Page 97 of The Time of My Afterlife

I blink away tears and remember the podcast. ‘Are you lonely, Mum?’

‘Why do you say that?’

Wiping my eyes, I turn to face her. ‘Tell me – are you lonely?’

She flicks her gaze to the floor. ‘Yes, I am.’

Blood rushes past my ears and my heart grinds to a halt. I stare at her in horror. ‘I know about that podcast.’

She lifts her gaze to me. ‘You heard it?’

‘Why did you write in to Jane? Why didn’t you tell me?’

Mum sighs. ‘I’ve been trying to tell you for a long time but…’

I stare at her. ‘But what?’

She runs an anxious hand through her hair. ‘You’ve had a lot on your mind and I understand. I really do.’

‘I haven’t, Mum,’ I exclaim. ‘I always make time…’ My mind creates a handy showreel of all the times I’ve been quick to either get Mum off the phone or to encourage her to drink her coffee speedily so I can get back to the café.

‘You’re always busy at work, and whenever I speak to you, it’s always after or during an argument with Clark.’ She rubs my shoulder. ‘You’re busy. You’ve also been through a lot this last year.’

A wave of guilt crashes over me. ‘Mum… I…’ I can’t get my words out. ‘Mum, you should have said something.’

‘I have tried, Florence. Believe me. You also won’t accept that I’m friendly with Steve.’

Hearing his name makes me let out a wail of frustration. ‘I knew he would be at the heart of this.’

Her eyes are narrowing, and her face has turned shadowy. ‘Do you have any idea what it’s been like for me since your father died?’

Her face goes blurry. I shake my head.

‘This house is full of painful reminders. It’s a museum of him. I don’t have a job so all I do is wander around trying not to look at photos, coats on the hooks and his favourite mug when I want a cup of tea.’

‘But… but…’

‘I can’t go on living like this, Florence. I’m fifty-eight, and I feel like life is passing me by.’ She pulls a stool to the table and sits beside me. ‘Steve came into my life last year. When I talk to him, he listens, and he makes me laugh. Florence – I haven’t laughed properly in a long time.’

I feel like my inner world is collapsing.

I also feel like the world’s worst daughter. Why haven’t I been there for her?

‘Do you want to know something, Florence?’

‘What?’

‘I am going on that holiday to Tenerife with Steve. You can say whatever you want, but I am going.’ She has a determined look on her face, and it makes me feel uneasy.

I reach out and touch her hand. ‘But I won’t be there to look after you.’

‘Florence, I’m not eighteen!’

‘I know that.’

Her face softens. ‘He’s booked us separate rooms if you must know.’

‘Oh,’ I mumble.