Page 16 of The Time of My Afterlife

After telling Mr White Socks how great he is and filling up his food and water bowls, I settle myself on the sofa. It’s time to help Pearl and pass this test.

I read a few pages of the book but start to yawn. My eyelids feel heavy, and my body is starting to relax. It’s been quite a day, and I’m not surprised I’m exhausted.

My phone bleeps. Sitting up, I see that it’s my best mate, Bread. His nickname comes from his yellowish-white hair, which looks like a loaf rising in the oven. No matter how the barber cuts Bread’s hair, it always reverts to looking like he has a loaf stuck to his head.

‘Come to the pub. All the lads are here.’

I stare at Mary’s book. If I’m honest with myself, I am not going to read this tonight. The prospect of a few beers with the boys is a bigger pull, especially after the day I have had. I stare at the book, and an idea pings into my mind. Mr White Socks is sitting on my coffee table and throwing me one of his judgy cat looks. Waving the book at him, I point to it. ‘I will get the lads to buy a copy when I’m in the pub. So I’ll be making some progress towards the test today. This will be part of how I help Pearl.’

Mr White Socks looks away, and I take out my phone. If I get the link to Mary’s book, I can force them all to buy a copy. As I grab my jacket, I pop the paperback into the inside pocket. ‘Once they’ve all bought a copy, I might have a celebratory pint,’ I say as I head out.

It’s a short walk to the pub. All my friends are sitting in their usual corner. They all raise their pints as I walk over to say hello.

Bread gets me a cider and places it in front of me. It tastes delicious. I am so glad to be alive again.

After placing my drink down, I take out Mary’s book. ‘Lads, I need your help.’

A few of them groan and shake their heads.

‘I need some people to buy this book. I can’t explain why.’

Bread grabs the copy from me. ‘Why are you flogging dodgy books now, Clark?’

I chuckle. ‘It’s not dodgy. I just need you all to help me. Bread, I was there for you the other day when you wanted a date with that woman from that karaoke bar.’

He nods. ‘Yeah, you did. We went out. She wouldn’t sleep with me, though.’

‘Dating doesn’t work like that, Bread.’ I roll my eyes and turn to my other friends. ‘Minty, I stepped in when you needed an extra person for five-a-side.’

Minty, who is six-foot-five, and is often referred to as the man mountain, makes a noise that sounds like a yes. He is also a man of few words and now communicates via grunts.

I take my other friends in turn and point out all the favours I’ve done for them. After much discussion, they all decided to buy a copy of Mary’s book. I force them all to take out their phones and do it now.

‘Mam loves steamy romance,’ says Bread. ‘I’ll give it to her when it arrives.’

Brilliant. It might only be a few copies but it’s a start. Now I can get pissed.

Bread taps me on the knee. ‘Your ex-girlfriend is here. Don’t know if you saw her.’ He gestures across the room, and there is Margo, gazing right at me. She’s surrounded by her friends. I watch as she runs a hand through her long blonde hair and flutters her black eyelashes at me.

I let out a silent groan and look away. ‘Bread, keep me away from her. That’s your mission tonight.’

7

FLORENCE

My alarm saves me from a sweaty, panic-inducing dream featuring Iris, Hilda, Clark and that grotty bedsit. We had failed the test. Hilda and Iris were handing over cleaning equipment, and Clark was reminding me he was going to be sleeping on the left side of the sofa bed. I was about to scream when my alarm went off.

I wake gasping for air and with a thudding heart. Lying on my side, I spend a few moments staring at my beige wall and calming myself down. ‘You’re safe,’ I tell myself. ‘You can pass the test.’

Before my alarm goes off, I listen to the early-morning sounds from the cul-de-sac: Jane and her son Jack arguing about the state of his crumpled school uniform, Pearl across the road fussing over Clark’s annoying cat, and Molly slamming the front door so hard I feel the foundations of my house move.

I think back to the extraordinary events of yesterday, the handbag thief, the car accident and the afterlife. If we hadn’t been given a chance to complete the test, I wouldn’t be here lying in this bed. I would be dead. A shiver runs through me, and I pull my covers closer. I think of Mum and how broken she was when Dad passed away. Every time she set foot in the café, she would burst into tears as she expected to see him in front of his beloved coffee machine. She didn’t want to be on her own, so I used to stay over and sleep in my old bedroom, which is now the spare room. At night, I would hear her crying, so I would get up, creep into her room and give her a cuddle. If I died, how would she cope? I think of her budding friendship with this chap called Steve, whom I’ve never met. Without me here, he could take advantage of her, and there would be no one to stand in his way. My brothers are on the other side of the world and only FaceTime Mum when they’re unwell or want some money. Anxiety about Mum tries to engulf me, but I resist and get out of bed. ‘I can’t die,’ I say aloud. ‘I must pass this test, so I can carry on looking out for her.’

As I shower and change, I wonder who Clark decided to help. But thinking about Clark for too long always ends up putting me in a foul mood, so I decide to focus on my own plans.

Before I leave for work, I open my post and find a copy of a new romantasy book for me to review. The striking violet cover shows a couple standing on a balcony, bathed in the soft pink light of a giant red moon with a silhouette of a sinister black dragon flying across it. I place the book on one of my shelves, take photos, choose an image and upload it to Instagram, with a caption about ‘the beautiful new addition to my TBR pile’, adding a few heart emojis.

I’m about to step out of the house when my phone buzzes with a new Facebook notification. Maybe Chris has found me on there and has sent a friend request? I open the app and groan. It’s not Chris. Someone I went to school with has posted in the school reunion Facebook group that she’s on holiday in Devon and has bumped into our old maths teacher, Mr Beaver. Apparently, he’s still angry, still hates everyone, and now lives there by the sea. Her post makes me smile for a few seconds. It soon disappears as I recall how Mr Beaver always made me and Clark sit next to each other. In every maths lesson, I not only had to endure being taught by the worst teacher ever, but also had Clark in my ear, pointing out that all my calculations were wrong. I recall Mr Beaver’s face and pray I never have the misfortune of bumping into that miserable old fart again.