Page 79 of The Time of My Afterlife

Rolling his eyes, he walks over to his chair by the fire. ‘She was a bossy little madam when I taught you both. I can see nothing has changed.’

‘She’s still the same.’

He takes out a hankie and blows his nose. ‘You’re wasting your time,’ he growls. ‘I will not listen to you or her.’

‘Mr Beaver, I hope you’re not being negative in there,’ calls out Florence in a shrill voice.

He shakes his head in disapproval. ‘You could have come by yourself, Clark.’

‘You wouldn’t have let me in.’

I watch a ghost of a smile form on his lips. ‘You’re right about that.’

We look up as Florence comes in carrying two cups of tea. She hands one to Mr Beaver and one to me. ‘I run a café, Mr Beaver, and some say I make the perfect cuppa.’

He casts her a look of horror. ‘You have a business with your dreadful maths skills?’

Florence giggles. ‘That’s why I have an accountant.’

She’s not fazed by Mr Beaver at all.

He shakes his head and sighs. ‘What is the world coming to?’

‘Okay,’ says Florence. ‘Let’s talk about Pearl.’

‘I don’t want to,’ he says, before lifting the cup to his lips and taking a sip. Something flickers across his face. ‘You can make a good cup of tea.’

‘Pearl has been thinking about you all her life,’ says Florence.

Mr Beaver carries on drinking.

‘She is candid about how she married the wrong man.’

He coughs, splutters and puts down his cup on the little table by his chair. ‘Really?’ he croaks.

Florence nods. ‘Tell him, Clark.’

‘Every week I have to listen to Pearl tell me about how she made a big mistake marrying her boss because her mother thought he would offer her a better life.’

I have Mr Beaver’s full attention.

‘She’s thought about you every day.’

He looks up at the mantlepiece, and there is the same photo of them both dancing. ‘I have done the same. How do you know Pearl?’ His voice is low and almost a whisper.

‘Pearl is my neighbour.’

‘Clark and I live in the same cul-de-sac,’ Florence adds.

He rolls his eyes. ‘God help you, Clark, living near Florence Hill.’

Florence giggles. ‘He loves it – don’t you, Clark?’

‘I couldn’t be happier,’ I say, with a wry smile.

Mr Beaver lets out a heavy sigh. ‘I never thought I’d hear Pearl’s beautiful name again. I thought she was lost forever.’

‘Her husband died about ten years ago.’