Page 112 of The Time of My Afterlife

I send it and wipe away a tear.

I say goodbye to my kitchen and take down Dad’s photo. ‘Goodbye, Dad, I might see you in the afterlife. I hope so.’ Tears prick my eyes. ‘I love you.’

The wind is now howling around my little house. I peek out of the window, and rain is coming down in giant sheets. There’s a clap of thunder over my house. I need a big coat with a hood and an umbrella.

Once I’m ready to run across the road to Clark’s house, I stand in my hallway and take one last look at my home. ‘Goodbye, little house. You’ve been amazing.’

Clark greets me at the door. He pulls me in and kisses me as I slip off my coat. ‘I’ve been waiting for this,’ he whispers, planting kisses down my neck.

He looks so handsome in a dark blue fitted shirt, jeans and bare feet. I run my hands through his hair. ‘What do you have in mind for our last night on earth?’

His lips find mine. They’re warm and sensuous.

He leads me into his bedroom and I gasp. His bed is covered in flower petals; several beautiful candles have been lit and on his bedside cabinet is a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket accompanied by two flutes.

The sight makes me smile and banishes all my worries about what is going to happen to us. I start to giggle. ‘You have been busy.’

He pulls me closer. ‘I want us to have an unforgettable evening.’

We kiss… until someone starts banging on his front door.

‘Leave them,’ he whispers, unzipping my tracksuit jacket.

The banging won’t stop. I break for air. ‘It could be Pearl. Come on.’

He groans, which makes me laugh.

We rush downstairs and open the door to see a bedraggled and emotional Jane. ‘He’s run away,’ she sobs. ‘Jack has gone.’

46

CLARK

Florence looked divine in her pink tracksuit with her long caramel hair curled and splayed across her shoulders. As I unzipped her tracksuit top, I caught sight of her pink, lacy bra, and I felt a rush of arousal. Our last day hadn’t gone to plan but now everything was coming together. I would get to spend my last few hours alive making love to Florence and sipping champagne.

The knocking at the door has come at the worst time. This wasn’t part of my plan.

Florence was right. It could be Pearl.

We charge downstairs. I am hoping whoever it is will go quickly so I can return to undressing Florence.

‘Jane?’ Florence gasps.

We both stare at Jane, her hair plastered to her face, rainwater making frantic little rivers down her face and her coat hanging open as if she’s not even thought about doing it up. She’s shivering and she keeps glancing over her shoulder.

‘Jack has run away,’ she sobs as we bundle her inside.

Once inside my hallway, Florence hugs Jane.

I run to get a clean towel and a blanket for Jane as she is soaking wet. Florence ushers her to the sofa. ‘Tell us everything.’

I race back. We help Jane out of her wet coat and wrap her in a warm blanket.

‘It’s Dan’s birthday,’ she croaks. ‘Jack is always a bit strange on his dad’s birthday.’

Florence nods. ‘I am too so I can relate.’

‘He was cross. Last night he kept asking if he could talk to me and I was too busy with the podcast. This morning the hospital called to say Mum wasn’t very well, so I wasn’t great.’