Page 25 of The Time of My Afterlife

‘Laura,’ I say, glancing over my shoulder. ‘Come in here for a sec.’

Laura appears, wiping her hands on a tea towel, mid-rant about the toastie maker. Her eyes land on him, and something flickers across her face. Like magic, he smiles at her and says, ‘Do you want me to have a word with your toastie maker?’ That Irish accent of his is like warm butter on toast.

Laura doesn’t miss a beat. She laughs. ‘If you can charm that thing into behaving, you’ll be my hero.’

He casts her a wicked smile. ‘Ah, now,’ he says, stepping closer to the counter. ‘I’ll do my best. But I must warn you, once I start being someone’s hero, it’s hard to stop.’

Wow – he’s good. Laura’s eyes have widened.

They start talking and I notice she’s touching her earrings a lot. This is a good sign.

‘I’m here with work for the next two months,’ he explains with his gaze fixed on her. ‘I might need showing around.’

Laura giggles like an excited schoolgirl.

‘My name’s Ronan.’

‘I’m Laura,’ she says, tidying up the napkins.

This is amazing. I haven’t needed to put much effort into encouraging these two. What are the odds? They’re like two lovestruck characters fresh from one of the romance books I review. The fictional couple with the undeniable spark who lights up when the other appears.

I glance at Laura, who looks like she’s been handed a winning lottery ticket.

Vince and those tanned men on the dating apps could be a distant memory if Laura shows Ronan around the town. I glance over at Molly. She’s scowling at me. Maybe fourteen-year-olds are never happy, no matter what you do.

‘Excuse me,’ says a familiar, annoying voice. I turn around to see Clark. ‘Where’s my coffee and toastie?’

I roll my eyes at him. ‘Please be patient, Clark, we’re busy.’

‘It doesn’t look like it,’ he mumbles, before heading back to his seat.

‘Laura,’ says Ronan, leaning against the counter. ‘When are you free this week to show me around?’

Ripples of excitement pass through me. Laura has discovered a new man. This will change the relationship between her and Molly.

‘Test passed,’ I whisper to myself.

10

CLARK

Sam and I meet in the street and head off in the direction of the pub. As we walk, I focus my mind. Sam needs to talk about something important, and I need to give him some emotional reassurance.

Seeing Florence and Laura flirt with that Irish guy earlier has left me irritated. Florence forgot my toastie, and when she finally brought it over, she was distracted by what Ronan was saying to Laura. What made it worse was that the guy looked like the male lead in a romantic comedy film. He was also charming and kept making them both giggle. I tried to complain to Florence, but she was abrupt and told me to go away because she was doing something important. From what I could see, all she was doing was shamelessly flirting with an Irish hunk and forgetting about her loyal customers.

‘I’ve finally got around to listening to your podcast,’ says Sam as we leave the cul-de-sac.

I let out an inner groan. Last year, I launched a football-themed podcast. After a few months, I shelved it. My motivation had gone, and it felt like too much effort for little gain.

It was meant to be Bread and me chatting about football, but he started dating a woman in Liverpool and, after two weeks, practically moved in with her. Bread always gets carried away with relationships. I ended up hosting it myself, recording it on my phone in my bedroom.

Creating content is hard. I spent most of the time talking about the latest match and reading emails from fellow supporters. As only a handful of people listened to the podcast, most of the emails were from Bread, still finding a way to be involved from Liverpool, who tended to send in one-liners like ‘I don’t like their striker’ and ‘That goalie was a waste of money’.

Back then, I liked my podcast despite it receiving only one – terrible – review from a mystery listener, who claimed that listening to me was torture and that it was time they would never get back.

When I first told Sam about the podcast last year, I sent him the link in the hope he would love it and that it would bring my listener count to seven. Now, when I hear it mentioned, I want the ground to open and swallow me whole.

‘It was just something I did for fun,’ I say.