Chapter 17
FLORENCE
I glance back at Clark’s house as I cross the road. When he asked me whether I wanted to go on a road trip with him, a tiny voice deep inside me whispered, ‘Say yes.’ It was a shock to hear it. But my mind quickly reminded me of all the things Clark has done to annoy me over the years.
Now, as I head home, I can’t shake this nagging doubt that I’ve made the wrong decision. Should I go with him to find Mr Beaver? We would be forced to spend hours in a car, making small talk. What would we say to each other?
It would be a car journey from hell as we would argue all the way there and back. Nope, I am not putting myself through that. He is quite capable of driving to Devon by himself to track down Mr Beaver.
As I unlock my door, I watch him leave. He glances over at me, and I am reminded of the things that surprised me when I went inside his house: the photo of Dad hanging in his kitchen.
I find Clark irritating; however, seeing that photo on his kitchen wall made my heart skip a beat.
Knowing that he visited Mr Beaver in the hospital also touched me.
This is a new side to Clark. It’s as if someone has shaken up the pieces of the jigsaw of him in my mind and rearranged them.
Guilt nibbles away at me as I think of him driving to Devon.
Should I have gone?
I need to distract myself. I pick up the romance book I’m currently reading and try to push all thoughts about Clark to the back of my mind.
But once my brain gets hooked onto the subject of Clark, it can’t stop, and the distraction doesn’t work.
How does he know I review books? It was probably Mum, although I don’t think I’ve ever told her about my bookish Instagram.
She knows I love reading and always comments on my pretty bookshelves, but I can’t recall talking to her about my reviews.
She isn’t on social media, so she couldn’t have seen it that way.
Putting my book down, I glance towards my back garden. In my head, I can hear Laura’s voice – You were going to make a start on your vegetable patch.
Today the sun is out, and it’s warm. It would be a perfect time to get started.
I have all the equipment, as it’s been gathering dust in a box in my shed.
Dad loved being outside, sleeves rolled up, his hands covered in dirt and talking about how the garden quietened his busy mind.
He always used to lecture me about how we both have the same restless brain and how growing vegetables would help deal with the daily barrage of thoughts.
I’ve been saying I will start gardening for three years. Every time Mum comes over, she always looks outside and says, ‘Still no sign of a vegetable patch?’
Or I could just start it another day? I do have a lot on my mind.
It’s so easy to say do it another day.
The urge to go outside starts to fade as my mind reflects on the afterlife’s test. If Clark doesn’t find Mr Beaver, we will fail tonight and be sent back.
That will be our third chance. I picture Mum, and that same uncomfortable feeling from last night returns.
I don’t want to leave her with questions about whether I was happy.
An idea unfolds in my mind. I could go outside, create a patch, plant some courgette seeds (as Google tells me they’re the easiest for beginners to grow), and then video-call her later. That might be a nice thing to do.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I am on my feet.
The shed door sticks and then groans as I open it.
Inside, everything smells of dust and old wood.
The box of tools is where I left it three years ago.
On top are the courgette seeds I bought a few weeks back when I got a similar urge to start.
Dad’s old gardening gloves are sticking out of the box.
For a few seconds my heart wobbles. Putting them on will be hard.
They will bring back memories of him. Do I want to do this?
I don’t have much choice. This could be my last day. I think of Mum. This is for her. I need to start.
Picking up the gloves, I slip my hands inside and hold my breath. This is going to be painful. To my surprise, Dad’s gloves are warm and comforting. Almost like he’s finished gardening and gone inside to make a cuppa. I smile, pick up the box and take it out of the shed.
An hour later, and I have dug out a small patch in the top right-hand corner of my garden. The swirling mass of thoughts about Clark’s trip to Devon, the afterlife’s test and my last call with Mum has evaporated, and my mind feels… weirdly clear.
The instructions on the seed packet say ‘Sow thinly’, which causes me a little panic as I have no idea what that means.
After a quick Google, I press each seed into the soil and whisper some words of encouragement.
‘Please, can you grow into something? I am a newbie, I’ve been promising myself to start for three years and I want to show my mother I can do this. ’
After watering the seeds, I sit back and admire my handiwork. Wow – I have planted some courgette seeds. Tears prick my eyes. It wasn’t that hard. Why have I been putting this off for so long?
Feeling proud of myself, I take out my phone and video-call Mum.
She’s in her kitchen when she answers. I hold the phone up so she can see the patch of soil behind me. ‘Look what I’ve done.’
Her face lights up. ‘Florence!’ she exclaims. ‘You’ve started your vegetable patch. Oh, my goodness, this is great.’
‘I’m wearing his gloves – do you think he will be proud?’
She beams. ‘Of course he is, Florence.’
‘I hope at least one courgette seed grows, Mum.’
‘Keep watering them, and I’m sure you will see some progress.’
That familiar, uncomfortable feeling returns. I might not be here to see what happens to my seeds. My heart lurches.
I need to change the subject. ‘How are you, Mum?’
She gives me a half-hearted sort of smile. ‘I’m just finding it strange being in this big house all by myself.’
‘It’s only got three bedrooms.’
She sighs. ‘I feel like I’m going stir-crazy.’
‘Why don’t you invite one of your friends over?’
‘Oh, no, Miriam’s husband is having an affair with a woman half his age, so she’s distraught and depressed. Tracey has gone to Greece for a few months after that hot Greek man begged her to go live out there, and Liz has just met a man from Whitby who’s a ghost hunter in his spare time.’
Mum needs some new friends. That’s what she needs. Maybe I can point her to the café notice board where she could find a club she’s interested in joining? ‘Come to the café more,’ I say. ‘It will be lovely to see you.’
‘Steve’s still asking—’
This could be our last chat. I don’t want to spend it talking about Steve.
‘Mum,’ I say, interrupting her. She stops talking and fiddles with one of her nineties-style gold earrings.
I take in her feathery blonde hair, her charm necklace that she bought from Etsy because she said it would bring her luck and her pencil-drawn eyebrows because the menopause stole her natural ones.
Emotion rises inside me. ‘Mum, you know I love you, don’t you? ’
She tilts her head to one side and coos. ‘And I love you too, Florence.’
Laura is at my door. She raises her phone aloft. ‘Ronan likes to send lengthy texts. I take back what I said the other day about Chris not being normal.’
I laugh and let her in. ‘Are you looking forward to your date?’
Laura grins. ‘Sure, I am, although I think it might end back in his hotel room.’
I giggle, and she laughs. ‘The café was quiet this afternoon. Have you enjoyed your life admin planning session?’ she asks, before glancing at my whiteboard. She turns to me. ‘It’s clear.’
A big smile is spreading across my face. ‘Come and see what I’ve done.’
As she follows me into the kitchen and out of the back door, I hear her gasp. ‘Oh, God, you’ve been gardening? You finally sowed some seeds?’
I race over to my new vegetable patch, and she follows with a squeal. ‘This is great. What have you planted?’
‘Courgettes.’
‘I am so proud of you, Florence.’ She beams.
‘For what?’
‘For not procrastinating and doing something.’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t procrastinate; I just need time to think about things.’
Laura raises her eyebrows. ‘Three years?’
‘I had to do a lot of research.’
She giggles and we walk back inside. Once sat on my sofa she takes her long brown hair out of its ponytail. ‘Molly is in a real mood.’
‘Really?’ I was right about teenagers not being happy. I offered that child a Saturday job, and I fixed her mother up with a new man.
Laura sighs. ‘The guy I was messaging before Ronan was Vince.’
I act shocked. ‘You were going to get back with Vince?’
She shrugs. ‘I was close to getting involved with him again, but Molly said something the other night that made me think.’
‘Oh, yeah?’
‘Molly claims I lost myself when we were dating the first time.’
I stare at her. ‘What does she mean by that?’
Laura reaches for the book I was reading earlier and glances at the blurb. ‘She says that I became obsessed with him and had no time for her.’
An odd feeling passes over me.
‘I never lost myself with Vince,’ says Laura as I think back to all the times I’ve seen her glued to her phone. In my head, I can picture Molly casting her mum dark looks as Laura smiled at Vince’s GIFs and photos.
Was that what Molly was trying to tell me?
She glances at the time on her phone. ‘I’d better dash. Molly will be wondering where her tea is.’
I rise from the chair feeling a bit strange.
‘You look pale,’ observes Laura. ‘Gardening is tiring. Get an early night. I’m off to pick up something for my hot date with Ronan. Any chance you could look after Molly that night?’
‘Sure.’
On the doorstep, I pull her into a hug. This could be the last time I see her. ‘Go cook Molly something nice.’
Laura sends me an odd look. ‘Gardening has really affected you, Florence.’
I watch her go down my path, engrossed in her phone.
Guilt nibbles away at me once I sit back down on my sofa.
I assumed that by offering Molly a Saturday job, it would somehow improve her relationship with her mum.
I can’t recall ever asking Molly what the actual problem was though.
If I think back to the times I asked her for a chat, I was distracted each time by…
Clark. I also jumped to the conclusion that Molly’s issue was that she wanted her mum to date someone else, not Vince.
My chest tightens. I wasn’t helping Molly.
She wanted reassurance her mum wouldn’t lose herself.
The last thing she needed was another man in her mum’s life.
I gulp as my mind reminds me of Laura joking about Ronan’s lengthy texts. She’s already engrossed with him.
It’s my fault we didn’t pass the test. I take in a shaky breath.
I replay my conversation with Molly in my mind. It feels like a solution came a bit too fast, and once it had arrived, all I wanted to do was run with it. I didn’t sense check it with Molly.
No – I am overthinking this. I need to distract myself and get rid of these annoying thoughts.
Chris hasn’t sent me a message for a while, which is unsettling.
I glance at my whiteboard. I need to bring back the positivity with some bookish wedding planning.