Page 36 of The Time of My Afterlife

You’ve officially become my favourite plot twist on Instagram.

His message made me feel lighter and banished the dark feelings.

It was just a dream. This is what I tell myself as I step into the shower. As the warm water jets splash over my face. I imagine Chris at our future bookish-themed wedding, standing up at the reception to toast me, his bride, and mentioning how we met on a book review Instagram account. My heart flutters and I push all thoughts about the afterlife’s test away and savour this moment. The small, damp patch on my bathroom ceiling tries to distract me, but I ignore that, too.

On my way to work, I think about my next task – speak to Jane next door. I can do this, I tell myself.

‘You look pale, Florence – everything okay?’ Laura asks as she wipes down a table.

‘I didn’t sleep very well,’ I mumble.

‘Are you doing anything nice on your afternoon off?’ she continues. ‘Last week, when you booked it, you said you were going to start your vegetable patch.’

I let out a silent groan. Last week feels like such a long time ago.

‘What are you doing instead?’ asks Laura.

‘Oh, just a bit of life admin,’ I mumble, before hurrying into the kitchen. I think about Jane and how I will approach getting to know her. In my head, I can hear Clark telling me Jane loves coffee. I know I was quick to dismiss him last night, but inviting Jane in for a quick drink doesn’t feel that hard.

‘I see the whiteboard has gone from the kitchen,’ says Laura.

I nod. ‘Life admin needs some planning.’

She giggles. ‘You’re so obsessed with your whiteboard you’ve taken the afternoon off to spend some quality time with it.’

‘Chris left me a message this morning,’ I say, changing the subject.

Laura gives me a concerned look. ‘Be careful, you don’t know anything about him.’

‘He sends me funny book-themed messages.’

‘Normal men don’t do that, Florence,’ she says as she makes a flat white for a customer.

‘What do normal men do then?’

‘They either send you a photo you never asked for, which will show a part of their body, or a thought-provoking GIF.’ She pours the steamed milk into the coffee cup. ‘Normal blokes don’t send clever messages about books.’

‘Chris is going to be different, Laura,’ I say as a train not planning to stop at the station thunders past, making the cups rattle.

‘Jane,’ I say, looking over as she hurries along the path towards her house. She lifts her head and stops. For a few awkward moments, we stare at each other like two people who have made eye contact on the bus and are now committed to saying something to fill the silence.

Words jostle on my tongue. What do I say to the woman I’ve lived next door to for the past two years, yet have only nodded at? The classic ‘Yes, I acknowledge your existence, but please don’t speak to me’ nod.

She and Jack have lived next door to me for all that time, and yet I only know their names because the postman often mixes up our letters. If we didn’t have an unreliable postman, we would be complete strangers.

This is painful. Jane must think I’ve had a malfunction, as nothing is coming out of my mouth. Okay, don’t panic, I silently reassure myself.

The memory of my call with Mum last night rushes back to me. I need to pass this test as I don’t want that to be our last conversation.

‘Do you fancy a coffee?’

Jane blinks. She must be frantically thinking of an excuse. A sick relative who’s waiting for a phone call. A bathroom that needs an urgent deep clean, or an ironing pile that demands attention.

She’s still looking at me. This is so cringe. I must pass this test. My brain leaps into action. ‘I thought it would be nice to get to have a coffee sometime… or maybe a tea?’

‘Really?’ Jane sounds surprised.

I nod. ‘Yes, look, there’s no pressure. Let me know…’