. Yet before she closed the front door behind her, she giggled once again, now actually happy that she was about to go out for a nice evening with someone who might be something close to a friend.
Clara was curious to see what pub John would take her to, but in any case, it would be somewhere she hadn't seen yet. Even though Clara had spent six months on the island, she hadn't actually seen a lot of it as she hadn't gone out much. At first, she hadn't known anyone to go out with and when Amy had entered her life, both of them had just preferred to stay in with a glass of wine. In fact, the last time she had been to a pub had been in London – with Danny, her fiancé. When she realised that her thoughts were beginning to circle around her dead partner, Clara quickly brushed those memories aside. Scotland was supposed to be her fresh start – or at least that was what she told everyone. Everything else was her own business.
One thing she admired about the island was the quiet and when John parked his car near the harbour about half an hour later, Clara realised that this was as busy as Kirkwall could get. A couple of people were walking through the streets, but if Clara cared to put her mind to it, she could count them on one hand and she was fairly certain that her old estate in Shoreditch had more residents than the entire population of the island combined. The pub itself was small and not too busy and she honestly didn't mind that as they sat down in a corner and ordered their drinks.
"And?" Clara demanded to know after they had ordered a pint.
"And what?" John asked back.
"Has it changed much?"
John took a moment to look around the room and she noticed that his eyes rested on a couple of people tinkering with a microphone on a small stage. "Well, they redecorated," he remarked. "I don't like it. Looks less shabby than it used to."
Clara laughed. "You took me to a pub you thought was shabby? Wow, that's nice," she joked, her voice dripping with gentle sarcasm.
He looked somewhere between affronted and shy and Clara watched him open his mouth, but it took a while before the actual words came out. "Well, um, I said I'd take you somewhere with good food."
"It's fine," she reassured him, laughing. "I'm just teasing you."
"Oh," he muttered.
The entire evening seemed a little awkward and Clara couldn't really work out why. The only explanation she could think of was that John wasn't really used to social situations and she didn't mind because she herself was only just starting to mingle with people again. Other than that, and other than the awkward shyness, John was nice and that was all that mattered to her.
Just like he had promised, the food was excellent and the more time passed, the more Clara felt like she had made the right decision. They talked about the pub, about other places he had gone to as a teenager – places that probably no longer existed at all – and about Odin and how John was trying to teach him pointless tricks, a mental image that made her laugh. Yet their conversation came to an abrupt halt when the loudspeakers sprang to life and Clara leaned forward and spotted a young man on the stage, clutching the microphone eagerly.
"Good evening, lads and lassies," the man announced with a broad smile. "It's been a couple of years and some of you might not remember – I certainly don't – but this pub has a long-standing tradition, one we're going to revive tonight with your help."
"Oh, it's their open mic night," John said, a sudden excitement in his voice. He leaned closer to Clara and whispered into her ear. "They used to have these when I was young. A couple of people would go on stage and tell jokes and anecdotes. It was hilarious."
But Clara wasn't entirely convinced. "Hilarious? Are you sure about that?"
"Absolutely. Do you want to have a go?" His entire face lit up and Clara couldn't help but think that he was loving this revival of not only the open mic night, but she supposed of his youth as well. John was enjoying himself.
"I think I'd rather not," she replied carefully, still laughing because his enthusiasm was a little contagious. When Clara saw him smile, he couldn't help but smile in return.
"Who wants to tell us a little story?" the man on stage asked and to Clara's surprise, John instantly rose to his feet.
"You can't be serious," Clara uttered, but he only winked at her in response.
She could do nothing but watch as John strode towards the stage, climbed the steps and came to a halt next to the young man who handed him a microphone.
"I'm not sure if you remember me, but I used to come to these events when I was a wee lad," John began. "Of course, this place used to look quite shabby back then. As for me… less so."
Some people in the crowd laughed, but Clara wasn't entirely sure whether she should laugh with them or not. All she could think about was how he was going to embarrass himself – and her by association.
"When I moved to London, I didn't think I'd come back to this place, but, you know... life and fate intervened," he went on. "I did learn a couple of things though. For instance, I finally learned the difference between a Scottish sheep farmer and a Rolling Stones song. Do you know what that is?"
Clara raised her eyebrow at him in anticipation, dreading the answer that was to come because somehow, she already had the feeling it would be cringe-worthy.
"The Rolling Stones song says 'Hey you, get off my cloud'. The farmer says 'Hey McCloud, get off my ewe'."
The crowd was howling with laughter and Clara had just learned enough about Scottish humour in her time here to understand why and bury her face in her hands. She parted her fingers to peek at John who was visibly enjoying the attention and smiling at the crowd. Clara really hadn't expected this and she wasn't yet sure whether she liked the second-hand embarrassment or not.
"Yeah," John chuckled. "I know. But when you are in London, you start to think about a few things that seem quite normal here, and you start to wonder why that is. Like, do you ever think about why bagpipers walk while they play?"
The people at the pub didn't respond, but they all looked up at John expectantly.
"I thought about this for a very long time and the only possible explanation I could come up with was that they're trying to get away from the noise."
This time, Clara laughed with the rest of them, not because she found it particularly funny, but because she was laughing at the fact that John – a police detective, an otherwise stern and serious man – was making a fool himself for the amusement of others.
"Not that London isn't strange in its own way, no, quite the opposite. A couple of years ago, I spotted a good deal in a newspaper advert and it went a bit wrong. So, this guy shows up with a large military tank and not knowing what else to do with it, I park it in my front garden because where else would I put it, right?" he asked and the crowd went silent, waiting eagerly for the punchline. "See, my neighbour was strange and really into that sort of thing and when he got home from work, he said 'Nice tank.' And you know what I told him?"
Clara had an inkling where it was going and she bit down on her lip, hoping that she was wrong.
"'Thanks. I bought it for my fish.'"
As the entire pub burst into laughter, Clara uttered a groan and hid her face in her hands. If someone asked her, she would absolutely deny knowing him.