Page 29 of The Time of My Afterlife

A huge smile breaks out over Clark’s face. ‘I think we’ve passed, Florence.’

The dove flies above us. My body is flooded with relief as I watch it. The test is over. It was clearly about changing the direction of Laura’s love life and letting Sam, the neighbour, talk about his troubling issue.

A roll of white paper falls from the dove’s beak onto the coffee table, and it shoots back out of the window. I gulp as Clark picks it up. He casts me a hopeful look. ‘I have never wanted to see the words “you’ve passed” so badly.’

‘Open it,’ I say as my heartbeat quickens.

He unfolds it, and to my horror, I watch his grin disappear. The corners of his mouth curve downwards, and his eyes flick to the floor. ‘Not passed,’ he groans. ‘Try again.’

My heart grinds to a halt. ‘What? But they changed the bird to a dove?’

He nods and lets out a heavy sigh. ‘I don’t get it. We’ve helped our neighbours, and we’ve failed again.’

I rise from the sofa. ‘There must be a mistake. I had a big talk with Molly in the café, and I got to the bottom of why she’s feeling sad. I changed something.’

Clark runs a hand through his thick brown hair. ‘What do we do now?’ he moans, heading for my armchair to sit down.

‘We’ve failed twice,’ I say as my heart lurches. ‘This is not good.’

‘I agree. We will probably only get three attempts to pass.’

I’m gripped by panic. ‘Three attempts? Really? Why do you say that?’

He shrugs. ‘Three strikes? I reckon if we get another fail, we die.’

Tears prick my eyes. ‘I don’t want to live in that bedsit, and I don’t want to die.’ My voice cracks. ‘What will Mum do without me?’ A stray tear escapes and trickles down my cheek. In my head, I picture her sitting alone at her kitchen table, looking up at photos of Dad and me hung on the wall. My mind replaces it with an image of my café closed, with a ‘FOR SALE’ sign outside. Emotion builds inside of me. More tears come, and I wipe them with my sleeve.

Clark’s staring at his hands in his lap. ‘Pearl doesn’t have any family who lives near here, and now Mary’s gone – who will check on her?’

‘We can’t fail again, Clark. There’s a lot resting on what we do next.’

He nods as I return to the sofa with fingers itching like mad. I wish my whiteboard were here. If it were, I’d lunge for it like I am possessed and unleash a chaotic explosion of thoughts, arrows, circles and stick people.

‘What are we going to do?’ His voice sounds shaky.

This situation needs serious planning. I need my emotional support object. Rising from the sofa, I grab my door and café keys.

‘Where are you going?’ he asks.

‘I’m going to get my whiteboard.’

He blinks in surprise. ‘Your what?’

‘My whiteboard. It’s in the café.’

‘A whiteboard? Seriously?’ He’s staring in what looks like disbelief. ‘What is this – school? Time-travelling back to Year 9 maths is not going to help us.’

I let out a heavy sigh. ‘Well, it helps me in stressful situations, so you can think what you like.’

‘What will you do with your… whiteboard?’

‘I’ll bring it back here. Then I’ll do a quick brain dump and start planning.’

He gets to his feet. ‘Do you think we should do some joint planning?’

My shoulders and neck stiffen. No way. I am not doing that with him.

‘Florence, this could be our last chance to get this right. Sometimes two heads are better than one.’