Chapter 10
CLARK
Sam and I meet in the street and head off in the direction of the pub. As we walk, I focus my mind. Sam needs to talk about something important, and I need to give him some emotional reassurance.
Seeing Florence and Laura flirt with that Irish guy earlier has left me irritated.
Florence forgot my toastie, and when she finally brought it over, she was distracted by what Ronan was saying to Laura.
What made it worse was that the guy looked like the male lead in a romantic comedy film.
He was also charming and kept making them both giggle.
I tried to complain to Florence, but she was abrupt and told me to go away because she was doing something important.
From what I could see, all she was doing was shamelessly flirting with an Irish hunk and forgetting about her loyal customers.
‘I’ve finally got around to listening to your podcast,’ says Sam as we leave the cul-de-sac.
I let out an inner groan. Last year, I launched a football-themed podcast. After a few months, I shelved it. My motivation had gone, and it felt like too much effort for little gain.
It was meant to be Bread and me chatting about football, but he started dating a woman in Liverpool and, after two weeks, practically moved in with her. Bread always gets carried away with relationships. I ended up hosting it myself, recording it on my phone in my bedroom.
Creating content is hard. I spent most of the time talking about the latest match and reading emails from fellow supporters.
As only a handful of people listened to the podcast, most of the emails were from Bread, still finding a way to be involved from Liverpool, who tended to send in one-liners like ‘I don’t like their striker’ and ‘That goalie was a waste of money’.
Back then, I liked my podcast despite it receiving only one – terrible – review from a mystery listener, who claimed that listening to me was torture and that it was time they would never get back.
When I first told Sam about the podcast last year, I sent him the link in the hope he would love it and that it would bring my listener count to seven. Now, when I hear it mentioned, I want the ground to open and swallow me whole.
‘It was just something I did for fun,’ I say.
He shakes his head. ‘I like it.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, it’s…’ He pauses, and I sense his mind is frantically trying to think of something nice to say. ‘It’s enjoyable.’
I smile and look away. Why did I ever mention it to him?
We walk the rest of the way in an awkward silence, and I vow never to think about podcasting ever again.
Sam buys me a pint, and we find an empty table to sit at.
‘So, what’s on your mind?’ I ask, deciding to focus on the task. I don’t know what Florence is up to, in relation to who she’s trying to help. I tried to ask her earlier in the café, but she only had eyes for Ronan. She’s so annoying.
Sam sighs before taking a sip of his pint. ‘I met a girl last year. We got the same train every morning and finally spoke when we were in the queue at Florence’s café. She seemed nice.’
‘Go on.’
‘We got on so well, Clark. We liked the same bands, and she was a foodie like me. Our commutes to work were great. We didn’t stop talking and laughing. I thought it was going somewhere.’
The pub door opens, and in walks Bread. He spots us and comes over. ‘Clark, I knew I would find you in here.’
I make introductions, and Bread nods at Sam. ‘Nice to meet you. I’m going to get a beer. Be back in a sec.’
‘Why is he called Bread?’ Sam asks, breaking from his story.
I point to my friend, who’s now standing at the bar. ‘If you look at his side profile…’
Sam grins. ‘Wow, he’s got hair shaped like a loaf.’
‘His hair’s been like that since secondary school. There’s not a barber in the land who can put it right.’
Sam takes a drink from his pint and sighs. ‘That tastes good.’
‘Carry on talking about this girl,’ I say.
He smiles. ‘So, she and I get on, and I’m about to ask her out when she tells me she’s six months pregnant.’
I blink. ‘Really? Was it not obvious she was… with child?’
He shakes his head. ‘She hid it well because I had no idea. When I met her in the café, she’d just found out she was eight weeks gone.
She’d told her boyfriend, and he immediately split up with her, ghosted her.
It was upsetting, she said. He didn’t want anything to do with her or their unborn child. ’
Ben’s face appears in my mind. This is quickly followed by the memory of me punching him outside the pub. After what I heard him joking about Florence with his mates, he thoroughly deserved it. Florence doesn’t know that I dragged him outside and bloodied his nose.
Bread pulls up a stool, and I let out a silent groan. When it comes to relationship advice, Bread is not the best person to talk to.
‘I’m talking to Sam, Bread,’ I say, gesturing for him to go and sit somewhere else. Sam is not going to want to chat about his personal issue with strangers. I also wiggle my eyebrows at Bread, which is what he does to me when he’s chatting up a woman and doesn’t want to be interrupted.
Bread surveys the pub. ‘There’s no one else in here I know.’
Sam taps me on the arm. ‘It’s fine. You’d better bring him up to speed.’
I tell Bread what Sam’s told me so far.
Sam continues. ‘She told me it was best we didn’t talk any more as she was going to have a kid and she didn’t think I wanted to be saddled with another man’s child.’
‘She had a point,’ says Bread, before drinking his pint.
I look at Sam. ‘So, what happened?’
‘We didn’t speak, and one day she stopped getting the train, as I assume she had the baby.’
‘Lucky escape,’ says Bread, running a hand through his loaf-like hair.
I ignore Bread. ‘Have you seen her since?’
Sam shakes his head. ‘This is the thing I can’t stop thinking about: her and how she’s doing.’
‘She’s knee deep in nappies,’ adds Bread, before winking at a woman who comes past our table.
‘What are you going to do?’ I ask while Bread is distracted by ogling the woman.
He shrugs. ‘I don’t know whether to try and find her.’
Bread comes back into the conversation and shakes his head. ‘Sam, leave that situation alone. The last thing you need is a screaming kid.’
‘Her partner might have come back into her life,’ I add. ‘He might have seen the baby and realised he wants to be a part of their lives.’
Sam nods. ‘Yeah, you’re right. We had this strong connection, though.’
Bread sighs. ‘Mate, I have the same connection with a woman I met in a karaoke bar. The way she sang that Cher hit – it gave me goosebumps. Although it’s been eight days and she still won’t sleep with me.’
I ignore Bread. ‘Maybe it was wrong timing.’
Sam nods. ‘I feel better for getting this off my chest.’
Bread smiles and pats Sam on the shoulder. ‘Stick with us, Sam.’
Sam’s face brightens. ‘Thanks.’
‘You need to meet someone else,’ advises Bread. ‘Take your mind off the new mother. Clark’s ex-girlfriend is available.’ He puts his hands to his chest. ‘You’ll like Margo.’
My irritation spikes. I shake my head. ‘Not funny.’
Bread laughs and nudges Sam. ‘The other thing with Margo is that she likes an open relationship. Clark learnt that the hard way.’
‘How about a game of pool, Sam?’ I ask, ignoring Bread.
We have an enjoyable few rounds of pool, and on the way home, Sam thanks me for a good night. ‘I needed that,’ he gushes. ‘It got me out of my head.’
‘Anytime,’ I say as we approach the cul-de-sac.
‘See you soon, Clark,’ says Sam as I look up at Florence’s house.
Earlier in the café, I informed her that I would be over later for the afterlife’s message.
At the time, she was taking my payment for the late toastie.
To my annoyance, she kept looking over her shoulder at Ronan, and I’m not even sure she was listening to me.
I wave at Sam and walk up Florence’s path.
A thought pushes its way to the front of my mind.
I still haven’t read Mary’s book. An uncomfortable feeling takes hold of me.
What if I haven’t done enough? What happens if we fail again because I did not do what Pearl asked me to do?
My heartbeat breaks into a panicky gallop.
I look over at my little house standing on the corner of the cul-de-sac.
In the window, I can see my cat watching out.
If I died – who would adopt him? My mother wouldn’t as she can’t stand being in the same room as Mr White Socks.
My father left her for a woman who breeds pedigree cats and she’s still holding a grudge against the entire feline population.
My chest aches at the thought of her marching my little boy to a rehoming centre while muttering things about my father.
His face flashes up inside my head. We stopped speaking for ten years after he walked out.
I was twenty and angry at the pain he’d caused Mum.
He moved to London, and as far as I was concerned, that was the end of our relationship.
A few months ago, I quite literally bumped into him in the British Museum.
Of all places. I remember the jolt of it like the ground beneath my feet was shifting.
I’d spent so long convincing myself that I wouldn’t feel anything if I ever saw him again.
I was wrong. When he apologised for all the hurt he’d caused and then looked at me with pink, watery eyes, I had a sudden urge to reconnect with him.
He must have felt the same, as he gave me his mobile number and told me to WhatsApp him.
Since then, we’ve been messaging each other.
Mainly about the football scores and what he’s watched on TV.
Mum doesn’t know we’re back in contact. She would be so cross if she knew he was back in my life.
It’s been years since he walked out and she is still furious.
So, I have kept him a secret. At the end of the month, he’ll be in the area at a conference and says he’ll pop by to see my house.
I gulp back a wave of emotion. Depending on what happens with the test, I might not be here to show him around.
I reach Florence’s doorstep and suppress the pang of sadness about my dad.
She’ll have to invite me inside, which will be a new experience.
The thought of going to her house makes me feel nervous.
I think about how I helped Sam, but my mind reminds me that I still haven’t read Mary’s book.
After a deep breath, I decide to cling to the fact that I took Sam for a drink, gave him some relationship advice and then beat him twice at pool.
I can always read the book if we fail again.
As Florence answers the door, my optimism wobbles.