Chapter Text
Clara Oswald crossed the threshold into St. Andrews hall. She was beaming. It had been a full eleven years since where she first stood, surrounded by the bust of some of the country's greatest literary minds. She was a bright and a petite young girl, miles away from her childhood home, clutching a beloved copy of Sense and Sensibility. She had spent hours, pouring over every important work of fiction. Hours scouring the works of all her prospective lecturers. She had applied to five of the nation's best literary programs, but has always desired admission into Eastminister College. After all, it was her mother's alma mater. If it hadn't been for Ellie Ravenwood Oswald, Clara would have spent an entire lifetime trying to figure out what to do with her life. Her love for travel, Jane Austen, writing, and everything that is Clara Oswald was Ellie.
Clara started across the marble floor and headed straight for the main desk. Here, she was greeted by a familiar face. Mrs. Hughes had manned the reception desk for over twenty years. Her time of service overlapped with Clara's undergraduate years. And as expected, Mrs. Hughes recognized the round face that appeared over her desk.
"Miss Clara Oswald, what a delight to see you after all these years!"
"That delight is all mine, Mrs. Hughes. I'm glad to see things haven't changed much around here."
"We plan to keep it that way," giggled Mrs. Hughes good-naturedly. "I know that you have an appointment with David. He'll meet you at the cafe. You know how casually he likes to keep things."
"Can't say I'm surprised," laughed Clara.
"Alright then. If you can please sign this ledger, I've got the visitors badge ready for you."
"Perfect," said Clara, picking up the pen. "It was so nice to see you, Mrs. Hughes."
"The same. Thanks for stopping. Bye now.”
Clipping the visitors badge to her lapel, Clara made her way down the steps to the café. She studied the people around her. Students of all shapes and sizes, busily typing away or sitting about in various positions with their noses buried behind a book. Walking to the corner of the cafe, she picked an over-familiar spot and settled her things down. She scanned the people around her. She was mildly amused to recognize so many of them. Her students. Of course, it wasn't names and faces. More like, the kinds of people they were. If there was anything beneficial about teaching English for the past seven years, it was that she had become quite perceptive of people and their habits. She watched as a slightly overweight man with receding ginger hair and glasses approached. It was David Spooner. Spooner was the kind of man who felt it was his duty to be honest and straightforward with people. Though Clara respected him for that quality, she believed there are times when a small lie could do more to amend a situation then the truth. She remained unenthused as he made his way towards her. She reminded herself to smile and act friendly. He was her only way in.
"Merry greetings, Miss Oswald! How is my former student?" He boomed.
"Mr. Spooner. Wonderful to see you."
They shook hands. A waiter appeared, orders were conveyed. Small talk ensued until the coffee arrived. Clara took a sip of her flat mocha and kicked off their meeting agenda.
"I'd like to come back and finish what I once hoped to finish, Mr Spooner."
"Yes," he breathed heavily. "I had hoped you'd come to."
"I still have a loan to pay off. It can't be full time."
"We can work around that. I can find a department scholarship. A young bright lady like you are-, eh, an asset to our program. Um, you proved that in your time as an undergraduate here," he bumbled.
"Thank you," said Clara.
"If you don't mind my asking, ah, what made you change your mind about coming back now?"
Clara swirled the contents of her mug. Now was her chance. She looked directly at Spooner and said, "My mother died after my first year here. It didn't feel right at the time to carry on. Mum and dad were trying to pay off their mortgage, and after she died... I wanted to help dad. So, I chose to work. Now, I just want to do what I've always wanted: complete my MFA, write, and travel the world. To be considered a writer of my own right. All these things and so many more."
"Miss Oswald," he heaved. "As deputy head of the School of English, I'd like to say: We want you, Clara Oswald. Welcome back to Eastminister College!"