Page 51 of The Time of My Afterlife

My cheeks are red hot, and I wish the ground would open and swallow me whole. It’s like I’ve shown him a piece of my soul.

I playfully swipe his arm. ‘You’ll be pleased to know that I have taken a screenshot of it, so if you want, you can wipe it away.’

With a wry smile, he picks up a cloth. ‘Are you sure you want to get rid of this… wedding planning masterpiece?’

‘Yes,’ I squeak, hoping he forgets about this.

‘Wow – this is kind of relaxing,’ he gushes as he cleans my board.

‘I told you. This brings me so much joy.’

He does such a good job that my whiteboard is spotless.

I hand over my pens. ‘Do you want the full experience and be a scribe?’

With a smile, he grabs them. At the top, he writes ‘Change Something’.

Underneath, he puts a sub-heading: ‘Help Others’.

He turns to me. ‘Any ideas?’

‘Let’s start with what we know,’ I propose. ‘Jane next door wants to start a podcast.’

‘You should have told me about Jane’s podcast project.’

‘You would have taken over, and I don’t like asking for your help.’

I watch as he taps the top of the marker against his chin. ‘Correct. If you had not been so stubborn, Florence, I could have got us a pass.’

My irritation levels spike. How dare he accuse me of being stubborn?

I take a deep breath and remind myself that we’re still alive.

Jane’s face appears in my mind. I recall how we shared the same interests and how easy she was to talk to before I ruined it with my bossiness. ‘I need to put things right with her.’

He gives me a disapproving look before writing ‘Jane and her podcast’ on the board.

‘Pearl and Mr Beaver,’ I say. ‘They need to be reunited.’

He nods and writes their names. ‘I’ve no idea how we do that, but we will just think as we go.’

I feel a prickle of irritation. ‘That’s something I can’t do, Clark. I am a planner.’

‘Florence, we don’t have time for that. You need to be more like me.’

He glances back at me and grins. I roll my eyes. ‘The day I become like you pigs will fly. What about Mary’s book?’

With a groan, he nods and adds her to the list. ‘I still haven’t finished reading it.’

‘Wasn’t her last wish for it to be a bestseller?’

‘Yes.’ He chews on the lid of my marker, which makes every part of me tense. I’m about to say something, but I let it go. We’re alive. That’s the important thing. I can buy a new marker.

‘You should have asked me. I can help with Mary’s book.’

He looks at me. ‘You would have taken over,’ he says, mimicking my words, ‘and I don’t like asking for your help.’

‘Correct,’ I say, in my best patronising-sounding voice. ‘If you had not been so stubborn, Clark, I could have got us a pass.’