Page 59 of The Time of My Afterlife

‘Fixing one stitch on this old jacket changes nothing. But stitch after stitch strengthens and repairs it.’

‘And?’

Her eyes have widened dramatically. ‘Maybe the test is passed with an accumulation of small things?’

‘Small things?’

‘Helping those around us move towards their goals. Every day doing something little to bring a bigger change – perhaps?’

I scratch my head. ‘A bigger change?’

She shrugs. ‘Maybe one of them will do something amazing as a result of our help?’

‘It sounds like a good idea. Let’s go and talk to Pearl.’

We make our way to Pearl’s house. After a few knocks, she opens the door and gasps at the sight of us. ‘Oh, my goodness,’ she gushes, ‘I was right.’

I shake my head. ‘Florence and I have decided to stop arguing. That’s all.’

‘Hello, Pearl,’ says Florence. ‘Can we come in? We have some news.’

Pearl glances at me and then at Florence. ‘Have you both realised you’re madly in love with each other and have come to tell me?’

Florence blinks in surprise. ‘No.’

‘We’re just being civil with each other, Pearl. Nothing else is going on.’

She smiles and stands aside so we can enter her house. As I pass Pearl, she winks and taps me on the arm. I roll my eyes and direct Florence into the living room.

Once settled in her armchair, Pearl gestures for us both to take a seat on her sofa.

‘I love your crocheted cushions,’ exclaims Florence. ‘They are so lovely.’

Pearl beams at her. ‘Thanks, Florence. All my own work. This is a lovely surprise. What do you have to tell me?’

Florence looks at me. I turn to Pearl. ‘You know your long-lost love?’

Pearl nods. ‘I do. Why?’

‘We know who he is and I went to see him yesterday.’

Pearl gasps and places her hands over her mouth.

‘He’s alive and well.’ I watch as she removes her hands from her face. ‘Your true love is Rodney Beaver – isn’t it?’

She starts to tremble, and I leave the sofa to comfort her. Her sobs fill the room. She leans her head against my chest. ‘Oh, Clark, you found him,’ she croaks as Florence hands her some tissues.

‘I did. He’s in Devon.’

She stops crying and lifts her head away. ‘Devon?’

I nod. ‘Pixie Cove.’

Pearl is looking at me oddly. ‘Pixie Cove?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

With a tissue, she dabs at the corner of her eyes. ‘When we were courting all those years ago, he took me on a day trip to Pixie Cove. It was a delightful little place. We danced on the beach, and I told him I never wanted to leave.’