Page 26 of The Time of My Afterlife

He shakes his head. ‘I like it.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, it’s…’ He pauses, and I sense his mind is frantically trying to think of something nice to say. ‘It’s enjoyable.’

I smile and look away. Why did I ever mention it to him?

We walk the rest of the way in an awkward silence, and I vow never to think about podcasting ever again.

Sam buys me a pint, and we find an empty table to sit at.

‘So, what’s on your mind?’ I ask, deciding to focus on the task. I don’t know what Florence is up to, in relation to who she’s trying to help. I tried to ask her earlier in the café, but she only had eyes for Ronan. She’s so annoying.

Sam sighs before taking a sip of his pint. ‘I met a girl last year. We got the same train every morning and finally spoke when we were in the queue at Florence’s café. She seemed nice.’

‘Go on.’

‘We got on so well, Clark. We liked the same bands, and she was a foodie like me. Our commutes to work were great. We didn’t stop talking and laughing. I thought it was going somewhere.’

The pub door opens, and in walks Bread. He spots us and comes over. ‘Clark, I knew I would find you in here.’

I make introductions, and Bread nods at Sam. ‘Nice to meet you. I’m going to get a beer. Be back in a sec.’

‘Why is he called Bread?’ Sam asks, breaking from his story.

I point to my friend, who’s now standing at the bar. ‘If you look at his side profile…’

Sam grins. ‘Wow, he’s got hair shaped like a loaf.’

‘His hair’s been like that since secondary school. There’s not a barber in the land who can put it right.’

Sam takes a drink from his pint and sighs. ‘That tastes good.’

‘Carry on talking about this girl,’ I say.

He smiles. ‘So, she and I get on, and I’m about to ask her out when she tells me she’s six months pregnant.’

I blink. ‘Really? Was it not obvious she was… with child?’

He shakes his head. ‘She hid it well because I had no idea. When I met her in the café, she’d just found out she was eight weeks gone. She’d told her boyfriend, and he immediately split up with her, ghosted her. It was upsetting, she said. He didn’t want anything to do with her or their unborn child.’

Ben’s face appears in my mind. This is quickly followed by the memory of me punching him outside the pub. After what I heard him joking about Florence with his mates, he thoroughly deserved it. Florence doesn’t know that I dragged him outside and bloodied his nose.

Bread pulls up a stool, and I let out a silent groan. When it comes to relationship advice, Bread is not the best person to talk to.

‘I’m talking to Sam, Bread,’ I say, gesturing for him to go and sit somewhere else. Sam is not going to want to chat about his personal issue with strangers. I also wiggle my eyebrows at Bread, which is what he does to me when he’s chatting up a woman and doesn’t want to be interrupted.

Bread surveys the pub. ‘There’s no one else in here I know.’

Sam taps me on the arm. ‘It’s fine. You’d better bring him up to speed.’

I tell Bread what Sam’s told me so far.

Sam continues. ‘She told me it was best we didn’t talk any more as she was going to have a kid and she didn’t think I wanted to be saddled with another man’s child.’

‘She had a point,’ says Bread, before drinking his pint.

I look at Sam. ‘So, what happened?’