Page 2 of The Time of My Afterlife

Leaning closer over the counter, Molly says in a low voice, ‘Could I talk to you in private in a bit?’

The way she quietly speaks reminds me of a few weeks ago when she asked for a Saturday job. She wanted to earn some money and not rely on her mum. Damn it – I promised her I would think about it and come back to her with a decision. As I open my mouth, a familiar voice distracts me. It’s Clark. ‘I’ve spilt my coffee,’ he says, looking helpless.

I nod towards the pile of paper napkins. ‘You can use them.’

He stares at me. ‘Are you expecting me to clean the table?’

I gesture towards the queue. ‘Yes, Clark, we’re busy.’

‘Pearl is going to be here any minute, and I don’t want her to see my spillage.’

My irritation levels spike. ‘How bad is it? Has it gone onto the floor?’

He shakes his head. ‘It’s just on the table.’

‘You’re more than capable of using a napkin to mop up the mess you’ve created.’

I hand Molly her milkshake. ‘It doesn’t matter, I don’t need a chat, Florence,’ she murmurs and walks away.

‘Can’t Laura sort it?’ Clark asks, running a hand through his messy hair.

Laura appears with her tray. She looks at him and grins. ‘What’s up?’

‘Clark has had a little accident,’ I say, which causes two teenage girls in the queue to smirk. ‘Can you help him?’

He glares at me, and I cast him a fake sugary smile. After grabbing a handful of napkins, he storms off to the back of the café.

Laura and I both serve customers at the counter and soon have the queue under control. ‘I loved your ideas on the whiteboard for Molly’s birthday,’ says Laura, before giving the counter a quick wipe. ‘It’s so kind of you to let us use this place.’

‘No worries. I had a productive early-morning brainstorm on my beloved whiteboard.’

Laura giggles. ‘I did laugh at your use of three different pen colours, your excessive use of arrows and your weird-looking stick people. You do know that Molly’s birthday is six months away.’

I nod sagely. ‘Just trying to stay ahead of the game. Planning is key. Don’t worry, I’ve taken a screenshot.’

A year ago, I bought a whiteboard for the café’s kitchen. I thought it would be good for important reminders. It quickly became my personal art studio, command centre and emotional support object. Every chance I get, I whip out my collection of thick markers and fill my board with one of my big ideas or whatever stray thought happens to be wandering through my mind.

Laura casts me one of her special smiles, which means she knows there’s a good chance Molly’s fifteenth birthday event won’t match the grand, colour-coded vision on my board. Instead, it will be several hours of cake and chaos. Midway through, I’ll have tapped out of the event and be in the kitchen frantically trying to plan something else.

As I hand an iced latte to a teenage girl, Pearl enters the café. Pearl is Clark’s neighbour, and they have struck up quite a friendship. Pearl is in her mid-seventies, with curly grey hair and an infectious laugh. She and Clark are often in here. Sometimes they’re louder than the teenagers. I watch Pearl make her way over to Clark. He pulls her into a hug, and when they part, he hands her a tissue. She dabs at her eyes like she’s emotional. I wonder what’s happened.

Two years ago, Clark bought a house next door to Pearl and right across from mine in the small cul-de-sac. It feels like I must have been bad in a past life, because Clark Fielding is the first person I see when I open my curtains and the last when I go to bed.

As I watch Clark help Pearl into her seat, Laura comes to stand by me. ‘Pearl’s friend, Mary, died a few weeks ago.’

How did I not know this? ‘Really – Mary with the lilac hair? She’s dead?’

Laura nods. ‘Pearl said it was sudden. She hadn’t been ill. Just dropped down dead.’

‘Poor Pearl.’

‘Clark’s such a good neighbour and friend to Pearl.’

We both watch him pull his friend close.

‘I know we moan about him,’ says Laura, ‘but if you were in a crisis, you’d want Clark giving you one of those hugs.’

I cast her a look of horror. ‘Have you swapped sides?’