Page 53 of The Time of My Afterlife

‘I know but that’s a long way off,’ I say reassuringly.

‘Working as a team is not going to be easy,’ she says. ‘Iris and Hilda were right – you and I have built up a lot of resentment over the years.’

We head for my kitchen. ‘I’m going to give it my best shot, Florence.’

She slides onto a stool and smiles. ‘If we’re working together, shall we discuss tactics with Jane?’

‘Yes.’ I take the stool opposite her. ‘As I’m an experienced podcaster, I think I should lead.’

Her smile is wobbling. She blinks several times as if she’s misheard me. ‘Lead what?’

‘The conversation.’

She fiddles with a strand of her hair. ‘What shall I do?’

This will be a big challenge for Florence. ‘Listen and let me do the talking.’

She opens her mouth and then closes it again. ‘If this is what we need to do to pass the test, then I will do what’s needed. I will listen,’ she says as I lose my balance – probably in shock at what I heard – and fall off my stool.

Can Florence Hill actually listen and let someone else do the talking for once?

With a red face, I pick myself up and flick my eyes to the floor, avoiding eye contact. I can hear her giggling into her hands, which I ignore.

‘Is Jane at home?’ I ask.

Florence nods. ‘Let’s go, teammate.’

We cross the road to Jane’s house. She opens her door and, for a few moments, looks a bit startled to see us both standing on her doorstep this early in the morning. ‘Hi, Jane, Florence told me you’re interested in podcasting, and I wanted to see if I could help. I launched one last year.’

Her face lights up. ‘Really?’

I nod as a burst of excitement shoots across my chest. ‘Yes, and we were wondering whether we could have a chat about it sometime today…’

‘Or now?’ Florence presses. ‘Clark and I don’t have much time.’

My irritation levels flicker. Why does Florence have to pressure poor Jane? Creative conversations need to happen naturally and not be forced into a time slot.

Hang on. Maybe she’s right? We do need to get Jane’s project moving.

Jane glances at both of us and then holds the door ajar. She’s dressed in a T-shirt and jogging bottoms. Her brown hair is damp and hangs over her shoulders.

We enter her house and as we step inside her living room, Florence gasps at her bookcases. They look like Florence’s, I note, decorated with draping plants, twinkly lights and ornaments.

‘Jane, your shelves are stunning,’ she gushes, walking over to one and running her fingers over a few spines.

Jane beams. ‘They make me happy.’ She gestures for us both to sit down.

‘Tell us about your idea for a podcast,’ I say, once we’re all settled.

She sits in her armchair. ‘Well, my partner died two years ago, and I’ve been finding the loneliness a struggle.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

She nods. ‘My idea is about helping others who are lonely.’

‘I’m sure there will be listeners out there feeling the same.’

Jane explains her idea for The Lonely-Hearts Podcast. I’m impressed by her idea. ‘I just want to record and get it out there,’ she says.