Page 49 of The Time of My Afterlife

‘Mr Beaver?’

I watch him go and stand by the mantlepiece, nibbling his thumbnail. His face looks strained, and I sense things didn’t go to plan in Pixie Cove. An uncomfortable feeling takes hold of me.

His face is chalky white, and his eyes look puffy with tiredness. ‘Are you okay, Clark?’

The guilt at my decision to not go with him comes rushing back.

He lets out a heavy sigh. ‘I’m sorry, Florence, but I don’t think we will pass.’

My heart comes to a shuddering halt, and I can feel the blood draining from face. ‘Why?’ I croak.

‘I found him,’ he says, ‘I explained about Pearl and left him my contact details.’ He gestures to the armchair. ‘Can I sit down?’

‘Yes, you must be tired after driving all that way.’

He gives me an odd look before taking a seat. ‘Mr Beaver didn’t want to discuss the subject of Pearl. I have come away with nothing. The only thing I’ve changed is that I know his identity.’

I shiver and tighten the cord on my dressing gown. ‘Thanks for going all that way.’

His left eyebrow arches in surprise. ‘Are you feeling all right?’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘You’re being nice to me.’

I roll my eyes and look away.

‘What about your chat with Jane?’ he asks. ‘You said it felt weird. Tell me what she said as there could be something we’ve missed.’

‘She told me about her idea for a podcast she’s starting, and I gave her some advice.’

His eyes narrow. ‘What do you know about podcasting?’

I feel a prickle of irritation. ‘I know about marketing.’

‘You should have spoken to me. I started a podcast last year.’

‘I know, and it was dreadful.’ The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them.

A look of horror flashes across his face. ‘It was entertaining.’

I scoff. ‘Clark, you ran out of things to say after eight minutes and were forced to read out Bread’s awful emails.’

He glares at me. ‘That’s not true. I had too much content if you must know.’

I shake my head and cross my arms for extra show. ‘Clark, it was torturous.’

His mouth falls open. ‘You were the one who posted that two-star review.’

Oh, God. Why did I use the word torturous?

I might as well come clean. ‘Yes, I left you that review.’

The air between us feels charged.

He folds his arms. ‘You’re so annoying, Florence Hill.’

‘So, are you, Clark Fielding.’ Emotion is building inside me. ‘Why are we arguing like this?’ My voice crackles. ‘This could be our last night ever.’