Page 38 of The Time of My Afterlife

Jane doesn’t lift her gaze away from the picture. ‘I have a photo of my late partner up in my kitchen too. I always tell him what I’m cooking.’

‘I’m sorry, Jane.’ This is something I didn’t know about her.

She nods at my dad. ‘You look like him.’

I smile. ‘We share the same eyes and nose. Not the bald head or the moustache though.’

Jane smiles. ‘He looks like a lot of fun.’

‘He was the life and soul of every party. If there wasn’t a social event to go to, he would create his own.’

Jane and I sip our coffee in silence. To my surprise, it doesn’t feel awkward.

I recall what she’d said about losing her partner. ‘How are you doing? That must be tough for both you and Jack.’

She flicks her focus to her coffee. ‘It’s okay. Jack and I are getting through it, slowly.’

‘How long has it been?’

She takes a sip of her coffee. ‘Two years.’

‘Dad passed away three years ago.’

We exchange a knowing smile, and I find myself questioning why I left it so long to get to know Jane.

‘The first year was the worst,’ she says.

I nod. ‘Definitely, things felt a little easier after the one-year anniversary.’

‘It’s the loneliness that I struggle with.’ Jane’s voice wavers. ‘I know I have Jack, but he’s eleven years old, and his conversation topics are mainly football and Xbox games.’ She sighs. ‘No one talks about how lonely it is after the love of your life dies.’

Jane is lonely. That’s sad. She seems lovely. I feel a little twang of guilt for not getting to know her sooner. ‘Look, I’m sorry, Jane. I saw you in your car, and I should have come over.’

Her eyes are watery. She wipes them with the sleeve of her top. ‘I don’t like crying in front of Jack, so that’s why I opt for my car.’ She flicks her eyes to the table, like she’s ashamed.

Her words bring back a memory of when I used to do the same after my miscarriage.

‘Crying in cars is very therapeutic,’ I say. ‘Crying in front of a whiteboard is good too.’

She smiles. ‘We have so much in common.’

In this moment, I know I need to help her. Help her somehow with her loneliness.

My brain leaps into solution mode. ‘Do you have any hobbies or interests? There’s a board in the café that has loads of clubs you could join and meet new people. I’ve heard good things about the running club, and everyone is always raving about the yoga classes at the community centre.’

Jane shakes her head. ‘They’re not for me.’

‘Oh, okay. If not sports, what about art? There are painting classes, and there’s a creative writing club that meets every Tuesday at the café.’

‘I’m not arty.’

This is hard. But I persist.

An idea pings into my head. ‘There’s a local book club. You could join. I’ve gone along a few times enjoyed it. I could put you in touch with⁠—’

‘I do have an idea.’ Jane fidgets in her chair.

‘Oh, maybe I can help with it?’