Page 20 of The Time of My Afterlife

I cast her a puzzled look. ‘The other week you told me there’s nothing on them but turkey teeth and beige turtlenecks.’

She shrugs. ‘You might get a different algorithm.’

‘Excuse me,’ says a familiar voice. We both look up to see Clark holding out his coffee. ‘It doesn’t taste right.’

With a roll of my eyes, I take it from him. While I’m making him a new coffee, I tell myself that this nightmare celestial situation will soon be over.

8

CLARK

I sense Florence hates me more than usual. She closed the café over an hour ago. I thought she’d come and talk to me, but she’s been exceptionally frosty. To make matters worse, my phone is clinging to its last 3 per cent of battery, so I haven’t been able to go on social media to distract myself. Sitting here and watching her give the tables an aggressive clean has been torturous. My head is still aching from the beer I drank last night. Working through a hangover today has been a challenge.

I need to initiate a conversation. ‘How do you think the afterlife will communicate with us?’

She shrugs and, to my dismay, keeps scrubbing.

My phone lets out a sorrowful bleep, and I am gripped by panic. ‘Do you think they will call us because I don’t have much battery left?’

Florence is casting me a bewildered look. ‘Clark, do you think the afterlife is on a pay-as-you-go contract or do you think they are locked into a twenty-four-month plan?’

I scowl at her as my cheeks start to heat up.

She returns to cleaning and, without looking at me, says, ‘Hilda and Iris are probably up there now choosing a haunting but friendly GIF to send you.’

Florence Hill is infuriating. I look away and curse myself for asking a silly question.

I try to remain silent, but it’s hard as thoughts keep bubbling up inside my head. ‘What time do you think we’ll get the message?’

‘I hope they tell us we’ve passed soon because I want to go home.’

I scratch my stubble-clad jaw. ‘Me too. I’m exhausted.’

Florence casts me a thunderous look. ‘Did Margo keep you awake last night?’

I let out a groan. Why won’t she believe me? ‘I slept on Bread’s sofa.’

Last night didn’t go entirely to plan as Bread failed his mission. Asking him to keep me away from Margo was never going to work, as one of her friends turned out to be the woman from the karaoke bar. Bread made a beeline for their table, and I got talking to Margo. She ended up leading me away to a booth. ‘I want us to try again,’ she purred, stroking my cheek.

I shook my head. ‘You cheated on me with Ben.’

She laughed. ‘Clark, you and I were never supposed to be exclusive. I told you I would date other men.’

Back then, I thought she was joking. It turned out I was deluded. The memory of that dark day when Florence came up to me in the café, tear-stained and emotional, to announce she’d caught Ben in bed with Margo still haunts me.

In the booth, Margo cuddled up to me, placing her hand over mine. ‘I still think of you, Clark. Why don’t we leave here and go back to mine?’

She pouted her pink lips, plumped up her ample cleavage, and ran her tongue over her front teeth. It would have been so easy to tell her to get her coat. For a few hours in her bed, I could forget what had happened between us.

I don’t have any feelings for Margo. She extinguished all those last year when she bedded Florence’s boyfriend, who also happens to be the town’s worst-ever electrician and the idiot in the pub who causes the most trouble.

The thought of turning the tables and using Margo for sex did cross my mind. Since we broke up, I haven’t been with another woman, and Bread keeps reminding me that even Minty is getting more action than I am right now. Which is saying something. When Minty, the man mountain, gets more female attention, that is a bad sign.

I did think about Margo’s offer for a few seconds, but Florence’s face wouldn’t leave my drunken mind. Even though she pushes all my buttons and makes me cross, I know that getting back with Margo would hurt her. It would also make me look like a right mug. Margo embarrassed me in front of my mates last year. They all took the piss out of me for months. I’d boasted about how she would stay faithful to me.

I pulled my hand away from Margo’s. She smiled. ‘I know you still think about me, Clark…’

I shook my head. ‘No, Margo, I don’t think of you at all. Can you let me out as I need a drink?’